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MalachiThis story may contain adult content. |
| Written by Kiril Kostov | |
| Thursday, 31 January 2008 | |
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Share it:      Malachi's teeth sunk into his lower lip as he gazed out the window. His heavy breath left a misty trail on the glass every time his lungs compressed. After nearly a week of darkness, the sun was finally beginning to creep above the horizon. "What are you looking at?" asked Jones as he walked through the door. "Huh?" "Oh come on," said Jones. "Are you worried again?" "Well, uh," Malachi was interrupted by a fierce pat on the back. "Come on, man. Jesus, you gotta be ******* kidding me! We've done this a million times already." "Twelve", said Malachi. "Ok. Twelve. So ******* what? Did anything go wrong?" he said. "All those planets were just like this one." "Its not the planets, I don't care about what's on the damn planets." "Then?" "I just, I just didn't become a soldier so I can be teleported all over the universe. How exactly does that damn machine work anyways? I still don't get what it does to us!" "Cheer up! Damn. Just think about what all those ladies are gonna let us do to them when we tell ‘em we're from another planet." "God, how can you be thinking about that?" "Am I wrong? Am I ******* wrong?" said Jones. "Look me in the eyes Malachi, look me in the eyes and tell me all those women on Adonis did not have the largest, juiciest breasts in the entire universe!" "What?" "It must've been something in the atmosphere or something. I just don't see how else they all had such wonderful breasts." "Sometimes I just don't understand you, Jones..." "Warping in fifteen minutes. Subjects report to Sector C," echoed a voice over the intercom. "That's us. Let's go!" said Jones. Malachi sighed and swallowed. What could he say? He closed his eyes and opened them, taking a snapshot of the beautiful panorama before him, as if this was the last time he would see it. He then followed Jones into an elevator that speedily took them three-hundred and fifty seven meters below the ground. After traversing the familiar maze of illuminated corridors they found themselves in front of a giant door made from a specially engineered tungsten alloy. Much to the Director's dislike, the metal was far too strong to allow for a label to be engraved in it. Therefore the caption "First Encounter Reconnaissance and Threat Assessment" had to be painted on the door instead. Jones approached a tiny camera to the right. "FERTA 1A, this is Matthew Jones and Malachi Mart, reporting for duty," he said, peering into the camera. "Copy that. You are to report to the command center immediately," said a voice as the metal door sunk into the ground exposing its remarkable width of over two meters. Jones marched heavily, looking down on all the scientists around him. Malachi had been keeping his eyes on the floor until one of the men with the white coats sprang towards them. "What's wrong with you guys? What took you so long?" he asked, his eyes wide open. "Are you aware of the consequences of missing the timing by even a fraction of a nanosecond?" he paused and scratched his head. "Our calculations could take you high up in the planet's atmosphere, or worse, under the planet's crust. What would you prefer huh? To be buried alive or to enjoy a breezy free-fall, in which case you would probably burn up or splatter on the planet's surface, or both." Malachi turned pale at the thought. "Enough, Mark," said the Director. "It's your job to make sure that doesn't happen. Now, initiate the sequence." The Director came closer to them, close enough for Malachi to clearly see his reflection in the Director's metallic forehead. Malachi's eyes fell to the ground at the sight of his own scar that ran alongside his straight nose. "What's wrong with him?" asked the Director, looking towards Malachi. "You know him," said Jones. "Gets nervous. He'll be fine." The Director cleared his throat, his eyes still fixed on Malachi. "Gentlemen," he said. "You will be sent to Giada in the Amos galaxy. Readings indicate it's unlike any of the other planets you have been to. There are negligent traces of intelligent life, however we are led to believe the planet may harbor various complex life-forms. As usual, your orders are to gather as much preliminary information as possible." "Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt, sir," said Jones, his eyes lost in the distance. "I don't understand. Why is this planet important?" "We believe it may be another one of Earth's daughter planets," said Mark, who had gotten up from his chair not too far away. The director's cold look made the chief technical engineer carry on with his work. "Yes," continued the Director. "It may very well be a daughter planet." "But, but you said, no intelligent life," interrupted Jones. "Negligent traces of intelligent life," said the Director pacing back and forth before them. Malachi was lost in his thoughts. He could not help but wonder how the Director could possibly stand before them and actually live, let alone talk after that woman had crushed his skull to pieces, the same woman that had scarred his own face for life. It amazed him what a mother was capable of