Neophyte

fractaltime

Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Alchemist’s corner.

Today we dive into causalities, time-loops, Novikov self-consistency and the logic of the past.

Say hello again to the fascinating Remi Olutimayin.

Read. Enjoy. Share your thoughts. See you on the other side.

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NEOPHYTE

by Remi Olutimayin

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In the dark, I could hear millions breathing with me. The anticipation was palpable. Then the screen came to life and we saw for ourselves the truth of our being together in this moment.

“Our religion is war. Our hope is victory. Our heaven is dominion. Our hell is defeat.”

When the Primus spoke, you listened.

“The way things work are the way things work…every other thing is fantasy. Listen to me, and you will live. Ignore me and you will know that defeat is only one of the many faces of hell.”

We were on our last orientation at our new post. The knights templar was one of many models that the Gathering was based on. We made war in the name of our gods, but our gods were fallible men who died under the weight of the human need for expansion.

I had never seen where humanity started. Earth was a legend to me. Trees, oceans, flora and fauna…all these represented a distant heritage to me and it should have bothered me, but it did not. That bothered me.

The Primus had no name. His name had been cast off the day he took on the title and every last one us coveted his name.

He was our leader, our father, and our god. To pray was to read the words of every Primus from the current one to the last. To meditate on their wisdom, to share in their horror and how they overcame each and every one of them. Their reigns were called ‘horrors’ and rightly so. The first Primus discovered the true nature of the universe and how we were feared like a cancer that the rest of the sentient universe had kept under thumb by triggering war, ignorance and genocide amongst my people from the day we learned to stand erect. They only delayed the inevitable. The first Primus made sure we became the inevitable thing they resented because the universe had stopped their advancement and had decided we were not to be held back. But we needed to want it. We had to desire it. It was this want and desire that made us who we are today…in the Horror of Angry Lights.

Our Primus chose to name his era that from his experiences under forced labour in the colonies that were ‘cattle’ to the tri-cephalic beings we called ‘the stooges’.

“The stooges ate us, forced us to work and made sport with our very fibre. The horrors they made our ancestors inflict on themselves, they visited on us and more. It seems we developed our capacity to mistake advancement for a chance to carry the bigger stick came from them. We became nuclear under their time. What seemed an uncontained force to our ancestors was merely a tool to enslave. They kept actual fission events sustained in packs smaller than an infant’s fist. They did not reckon with our creativity. They did not reckon with our capacity for motives beyond being sustained. We were not afraid of the angry lights they used on us.

“Of a certainty, a single touch would render anything into an angry light that winked into darkness. But we were not afraid of it. We wanted make it our slave. We wanted to make it bow to us.”

The Primus seemed to speak over the heads of the 2 million male and female neophytes who stood before him.

“We are presently of a number that is best measured by the trillion for every sun in every solar system known to sentient life. The stooges sought to keep our numbers down in this system. Unlike the enemy of many faces, we understand that we are united by their fear of us.”

“Hey, Kronisys!”

I turned to the clown of my sect, Arbias, and wondered what joke he had come up with in this solemn moment.

“Kronisys, this is taken from the words of the first Primus. Listen closely for your coveteous soul needs to embrace what you are and not try to contain it by frail definition.”

I turned back to the Primus. Damn Arbias. He was right. I needed to hear those words.

“We destroyed the stooges with the technology of 315 other unique races. Technology they refused to share with each other. Technology we had discovered ways of combining and becoming their worst horror. The ambition you feel was never meant for you. It is meant for the all. If you covet my title, you are mistaken. It is not the title you covet. It is not the power you covet. It is earning our united right to exist that you covet for your kind, your people. Remember that when you are tempted to break the chain of command, when you’re tempted to fight your brother and sister directly and openly or indirectly and in secret.”

He turned away to look at something off screen and turned back to us.

“Use your ignorance and energy to break the elusive enemy. We learned the hard way that criminal behavior is not an abberation. It is a learned response to a need that has been in each and every one of us from the time of Cain, the kin-slayer. Turn it towards the enemy. Turn it towards our victory.”

We all got the cryptic message. What we do is driven by evil to evil. Let the evil face the enemy.

When we sat in the darkened ‘rooms of preparation’, we had only our thoughts to comfort us. We were criminals as our only crime was to be the next point of ascention in the awareness of the universe.

****

Prof. Daughtry checked the monitor results of the brain activity of candidate 73. Sleep-talking had to be induced so as to have the most honest account of 73’s experience.

He looked over briefly at his assistant Dr. Shaw who was obviously amused at 73’s account.

“So we’ve triggered genetically linked memory, gone down the rabbit-hole and into the future. Is there anything we can do to prove it?”, Shaw asked in half-a-laugh.

Daughtry was not amused. His job was not to be amused. Shaw was brilliant, but with neither vision nor sensitivity. That’s why he picked him.

Daughtry had long since established a baseline. Shaw did not recognize as that, thank God.

Daughtry had confirmed 73 to be the 17th neophyte that had been sent back from the 43rd century to speed-up the rise of the 1st Prime, his great-grand son in this timeline, but his ancestor 600 generations ahead. Perfecting the process from here had only occured once and that was with Daughtry himself. The sentient collective had used their human minions in the most powerful governments to close that down. That had changed the timeline and now it was key to help the timeline along in its self-correction.

“Our mistake was to try to end it here too soon.”

Shaw turned to him with a puzzled look on his face.

“Sir? Were you talking to me?”

“No.”

Daughtry knew time for what it really was. A very complex map, very much like the paths of any shanty in the 3rd world. Unlike the sentient collective, this was his house and he knew it well enough to keep them chasing shadows and eliminating the neophytes sent back to distract them.

Daughtry knew with 73’s account, the timeline was now returned to what favoured humanity.

He turned to Shaw and said,”The ambition you feel was never meant for you. It is meant for the all.”

Then he woke 73 up gently by changing his IV lines. The issue with the process was once awakened, it becomes difficult to convince the neophytes to feign ignorance.

73 slowly opened his eyes then turned to Daughtry and studied his eyes intentionally.

“Arbias?”

“It is Daughtry here, Kronisys. I’ve waited a long time for you, old friend.”

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