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Ascension [Nov2013]

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posted on Nov, 12 2013 @ 03:07 PM
I have always wanted to see the sun, ever since I came to be.

I want to feel the warm rays on my skin. Run barefoot through green grass. Look up at blue sky and see the bright sun, o glorious ball of heated gas, sheltering star, glimmer down upon me with his burning face.

But then my eyes open, and I am greeted to the harsh artificial glow of the fluorescent light flickering in my cell. I raise myself up in a sitting position and look out the glass walls, gazing at what I knew as the outside world. There are many other cells like mine outside, containing a creature like me, but they're not...

It's that P word...Prefect. No. A prefect is a person appointed to any of various positions of command, authority, or superintendence, as a chief magistrate in ancient Rome or the chief administrative official of a department of France or Italy. The word I must have meant was perfect. Conforming absolutely to the description or definition of an ideal type.

Or so the Mask Men say.

Such is life inside the Base. I have no name, just a number, and what I have learned comes from what the Mask Men’s education machines and books. Yet when I wanted to know more, I am told that the educational period is over and I’m taken back to my cell until I’m called for Procedure.

Today happens to be Observer day, where the Masked Men let small, pale grey creatures into the room and watch us closely with their large black eyes. They had little electronic pads that they would tap on in a strange language. Their voices ring like bells inside my mind because they have no use for lips, but one particular comment strikes a chord with me. I press my head against the glass and close my eyes tight. Although a purportedly “perfect” being, I am by far not an expert in all fields, telepathy included. Nevertheless, I try to make contact.

“Which one of you speaks of the above grounds?” I ask.

All of the Observers turn to me, their eyes fixed on me with expressions of curiosity on their faces. One steps forward through the crowd. I can feel its mind enter mine, causing discomfort.

“XY221163?” It speaks to me, pulling up my charts and data on the screen.

“That is who I am. I wish to ask of you about the above grounds.”

I could feel the alien narrow its eyes. “The information is classified. I spoke out of turn.”

“Can’t you tell me only a small bit?”

“Denied. You are not granted access to this information.”

I give a heavy sigh, knowing this phrase all too well. It would always show up whenever I would try to search answers for my questions on the computers. I was even had the privilege suspended because I kept going to the ‘forbidden sites’ that weren’t allowed.

A bell rings and the Observer breaks contact with me, causing me to become dizzy and stumble backwards. I grab the edge of my cot and kneel down, watching the Observers line up and march out the door while a Mask Man with a rifle follows them. But suddenly, one of the Observers breaks away from the line and goes near my cell, pretending to have dropped something.

“I’ll tell you everything you need to know,” I heard it say, its voice much calmer and less restrictive like the others. I will come at midnight.”

I nod and watch the Observer scurry back to the group, the Mask Man watching it through his darkened glasses.

Then, I wait.

posted on Nov, 13 2013 @ 02:44 PM
reply to post by TheToastmanCometh

Good story. I guess the person in the story learned about the sun from reading about it?

I would suggest you re-read it while you still have time, it isn't long, and edit it, it has some very obvious grammitcal errors.

This reminds me of a story I read when I was a child by Robert Heinlein about a child who wanted to see the sun. She lived in a future when the earth (or Mars, I don't remember which) was clouded over and the sun only shun through the thick atmosphere once every 20 years for only 20 minutes, or something like that. And she was dreaming of the time it would appear so she could see it. And when it was time, she was at school, and some of her schoolmates who bullied her took her and trapped her in a closet so she couldn't see the sun when it appeared.

posted on Nov, 14 2013 @ 10:50 PM
[i know the first instalment was a bit sloppy, so I made sure everything was alright with this one]

I must have dozed off while the Observer was gone, for I suddenly heard its voice telling me to open my eyes. I shift about on the floor and give a stretch before rising to my feet, eager to learn more from the little grey creature. It taps away on the electronic pad, looks down, then back up again to press a code into the lock.

There is a sharp hiss noise, and the door slides open, letting in the outside air. The Observer steps into my cell cautiously, treading lightly on the ceramic tiles before having the door shut behind it again.
“Good. No sensors.” It says and looks around the cell. “Normally, there are some embedded in the floors to track movement of the occupants, but the humans must really trust you. My name is Mehitebel.” It then extends a scrawny arm towards me.

My body froze. What did the Observer (Mehitebel?)want me to do with such a gesture? But again, this is the first time anyone has ever entered my cell for as long as I remember. Normally, the Mask Men would come and stand outside the cell door, and when I was out, two would walk behind me and two more in front.
“Don’t be afraid, I just want you to shake my hand,” Mehitebel replied as they inched closer.


Mehitebel closes their eyes and I can hear them sigh. “You know, where one human holds another human’s hand tight and shakes it when they meet?”

“I know what it is… I just don’t understand how it works.” Looking from Mehitebel’s hand to their face, I held up my own hand. They were thick, strong and muscular, yet smooth and pale. Sometimes when I came upon a reflective surface, I likened myself to the pictures of stone statues made by the Above Grounders from antiquity. I’ve asked about the statues only once, but the Mask Man attending to me at the time said that they were gone, turned into dust by the Fire Clouds.

“So that’s the line they fed you?”

It hadn’t occurred to me that Mehitebel was listening to my thoughts the whole time, but I didn’t want to look foolish. “Yes, but you cannot eat words in a literal sense as you say.”

Their eyelids narrow and the corners of their mouth turn up slightly. “It’s an expression. Don’t your Mask Men teach you anything?”

“They do,” I reply firmly.

“It sounds like they don’t.” Mehitebel crouches on the floor, crossing their arms. “Enlighten me with your knowledge.”

I give a sigh and repeat my history lesson: Ages ago, many races of men lived on the surface, creating cities and wonderful inventions to improve their living. But over the years, they became proud and vain; treating those less than them with contempt until the Fire Clouds came. Their origins were unknown, starting with one and then many more, burning the Above Ground to ash. Men who survived the Fire Clouds came to the underground and rebuilt their civilization, donning masks to protect them from the effects of the Fire Clouds, known as Wrath. I and many others like me were made to withstand the Wrath and bring the men back to the surface.

Mehitebel is silent, but then shakes their head. “Nuclear Mutually Assured Destruction, how very 1950’s. Guess it proves that the personnel can change, but not the protocol.”

“But it is the truth, right?” I ask. “You’ve been down here as long as me.”

“Yes, though you have been lied to. I’ve been to the surface many times, and nothing is dead. Very much the opposite…I’ll call you Ziox. It means “fair” in my native language.” Mehitebel hands me the transparent panel with the strange symbols. “I’ll switch it to English for you, but you have to keep it hidden when your Mask Men come around.”

They tap a few times and the symbols turn readable for me. “Why are you giving me this? Don’t you need it?”

“I can always get another one,” Mehitebel says as they cock their head. “This is your window to the world, unrestricted Internet access. Just input anything you want to know on the keyboard, like this.” They show me how to connect the letters through swiping my finger across the virtual keyboard, and it went like this until a beep went off, signaling that dawn had approached.

As Mehitebel left, I called after them, “Thank you!” They gave a small wave and disappeared through the door.

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