when trying to save her children. It amazed him even more how much evil a man was capable of in times of war. His empty look urged the Director to proceed. "You see," he said. "There must be something on Giada that is hampering the development of intelligent life. A plague perhaps, or radiation, if we knew, we wouldn't be sending you. In any case, you are to determine the cause and report back. You must prepare now," said the Director, looking at the digits on his watch. Moments later, the two of them found themselves surrounded by teams of white-coated experts adjusting their every gear. Everything from their weapons to their bio-suits. "You keep finding excuses to feel me up, don't you?" smiled Jones at a young female scientist adjusting his vitality belt. She looked at him for a second and just shook her head. "Fifty-Six seconds..." echoed a voice over the intercom. As the white-coats dispersed, the two of them were left alone in a giant liquid-like bubble, which violently changed its hue, alternating between all the colors in the visible spectrum. "Take a deep breath and get ready for warping," said the voice. They looked briefly at each other. "Whatever happens, I got your back buddy," said Jones. Malachi nodded. Suddenly everything turned white to the sound of static.
Malachi gazed at the green pastures around him. Jones had already started unpacking the gear. His face twisted as he looked at Malachi. "Holy ****!" he screamed. "What's that ******* thing on your face?" Malachi dropped everything and frantically started probing his face with his hands. Starting with his prominent chin, his fingers quickly worked their way up, spreading out across two fierce cheekbones and over his hazel eyes. By the time he had reached his forehead a smile cracked across Jones' face. "Screw you, man!" said Malachi. "Stop ******* around!" "You should have seen your face," cried Jones. "Last time I saw that face was what? Ten years ago at boot camp? When they told us we had to lie there in the cold mud for three days." "Doyle crapped his pants, remember?" smiled Malachi. "He blamed it on the hormones they were feeding us. Unbelievable." "****. Doyle," laughed Jones. "Good ole days. I wonder what the son of a ***** is up to." Malachi got lost somewhere just above the horizon. So much time had passed since boot camp. So much had happened. So much innocence had been shed. "I always have to do everything myself, don't I?" said Jones. "Ok, so let's see.....atmospheric pressure....normal.....atmospheric content.....normal.....radiation levels.....normal.....bacterial levels.....normal.....Mal? Mal? Did you hear me? The brains back at HQ were wrong. There's nothing here but fresh air. And love is in the air my friend, I can feel it. Mal?" "Yes. Ok. My body's still a bit numb from the teleportation. Ok," said Malachi. "Lose the suits. Let's go up that hill for a better visual." "You got it."
The two men froze upon reaching the top of the hill. They were stunned at what they saw on the other side. Betraying long years of training, they even forgot to take cover. They just stood there on the bare hill, speechless. Jones fiddled with the controls on his headset to try to get a better view. "What are you looking at?" asked Malachi. "The blond." "What!!?" "They are people. Humans," gasped Jones. "Just like us. But what the hell are they doing?" "Uh...They are hitting the ground..." whispered Malachi. "Well, so much for the traces of intelligent life," laughed Jones. But his laughter came to an abrupt end when the blond woman he had been looking at started waving to them. Soon enough, dozens of them, all dressed in white robes started waving. The two men looked at each other. What could they do? They waved back. The two soldiers descended the hill. They assumed a defensive formation, tightly gripped their shock rifles and began to slowly creep towards the people in the fields. Their awkward movement was met by dozens of puzzled looks. Eventually the men and women in the fields burst out into laughter. The sweet resonance of the multitude of laughing voices infiltrated the two soldiers and warmed their empty shells. They had no choice but to put away their weapons and smile back. "Are you men hungry?" asked a young woman. "Do you want something to eat?" Before the soldiers could say a word, the woman plucked two carrots from the ground and started walking towards them. Malachi slowly turned to Jones who was staring at the young woman. "They can talk....," he said. "Did she just pull that carrot out of the ground?" asked Jones, clenching his teeth. Jones could bare-handedly snap each and every one of these people's necks without breaking a sweat and yet, countless miniscule drops amassed on his forehead as the woman approached him. He found himself completely at her mercy as she put the carrot in his hand. He ran a quick scan on the carrot. "It is a carrot," he said, turning to Malachi. "The best carrot," added Malachi who was happily munching on his. "Come with me," said the young woman. "You men look tired. I'll take you to the village, where warm food and clean clothes await you." "Do you need help carrying all this luggage?" asked a young man, pointing to the weapons and the gear. "No," growled Jones. "But thanks," added Malachi.
