The ancient looked like he was merely thirty, but his mind traced back to a different century. He was being escorted down the hallway of the international space station, which was surrounded by nothing but stars, and orbited a fixed point in space with an unnatural gravity from when the gods first made their presence clear. No one else in the station acknowledged it shared a name with an older station from the times when man walked on the surface of Earth. Finally, the escorts released him by the entrance to the room. Slowly, he strode into the circular glass chamber that held the roundtable as a centerpiece, hosting six out of the seven international leaders of the human-inhabited sector of the Milky Way. The irritation of five of them seemed to vibrate the artificially synthesized air that cycled throughout the room. The high oxygen concentration cycled through the ancient’s nose and lungs unblurring his thoughts. Earth, his homeworld, began to emerge from his foggy thoughts while the pressure of the dense air in the room pushed back. Earth floated and rotated inside the abyss of his mind.
The conflict between the present, past, and myth of earth fought in his head; Empty, desolate, and destroyed; full of life, love, joy, and conflict; the modern Eden humanity had been torn apart from. These views of Earth conflicted with him. Earth, his true home, is only in myth now to the rest of the universe. Mars never replaced it in his heart, though it too was lost. He wasn’t the only survivor, but he was the only one still standing. The only reason he still stood, unlike the others, was the same as why his home was no more: the first god. Earth, considered forsaken, unlivable, and destroyed, was abandoned and forgotten. Then, when humanity lost its place in the universe and no one could find it. Why do they refuse to believe me? Why create false hope of paradise?
The ancient had become a source of forgotten history to the Jiden Republic. He didn’t mind, not anymore at least, he found purpose in it; the purpose he was given. He was a well-treated prisoner in this new world. It gave him time to think. Time to reflect. He needed time. He had the memories of countless lives but it took time to comprehend. He wanted to give his knowledge and insight to the other leaders. That god, the one that had cursed him, wanted the same. But, his mind was nearing its limits. New memories struggled to attain their grasp on the diluted web of neurons that contained his memories. Even when one did, over time, others had lost their grip. The uncertain age of his life had hit a biological wall. Yet, production for a cure had begun.
Jiden’s top researchers had artificially replicated the inhuman organ that kept his heart beating for so long (but unknown to the researchers they hadn’t done it completely). Soon the rest of humanity would bear his curse and, eventually, would suffer the same shortcomings his brain had faltered. Solutions had to be found, not only to maintain him—their tool—but to ensure that others wouldn’t encounter the same consequences. These six already had embraced his curse. What is the point of agelessness when you start to forget? Where was he? Ah, the meeting. Gods….
Silently, he stood there watching the six leaders. Finally, the ancient spoke, “You’re eighth gods.”
The Sunsrea president gritted his teeth. Gods? We’re nothing close to gods! Not an eighth! Not a sixteenth! Nothing! He knew the ancient’s words could not be allowed to exit this room to enter the minds of his people. Powerful words could topple any civilization's ideology, and these words could topple his. He repeated the old mantra of his people in his mind: One race, one god… he stopped.
The ancient noticed this and responded: “You aren’t immortal, not fully anyway, you cannot break the laws of physics,” the ancient paused for a second as his eyes drifted to the Resnuja CEO, who was aware of the gaze but did little to respond, before continuing, ”you’re frail, but you have conquered time, almost.”
The Vrinova empress noted the emphasis on ‘you.’ She began to solve in her mind, Hmmmm… He’s saying we’re not human? He’s not human? Or… perhaps… a slight, smug smirk betraying light irritation formed on her face, he’s hiding something! The way his eyes moved… she replayed the movement again with her head, tracing the trajectory with her own eyes before her gaze met the CEO. She understood what the ancient meant. She let out an innocent smile at the CEO before turning to face the ancient once more. He doesn’t know we have one too. She crossed her legs and cupped her elbow with her hand, using the backs of her other hand’s fingers to support her chin. This definition of god is interesting… just meet those requirements and you’re a god… certainly, against what he had said about divinity she pondered giving a glance at the empty seat across from her.
