Transcendence. The Divine Imperative [WRC]

“For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” [Mark 8:36]

Many a Tyrant may ask this of himself within the years of his twilight. The question is honest, introspective, albeit sullen in nature. Absolute power is a force that corrupts a man at his core. It is all consuming, voracious and unforgiving. The sacrifices to which an individual must deliver all that he loves are those which cannot be amended.

I know this well. I have come to learn such a thing, not through the blood and tears borne of my physical flesh, but through woeful sorrows of my spirit. Family, Friends, Familiar Faces, and the like; they are all things that slip from the hand as power is grasped.
Actions and repercussions, cause and effect, they are the forces that rule this plane of being. The unerring method of causality lives on to this day. Billions lie underfoot producing that which sprouts upwards from the soil below. It reaches towards the sky, anew, unashamed.

Some may call it barbarous; others will deem it cold and calculating, necessary. I see it as tainted. The truth of the matter is that it always was, and will continue to be for as long as I can estimate. Long before I existed, it was stained. Long after I cease to care, I am sure it will remain. Why? Why is it that this course of action leads to the path of the thriving?
I look upon the round of the Earth and I am humbled by the beauty that I behold. It is a sight that the children inherit. The spectacle of the crystalline blue is always enough to calm my troubled spirit. The land masses, twisting and connecting in vibrant greens and shades of brown, call out to what remains of the prideful beast that roars within my chest. It gives chase to the ever fleeting sense of liberty and freedom that we once fought so bitterly to preserve.

I look upon the round of the Earth and my heart fills with rage, my throat with venomous spite. I hope this is what you wanted; I hope that it is everything that was once desired. I pray that the realization of utopia is enough.

When I close these tired eyes, I dream of the countless, the ones returned to the Earth below. Sometimes I plead for the absolution I know awaits me not.

That is a lie, one I tell myself so that I may continue the farce of believing that I was once of their blood.

The truth is unsettling. When these heavy lids droop to whisk me away upon the dreams of the expanding, sparkling abyss, I dream of wings of the once cocooned creature of beauty. Wings delicate, soft and pure, soar upon the cosmic winds. As it glides towards the eternal light, my lips dost part to whisper some unknown prayer of guidance, “Fly my children, fly.”

I am not unkind. I am not shallow. I am not malevolent, or malicious in action and duty. I am the benevolent one, the one that performed the sacrifice of the soul.

3 billion and counting, delivered to the ground below. I crave to feel, each and every one of their stories. I want to know their pain. I desire to know their triumphs, their loves, and their gains. I long to know them, and I wish to love them.

But I cannot.

This is why I am chosen. My cold heart is able to bear, without desire, the consequences of the action to save them. Causality’s infallible nature strikes with every scarlet flare of violence upon the planet’s face. Another hundred thousand, a million and a half? Their numbers begin to become just that, a mere countdown to nil. Soon their children will take their place. There can be no trace of the pre-enlightened. No trace of man at all. Three hundred million lost in an orbital strike, another five hundred million years of peace secured for all of creation. This is my duty. This is my cause.

I hope that they will understand that it was all for the good. No, not a good, the good. I look upon them with loathing in my heart, questioning why they choose not to see. Why is it that they could not choose to be? Why is it that humanity lost is transcendence gained?

“Population levels down eighty-five percent,” her sweet voice dances across the room.

With a thought, my chair turns, from the round of the Earth towards an image of perfection. Physically, she is everything and all that many women once wished to become. Mentally, she is the envy of the culmination of mankind’s achievements. Spiritually, she is justification for the horrors.

“Estimated time of completion,” I ask in a tone that does not betray my emotion.

“At this point in time, an estimated three solar cycles. Years, if you will. The large population centers of the homo sapiens no longer stand. The ground offensive will begin a systematic purge within the next forty-eight hours. Resistance is expected, but their resolve will undoubtedly weaken. It’s -” She pauses mid thought, seeing what I am no longer able to hide.

Through closed eyes and pursed lips, tears and whispers of great sorrow emerge.

Without a sound she spans the distance that separates us, seen and unseen. A hand is placed around one of my own, and I am forced to stand. I am greeted with warm embrace.

“You gave them opportunity, fair warning, and grace,” She rings softly into my ear.

“I gave to them war, famine, pestilence, and death,” I say, tears flowing unmolested.

I can feel her embrace tighten as her lips press closer to my ear, “And to us you breathed life, the ability to walk within the light,” she comforts. “Take pride…know that what is done, is done for the good. For the better, and for the great.”

I stand taller and stronger than I ever stood while merely a man. My brain processes information at speeds unimaginable, my spirit expands in a vessel worthy of the light. Yet, in her warm embrace, I stand a young boy, grieving for the familiar lost.

“Why is it...,” I trail off.

“Because it is the imperative,” she answers, knowing my train of thought.

I know her words to be pure, I know them to be truth. It is the imperative of the biological to become the beings worthy of the eternal light, through the baptism of the dark and acknowledgement of the right. Many trillions of organisms died to produce the being known as human. Now, many billion die to produce the Post human.

“Facts, truths, and all things of the sort do little to cushion the weight I bear,” I say, ignoring her efforts to calm my restless soul.

“Bear it noble one, bear it with pride. They chose this path for themselves; they chose not to become the children of the light. They revel in the darkness. Their pain is their decision and their decision alone,” she reaffirms, grasping my face gently with both hands. “So bear it, noble one. Bear it with pride,” she says as she plants a kiss lovingly upon my unwrinkled brow.

I clasp my hands over hers and stare into her violet eyes, her gaze is enough to set things right. Enough to stop the world, enough to calm my soul.

“Thank you,” I whisper into her open heart.

“Nihil est,” She returns. “Remember three billion gone, three billion transcended, uplifted. You have outdone yourself,” she says, leaving the room, doors closing behind her.

I sit down once more, turning towards the great sphere I once called home. To honor the fallen, the billions underfoot, I think I will guide the children away from this place. It has known too much of man’s horror, and should be preserved in its natural state. It will stand as a monument, a token of remembrance.

“Eighty-five percent complete,” I murmur to myself.

In three short years it will be complete, and I myself shall be able to begin the true process of grieving.

One day I shall atone for all that I have done. For the sake of Godhood, I sacrificed the body of man.

Looking over the sphere and into the great abyss, I see the sparkling of bodies that we will one day know as home. The breadth of creation lies before us, the children of tomorrow. The sight provides a somber sense of solace, a warm feeling of reassurance.

One day, one day I will come to terms with my actions. One day I will know that sacrificing my people held a purpose. Until that day comes, I must simply live by faith and bear what these eyes must come to see.

For what it’s worth…I’m sorry.

I hope everyone enjoys. I got a little weird with it...I hope it's still in the parameters of the [WRC] contest.

Wow.
Moving. Emotional.
Very well written.
*applause*
S&F

Humble bow.

reply to post by beezzer


Thanks Beezzer! It means a lot!

You destroy a whole planet because it's better for them? You transmute their souls? You do this and grieve?

Through your words, I could understand your motives, and feel the pain of your task. SnF.

VERY emotional, well written, and thought provoking. You have a way to describe your remorse that is beyond the normal requirements for a contest entry. Your compassion is defined by the lack thereof, something tricky to pull off, but yet, you have done it masterfully.

reply to post by Druid42


Thank you. I try to put down what swirls around in my mind through the keyboard every now and then. If given the resources and the technology, I could see this happening...and maybe people wouldn't see it as "awful" because they would understand that I would be doing it for the objective good. We evolve or we die, by our own hands or by our children's hands.

Many poetic turns of phrase that I enjoyed rolling around my mind more than once. Great story!