This SSWkly post is going is an original story that sort of combines several ideas in both Science Ficfion and Fantasy. It's longer than most posts, but I enjoyed writing this story. This is also post 296, so it's past the point of no return for me, and this blog, more will be revealed on what I mean at post 300, and as sappy as that sounds in the terms of a marketing strategy. Yet, I have so much to say in 300, but it does become more revealed.
For now, let's enjoy:
Soorlin and Peter
Peter came from dynastic majesty, a family if merited men and women throughout eons of history. They bound the strands of time in their likeness, this does not make it easy on a boy coming to age. The dragons flew above his brow, migrating to the volcanic islands for the mid-season frost, where the tundras blow, and the permafrost hardens like a Titan Tortoise's carapace. With a breath of cool air, and Phoenix down sparks blistering the skin, he hurried to his lessons, the shining beacon of light which lead to the Halls of knowledge of the Family Wry, Peter's Family name.
It was hard to be taken as an equal puil when the name of the facility bears one's name. Still, Peter scuffed his way towards the building, as the pictured sky brightened by the aurora, the dragons now lands away for his sight.
Peter went into the building, it was cold, made of ancient wonders, magic, and the blood off the backs of serfs for the kingdom. Copious margins of definitive magic came amongst the classrooms, levels of apprentiship zapped and pinged off the walls, spells of all spectrums of magic divided up the school into charred walls.
The beaten path towards his classroom was littered with wisps of fairy dust, and chimera decrement, covered up by apple blossom-fragranced water from the Idle River Basin, a holy ground. The walls were as green as a whimsical forest, nestled beauty, it was the color of his dynamic family: a verdant forestry of hidden wonder, and secrets to match. He found his home room, and sat down quietly, the lesson was already in procession:
"Ah, it seems we have a late-comer in Mr. Wry, surely you know not to come in unless you're on-time. If you are not going to afford me the spect of your fullest attention, then you will not be awarded with mine. We were discussing what is known throughout time and land something called: teleportation. Now this is a strange bedfellow of magic, one that is lost on the spectrum of society, which is entrenched in mystery. One that dabbles in this sort of magic, has done so with a knowledge of the very building blocks of life."
His teacher, Herald Soorlin, a four-hundred year old wizard that has been tied to the Wry bloodline for sixty-seven generations, has been teaching Advanced Metaphysics and Thermodynamity. The course was an serious course, most of the other students were in their early twenties, and they struggled with the annotations that Soorlin gave: his syllabus was unethically long, and his notes were encyclopedic in length.
"Teleportation requires sciences and physics that have yet to be applied to this timeline, and certainly many others. In-part, all of nature has been accessible to man since the dawn of reason, now with applications throughout time and space, of which I've mastered long before, one can learn to traverse from time and space, and more-importantly, outside those furthest regions, with merely a blink. Before a contraption of gadgets beyond your comprehension were designated to travel with forth throughout the world and time, but with teleportation, a device as seemingly ample, and far-more versatile than say your pocket watch, is enough to send you throughout time. Mechanics, as it's grown to be known in this era, has accumulated such an important role in the future of Man thwt it is developed well beyond that of infrastructure."
"But Herald, if time is ever-changing, and this world we live in, and the surrounding universe are ever-expanding,then pray-tell, how could anyone ever land precisely where they want at any given point in time, even with ratio factored in? The spot we are in now, is not even the same a decade ago, let-alone hundreds, thousands, even millions of years in either chronological direction."
I had offered my opinion on the situation, I've listened intently over the semester, but even I was finding this magic to be impossible. Magic has to work within the spacial laws of the universe, it could not work outside of the proverbial natural world. Everything existed within nature, even the strange materials known as cement and plastic that Herald had shown us were part of the natural world, and in any given circumstance, shows up naturally somewhere in the unknown universe. Herald knew I was skeptical, even when I saw proof of his ability to do-so.
"True, it seems improbable to find out precisely where , and when in time one can travel, but as with all things, it's not impossible. The answer is quite simple: trans-dimensional travel. With this-" he lifted up a tiny button on a piece of the aforementioned material: plastic. He explained that it was a "self-sustaining quarks displacer", it was a marvel to the class. "-I can go anywhere in time, and 'anywhen' if you will, through time and dimension. Modern man figured that to travel throughout time, one had to follow a certain rule, because going backwards isn't impossible, it's just never going to be on your own time stream. For example. I am a time traveller, you call people like myself a wizard, a sorcerer if you will, but I'm merely a scientist, and quite frankly in my own time, not even close to the smartest person in my world. In many ways, I'm an alien to you, because when I traveled back, I came upon your existence through a wormhole.