Jiden’s president sat in silence while slouching in his chair. Releasing the ancient on the council every once in a while was a hefty price to pay for a monopoly on in-depth ancient information. They’re staring at me. They hate me. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
The Yoristronic dictator saw this. The fool makes it obvious: he despises his advantage! The people will notice his transparency. This one will not last. These thoughts were followed by a faint, grim smile directed at the fool. The empress let out a self-satisfied smile and the CEO smirked under their veil. Unanimously, they thought what an idiot this dictator was. Doesn’t he see territory as a liability?
After a short pause, the ancient began to speak once more. The flat, yet subtly sullen words rang out: “You’ve killed a god before, multiple, in fact, correct?” The ancient stared at the CEO of Resnuja. Their veiled face showed no reaction to the question other than a subtle nod. The Yersnovic queen gave a glowering look to the Resnuja leader. She pushed her fists into her lap, bit her tongue, and cursed: Damn you and damn all your people! She remembered Yislocic oh so well. It was her birth world after all. She remembered the tragedy just as well, even if she was very young. They not only killed the Yersnovic god, dropping its corpse onto the planet, already cementing the planet's demise, but they also dropped half of a planet harvester, now dubbed the planet killer, onto the capital that same night and drilled into the core. Around 1,000 individuals survived… out of roughly 3 billion. She remembered watching it from her space station. She remembered fleeing. She knew the reports by memory. Damn, Resnuja!
She couldn’t contain her rage any longer, so she stood up and slammed her fists on the table. The rage in her voice scraped her throat as she roared “DO NOT SUBTLY NOD AT THAT! You twisted animals started this! You started this war and that war! You’re why we’re being replaced by a- a- ” she angrily scrambled through her papers, “technobio scientist’s pet project!” The CEO scoffed at her claims, simply shrugging them off. The dictator thought, ' This’ war? HA! ‘This’ war ended years ago!
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The ancient knew of the implications of the Yislocic tragedy. There were very few surviving videos or reports from the incident. Resnuja barely acknowledged it, and a majority of the survivors were so traumatized they refused to speak about what had occurred. All that survived was video evidence from the queen's space station. The decoy army fought in the daylight merely to distract the god. It would crush the ships in its fingertips preventing them from landing. Suddenly, it arrived, the modern atomic bomb. The large two-pronged ship approached with its large empty chamber. Behind it were other large ships connected to it by wires, most likely containing the energy needed to fire the weapon. Around twenty minutes later a bright blue-ish purple glow appeared out of the chamber. Fear was unraveled on the Human-like deity's face, but it was too late. The glow of foreign energy shot out of the chamber directly at the deity. Like a flash-bang nothing could be seen but the bright blue-ish purple light. When the light subsided, the deity was left floating, dead with a hole where its heart was supposed to be. No one knew how the Resnujan machine worked. There was a divide amongst the universe whether or not the planet had been pulled out of orbit toward the beam, but one thing was certain: the deity’s body compressed around where the hold was. The corpse fell onto the mostly aquatic world it had used to protect creating a large shockwave, but before it could even reach the night-consumed capital, the planet harvester was already deployed and drilling into the planet’s core. Before anyone could gather their belongings and flee. The planet had been shattered.
As the argument raged on, Jiden’s president knew by the gaze of the dictator what would follow. Chagrin swelled in the Jiden president. He wanted the ancient to shut up. He wanted this to be over. This always happens. Always. He leaned forward and braced his forehead against his hand staring at the table. Laughter escaped the dictator just loud enough for it to catch the CEO’s attention over the shouting. The CEO raised their hand to the queen, turning his head, under the veil, to face the dictator. “YOU DARE ATTEMPT TO SILENCE ME?!” she barked. “Oh shut up Elizabeth!” the dictator stood up slamming the table. I should help her, the Jiden president acknowledged, She’s my ally. He awkwardly joined the dictator in standing and clapped his hands together. “Let us be civil now” he announced with a clearly perceptible timid tone. Elizabeth looked to her ally, the Jiden president, and felt slightly betrayed. “Civil?! HAVE YOU SEEN WHAT THOSE TWO HAVE DONE?!” she raged, holding her hand out at the two. “We simply did what was necessary to maintain our people's safety and prosperity,” the dictator excused, a smug smile directed at the Jiden president formed on the dictator's face, “besides, your ally—Mikhail—is the one who let those machines be made under his nose.” The Jiden president's face turned a dark red. He tried to hide it by scratching his nose, but they all saw the acknowledgment of political failure plastered on his face. Shyly the Jiden president countered “Well we did deal with her. She’s dead.” The dictator chuckled before countering the Jiden president’s counter “My reports say no body was found.”
