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Someone will one day record that the World conceived out of the Twenty-First Century was a corrupt, self-destructive place. Thriving, prone to friction, its very core overworked and tired. A few years following, someone else will record that this was not entirely true, that the sun did indeed set on the frantic, overpopulated landscape carved out of the Information Age and the psyches of Gibson, Orwell and Dick. Various times, as a matter of fact, did some sort of Revolutionary or Visionary share its wisdom and foresight with the children of melting pot societies and generation gap paradoxes. But from that foresight arose something contradictory to the anything but dismal, seemingly infantile and yet apparently infinite sense of Hope. Out of the awareness of a community derived existence, flew men and women who were not harbingers of peace and serenity. They fired beams of unfathomable energy from their hands, leveling entire cities, or skulked in tattered cloaks of shadow in alley ways, stalking their next prey; or they simply donned strange features and deceiving costumes in some hope of creating false pretenses of good and just, only to stab a trusting, hopeful community in the back. Criminals. Super Villains. Men and women who walked and lived in the gray. Sadly, this was the penultimate of human achievement and evolution and at the same time, the finest example of humankind’s haphazard, greed stricken, self serving destiny.
The second instance of man’s total disregard for its own meager destiny involved only one man. Born on the exact day when this new cyber awareness breathed new life into a stagnant evolution, he stood separate from his predecessors and culled others to his cause. He was indeed a man of the postmodern, in ways not even the man of the millennium could understand. But this is not his story, rather the story about those who walked alongside him, in the wake of deeds that would haunt an uncertain planet Earth for decades more. This is a chokehold on yesteryear and the death rattle of tomorrow. Anthology Two Presents… Reflections of the Past in our Future Manhattan Central Hub, April, 2010 Drive-By Chronicles: Sidewayz on dvd “That’s right!” he shouted, his voice a synthetic resampling of the one he was born with despite the fact his larynx was replaced years ago. “Don’t any of you come any closer! This is the day the world as you know it ends!” He shook his tech-infused arms in the air, his metal piston-like fingers rolled into rather formidable fists. “The old will be overwritten! And we will rise up alongside the C0r3m1nd and build anew in his image!” Policedrones stood all the way around him, a robotic cordon around the cybernetic madman. They’d planned to rush him originally, the bulky mass of metal interwoven with flesh standing with an golden scepter. It was quite a sight, actually, watching the almost perfect cohesion of man and technology, waving around a shaft of metal that seemed to be older than anything else in the entire New York Quadrant. A couple of bystanders, two of them not standing back wondering what Media Baron was staging yet another newsworthy gimmick on the decks of New York, actually started toward the strange fellow, but backed away when the scepter in his hand started glowing. The young beat Cop/Controller rookie who worked the Hub had called in reinforcements and more drones from around the Hub showed up just about the time the glowing staff began emanating golden energy out from all sides. Into the sky, streams of light seemingly going and going, twisting and turning, almost as if they were traveling beyond the Quadrant. “The Nth Daemon rises today!” Even though he appeared iconic, brightly polished and seething with strength and dignity, the man on the box radiated a certain unsettling, almost evil presence. His rantings carried a force behind them, like a verbal fist into the gut of every red blooded American within netcast distance. “We shall deliver this abomination of a world into the hands of the Mother-router! And, with this gift of destiny at our disposal, there is not one among you who can stop us now!” “Well,” the voice registered into the cybernetic being’s audio receivers from somewhere above and behind him, a rather subdued roll of thunder sending a storm of film-spheres into action to film its arrival. “I’ll venture to say I know at least one who’s going to try, friend.” Millennius floated forward, then down so his opponent could see him, so well rehearsed that it seemed he had done it hundreds of times before. The cyberman in the midst of the light shower saw the flying man of flesh, but showed little feeling, especially no shock or fear. Only the unadulterated hate and aggression in its all too human eyes. “Too late, Millennius! I expected you! That’s why I chose to initiate our dominance right here! Out in the open! In your city!” “That is one way