The young woman took them to a settlement, not far from the growing fields. The two men traversed a winding dusty path in complete silence. Every now and then their lips would part in an attempt to speak, but they would shut again, sealed by their raging thoughts that became ever more intimidating with each moment they spent in that world. What's wrong with these people? Are they stupid? Why are they all dressed the same? Why are they so happy to see us? Why are they always smiling? Are they on drugs? Why do they live like animals? Why do their children play outside in this heat? Why are their houses made of mud? Where is their transport? What the hell is that smell? Do they even have clean water? Why are there no signs of power? What about nuclear energy? Electricity? How can they live like this? Why the hell are they so happy? Don't they realize what a piece of **** world they live in?
They soon reached the village square. It was full of people. White robes everywhere. "What the hell is going on here?" asked Jones. Malachi looked around. "It's a marketplace." "A what?" "A marketplace," said Malachi. "I once saw a model in a museum. They actually buy and sell goods here." "Are you serious? You mean they shop here?" "Wait here please," said the young woman. "Feel free to look around for anything you like." Jones' wandering eyes met that of a bearded man with patches of grey hair. "You look hot in these clothes of yours, young man," said the man. "Here, take this" He handed Jones a white robe. "How much does it cost?" asked Jones. "What?" asked the man. "How much for this? What do you want for it?" "I want you to feel more comfortable," replied the man. "What the hell is wrong with this guy," said Jones turning to Malachi. "Just take it," said Malachi. "But why would he give it to me just like that?" asked Jones. "There must be something wrong. Who knows what the bastard's up to," he whispered. Malachi turned to the man. "Can I have one?" he asked. "Of course," said the bearded man. "And take this one for your friend also." Before Malachi could reach for the robes he heard screams from across the marketplace. The noise grew louder and just as Malachi readied his weapon, he saw a man running across the market place, screaming "There is no God! There is no God, I am sure of it! We are all alone! Alone for eternity!" Suddenly the man collapsed and started twisting in agony. To the sound of horrific wails his skin began to boil and blood sprouted from every corner of his body. The man twisted so violently that his ribs broke and pierced through his robe. His eyes burst, leaving behind a bloody skull, gargling on its own blood. Suddenly it ended. Dead silence. All the people dropped to their knees and bowed their heads. An old man with a long beard and snow-white hair appeared from one of the alleys. "He dared to question the Lord and so he called upon himself the wrath of the Lord. Such shall be the fate of anyone who does not abide by the Lord's commandments," roared the man, his fist clenched high above him. His eyes examined the only two men left standing in the square. He took a deep breath and started moving through the dozens of white robes. "I must ask you to come with me," he said as he approached the two of them. Their fingers wrapped around the triggers, their hearts pounding, they looked at each other and at the old man who had now turned his back towards them and was making his way towards a nearby alley. What could they do? They followed him. "Who the **** is this guy? And what the **** happened back there?" asked Jones. "If anyone knows," said Malachi. "It's him."