The ancient was still focusing on the tragedy’s implications. The god-killing ship and the council members' allyships, reminded him of the first two world wars. His thoughts drifted. That scientist… Eva… yes that was her name. She was a lead researcher on the NextGen project. The Empress, the old Jiden president, and the dictator funded it. Originally it was meant to simply be an army mechanic army to remove the gods, but the researchers saw it as so much more. The next generation of the human race. The next step in evolution. She also did some research on his curse—the inhuman organ. His thoughts pulled him elsewhere now. The dictator? The ancient heard his voice bark back at something said in the argument. Not him. The ‘ancient’ one. Earth’s last conqueror….
The empress stared at the ancient who now stood in silence watching the arguing amongst the leaders. The ancient’s thoughts interested her. She opened her mouth slightly, letting out a craving exhale at the deep knowledge that the ancient’s mind possessed. Possessing that knowledge would be invaluable to her. Her half-labcoat-half-dress appearance emanated a prominent aura of political nicety and a more subtle rational and scientific power that her empire wielded. The CEO—her ally in ideology, and competitor in power—refused to follow the tradition of apparent transparency and embraced open secrecy.
The ancient, after recentering his thoughts, clutched his fist, The fools don’t let me get to my point. They don’t care to understand the larger implications of the issue. He paced around the circular room glancing at the stars that surrounded them with only the empress, Sunsrea president, and the CEO taking notice. The stars beautifully speckled the galaxy, but the sight was ruined by the reflection of the sorry fools that sat behind the ancient. Earth could be orbiting any one of those stars. So could Mars. He remembered rolling in the sand covered in his own blood with no protection on when his wife died. His curse was much worse than they knew. He glanced back at the fools. The ancient let out a chilling smile. The urge to cry after what felt like hundreds of years attempted its conquest on the ancient's mind, but it was too full. The thought to leave, to run away from these fools never made it to the surface of the ancients thoughts. The sand of Mars flooded his thoughts and the early urge to let the universe take him relapsed. He had seen the same mistakes of Earth redone over and over and over again. Where is the punishment Earth faced? Where is someone else to be cursed by god?
The Sunsrea president thought of his elusive, hinged ally: the high priest. Where was he? He wondered. The god's appearance years ago and their extinction had brought some ‘troublesome’ contradictions to the worldview of his people. He’s most likely dealing with that he concluded.
The ancient was only pulled out of his thoughts when the argument had ended in an explosion of past political drama. The queen began to stride out of the room before being called to a halt by a desperate, commanding cry. “Wait!” erupted out of the ancient’s mouth. “What do you want?” the queen barked. The ancient cut her with a quick retort “I want you to sit and listen, all of you!” he turned from facing the queen to facing the roundtable. Begrudgingly she sat with her arms crossed. The other standing leaders soon followed.
Finally, the ancient could get to his point. “You are not human,” the Sunsrea president began to open his mouth but was silenced by the ancient slamming his fist against the glass enough to show some of his desire to shatter the glass, ”you are not gods, and you are not machines. You all fail to see that. You no longer have the power or analysis to be anything more than helpless against the greater forces, and you will soon lose the human perspective to find meaning in it all.” The leaders, except the empress, stood up shouting and slamming the table the ancient punched the glass again. They wouldn’t stop, and he couldn’t think. Their yells and shouts prevented him from thinking. His desire to shatter the glass echoed in his head bouncing off the walls of his skull. Again. Again! Again! The hits became progressively more full of rage. He hit the glass with all his might breaking his wrist but forming a small crack in the window. His hand healed and he punched it again, the light crackling of grass and the shattering of bone drowned out by the screams. He repeated this until the shouting leaders finally noticed and resigned to silence. Relief came in the thought: Finally. The ancient left the room mentally resigning from the role of “bequeather of knowledge.”