to make sure I show up.” His eyes studied the area quickly with his solar vision. There seemed to be no one else around in support of this cyberbeing. Turning his eyes to the scepter, he closed his left eye, focusing his solar vision into an intrusive beam that became lost in the bath of gold radiance. “It’s already nearly over, you know that, don’t you!” the cybernetic despot continued raving at Millennius. “This device, the Scepter of Fate, has already granted the datamites of the Nth Daemon all the power they need to roust your precious, orderly Infogov and remove its blight from the planet!” Millennius moved a few inches to the right, then the left, as he talked. “I know. Some of my friends and associates have already detected some of your ‘programs’ and the fight’s indeed under way.” Millennius cocked an eyebrow as he looked at the cyberman, then at the scepter, then back to the cyberman. “And I have to deal with you. The cybernetic monstrosity with the weapon. That staff, it gives out powers to your men at random? So, what sort of abilities do you now have holding it?” “Idiot!” he lowered one hand, but shook the other, grasping the scepter at Millennius like an irate child. “I am at the center of the power! It is my power battery that makes this glorious weapon work! I need no other power! My followers will rise up and defend me!” “Ah,” Millennius said, rising up above the arcing above the blasts of gold, “that’s what I thought.” He moved above the man’s head, then just over him. Flying up about ten feet, Millennius then turned, and before his robotic foe realized it, rocketed back down at him, head first. The cyberman grasping the scepter looked up just in time to see the full length of Millennius’ body impact with the ground he stood upon. The concussive force of Millenius’ impact shattered the synthmetal surface of the street and knocked every bystander for a square mile of his or her feet. “No! No!” he screamed, his cybernetic body suddenly convulsing. Millennius burst out from beneath the ground amidst a cheering crowd as the cyberman continued to struggle and jerk uncontrollably. “Get on with it,” Millennius watched as this latest maniac he was saving the world from trembled as if he exploding from the inside out. After five or six seconds, it was over. The flesh aspect of the man cracked and burst from the inside out, coming free from the technological parts he was once bonded with. Millennius simply stood by and watched it end, crossing his massive arms across his chest. “Scepter… could not let it go… after I started the process…” his digital voicebox quivered, barely able to deliver its last explanation and message at a pitch that only Millennius could detect. “He… said…. I’d… die… if I let go of it… before… it was done.” Millennius looked over at the staff. The energy stopped radiating as quickly as the robotic man let it go and now it seemed dormant and plain. An antique. Millennius looked back to the faltering mass of automated machinery washed in flesh. “Where did you get that from? Did Doctor Creep give that to you?” The cybernetic man’s silver head shook and then fell free from its wiry neck but still it spoke. “Not… Creep… They… They are coming… back…” his body spasmed awfully once more. “Prepare yourselves… prepare your heroes. Beware… the Magis… the Magis… the Ma–.” Millennius nodded his chin, motioning the policedrones over to take the body. “Well, whoever ‘they’ are, they’ll find us ready. Ready as we ever were.” Cheers and applause rumbled up and down the Hub. Under his breath and the din, Millennius added, “And Heaven help us for that not being enough.” *** The Romantic Englishwoman movies October, 2011 Trilogy of Terror video Like a pot, a watched politician never accomplishes anything. Despite its age and failures in the day since its inception, the United Nations had grown, opening its doors to all nations. No longer did past transgressions matter or a nation’s inability to appease the Greater Nations, a term first used four decades ago to replace the title Super Power in order to separate Superhuman from State. A world parliament with little in the way of true power, the United Nations met all year round in its new capital of Switzerland, relocated after the New York Underground collapse in 2008. Debating, deliberating, declaring matters of opinion and history was all the political body of senior and aged intellectuals could manage these days but once in awhile, in instances few and far in-between… it had a good idea or two. “I would say the world cannot and should not tolerate another attack on its global infrastructure like the one in the Manhattan Hub last week! What I am prepared to propose to you, gentlemen of the Assembly, is the full and non-prejudicial separation of the superhuman criminal body from the rest of Earthen society!” “Separation, Mr. Kensington? Isn’t that just a down-played way of saying Segregation?” the