Zion

Chapter 6

 The explosion, from the little sparrows of death, sends a wave of rushing air A7173’s way and is followed up with the most violent orange cloud. The tunnel quivers and A7173 heaves forward as best as possible. Glancing back for a second, A7173 knows that oos will not make it out in time. Oos clutches the journal to oos’ chest and braces for the impact.

The rusty, iron hatch at the end of the tunnel gives way as soon as A7173’s head collides with it. Knocked almost unconscious and roasting all over, A7173 emerges into the open world and hurtles toward a coursing current of water down below. The limp body of the nearly ten-foot-tall being bobs up and down in the treacherous waters of the remnants of what was once likely the catchment of the Vaal River. A7173 is thrust under the water’s surface once, twice and finally emerges again. The water is silty, which makes it difficult to see, but on surfacing, oos is able to observe a worrisome prospect. The Tower Guns, giant artillery style weapons governed by Artificially Intelligent programs which are advised by and linked to the Central Hub, swivel effortlessly on spherical pivots, atop the towering city walls are engaged and utilizing both thermal and infrared imaging seek out their target – A7173. If spotted, the entire population of Zion will be aware of oos’ position and realize that oos has continued to avoid decommissioning.

A7173 recalls the camouflaging ability built into the genes of every Perfect, but it is an ability only ever necessary to the likes of Charlies, Foxtrots, and Golfers. Oos focuses hard on activating it and slowly starts to blend into the murky waters. It is taking too long though and oos has been located.

The nearest Gun exerts a shockwave pulse, strong enough to obliterate a Gamma 5 military vehicle with a single direct blow. A gush of water surges out onto the bank near A7173 and the sudden whirl of pressure forces A7173 into a protruding rock. Another blast shatters the boulder into shrapnel, of which multiple pieces find their home in A7173’s rear torso.

{Still no confirmed kill on subject A7173} – The Tower Gun transmits to all. The Airborne Gamma 5 division is deployed momentarily and A7173’s timer has just ticked ahead by leaps and bounds. Trying to grasp for air, whilst being tossed about and ignoring the searing pain which engulfs oos’ body, A7173 loses hold on the sturdy journal and anxiety overcomes oos immediately. A7173 thrashes out, trying to regain some sense of a bearing, but it is too late, the book and all it holds, slips away in less than a moment.

The waters force A7173 down to the depths of the river bed and A7173 sustains yet another direct blow to the skull. Oos’ breath exudes and a vignette rapidly forms over oos’ vision, as a metallic claw dives into the current and is propelled toward A7173.

Waking from hallucinations or nightmares, if you will, is not how A7173 hoped to come to, however that is the momentary reality. What does not seem a reality is the place in which A7173 wakes. Oos lies on a bed of sandstone in a dark and dusty room. A fire burns in a hearth in the center and further along from that is the front door of the dilapidated building. Windows of an old style of glass with wooden frames allow moonlight to spill in.

“I’m glad to see you finally surface,” a faint, yet pointed cawing-like voice says from across the room. A7173 startles and sits up, but quickly stops and lets out a terrible groan. “I must admit, I know your kind has incredible regenerative qualities, but I sure as hell did not consider you to be a survivor after pulling you from that heap of s**t you’d found yourself in.”

A7173 reaches up and touches the back of oos’ bandaged head which rages in pain and feels as though it has been split apart by a crude blade.

“What did you do to me?” oos asks, eyes widening in terror.

“I removed that chip from the back of your head. Contrary to popular belief, they can switch it back on and use it to track down your location. So you’re welcome.”

“Who are you?” A7173 utters, with a hint of agony and fear betwixt the usual monotone.

A short hooded figure swaddled in thick, dark, black fabric emerges from behind a cauldron on top of the central fire. The figure comes towards oos, who tries to retract into the wall. The stranger raises their hood, revealing a haggard, old woman, with thin grey hair and tattoos beginning on the sides of her head and trailing down. She hobbles forward with a slight limp and closes in, keeping her inkpot eyes trained on A7173, like a crow locked onto a mesmerizing glint.

“My name… is Lucile,” she says and collects a clay jar from a large table and offers A7173 a sip.

“A7173,” oos responds and refuses the water.

