Bloodeye vs. Meleta

[James]

Topic: Utopian
Perspective: First Person
Requirement: Prologue
Deadline: 31/1/2010

Good luck!

[Meleta/Isoldaa]

((Yes, more than one installment - but only two parts this time! ;D ))

First things first, I suppose, and one of the very few honest-to-God true things I know beyond a doubt. I should be dead.

At least a thousand times over, I should be the-six-feet-under-pushing-up-daisies-taking-a dirt-nap-pick-your-favorite-euphemism kind of dead.

And yet, here I am, whole and alive. Here I stand… Well, figuratively at least, yes? And I apologize for the restraints – I realize they don’t exactly inspire a lot of confidence in what I have to tell you, the message I have to pass on. I’d ask you to remove them, but I think that would only get you in trouble if you did. And it’s all right – I understand why my “wardens” believe them necessary. More than ever now, I know the man I was, well, “before” - and I understand their concerns. Can’t really say I blame them-

What was that? Do I know… Do I know who you are? Why you’re here? Oh yes, friend. I know exactly where I am, who I am, the time of day, the date, the year – and why you’re here now. Or at least, why you think you’re here now.

C’mon now, no need to look like that. If I’m everything the state says I am - just a con man, or a liar, or even a madman - all you’ve done is graciously allow a condemned guy his small, last conceits. And if I’m right – oh, and I know I am, well… Let me say it is an honor to sit here with you, with one destined from the very beginning, my friend, to hear the words I will speak.

I think I’m getting ahead of myself though.

So tell me, please – where would you like to begin? Would you like me to describe the man I was? The things I did to waste my God-given life? Or should I start-

Heh. Yes, you’re right – I’m quite lucid, and you don’t have to flinch at the mere mention of that word. I’m the one imprisoned here, the lunatic and the traitor – you’re in no danger at all.

Well, unless you believe what I was sent to say…

No, no, I didn’t palm the meds – and you needn’t worry. I am well-restrained anyway, as you’ve already noted – dangerous criminal after all, yes? But I was promised that, when the time came for me to give this message, there would be no poison, no torture or tranquilizer that could stop my tongue. Of course you don’t have to believe me – but I assure you that, when all is said and done here today, I will be as drugged and addled as even my worst detractors could wish.

And so, the beginning then? Or at least the part where my life became of interest to your masters? All right, then.

My confession, then. Yes, I was one of the most virulent haters of them, the followers of the Way. Traitors, fools, fanatics - dangerous ideologues spreading their insidious message, betraying all we true patriots knew was right and good in this nation. Yes, all that and much more, I believed. It’s how I justified what I did, you know. As an enforcer, I mean, an officer who really loved his job. You’ve read my file jacket, I’m sure. I was very, very good at what I did: rooting them out from their hiding places, breaking up their meetings with a few good blows to their heads. I burned their Books with a zealous joy, and dragged every last man, woman and child I could lay hands on to prison or – if the sweat of their bent backs was not enough to pay for their crimes - the executioner’s block.

It surprises you, does it? Tears on this face? You will never know, my friend… I pray you never know what it’s like - that you never have reason to know. “Regret” does not even begin to-

Forgive me. Yes, yes of course - you’re not here to hear about all of them, after all. What happened to me… Yes. What happened… I understand…

Best to say that, truly, it was more or less just another day like any other. The sea was choppy, though – a northern storm was rolling in, cold, gray and heavy. Still, we had interdicted yet another boatload of, well, at the time I would have simply called them traitors to our beloved state. But the better word, I know now, is refugees. Most of the passengers, crammed into the hold as tightly as sardines, were Way followers. But the crew, and the Captain? Mercenaries to a man, bought and paid for by their passengers or their families overseas to smuggle their human cargo out of our nation’s “paradise on earth.” Still, no amount of money could buy the crew’s allegiance to anyone but themselves.

The crew stood aside as we boarded. I remember the captain, as disinterested as you please, leaning against the doorframe to his quarters, arms folded and looking utterly bored as we passed him. He knew he was in no danger as long as he didn’t try to grow a brain or a conscience, and do anything to stop us from lightening his ship’s load. And after all, he was already well-paid, wasn’t he? As much a service as his passengers hoped he would do for them – that and more the captain actually did for us, getting so many of them in one place at one time. Easy pickings, really.