"Man from my time for years debated if wormholes existed, and by your time, this term is rather new, but we use it as a tunnel in space, connecting two points, like a bridge, a circumvent if you will. I'm as surprised as you are though, because we both have fascinating circumstances that are afoot. In our world, goblins, dragons, and all other monster are fairy tales, told by creative minds of the past, but they were not literal, not real. Here, well, your kingdom is full of magic well beyond the understanding that I could ever comprehend. In-truth, it'd be quite terrifying if it wasn't so mesmerizing. In the year 2050 of my Earth, this is well impossible, but not surprising to me that I would find a world where this all exists."
I didn't like to question elder authority, but father always spoke of the intellectually soun were not afraid to question the authorities that be, within reason. But this....this was something I couldn't even begin to question, the befuddlement it left me in was absolutely terrifying. A world made entirely of plastic, both inorganic, and organic, was far too much for my mind to take. Anything more intelligent, by leaps and bounds with technology beyond those of fabrication by the moral majority,mis nothing short of a god.
The class was Impassionately disrupted by the Sparrows, ancient living beings that flickered and fluttered about the rooms, once seen as a nuisance, before being linked as ancestral energies that are nearly immortal, bringing urgent messages like Hermes, as Heraled described them. Here es was a messenger for superior beings known as god, and he being "deified" himself. A courier to the stars, which was similar to thenSparrows, but he spoke very-much-so in ambiguities for a scientist. To most other people of my Father's kingdom, Herald was a madman from the stars, a monster of the Fates, brought forth to give dire news of the kingdom, but he has been anything but a doomsayers, he has given us something to believe in again. The Sparrows however: they were our true doomsayers, and their prescence vilified me to the core. Father seeked them like the great philosophers of Herald's Ancient Greeks seeked the Oracles. Still, if I were to be King, Would vanquish the Sparrows to the outer realms. Where the world tilted, and the void with teeth devoured even the history of any lost soul unfortunate enough to travel there.
"These bring troubling news throughout the Kingdoms and Commonwealths. Unforeseen events have come ahead. There are forces of darkness to come, a great mountain will shift, two stars not long ago descended atop of Xyzron-9-9-12, the world is in peril when the first night comes, but the sun does not fall. These have spoken, These have warned, all hail the House of Wry! All Hail King Corin, and his Herald Soorlin!"
Soorlin, human as he was, had lived for thousands of years, that's sort of true, as he exist in two plains as once, so really he was in his mid-forties, but in the space-time continuum; he was ancient. He was also not a fan of the Sparrows, more-so than I apparently. I've been against them for so long, I tend to forget my most fondest teacher was an ally against their hold on the kingdom. Nevertheless, class went on accordingly, and the concept of entering parallel dimensions and wormholes, a word fairly new from local botanist whose gardens have been somehow miraculously saved by the squiggly beasts of burden. Still, I've grown fonder of Herald Soorlin's distrust of these mythc beings. For all his knowledge, and near immortality, it was amazing how scared he acted, like an Everyman, and in his time, perhaps he is...but for now, he was as untouchable as a god.
I was exiting the classroom, whereupon I was grabbed, gingerly, not with a might of Ironclaw, by Herald Soorlin.
"Yes sir?" I asked, almost in wonderment, or was it bewilderment?
"You are the quintessential pupil, Peter Wry, and I do not say that becaue of your dynastic standings,mbut I will add onto that where you are showing a lack of interest in my class. I've taught your father's greatest grandfather, up to you, and you are even aptly christiened after my Earthborn name. Peter, I've jot been called that in so long, yet I find that this is also a bad reflection on keeping the timelines from merging. You see, I can teach you all about my world, it won't affect the future, even if this timeline was somehow connected to mine. Men like Leonardo Da Vinci, and so many other great men and women who Weee smarter than I had seen ahead, in my time they're called futurists. The means you have today are not enough to classify as applicable to create computers, starships, or even F-16 jets that the ariforce used to fly. It's all derelict technology onto your brain, but it goes into the natural course of mankind: even the earliest cave dweller could think of rocketships, because the brain wills imagination to always work within the natural perimeters of the universe."