They sat at a wooden table opposite the old man who poured them some red wine. He studied their eyes, their clothes, their gear and took a long sip from his wooden cup. "I was warned that you would come," he said. "I just hoped it would not be during my time." "Who are you?" asked Jones. "My name is Japhet. I know where you have come from," continued the old man. "And I have to tell you how the fate of our whole World rests in your hands." "What?" asked Malachi. "You don't know anything about us!" said Jones. "I know that you are human. Just like us," said Japhet. "And I know that you are from Earth. Just like us." "Impossible," said Malachi. "Our fathers came to this planet on a ship, just before the Earth was destroyed. Very much like your fathers," added Japhet. "Who was captain of the ship?" asked Jones, pulling out a handheld computer. "Noah Andersen." "Holy ****," said Jones turning to Malachi. "He's telling the truth. A ship under the command of Noah Andersen did take off from Earth on 17th May 2272." Malachi stood still, clutching the wooden cup before him. "What else do you know?" asked Jones. "I know that there were thousands of ships that departed from Earth on that fateful day," said the old man. "But only a few of them followed us into the hole." "The wormhole....," said Malachi, his reflection in the wine staring back at him. "There were no more than three hundred people on the ship," said Japhet. "And after traversing the hole, they traveled for another two-hundred years before reaching this planet....They believed the hole was God's gift to humanity....a chance for a new beginning....a better beginning." "They were probably right," added Malachi. "So far, all the human worlds we have discovered...all thirteen of them....owe their existence to ships that risked everything and traversed the wormhole. The problem is...each one of those ships ended up in a different corner of the universe." "Two hundred years is a long time," added Jephat. "Three generations were born and died on that ship. Nevertheless our fathers were thankful....for they were given a chance by God. To honor him, our fathers decided to create a new world.....Unlike the Earth.....A world that would not be plagued by war, suffering, famine and hatred.....A perfect world." "Wait! Wait! Wait!" said Jones, who sprang up on his feet and started pacing the empty room furiously. "So you're telling me the ship traveled for two-hundred years before reaching this planet? So that means what? This world is over six thousand years old?" "It will all be clear if you listen," said the old man, emptying his wooden cup. "With the aim of creating a perfect world....three generations argued and debated aboard that ship on the means to achieve this end. It took three whole generations, but they found a way." Malachi's lips parted but all he did was let out a sigh as he looked at the old man. "As I was saying," continued the old man. "Our fathers re-wrote the Bible. When they landed on this planet, they destroyed most of the knowledge and technology that they carried with them from Earth. They also vowed to hide this truth from the first generation that would be born on the planet....only one bloodline would know the truth....my bloodline." "They destroyed the knowledge and the technology?" roared Jones. " ******* hell! Are you people insane? No wonder you live like ******* animals! Malachi are you hearing this bullshit?" Malachi did not take his eyes off the old man. "I still don't understand," he said. "Only one piece of technology was saved," continued the old man. "Something called a DNA Remapper," he said, pulling out a small, black device from within his robe. "And one bloodline was given control over this precious instrument....my bloodline. And so we used this device with great care over thousands of years to make people believe in God....to make him as real as anything else." "So that's what you used to kill that man today," said Malachi. "This has been used to kill everyone who has sinned....for thousands of years," said the old man. "This has been used as the hand of God by my father and his father before him. Over these thousands of years we managed to create the perfect society....the perfect world. All we had to do was make God real." Jones' fist came crashing down on the table. "So you destroy knowledge and technology and you enslave everyone on this planet by making them fear something that doesn't even exist," he cried. "Keep it down," said Malachi. "Keep it down? You are telling me to keep it down?" said Jones. "These people are ******* psychos man! They are ****** in the head! Listen old man! Do you even know what a DNA Remapper is for? I can't believe this! I've seen some pretty disgusting **** in my life but nothing compares to this!" Jephat stood up. "We have enslaved no one!" he said. "The device is rarely used nowadays. After thousands of years of punishment the newer generations know no sin. They live by the laws of nature, by the laws of God, and they are truly happy." "How could this secret possibly be kept for thousands of years?" asked Malachi. "How did no one from your