My men knew the drill by now - we’d done it so many times before, it was rote. Separate the women and children from their men first, the threat implicit that should one of those zealots do anything to cause trouble, they would not be the ones to pay the price.

Well, not that they ever did. Meek as lambs to the slaughter, every last one. That, I think, is how it all started. Our squad had become… complacent? So used to the ease of our work, it was almost unthinkable, really, that anything would go wrong.

Oh, but something certainly did that day. I remember standing at the rickety gangplank, rifle held low as the last of the women and children crossed to our ship. It was… I think it was a little boy there. Maybe a little girl – they had all shorn their hair to help maintain hygiene on their passage. Anyway, the child - he was cradling an obviously homemade something-or-other to his chest. It almost looked like it was made of plain white tube socks, stuffed with who-knows-what. There were buttons for eyes on a bulbous head, and a crudely stitched smile.

But let me tell you, friend, that little one’s face – I think, really, it was the serenity there that made me notice him above all the others. And the smile. The child alone was smiling among the prisoners, all of whom were all weeping, or fighting to maintain their most stoic faces. It was like, he didn't know where he was going, what was happening - like maybe he was just perfectly, peacefully oblivious to it all. But now, knowing what I know... Maybe, just maybe, he knew better than any of us could have imagined-

Anyway, yes... Yes, the child turned back to the boat, before he stepped on the swaying gangplank. I think he waved a little, a small farewell, to one of the crew…

And that is when it happened.

Something in that crewman – it just, well, snapped. There were tears on that swarthy face, I remember - one of the last things I remember seeing before he charged me. So strange, the things you see, the odd things you remember, in moments like that.

He screamed… something. I’m sorry - I don’t remember the words, if there were any. Maybe it was just a “No,” or a plea, or a curse… Honestly, I’ve lain awake at night, trying to remember – I just cannot. All that I remember is raising my rifle. I think… I think I shot him. But not before he took me over the ship’s railing with him, his momentum unstoppable even by bullets it seemed.

I remember the impact with the water, and the cold, and the way everything turned a mute dull green as I began to sink. I had no breath in my lungs – the man who tackled me had managed to pound it out of me. But I had desperation, and a fierce will to live. Swimming, fortunately, is a mandatory part of every good citizen’s soldier training, and I surfaced well within several strokes. I have no idea what happened to the crewman who hit me, sent me over the railing.

But even more horrifying, when I surfaced? Both ships were just… gone. I hadn’t been under the waves for more than a few seconds by my own reckoning. The sea all around me was exactly the same, it seemed. The waves were choppy and growing higher, tossing me about as easily as if I were a child’s toy. Those same dark clouds on the horizon still promised storm.

Yet, somehow I was utterly alone, as if I had picked up by a giant hand and dropped here, in the middle of nowhere, from out of the sky.

There was nothing to be done, but try to survive. I had no idea where I was, how many miles from any shore I might be. I reckoned a direction by the position of the sun – as best I could determine beyond the cloud cover – and started swimming east, toward the only shores I knew.

To this very day, I have no idea how long I traveled like that, of my own volition. Hours? A day? Maybe two… ? I could not tell you truthfully. My only thoughts were for the next stroke, the next kick, fighting to stay above the waves and praying I would avoid the notice of any sharks. I remember the darkness of night at one point, and a dawn – but with the coming of the dawn, my body failed me. I tried not to drink any of that sea water – I knew it was certain death. But there didn’t seem to be any help for it as my body flailed of its own, the cramps more painful than I could ever describe.

I was going under, I knew – and at just that moment, my hand hit… something. Did you know, friend, there is a reason you should never try to help a drowning man by giving him your own hand, unless you are already secured to something very, very sturdy? You see, he’ll grasp onto anything he can touch with a dying desperation and an unholy strength – and that’s exactly what I did.

[Meleta/Isoldaa]

Thankfully, what had come in my grasp was nothing living. I pulled myself up against the death waiting below me, coughing and puking sea water, onto… a piece of driftwood. A sweet, blessed piece of driftwood, of all things…

I clung to that driftwood for, heavens… days? I think? I was so out of it, by then. Exhausted, dehydrated – honestly, all I had strength for by that time was to cling to that piece of wood, and let it carry me… I don’t know where. I couldn’t tell you the direction I traveled, or how far – all of it’s just… gone. All I remember is the constant roar of the sea. I’m pretty sure I was delirious by then – I was sure the ocean had become a lion in a pit, waiting to take me the moment my grasp slipped, the second that piece of wood failed to hold me above its maw anymore.