"I only question your reasoning, it is, as you say hypothetical?"
"The world works through natural laws. Science has barely encoded the brain, even in my time we have only begun to understand about thirty-five percent of what the brain is capable of amassing, although most of it functions as a seperate, almost symbiotic, meaning working together, species all its own. The brain, whether it belongs in the same category as human is the dominant species on earth. It is organic, it is a muscle, and yet by its own definition, must be its own sentient being. Perhaps creatures are a dual species, all brains controlling shells. Yet teleportation and time travel, both work essentially the same. The brain does half the work, the technology does the rest, getting the shell that is Man, and the brain that is Man's master back and forth through time.
"The Sparrows know I'm onto how the brain of one man is the same as the brain as one man, woman, and child throughout all of history. We are not a hive mind, but are locked into a deep-seeded forum, a private connection where we are all in one room, but cannot see each other because of blinds. This displacer, removes the blinds, and essentially removes the restrictions that do exist, but it doesn't dissolve them completely. Teleportation is moving a body within a brain that has existed since the first stem evolved from a cluster of neurons. All brains are linked, but not all brains are the same, confusing as much as it is remarkable. That is why you can know what I can, because deep-down, Peter; your brain has always known. Information is only as imprionsed as the lock we latch upon it, and the weight of the key for truth we wish to then free."
I listened intently at this revelation, knowing theory can become fandom if not heavily guarded, but it was not nearly as preposterous as curing cancer with a gas used to kill thousands of people.
"What I need from you Peter, and I know it is treason to ask, let-alone demand anything of an heir of Wry, even my loyalty only grants me so much leeway. But what I must ask, is that we come together to be rid of these blasted Sparrows! For millennia they have roamed the universe, but I are them now more than ever. They know what I am, they are displeased with me, and if cannot deny it is my fault for interfering, but my research, my understanding of multiple worlds, infinite dimensions, and being but aged only a month in centuries....immune to all disease...this is why I've chosen such a nom de guerre, this will be my fountain of youth. I'll win a Nobel, I'll win several, but I've discovered the key to unlocking the human brain, and precise time travel with an understanding of the universe. Peter, those bastard sprites of forlorn, they want to hinder my legacy! I'm so close, with just a few more days, I will know God, I will see its true face, and I will have seen the very spark that lit the sun, and the prexistence before all the multiverses exploded outward from what has been known as the a Big Bang. Peter, in just days, they will have to rename it the Big Event, because I will have seen the small chain reactions of events, the billions of quadrillions of nonillions of these events that took place before. I would see creations before even God could. It will...well, it will simply be."
The resonance in his tone changed from mortal teacher to something far beyond alien. Even with my well-endowed wisdom, I knew not whether to shake the hand of a man of science, or bow before a demigod in worship, for he had transcended the heavens like Heracles to join the household of all the immortals.
Suddenly, and without any intelligible warning, a Sparrow came upon us, its frightenly cold stature was almost deadly, a creature as such should never have existed in our, or any timeframe. Soorlin stood his ground. He did not even allow a confrontation to happen, he pulled out the displacer device that he had shown to me with such great pride moments before, and shoved the button deep into the hypothetical chest of the Sparrow, it vanished with a wispy puff of something resembling snowflakes and fog.
I flew back from the implosion the creature let off, and felt a chill run up the back of my neck, forcing me to burn up and sweat off briskly with goosebumps.
"They are beginning their attack on me! No doubt ordered by your Father, King Corin. No surprise, he was not as apt a pupil as his father, but you, Peter, named after me, whether subconsciously or not, you. Use help me put these Sparrows to rest. We will fight them my pupil, because the future needs me to discover this knowledge. We don't have days, I'd say even hours are a fallacy by now! We must go back to my tower! I must travel! There is a spare displacer there, but I fear it's my last, so this will be my only shot. Do you understand?"