bloodline come to abuse the power he was given." "It is really not that difficult to choose the right path," said Jephat. "At first, I cried for months when my father told me this truth and when he told me what was expected of me. I hated the world. I wanted to let it all go to waste. But it was an honor to be chosen. To be able to act on behalf of God. The Earth was destroyed for a reason. This world is different, however. In this world the only goal is to be happy, and the only way to achieve that goal is to be happy collectively. This world has been constructed carefully so as to remove anything that can bring out the devil in a man. I really do not see any way in which to use this little device for my own gain." "How can you not see?" asked Jones. "How can you be so ignorant? You have no ******* idea what can happen if this device falls into the wrong hands!" "And I suppose you have an idea....," said Jephat. "Of course I do! I'm not a ******* moron!" said Jones. The old man smiled. "Well if you can see how to abuse this and I cannot, then my life and that of my father, and that of his father before him was not for nothing." A tear slid down Malachi's cheek. "What the **** is wrong with you? Why are you crying? Are you crying at these miserable fools? Look how ******* miserable they are! Six thousand ******* years on this planet and they still live like animals! It smells of **** everywhere! They have nothing! They live just the way they did six thousand ******* years ago! You are pathetic, old man!" "We live for the sake of living itself," said Jephat. "Being alive and happy is a gift from God. A gift that must not be thrown away by racing against oneself or against our fellow brothers. The progress that you cherish so much is a product of your sinful existence." "Mal? Are you listening to this ****? Mal?" "I will be on my way now," said the old man. "I cannot force you to understand. But I ask you, from the bottom of my heart, to leave this world untouched....in the same way as you found it." His eyes watered. "Please...," he added as he closed the door behind him.
"Did you listen to all that bull?" asked Jones. "Mal? Mal? Look at me! For the love of God Mal, we have to do something." Malachi slowly turned his head. "Maybe they are already doing something for the love of God." "What? What? How can you say that? Mal? Did that old nutcase get to you, Mal? Let's just report back to HQ and get out of this hellhole." "Maybe I want to stay here," said Malachi. "Are you ******* crazy? Are you? Look at these people. They have accomplished absolutely nothing for thousands of years. They are a ******* waste of space. They are a ******* shame for the whole of humanity." "You don't understand," said Malachi. "Can't you see? They have accomplished so much more than us. We spent six thousand years changing our world, conquering the universe, all in search of happiness and a better life but we failed miserably. All we had to do was change ourselves, tame our selfish and destructive nature. You know exactly what I'm talking about. You and me are soldiers," said Malachi. "After all the ugliness we have seen and all the hatred we have succumbed to...we should know better. Can't you understand? Jones? Jones? Where are you going?" "I'm gonna go and get that DNA Remapper off that self-righteous son of a *****!" Malachi hesitated, but did not get up. He thought about his childhood. His years at the academy. Boot camp. The war. He thought about the peace he never had. The family he never had. Or the happiness for that matter. Suddenly he heard screams from outside and sprang on his feet. It was not difficult spotting Jones amidst all the white robes. He was in the middle of the square, holding the old man by the throat.
From then onwards everything happened too fast, almost like a blur. Malachi found himself kneeling over the lifeless body of his best friend, whose skull he had ruthlessly crushed using his shock rifle. Ruby-red blood trickled onto Malachi's trembling hands as the people around him stared in horror and disbelief. All those countless smiles had suddenly vaporized. They had given way to tears. Jephat got to his feet and looked at Malachi. "He saved me," yelled the old man. "This man did good. The Mighty One may choose to forgive him," he said, lifting his arms into the air. "Who are you to judge him?" cried someone from the crowd. "He is a murderer!" "A sinner!" "The Lord will surely punish him!" yelled another. The old man buried his face in his palms. Looking at all their faces, Malachi knew what he had to do. He pulled out his inter-galactic transmitter and input a message. HQ, this is Malachi Mart on Giada, in the Amos galaxy. Preliminary readings turned out negative. You were wrong. There is nothing on this planet. There has been an accident. Jones did not make it. Neither will I. Out.
He then took the DNA Remapper from the lifeless hand before him and pointed it straight to his chest. "My life wasn't for nothing," he thought. "I found paradise." And he pushed the button, smiling. Copyright 2008 Kiril Kostov |
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