But as with all journeys, even that torturous part could not go on forever. The darkness was coming for me – and I don’t mean the cool comfort of those moonlit, star-filled nights. I was dying, and some part of me knew it. Fought it, of course, but doesn’t every man in the end? There were longer and longer periods of time where I just blanked. Unconscious then, I think. Must’ve been. But finally the time came where it simply seemed so much easier, so much more desirable to just, well, let it all go. Stop fighting. Stop struggling for a grip that grew more numb and feeble with every passing moment. I was so tired – an exhaustion so deep it was almost tangible. And the darkness just seemed so… inviting…

And so, I just let go. No more fighting. No more… nothing. In that moment, I did not expect to know, well, anything. Dead is dead, right? The big nothing after that? It’s what we’ve always been taught in the state schools, after all. Eternal blankness, the end of everything… right?

Well, seems life wasn’t quite through with me yet. Quite impossibly, the sound of the ocean waves began to return to me. But it wasn’t a lion anymore – it was simply the sea, once again, throwing itself against a shore as it has done from time out of mind. But the sound, that wasn’t the best part, the slow realization that somehow, someway, I wasn’t dead. No, the very best part was the coolest, sweetest relief on my lips, in my mouth… It was water. Plain, fresh water – not the tainted water of the sea.

Very slowly I realized I was lying on a sandy shore. I could feel the grittiness of it beneath my arms, my legs. And my body was still, no longer subject to the whims of wave and wind. My head was lifted up in a hand as the slow trickle of water resumed. Strong as steel it seemed, as if the owner of that hand could have crushed my head in a single squeeze, and yet the grip remained strangely soft, gentle.

And then, I heard the voice. I will never, for as long as I live, forget that voice. Like music it was, I swear – the most beautiful music I have ever known. And my greatest hope is that, at the end of all, I will hear that voice once again, welcoming me back. “Hush,” I heard as I struggled, vainly at first, to open my eyes. “Hush little brother, and be still. You have come so far. Rest for just a little longer, and regain your strength. I will not leave you - and we have much to do and see, you and I.”

When my eyes finally opened… Oh friend, the sight that greeted them. So beautiful and magnificent a vision, as refreshing to my eyes as the water was to my parched mouth. At the time, I could not have told you if the face I saw above was that of a man or a woman. I could not even have told you the color of the skin, the very thing so many people in this world seem obsessed with. All I saw was… It was joy. Pure and unadulterated and perfect joy. A contentment that could last an eternity. Yes, I will dare to say it – a holy satisfac-

Oh. I think I have offended you, with a little word again? Well, as you can see quite clearly now, there is a very good reason a man as dangerous as I am is shackled and behind these bars now… heh… Pardon, pardon – I know you’re here for very serious business, of course. No time for jests, yes? Even at my own expense? Very well then...

The face above me. I had never seen it’s like before, had never known that… that light. And as if my poor body had a mind of its own, I actually tried to bury my face in the sand. I knew, without ever having the words to know, that the being who held me was so far… so far above me. So much better, so much greater than anything or anyone I had ever known, or could have ever imagined. Adulation. That brilliance deserved only… It deserved… All that I could give… My very life, if need be.

The only thing I can think to compare at that moment, and forgive me the weak comparison… Still, think how you feel, when our nation’s flag goes by during the parades, during the troop formations? That swelling, overwhelming feeling that can sometimes bring tears still to even the most battle-hardened faces? Yes, that feeling. Now, if you can even imagine such a thing, multiply it by a thousand. A million. Then and only then, you might have an inkling of what I knew at that moment.

But the voice, the being, he would have none of it. “No, no – please, don’t do that,” he said. Those same impossibly kind and impossibly strong hands took my face between them, pulling my gaze back to that face. “I am a man – just a man. Like you, little brother – just like you. I do not deserve worship – there is only One who-“

Wait… what? No, I’m not- Please, friend. Please. Just… let me speak. Please? Are you here to listen to what I tell you, to gather the information your masters sent you to get on such an interesting “specimen?” Or are you here to argue? I know how this must sound, to your ears. Do you honestly think I’ve forgotten-

No, no… Here, please. Let me give you your own arguments first, and then I'll bet we can move on, I’d imagine. There are probably one of two ideas you were about to advance – let me see how well I can guess them, hmm? First: who do I think I am, that I alone among men would be allowed to see, to actually visit, such a magnificent place inhabited by beings, by men and women, so far advanced? Well, first off – I don’t think I am alone. I am, quite simply, one of the fortunate few among the latest with a message to share. And honestly, friend? It’s not about me. Not one single bit of this is about me at all. I am no one. Nothing. And nothing in me or about me is worthy of the magnificent things I was shown in that shining City.