speaker from New Palestine asked a sincere question with the calmest of tones, perfectly translated by the neck and collar apparatus that was a part of his nation’s diplomatic uniform. “Segregation is an evil of our past that my country will not revisit, Mr. Speaker. This body has taken great strides over the last several decades to eradicate racial prejudice on all levels. Segregating human from the superhuman… well I believe it to be a step in the wrong direction.” Leave it for the speaker from the United States to give an overly dramatic approach that was both self centered and unnecessary. It would have sufficed to just hear him say, “We don’t like it.” “I thank the Speakers of Pakistan and the United States for their opinion, however, what I am proposing is not segregation in the historically defined sense. If we must give it a term that we can identify with, I believe ‘deportation’ is more accurate.” Willem Kensington, Australian diplomat to the United Nations was a tanned man from head to toe. His hair was a light chestnut and his features a sunny brown. He moved with a young man’s grace and acted with a naivety that sometimes let him go unnoticed and yet when he spoke, none could focus on anything else but him. He didn’t need the collar-translator to tell him what the murmur inside the Main Hall meant. In nearly every language on Earth, the same word was being repeated over and over for clarification. Deportation. The Canadian Speaker stood up. The oldest of the UN ambassadors and the most vaunted, his charismatic leadership made him the obvious diplomatic leader even though there hadn’t been a Secretary General of the United Nations in over twenty-five years. “Mr. Kensington, if I were to practice a certain amount of creative imagination, I might gather you intend to round up all of these superhuman criminals of yours with the intent to ship them off to somewhere. Certainly ironic when you consider the history of your nation.” “The irony never escaped me, Mr. Atwater. And if I were to guess what your reservations of such an idea may be…” “Please do.” “Where is it exactly that we can send this cancer of society where it won’t come back to infest us again in the very near future. What good is an ocean boundary to one who can swim great distances? What good is a secluded and distant region of the world to one who can fly through the atmosphere? Once taken off our soil, out of our cities and societies, how do we keep them away?” The Speaker paused for a moment of effect and listened to the steady din of voices in multiple languages, a field of Babel laid out before his very eyes. “The answer, quite simply, is to send them to a place they cannot return from. A place that superhumans would lay claim to. Such a place does not exist within the confines of our planet, gentlemen, so if you want to put your imagination to the test, do so now. Otherwise, consider the proposal now being uploaded to your diplonets. “My government and an independent consortium have already completed the groundwork, estimations and probabilty surveys, all of which you may consider over the holiday. Upon return from our break, I will make the more official proposal: that the superhuman criminal population be deported off the planet Earth and cast away into deep space for our mutual survival.” *** “Deportation,” Millennius scoffed. “What is it with humanity’s propensity for either running away from their problems or shoving them as far away as possible?” The blond-haired übermänn gave his companion a sideways glance, trying to ignore this Grim Knight’s very female features. If, over the years, she noticed his superhumanly quick undressing of her with his eyes, she never mentioned anything. “Who knows,” she replied simply, “but if you ask me, it’s a shame they didn’t think of it sooner. Hopefully someone will have the good sense to aim their ship straight for the sun.” The duo were positioned on the roof of the United Nations headquarters in Switzerland. Millennius relied on his augmented hearing to listen in on the deliberations inside the building while the Grim Knight depended on more electronic means. The Grim Knight only briefly looked up from her vantage point of the street below. It was always the street with her, nothing else held her attention for very long. “I take it you don’t approve,” she said from beneath her cowl. “Even though it’s not my place, you mean,” Millennius bitterly suggested while looking down at the Knight. He crossed his arms crossed over his chest, challenging his teammate to explain why he was no longer allowed an opinion in human affairs. “Sure, I don’t approve. This has all the makings of a bad idea. “How’s that?” Grim Knight returned her gaze to the street below, tracking a pedestrian’s movement as he walked past the entrance of the UN building. “Because they thought of it and you didn’t?” The displease scowl Millennius was wearing deepened. “Do you really think