"You have no choice. You will build it. You will build it because you are the best at what you do, and only YOU can complete the job sufficiently, to our expectations. Everyone must be convinced, and you're the man to do it. So build it, create it, let it grow and let us go, now."
The man didn't want to hesitate, or make them aware that their words were exactly what he wanted to hear.
"You...You have given me...no option...I-I see now, you are right. Let me build it."
So it began.
The man built The Machine, as it was called. It was created as he imagined, as he wished, to conquer the world in the method he saw fit. His face was empty, his body now like the clay of those around him. He was apart of it all now, and he created a machine that would make it so much simpler. "Why fight the inevitable?" He thought. He knew better, but he actually believed those words...Why fight it...strong, and moving, but stupid and ridiculous, to him. He built it though, he became part of their lives and destroyed what he wished to be destroyed. It was all his doing, he was just being told to do it. He was given an order, and to disobey it would be meaningless, so he followed it. The others still feared him, they still kept their distance. He was still a monster to them- he wasn't careless like them, he just didn't care. They knew it, deep down, that he was the one, he was nobody's fool.
He was so blessed, blessed with a compatriot that slept with him, loved him, but foolishly attempted to change him and manipulate him. From their bodies came the catalyst; the one that was born of conformity. However, unlike the others, it was built not by machine, but by man. A man whose control of the earth allowed him to do what he wanted as long as he was doing it for them. After some time his son found him, his father, working on the machine. The son asked the father to carry him. The father took a deep breath, he knew it was time. The father picked up the son and walked him over to the edge of a cliff. He climbed up a ladder and opened the hatchet. Above the cold gray ash was the sun, and it gave life to his son. The clay from which the son was born began to fade, and color came to his face. his father went blind at the sight of such beauty, hoisting his son up. The father wept.
Then, an alarm sounded, and the others, the collective, they all turned to make sure each of them were okay. After much searching, they all came to a conclusion that they were fine, so the problem had to be the father. They ran down the halls searching, and finally, one of the collective found him. He stepped in, and saw them, high up on the ladder, getting what the collective would never understand why he hated it (Yes, that sentence made perfect sense, read it again- Ed.). The collector followed his instructions as given by the others. He reached to pull down the father and in turn send him back to work, to build, telling him to finish it. The machine was important, it would unite the world, it would bring peace and harmony. No more death or wars, we would all think and be the same, all of us would be one. It would be perfect. Some were already starting to unite, and these some urged in one voice for the father to come down.
"You must come down, right away. Only a few left, let us finish the job and become one with the others, we must all give up something for this, and you know this very well. Come now, let us finish it."
The creator looked up at his son, bright as a bulb, getting stronger. He released his son, and the son fell to the floor, with the newly acquired perfect features melting away. The son hit the floor hard, so hard that his face became hallow, like the rest. The creator took his son's hand and molded it into his, smiling and comforting the crying child.
"You are now with me, we are together, we are one body."
"Do not lie, father. We are together, but I am me, and you are you. Don't waste my time like you do theirs."
The father, the creator of The Machine, shed a single tear, and in one quick motion he shaped the son up into a ball and placed him in his pocket. The creator nodded to the collective, and they smiled, cheering him on as he walked down the white hall. They all trembled laughter, laughter because they were frightened by the creator. They didn't understand him; he didn't sacrifice, he didn't do what they did, but he must, he has to be changed. He has to change, to be saved. He has to be like me, they all thought with delight. So they led the creator, and commanded him to fire up the machine. The creator turned to them all, as made one last plea.
"I..I must do it, you know..."
"Yes you must, now finish it, let us be done and into the ground."
"As you wish."
He fired up The Machine. From it came gray bricks, with sockets. The collective plugged into the sockets, and their bodies began convulsing, they could not control the feeling. They knew they were in pain, but didn't know they were suffering. The creator bowed his head and turned The Machine to full power. Soon the world was feeding on this enormous power, from The Machine he created. The world was becoming gray brick sockets, all over. The entire sphere was covering with them. Some other intellectuals fought, but the creator mastered the world, and he conformed them to what he wanted, he wasn't the hero, nor the villain. In his world, there was only him, so he took every away. Soon the entire world was covered.
At that moment, he took his son out of his pocket, and the son formed back, perfect in clay. The father, the creator, smiled.
"Go now, you know what happens next."