In the end, friend? In the end, it’s all about you. You and whoever else might hear this message.

And that leads me to the second argument: if everything I’ve said, everything I’ve experienced and testified to was true, why would I be here? Now? If I were so favored, so blessed, how could I ever wind up here, in chains? Left here to rot in a stinking prison where I’m on a first name basis with my torturers? Why don’t these amazing “super men” swoop down and carry me off to safety?

I’m here because I choose to be. I was told, long before I returned, that I would face all this - and much more. Much worse. I knew the cost, from the very beginning – and in that, I’m not alone either. The messengers have been jailed, tortured, reviled, spat on, burned alive, executed… all throughout history, for this simple Truth.

But I was also promised that should I return here, to this nation, I could share this message with the ones meant to hear it. The ones who needed to hear it, who would be able to spread the light and hope meant for men far and beyond these small stone walls. This message isn’t meant to be kept secret by a select few. It’s our birthright. It’s what we – what all mankind – were meant for.

Now, my friend. Now, would you like to hear what I have to tell you, of the Kingdom?

[Bloodeye the Bai Ze]

"What, if some day or night a demon were to steal after you into your loneliest loneliness and say to you: 'This life as you now live it and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more' ... Would you not throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse the demon who spoke thus? Or have you once experienced a tremendous moment when you would have answered him: 'You are a god and never have I heard anything more divine.' " - Friedrich Nietzsche

I remember when I was an embryo and I heard my last and first words.

"God is dead."

That was when I began to formulate myself. In the beginning, I had nothing to do but that. I had no eyes, I could not see. I had no ears, I could not hear. I had no arms or legs, nor hands or feet. I was lost in a preverbal universe that only inhabited my mind. Monism at it's finest and most practical. Like a platonic ouroboros, I was the immortal, perfectly constructed animal.

I enjoyed it intensely.

Unfortunately, all that peace of mind was interrupted at all times by the mechanical voice echoing in that pea sized brain I had. It was rather bothersome. I liked the quiet when I first was conscious. And then, all of a sudden, I start getting pummeled with trivial babble. I thought and reacted to all the teachings that were planted in my mind:

"God is dead."

Of course he is. If he wasn't, none of you would be allowed to live.

"There is no record of time. Time is a repeating cycle. No history. No one needs history. History is dead."

To know history, is to know it repeats itself. Ignorant bliss anyone?

"Everyone does what they are needed to do. That is all there is. That is happiness."

Happiness? I wonder what will make me happy when I am born? I am sure it won't be stagnancy.

"Emotions have no need. They are useless. They do not exist. They are just figments of your mind. Work takes them away."

I like my emotions. They make me stronger.

"Your meaning is to be. Your existence is as valuable as the one next to you."

No. My existence is far greater than their pathetic nature. You tell me to give up everything I am? Than I will reject you! I reject everything you are! I will not let your nihilistic bullshit stand!

From then on out, even though I was deaf, dumb, and blind, I knew that I had a purpose when I was born.

I would bring the world to it's knees.

I did it before. I'll do it again.
-------------------------------------------------------------

A bright light bursted into my darkness. My head erupted in pain as I tried to move my hands up to my eyes. My arms were heavy and sluggish though. It was a familiar feeling. Like swimming in a pool. Even as my palms went over my eyes, I could still feel the light digging it's thumbs into my sockets.

And I was having such a nice nap.

"Preparing to disengage return system. Processing list accomplished: Incubation complete. Maturation complete. Education complete..."

It was the same cybernetic voice that had been plaguing me the entire time in the womb. This time though, it wasn't trying to plant it's dribble into my head. In fact, it wasn't even talking to me.

I could feel the heavy weight of the fluid around me lessen and then disappear. I could feel... air. God, it had been so long since I felt that. Like a cool kiss from the world around me. I welcomed it.