“That’s not a name at all,” Lucile snickers hoarsely. “You’ll need to drink and hopefully soon we’ll be able to coerce some food down your gullet as well.”

A7173 tentatively feels the healing wounds on oos’ chest and heaves a sigh before answering.

“We… my kind –”

“Oh, you mean the great Homo quintessential? The Perfects?” Lucile chuckles and a heaving cough overcomes her. She composes herself and deposits the mug next to A7173’s bed.

“Yes. We do not consume… fuel in the same sense as you Homo sapiens. We take nutrition injections in order to sustain ourselves. The thought of food is barbaric.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Lucile spits back, “you’re as much a demi-god as I am young. Besides, where you’re headed, barbaric is hardly a word I’d begin throwing around so loosely, kiddo.”

“I am fifty-seven years of age; although, perhaps I do not look it.”

“Well, I probably look my age… Aren’t some of us lucky?”

“How do you know where I am headed?” A7173 asks, unsure of this wrinkled being.

Lucile scuttles over to the large table and retrieves a bound book; the same one which A7173 lost in the river. She hands it to oos carefully, like a parent offering a gift to a child.

“Be careful, I dried it out as best I could, but unfortunately it is already old and frail, much like myself.”

A7173 snatches the journal away from Lucile’s grasp and flips through the pages assessing the damage. Surprisingly, apart from the pages having rippled and stiffened in strange angles, the writing is still legible.

A7173 considers Lucile for a while.

“Why are you aiding me?” Still a skeptical tone in oos’ voice.

She offers a faint smile, goes to stir the contents of the cauldron and then says, “Allow me to bore you with some wisdom. After the sun dips below the horizon and I close my curtains, what does the day really matter? I mean, tomorrow is almost a given, for most of us anyway. Some won’t be so lucky,” she gathers two bowls and ladles a healthy portion of the substance into them. “I get to sit in the comfort of my home, pondering in the dark; while somewhere out there, something terrible is happening – of that I’m sure.” She hands a bowl to A7173 and indicates that oos ought to drink. “It’s soup. If anything it may give some colour to your grey complexion,” she takes a seat on the edge of the bed and continues talking between sips.

“The darkness surrounds me, hugging me like a blanket. To someone else, however, it might as well be a demon. Smothering them and pressing them down into the deepest pit of sorrow and pain. Or perhaps it’s light which accompanies their sorrow. I don’t wish to understand human nature or man’s natural desire to destroy rather than create,” she pauses a moment, reflecting on a thought. “Why is it that we must be taught to love and hate comes so very easily? For that question, I doubt I shall ever have an answer. Perhaps it’s part of God’s sick game. Him, with all his infinite power and yet he stands by whilst the evil of this world, tears itself asunder; listening to our wails and receiving some sort of sadistic thrill from it all.

“The universe is a lonely place, one which I wish I’d never been a part of. And yes I have my fair share of transgressions. I’ve sinned and for that, I am truly sorry. I shall falter in the future, of that I’m sure. I can only hope and pray, if you will, that I shan’t hurt anyone else in the process. If I do, it was never my intention. Being alive could be a wonderful thing, now though I’ve long forgotten what it means to be happy. I used to dream of a day when my smiles would be devoid of the sadness and anger which dwells deep within my heart; that which courses through my veins and has come to define the very being I am.”

She finishes the last of the warm brew and looks to see that A7173 is still listening.

“Now, I simply fantasize about the possibility of a place where my torment does not exist. I don’t need to be happy; I simply need to find peace. How I shall do that, it is not yet clear to me.

“Perhaps I could find it, lying on a cloud whilst looking up at that glorious array of white specs amidst all the darkness. Perhaps there is indeed still innocence within this world of ours. Perhaps there is still a reason to live. However, I’ve almost given up. I had that; it was taken from me though. And I can never get it back. I’m a shadow of my former self, asleep to the world and still dwelling within my childish dreams... someday I shall wake and find that the nightmare is all too real.”

A7173 ponders this for a short stint and says, “Alright, I’ll consume some of that broth if you’ll stop this persistent babbling.”

“Babbling is for fools; I speak only truth. I’ll leave you now. Get some rest; you’ll have a long and arduous day, come sunrise.”