The father took the son and pounded him deep into the earth, below the gray bricks. The final brick landed, directly on the father, and the creator was now one with everyone else. He was part of the collective, now. The entire world was one entity, an entity he created, that he caused, that he formed, that he controlled, because it was what the world wanted. Now the world was not green and blue, it was gray, and the skies were paper white.
Suddenly, from the white there rose a single stem, and the stem grew hands, and the hands pushed away the bricks. The stem grew legs, arms, fingers, a face, and all the features of the man; of the one the father had created. It was the son, as a man now, pushed and sent down into hell only to protect him from beauty of the heavens, and now he was alone, on the earth, to create it as he saw fit. He was the creator now.
He put trees all over, he sprinkled animals on all corners, and created a creature in his likeness, and it was beautiful, and with the creature sat a young woman, the woman reminded the son, the creator now, of his mother, and he loved them both dear, he told them to go into the world, and make it their own. He would create whatever he wanted, but for them, so he needed them to tell him how to think. The creature that looked like him whispered into his ear, "give me bows so I may eat and feed my wife." So the creator now gave him bows, and arrows, and the man fed his wife, and his wife grew plump. She became bigger, but still beautiful to the eye, beautiful like a flower is, because the creator now loved flowers; he was born as one, after all. Finally, the wife could not take the pain anymore, and she grabbed a knife and cut out the stomach, and from it came a snake. The snake was harmless, thought the man, and told the creator to leave it, for it was his son. The creator smiled, allowing the man to be independent. The snake was cunning, and got sick pleasure from innocent things. He was thirsty, so he begged the wife to let him suck from her breast. The snake convinced her it was his right, since he was born of her, so she let him. As he did so, she felt a sensation in her body. It was like venom, but she indulged in the pleasure. The creator now warned man of the lust, of the crime, but man was too busy feeding fat on the death of animals. Eventually, the wife was sucked dry by the snake. He had taken enough life force that he was able to copy the innocent look of a man. He whispered into man's ear "Let us own the world, let us become the creator."
The creator overheard their conversation, and he just smiled. He still gave man what he wished. Man wanted fire, he was given gasoline. Man wanted chemicals, the creator now gave him inhalants. Everything he wanted, he was given. The creator now saw the reason his father did what he did. Finally the creator decided to take his rightful place back on the earth, no longer above it, so he lured the man into a dark part of the earth. Once there, the creator killed the man, taking his body and making it his own, and the creator now walked the earth. The creator was now just a man, but not the father of the snake. The snake didn't know of the deception, but even worse the man lost track of the snake. The snake had decided to change his form as well, to please the man, so he became the man's wife. The man and the wife commenced in their pleasures. The snake wanted to change back but the man controlled the wife. The wife wanted to own the man, to get revenge because she hated herself. The wife gave the man children, the only way she could own him. The man was happy with the children, but when as he slept the wife did something horrible. She took all the children, all the people of the earth, and she took away their unique features, blocking the sun and sending them all underground. The wife dragged the man below as well, but because he was asleep she could not change him into clay like the others. She had to though, and she needed all their help. So she told that when the man woke up, that they must bow to him, make him think he's in control. They clay people obeyed.
When the man woke up, he sneaked up behind the wife and raped her, and when he was finished he slashed open her stomach, and out came one last child. He was not like the others, but he was still impressionable. The man looked around and knew that the world was doomed; that he had overslept, but knew also that this last child was his only hope of survival. He disguised the child as a clay person, and walked up to the others with the child at his side. The clay, the collective, all bowed at once to the man.
"Rise, my children. What has happened?"
"We are here to serve you, you must tell us what to do."
"Do whatever you wish, that is your choice, I do not care. Do what you must, debate amongst yourself, just leave me alone."
The collective rose, confused, unsure of what to do. They all talked together, trying to see why the man gave them power over him. They figured that the man was perhaps weak. A few from the world just moved on, searching the world for knowledge. The man noticed these few and respected them, calling them the intellectuals. The others, the collective, told the man he must wait for their answer. Man just wanted to get his son out of there, for he knew it was too late for himself. So he waited, and told his son, quivering with fear, to be patient. After some time of debate, the collective came to a conclusion, turned to the man and said,
"You have no choice. You will build it. You will build it because you are the best at what you do, and only YOU can complete the job sufficiently, to our expectations. Everyone must be convinced, and you're the man to do it. So build it, create it, let it grow and let us go, now."
The man didn't want to hesitate, or make them aware that their words were exactly what he wanted to hear.
"You...You have given me...no option...I-I see now, you are right. Let me build it."
So it began.
rating: 2
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