"Subject is stable. All systems are registering clear. Preparing to drop pod for release from the return."

A sudden shock jolted up through my feet and the rest of my body. I felt a few of my vertebrate crack. It was a sudden, but all be it relieving feeling. Being cramped up in a fetal position was hell on your back.

The light didn't seem as strong now, so I ventured to uncover my eyes. Things were hazy and unrecognizable in the white mist of my first illumination, but slowly I adjusted to it.

The room around me was like looking through a fisheye lens. The walls curved and buckled in front of me. The windows were large but bending and twisting away from me. Light filtered in with vicious bending. I reached out, trying to comprehend what was going on around me, but all I got was my fingers slamming into a hard, transparent surface.

It hurt. A lot.

"Vital and neurological signs viable. Releasing from pod for further examination."

The curvature of the room lifted up and away from me and everything became as I thought it should be. The room was a mix of grey and white. A table made of a heavy metal or plastic sat in the middle, covered in various pads and transparent floating images. Skeletons, muscle structures... stuff I was pretty familiar with. It was hard to tell what this place was. All I knew was that it was disgustingly sanitary and neat. Anal.

Anal... I rarely get to use that word... mostly because it makes me laugh.

I stumbled out of my glass egg and my feet landed on cold and unforgiving ceramic.

"Item number 203666901... consciousness is check. Going to physical examination."

Now that voice I hadn't heard before. And it was a real voice as well. Not some computer's vocal processing. It was real and it was female.

A woman appeared around a corner. The first thing I always notice about a woman is her figure. She was a thin beauty, at least her body was. It had all the attractiveness of youth, but no heavy curves or outlandishly augmented features like I had seen of many women. I dare to say, with a bit of belated irony, that she had a perfectly natural body. A long white dress ( or perhaps a toga would be a more accurate description of her garment ) flowed off of her body.

Of course, things always did tend to go south for me and it certainly did when I looked at her face. What I saw was... curious.

Her head had plastic flaps and pieces on it. At first I thought it was tacky jewelry or piercing, but I was dismayed when she came right up to me and the plastic moved!

They were apart of her flesh! They flexed and pivoted as she looked me up and down, the brief glimpse of faint blue lights dazzling underneath like stars at night. I suppose it was my initial shock to this strange creature that kept me from realizing that I was naked.

Sometimes I wonder if my head is on straight.

The woman looked me straight in the eye. Her own flickered different colors like a kaleidoscope, and yet still I couldn't feel a single wince of emotion in that stare. It was cold. It had no feeling.

She bent down suddenly, jerking me back in awareness and into the realization that I hadn't anything on my body. I instinctively covered my more vulnerable areas with lightning speed. I'll admit that even someone like me can feel embarrassed at times. Humility can be important... and hilarious.

"Woah! Not on the first date lady!" I yelled in my defensive sarcasm. Truly I was baffled by all that was around me, but certainly having a freak woman staring at my manhood wasn't allowing me the grace of looking around.

"Subject 203666901... all desired physical traits have grown properly. Continuing onto mental examination." she said, satisfied by her brief peek and stood back up.

She walked back over to the table and picked up a transparent sheet. "What is your name?"

"Uh... name?" I responded, a little dumbfounded.

"Subject's mental responses are hindered," she quickly stated in a monotone voice. I could see type flickering in reverse onto the page in her hands. "Verifying extent: What is your duty?"

"To stand here... naked?" I answered, looking over at one of the big windows, I could see and all white skyline beyond. But, there wasn't any life to it. It was unmoving. I wondered if it might be a painting, but it was far too lifelike. The sun was real enough.

"Subject's responses are not reasonable. Not coherent. Perhaps a flaw in the return system or education program. Unknown. Will require further research." she said.

She then pointed at a set of clothes on the table. Unlike her shimmering white gown, these were pitch black. They consisted of just a pair of pants and a shirt. I didn't waste time in getting covered.

"Subject?" she asked as I pulled the shirt over my head. It sounded almost like a command due to the lack of any kind of feeling in her voice. "What is the education? Do you remember?"

"I remember some cyberbitch giving me hell about crap I couldn't care less about. Is that what you call "education"?"

"Subject claims awareness while in the return process. Not possible," the strange woman commented, the words appearing on her tablet. "Will have to verify claims with extensive research. During education, what laws did you-"

It was at this point that my patience had just about worn thin. I wasn't going to answer twenty questions all day long. I had things to do. I interrupted her with a great deal of anger.