I’m that shallow?” “Shallow? No. Not really. Do I think you have a crucifixion-complex? Definitely.” Knight stood, pulling her long, dark cape tighter around her. “Why is that when humanity tries to fix its own problems, you immediately think their suggestions are bad ideas?” Millennius opened his mouth to reply but Knight showed no signs of giving him the opportunity. “Why is it that any plan that doesn’t involve a superhuman, a cape or a mask is doomed for failure? Is it so hard to believe that humanity might be capable of fixing its own problems? Or is it just that, if the great Millennius and his Federation of Heroes can‘t fix the world‘s problems, well then surely it‘s too difficult a task for normal humans to do it.” “I don’t believe that at all,” Millennius replied. He lowered his head and gazed intently at Grim Knight, his eyes were concealed in shadow and for a moment it seemed he was looking out from behind a domino mask. “Let’s stop being cute with each other, Knight. You know full well the purpose of the Federation was to deal with the problems humanity couldn’t. First and foremost of those problems were super criminals. In fact, they asked us to confront that problem before anything else. Before global epidemics, before starvation… Humanity itself knew that it couldn’t deal with them alone.” “Your whole attitude throughout all this, Millennius, is that humanity is flawed, capable of mistakes that it can’t fix because of its own weaknesses. That it has to rely on supers to deal with supers. So let’s say you’re right. Let’s say they are flawed and capable of being wrong. What’s the sin in being wrong, Millennius? The very fundamental difference between man and superman seems to be that man can admit to being wrong and apparently tries to learn from its mistakes.” Becoming increasingly frustrated, Millennius places his hands on his hips. “What are you getting at, Knight? That somehow, they’ve had it right all along and we’ve been going about things the wrong way?” A smile tugged at the edge of Knight’s lips. She’d thank Millennius for proving her point but it was probably likely that he wouldn’t get it. “That we’ve perpetuated the problem while attempting to solve it?” “To a point, yes. Superhumanity’s approach to control and process super criminals has led to nothing else but violence and violence begets violence, Millennius. I honestly believe our crusade has done little more than inspire and encourage the very population we’ve tried to stamp out.” “Incredible,” Millennius replied incredulously. “You actually believe that?” Grim Knight left the question without an answer, knowing that Millennius didn’t need one. “My predecessor might have agreed with you on a lot of things, Millennius despite the differences in your methodologies.” “We agreed on the end, not the means.” “But you should know after all this time,” Knight resumed, “I am not my predecessor. He chose me to succeed him because near his end he knew he had gone about this all wrong. Just like you have; just like the rest of the Federation. He figured I had the right idea; that all I needed were the… tools to bring it about. Well, I think I have. I’ve done the research, looked at the facts and since taking on the mantle I’ve put myself right in the middle of the battlefield. I’ve seen for myself how supers react to other supers. I’ve seen their apparent answer to everything.” “I’m not convinced it doesn’t work.” “I think this concept that the UN has come up with might be the most original and the most innovative area that’s come out of this… war against supers… against criminals. Surprisingly enough,” Knight chuckled, “it’s not so original.” “All right, Knight,” Millennius dropped his arms to his sides, conceding defeat. “The Federation disbanded because it thought it was only making the situation worse. That was your doing. I disagreed with you then but agreed to continue working with humans on a simpler level. I chose to work with the humans and this is what they’ve come up with. So be it.” Grim Knight turned towards her former teammate, her features cloaked in black and shadow. “I want to hear you say it.” “I won’t interfere,” Millennius bowed his head. “I’ll leave them to whatever… fate they’ve chosen for themselves. “Now you see? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” The rare smile returned to her lips. “Listen, Henry, you wanted to retire years ago but criminals wouldn’t let you. Well… you don’t have that excuse any more. The criminals are leaving. Maybe you should think about kicking back for awhile, record your memoirs or… plant a farm or something, I don’t know. Whatever you capes do when you go to pasture.” Millennius smirked for a moment and then looked out to the skyline and the moon’s distant glow. “It used to be about telling stories. I think maybe… I still have a few left to tell.”Jack-O full Leave a Reply |
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