I nodded. We headed to his tower, not far from the education center, which was just off-centere of town. The church, now the converted lab of Soorlin was where we ran, no Sparrows have followed, they wre still mourning over the lost of one of their younger members. Only seven could exist at a given moment, and now there were only six, and the balance of life was teeter-totting in disarray. The door of the old church slammed open, as we climbed the spiral staircase to the tippity top, the lab was itself, an apparent beacon. Without skipping a beat as Soorlin had said before in class, every second was accounts for, as I helped him through muscle memory to put the final touches on the new displacer. It was astounding how bright it glowed, gems as electrical conductors, as wiring was apparently difficult to create in our time. Still, Soorlin, or rather, Peter was grateful for my help, even thoughi somehow knew it was him working his magic through me.
"All things are in order, and I fear this will be my last lesson for you, Peter."
"Please, Herald, speak it quickly, I fear it may not bode well to waste ample lessons when Sparrows knock upon the church door!" I was sounding more like him now, but why? It didn't matter, he would see the beginning of the beginning, I would be lucky to stand trial for treason. But to be rid of one of those fiends, it was worth losing my head.
"Remember one thing: humanity is a blatant lie that we tell ourselves! The true Master is the one thwt named itself: the brain! It is the key, the content, and the lockbox all in one, a holy trinity of knowledge, and only through our understanding of it, will we ever understand everything. Use that knowledge, and be as creatinine as infinite! Forgo all acts of chastity! Ever deny yourself the suckling, sweet, honey-milk teat of knowledge!"
With those last words, he vanished like he had so many times before. Stories of his abilities have been written down,mbut only now have I ever seen him vanish completely from sight, already billions and billions of quadrillions of inif I've time back before the past was a physical idea. It was now that I stood, with Sparrows about me, the proverbial bird name was almost exact as I felt a pecking like sensation about my face, my eyes, and I bled from the orifices. I did not go blindly but was carried away in a chill so disgusting, I passed out.
Thus, with all horrifying realizations, I woke up to see my father stand forthright, looking me up and down with regal disdain.
"My own son, to turn against the crown of his people! Poetic if naught, I shall punish thee for thine insolence!" Father was never poetic, he spoke in idioms that made others feel the need to bow and kiss rings. I was not amused. The end was coming, a King is still a King, and King Corin would see my head roll, only heir or not. This was no fairy tale ending....then again, it sort of was...all of those old stories Soorlin had told had ended rather morbidly, what better way than to end my tale of grievances with a bit of red stuff?
I was tried, three times, but execution day had come, and my father was there to bare the witness of I, his only blood relative, his only son's court-ordered death. I got back, I demanded to seek my own executioner, and it was Father I've chosen to do the deed. Few kings get their hands bloody, and although the executioner is historically foretold as anonymous, you are given a right to a fair executioner. I knew Father would be swift and just, but the real sore was that he would have to watch the Family Wry go down with a blow, one that he had swung. He was a very old man, and there was no Viagra yet, Soorlin joked about the medicine. Father would be without a blood heir. I smiled, as the axe came down, then....the universe....it gave me all I needed to know. My head fell into the basket, but from that moment on...I became Everything; and Nothing. I was omni. I was so...alive.
Thank you for enjoying this short story weekly post, or SSWkly for short. You can follow the SSWkly hashtag if you want, or just follow me on twitter @mcasteditorial. Thank you so much for reading short stories, and I'll have more to come, but this was a fun one to right, feeling under the guns to get it done pushed me through, but I will be back next week with another one, and I have several longer stories that are being worked on meticulously right now that will be up and out for your reading pleasure in the upcoming weeks. I think one I'm working on now called Siesta of Grief is going to be more of an actual novella than a short story, but hopefully it will be reasonable and not delayed. I know how these thing tend to go for me, and I don't want to be behind a week. Next week I will be doing my 300th post, and the week after will have one short story weekly, (this week coming up will have a short short short one too, and yes that's short three times for emphasis) and this will give me time to work on both my E3 posts, and those much longer short stories. I will be typing more these next two weeks than I care to, perhaps more than NaNoWriMo, but rest-assured that these posts will be up in due-time.
In the meantime, I will be sure to drop off a couple of more posts. I'm doing two this week, and three the next. I will try my best to get everything in order, but time is essentially not on my side right now. This story was at least two days of writing, I expect to finish Siesta in a week. I also have a very, very long story (probably 5,000-8,000 words) coming in the first serial of the Malacast Editorial. I've also a sequel coming soon as well. So please stay up-to-date with the Malacast Editorial via my Twitter feed, and I'll see you next week as we reach level 300!
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