Zion

Chapter 5

 This journal may well be the death of me, but if it lands in the right hands, it may well save humanity as we know it. Of course, it is entirely illegal to be writing something which does not align with the teachings of The Rulers. To begin, I suppose I ought to explain how we came to be where we are.

People are fickle things and often do not see what is unfolding in front of their very eyes. This is what The Rulers chose to do from as far back as 'civilization' goes. They are an age-old order which has governed and ruled humankind for centuries. They call themselves the Enlightened Ones; supposedly they work only within the shadows of the world, but in reality, they have been basking in the sun ever since the inception of humankind.

In short, I reason, that they have been orchestrating the largest symphony the world has ever seen – all of humanity. Each person in history has played their part and never truly been permitted to break out from the mold to which they were assigned.

They perhaps had good intentions all along; I reckon that would have been fine if it were not for the fact that the road to hell is paved with them. They have always hoped to gain a united world; a society where everyone is equal and exactly the same. Only then can war end, only then can thereby harmony and prosperity for humankind, or so they presume.

They began to fully mobilize between the twentieth and twenty-first centuries and moved forward with their plans of implementing thousands of years of meticulously calculated work. First, came the Great Wars in which the world would need to witness the vastness of human destruction. Once, however, would not suffice to open people's eyes. Much like children, adults, only tend to comprehend through repetition. Thus war and devastation would need to run rife for a second time. Thereafter once people's very souls had been shattered and the ever wavering meaning of life had escaped all, then and only then, could they begin to rebuild. This is the perfect opportunity to reveal intellectual knowledge which had been, up until then, hidden and kept a secret from the general public. Suddenly humans seemed far more intelligent and were encouraged in finding means to better life for all, rather than investing our efforts in death. But the world was a sweet summer's child, for it knew not what awaited it.

Time passed and mankind managed to gain traction. Health began to improve; war was less and less of an option; differences were accepted; voices were found and the songs of the Earth burst forth as freely as weeds in an unchecked field.

The saddest fact about people was always probably that they could cherish every other species and specimen for the differences which they had between them, but they could never see the beauty in being different from each other. Noticing the variations and appreciating them would have kept the world on its utopias trajectory, but the human condition did not allow for that.

Instead, they began to hate each other once again for the differences which each kind possessed. This is where the Enlightened One's once again played the cards which they had dealt so meticulously. It was declared that no person or persons would be allowed to denote the differences within humanity. In theory, this seemed to be an excellent plan, as discrimination could finally be absolved once and for all. But how does one tell the sun and the moon that they are the same when they are vastly different, yet both serve equally important roles and functions?

Eventually what happened was that the sun and moon began to argue. The sun decided to shine nonstop and so did the moon, but then the moon realized that no one was appreciating its light, as the sun's glare made it impossible for it to be seen. Soon the seas began to dry up and the land began to decay. Eventually, the moon opted to put a stop to this and maneuvered itself in front of the sun, thus blocking out the harsh rays indefinitely. Darkness fell over the world and for a time, humanity was relieved. Until the cold weather increased and the same problem of death continued to engulf everything which the moon had once smiled upon.

For a great many, the magical number in this universe is three. Thus the final war which pacified the majority of the world ended in a time not too many years before the final chapter of The Plan.

For many people it was ludicrous, the idea that a group of highly funded and well-connected individuals with a legacy of thousands of years of work prior to their involvement could possibly capture the planet without anyone ever realizing. Therein was the first mistake. Firstly, there have been times when a single person or a mere family unit has ruled and owned the lives of millions of countrymen; so why would this idea be that farfetched? Like the best magicians in the world, they always perform their tricks right under their audience's nose, whilst effortlessly diverting their attention to the trivial on-goings somewhere else.

I stood by for too long whilst this was being allowed to unfold. I sit in Zion and do nothing. Humankind is becoming something which it was never intended to be. For now, I shall be patient and hold onto the thought of a brighter tomorrow.

A7173 shifts oos' gaze back to the glowing chasm. There comes a faint and continuous beeping along the tunnels. It echoes against the walls and resonates in oos' ears. A Hover Tracker, oos thinks. The Charlies have obviously located another means into the underground labyrinth and are relying on the small, v-shaped robots to buzz around and find oos. Of course, after having been detached from the Central Hub, they will have a tough time tracking A7173; this does offer a slight advantage.

Oos holds the book tightly and is about to dash back to the glowing, slush filled room, but spins around to see a trap door illuminate in the floor below the heavy desk. A7173 hurries over and kneels in front of it. A DNA based palm scanner sits faintly in the center of the space. An old-style computer voice emits, from a concealed speaker, "Place your hand on the scanner."

A7173 waits a moment, not knowing whether to comply or not. Oos shifts to hear how far away the Trackers are and by the sound of it, they are moving rapidly through the tunnels; scanning every inch of the old burrows. Methodically reporting back on any signs of life, specifically that of a soon to be decommissioned Perfect.

"Place your hand on the scanner," the monotonous voice repeats.

A7173 considers it, a rush of... excitement and fear engulf the decision-making spectrum of oos' brain and before thinking it over fully, oos throws oos' hand down upon the scanner. A beam of light tracks the pattern of oos' hand and a faint prick indicates the extraction of a blood sample.

"Access granted," the voice states and allows the panel to slide open, leading oos into yet another realm of the unknown. A7173, holding onto the book as if it were made of the essence of life itself, slips into the opening and disappears, just as a lone Tracker floats into the area.

Below, the tunnel leads into a squat and seemingly unstable and poorly constructed snaking tunnel which is too shallow for A7173 to manage anything more than moving along in a terribly uncomfortable prone position. Along with that, the entire area is pitch-dark. A7173 breathes in the moldy air and feels the moistness of the rock structure which threatens to consume oos.

The panel above seals, but not before the Tracker is able to pick up the path of A7173. It immediately goes into alert mode and now every Charlie who is out searching for A7173, knows exactly where to converge. The device projects a laser from its head and goes to work on cutting away the entrance to the tunnel. A7173 spies the sparks bursting off the panel and is immediately on the move once more.

Movement is nearly impossible and with every inch achieved it seems to A7173 that the hole, which oos has willingly entered into, leads only deeper and deeper into darkness. The temperature is uncomfortably hot and the moisture within the cramped space makes it hard to breathe; or fathom a moment in life where claustrophobia was not an issue. A7173 worms along, trying not to consider the thought of how much earth oos is sandwiched between.

What feels to have been a day, but is likely closer to an hour later, there comes a definite clunk, from the way A7173 came. It is the sound of a heavy piece of metal giving way. A7173 speeds up and dares not look back at the ominous red glow of the Trackers descending into the tunnel.

A7173 moves as quickly as possible. The moldy stench fills oos' nostrils and the uneven ground is abrasive against oos' naked flesh, but still A7173 presses on. Oos keeps oos' gaze fixed on the faint pinprick of light up ahead – perhaps a sanctuary from this living nightmare. Lurching forward, A7173 feels freedom within oos' reach, when suddenly a successive beeping emanates from within the tunnel and all the Trackers, simultaneous detonate.