"Shut up!" I yelled. "It's my turn to be asking questions here! And your gonna answer them whether you like it or not!

I can still remember her face. Unmoving. Unflinching. It was like a living painting, stuck on that emotionless trance.

The Mona Lisa didn't have shit on this lady.

I asked away, even though I never got a response. "First, I want to know where I am."

"You are here."

"And where, pray tell, is here?"

"Here. And now."

"Am I dead or alive?"

"Yes."

"Which?"

"Both."

"You're going to have to explain that to me."

The woman flickered her plastic plating, which I wasn't sure constituted an empathic response or not.

"In the beginning, there was God," she began. "But God was impractical. So... it was killed. Many missed it, but longing was extinct soon after."

"So... you're an atheist?"

"No."

"Then what are you?"

"Postman."

"Postman? Like... a mailman?"

"No. I am Doctor. Postman is what we all are... except for you."

"Doctor is your name then?"

"Yes."

"Fine. So... Doctor... are you telling me that everyone is like you."

"We are all the same. All things are the same... except for you."

"Then what am I?"

"Lastman."

"And that is...?"

"When God died, the lastmen were here. They lived, but did not want to live. They lost the will to power. They were not able to know that they were one. So, they became us. They joined with their creations and became postmen."

I looked the woman up and down, still trying to get a grip on the situation. "You're a cyborg?! Like... a real cyborg?!"

"I am Postman."

That seemed to be as close to a "yes" as I was going to get.

"Alright... alright. I can come to grips with that. I'm okay. I'm okay. But... I'm not a cyborg right?"

"No."

"Then... I'm your slave or something? Like in all the old cheesy movies?"

"You are master and slave."

"How can I be both? And where are all the others like me huh? Are they mindless? Did that "education" turn them into mindless assholes?"

"There is only you."

"... Only me? How can there be only me?! There has to be more!"

"Yes."

"Then where are they?! WHAT AM I HERE FOR!!!"

The woman was silent, staring at me with her ever changing eyes. Me, on the other hand, was having just about enough of this. And as time had shown over and over again, my patience was not something to be trifled with.

I grabbed her by the throat and forced her back. Her body slammed into the heavy table and flopped back onto it.

This felt familiar. Very familiar. If only I had a knife in my hand, I'd be right at home.

"Your task is the genetic distribution. We have been making you since the beginning."

I was caught off guard with that one. "What?"

"When the postmen were born, only a few could become like us. We were merged with our creations, but only the best genetic data was needed for a perfect binding."

"What kind of genetic data?"

"Perfect data. Metabolic, intellectual, muscular, skeletal... all are factors. You have those factors. You are the lastman because you are perfect."

"Bull! You can't just make someone with those things?! Why kidnap me!"

"Yes."

"What do you mean?!"

"Yes. We did make. We made you."

I released my grip of her. "That's impossible! I remember things."

"Not possible. Genetic material only. None of those before you have memories. Genes do not possess memories."

"I'm... a... a clone!"

"Clone? Word is not known."

"Shut up!"

I remember the sound of the plastic breaking as my fist slammed into her face. Pieces of broken plating were sent skipping across the table like grains of spilled salt. I was so used to hearing the screams that it took me by surprise that she just turned her head back and looked at me, the blue lights underneath her shattered face gleaming brightly.

"Why? Why me?" I asked, still trying to catch my breath from my previous outburst.

"Your genetics are perfect."

"Do you have any idea about who I am or what I did?"

"That information is irrelevant."

"You're saying that you don't know anything about me?"

"Yes."

It was then, at my most confused and tragic moment, that everything turned.

I remembered when I was an embryo and I heard my first and last words.

"God is dead."

Then, my first assumption was that I was dead. Indeed I was. I remembered the line of soldiers that were in front of me. The gleam of their rifle barrels in the sun. The clacking of the weapons going to their soldiers. The look of anger, confusion and even fear on their faces when I smiled at them.

"God is dead."

That is what the captain said before ordering his men to kill me.

I realized that perhaps this world was my own. I had made this. When I led the rebellion, I made sure to put fear in the hearts of my enemies. I made them hate me. I made them afraid of everything I represented. I was ultimate freedom. To be without limitation of rules or morals. To feel all the time. To let emotion, not logic rule.

Yes... I made this world. I made it because it was everything that I stood against.

Fate, it seems, is not without a sense of irony.

That same death mask smile spread across my face as i stared down at the creature before me. I wasn't even going to call her human. She wasn't. Nor was I. Humanity had died. It was only them... and me.

The nihilists... and the artist tyrant.

I grabbed hold of the cyborg's head and twisted her around to her feet. I took hold of her jaw and forced it open, then propped it squarely against the edge of the table. It didn't move at all, which made me even more gleeful.

"I get it now. I see," I said with a short chuckle. The woman muttered something back at me, but with her mouth full of table at the moment, it only came out as curt grunts. Even still, I could tell their wasn't any emotion. "You are the children of everything I wanted to destroy. Everything I killed. That I stabbed and shot and burned. I find it laughable! To think mankind was so weak as to progress in such a manner. I feel like an idiot to not have seen it before. Maybe I did... but never convinced myself it was truth! You tried to make a better world. All you made was dead one."

I placed my naked foot onto the back of the woman's head. "And what's even funnier.., in order to keep yourselves breeding, you cloned me! ME! I wouldn't even call that irony! I call it providence. Yes. Yes that's what it is. Humanity killed me once, but even then it wasn't enough. Instead, they brought me back. Logic makes it simple. A clone may have my DNA, but it doesn't have my soul, right?"

I pressed my foot a bit harder against the woman's head.

"Huh?" I yelled.

I only got more grunts in return.

"It never occurred to you that I could come back? That eventually I'd return to put my foot up your asses?" I bent down, putting a hand to my ear. "No? Of course not! You aren't people anymore. You're no better than animals."

The woman tried to turn her head. I could see her multicolored eye looking up at me. There was nothing there to signify her humanity. She had lost that. No. She never had it in the first place. She was a worm under my foot, incapable of knowing what she was or who she was.

I was a little sad that I didn't see any tears streaming down her face.

"You're boring me," I said finally, taking in a deep breath and letting it out. I clacked my teeth together as I do when I get very excited, the sound a hard snap into the air. "Let's cut to the chase."

I lifted my foot up high. "O brave new world... to have such fools in it."

I remember the sound of her head splitting open as I stomped on it as hard as I could. It was like crushing a bottle beneath my feet, mixed with the loud splat similar to a cantaloupe being smashed against the ground. I felt a great deal of relief when red blood spilled across the table, and then onto the floor as her body slumped down.

As I look out these huge windows, reciting this onto this page that the cyborg had been carrying, I wonder about what is out there. She would be but the first of many to be put under my jackboots. And while there is a true sense of sadism to my emotions, I wonder if this is also a cruel joke on my behalf. They made this world so I would not exist. Now I do. And I find it all rather humorous.

An ideal world? Perhaps. But things are never meant to last.

I did it before. And I'll do it again.

[ASGetty ((Zovo))]

Meleta

Spelling & Grammar - 4/5
Ease of Read - 2/5
Use of Topic - 6/10
Entertainment - 13/15
Quality - 12/15

TOTAL - 37/50

THOUGHTS: I had a hell of a time reading through this. The way you've written it borders somewhere between first and second person (and I'm tempted to land on the latter). In first person, generally you are inside the characters head, sharing their thoughts and feelings as the story progresses. What you've given us is a sort of outsiders perspective on first person, that the story is being told to us in a dialogue with the character; and yet there are no indications of dialogue as far as punctuation go. So it's a toss up; and until about the middle of the the first "page" you really didn't settle into any sort of narative that I could read comfortably.

Additionally, though the last sentence preludes into a story which I'm sure will be "Utopian" in nature; a crazy guy in restraints telling me about the time he almost drown, doesn't strike me as utopian. You tread alot of lines here; but over-all once you settled into it it was well written and flowed pretty well; and other that the lack of dialogue punctuation (assuming it's needed?) I saw no major errors in the grammar department. It made me want to know more, and thats what a Prologue should do.

Bloodeye

Spelling & Grammar - 3/5
Ease of Read - 4/5
Use of Topic - 8/10
Entertainment - 13/15
Quality - 12/15

TOTAL - 40/50

THOUGHTS: Easily my favorite from this round. There were a couple of grammatical issues but nothing too distracting. It was a smooth easy read which introduced me to ideas and an environment which left me wanting to read more. My one complaint would be that it dragged on a little longer than it had to as you added more and more details; the general, the rebellion, memories from a previous life which would be more appropriately addressed in the meat of the story, not the prologue. I can understand the desire to clarify them now (since you're only writing a prologue and you want us to know) but in a novel context, these are riddles the character should decipher as the story progressed, not simply grasp and understand in his first 5 minutes of consiousness.

Oh, and the prelude to the prologue was unnecessary.

Regardless, with a little trimming it would make a great lead into an AWR MoP project.

[James]

Meleta

Spelling & Grammar - 4/5
Ease of Read - 4/5
Use of Topic - 7/10
Entertainment - 14/15
Quality - 12/15

TOTAL - 41/50

I certainly enjoyed that, Mel.

I think there might have been the odd mistake while I was reading through, but nothing that really detracted from the read. Despite the peculiar narrative, I actually found it a breezed to read.

Use of Topic, I honestly was stuck between giving you a 5 or a 10. The narrative, I loved. It was engaging, quick, very fun to read. But, as Zovo said, at the same time it didn't quite feel like first person. My only insight into the character was through the 'dialogue', not any hidden deep thoughts. Meanwhile, I liked the utopian stance, you brushed upon it but it was all it needed.

Definitely found it entertaining and the writing was excellent. Great work, Mel.

Bloodeye

Spelling & Grammar - 3/5
Ease of Read - 4/5
Use of Topic - 7/10
Entertainment - 12/15
Quality - 12/15

TOTAL - 38/50

It's good to see another high quality story from you Bloodeye after the legal thriller, which you struggled a bit on.

There were a few mistakes throughout, some of them really should have been picked up on, such as 'their' when it should have been 'there'. However none of them really detracted from the story and it was easy to read.

First person was handled excellently, really got into the head of the character. However I agree with Zovo, you revealed too much for a prologue really, you could have created a lot more suspense if you decided to keep somethings hidden.

[Kaez]

Mel
Spelling & Grammar - 5/5
Ease of Read - 5/5
Use of Topic - 7/10
Entertainment - 13/15
Quality - 15/15

Total - 45/50

Wow, did I like that. Grammatically flawless, from what I saw, and flowed wonderfully due to that single, consistent narrative, uncluttered by anything else. The use of the topic was -really- creative. Utopia in a different way that I imagined it, and by the time I started filling out the judging, I thought, "Oh yeah! This was a prologue! .... oh my god... I WANT MORE!"

I had just been so immersed, everything else left my mind. Extraordinarily immersive writing style. The narrative is just beautifully done. The only complaints I could possibly muster are the ones that Agro and Zovo felt, but I honestly didn't feel them very strongly.

Maybe it was just because I enjoyed reading it so much that I overlooked the fact that it -isn't- necessarily first person by a traditional standard, and that it -isn't- necessarily utopian by a traditional standard. I took those as "creative variants". But I can understand the counterargument well enough to say that it could reasonably be argued.

In any case, a really lovely piece. I enjoyed it a lot.

[Kaez]

Blood
Spelling & Grammar - 4/5
Ease of Read - 4/5
Use of Topic - 8/10
Entertainment - 11/15
Quality - 14/15

Total - 41/50

Only a few, small grammatical mistakes. Nothing that did too much towards hurting the story. It flowed, for the most part, pretty easily, except for dragging out in a few places -- which is really the main reason for points being taken off in a few categories. It felt like it could have used some sanding and polishing to bring it down a little closer to what your intentions seemed to be with the prologue-prologue.

The quality of the writing made up for a lot of that. This is back to what I'm used to getting from you in terms of sheer impressiveness. I just felt that it could have really used a lot less in the long, boring details and a lot more in the establishment of exactly what's going down.

I think that your story, along with Mel's, will pretty consistently work on a three or four point balance. If we had a fourth judge, this probably would have turned into a tie, in other words, but I've got to grade this as honestly as possible, and I do think that it's missing some things that it should have and focusing on some things that aren't vital, and aren't exciting.

The use of the topic was certainly a more traditional version of utopianism, with the obvious dystopian twist -- no complaints there. It was quite entertaining where it was entertaining, and it was very boring where it was boring. Fortunately, there was really just one major segment of the latter, coming in a fairly uneventful dialogue and the odd things that followed it (which just didn't seem to fit with the rest of the story)

[James]

Final Scores

Meleta (123) beats Bloodeye (119)