In the Empire (2)
Summary: The history of the Galactic Empire in its primitive era. Gratian's memories at the beginning of his exile.
When I got back, I found someone waiting for me. It was four in the morning, and the horizon was just beginning to lighten. It was a boy I knew well, though perhaps I should call him a man now. He was leaning against the living room window, drinking, and asked, "Where have you been?"
"I went outside for a walk. I couldn't sleep."
"With Caligula?" The tone was slightly sarcastic.
"Don't misunderstand. The director of the intelligence agency is very wary of me. He suspects that I know some inside information about the alliance, but in fact I know nothing."
"He also talked to me about a religious organization that has been active in the Empire recently, what's it called, uh, the Cult of the Roses."
"Hmph. What a talkative fellow." Gratian put down his wine glass. He slowly walked towards me, reached out, and pulled open my collar. His fingertips, like slicing open the belly of a gutted fish, probed inside, down, and fiddled with the unbuttoned inner lining.
"Why are you trembling? I'm not going to eat you."
In the dim light, he smiled, a very soft smile, and I saw his teeth, like seashells washed by the sea.
Then the lustrous, white seashell clamped tightly onto my lips. I tasted a metallic sweetness, and my lips began to bleed. I pulled away, "No! I don't want it!"
He slapped me hard across the face.
I was pushed down onto the living room sofa, unable to scream. My hands flared in the air before I covered my face, sobbing, or perhaps I simply didn't want to see anyone or anything around me. Tears streamed down my face, leaving everything I touched wet. After a while, I finally found my heartbeat. Gratian took my hands from my face, gently pulling them away. He leaned down, trying to kiss away my tears, but I jerked away, shame flooding my mind again. All I could do was keep screaming, "No... let me go..."
He was still there. After a slight pause, his tone was full of vengeance. He bit my earlobe and said, "Caesar, why are you always like this? As if I've committed a crime and am doing this to you."
"You clearly don't dislike me at all."
I almost fainted. He finally stopped. He left. I collapsed onto the sofa, my body still trembling slightly. "Are you alright?"
I didn't answer. Knowing him as I did, I knew his madness tonight wasn't over yet; sure enough, the emperor gulped down another glass of wine by the window, the blood-red grape wine, and smashed the bottle, shards of crystal-clear glass scattering onto the crimson carpet soaked with wine. I retreated, clutching my torn clothes, trying to cover my disheveled and filthy body, an action that further enraged him. "Come back here, Caesar."
The emperor made me kneel before him. His fingers tugged at my hair, making it ache. Afterwards, he made me kneel on the sofa, facing inwards. I didn't know what was happening behind me, but he blindfolded me with a strip of cloth, forbidding me to look. My hands gripped the back of the sofa, afraid of falling backwards; my body felt suspended in mid-air. Gratian's voice was calm, and his hands were caressing me. I felt my body swell, desperately seeking an outlet.
“Caesar, do you remember how you betrayed me back then? You traded me like an object to the politicians of the Earth Republic Alliance. First, I was imprisoned in a laboratory, used as a guinea pig for brain research; then, I was exiled outside the Iliad Gate. It was all thanks to you.”
Gratian's voice was cold and emotionless. His hands didn't stop. My vision was pitch black, and I suppressed a sob, like a dying fish.
Let me tell you a story.
He spoke slowly and deliberately. The story was indeed very long. Later, reflecting on that night, I felt it took almost my entire life to hear it.
"On a wild and desolate land far from human civilization, there was first a 'seed' that fell from the sky. It was an aircraft carrying people. The aircraft crashed to the ground and broke into pieces. People crawled out of the aircraft in large numbers. They stretched out their hands and feet and escaped from the cramped and suffocating cabin."
The cosmic radiation here is hundreds of times that of Earth. A thick, grayish-yellow cloud of carbon dioxide hangs in the sky. A gigantic, red eye shines in the heavens, far beyond what can be called a sun. All fresh water, plants, and seeds retrieved from the spacecraft are instantly dried by it—a giant fireball. People's skin cracks from the sun, and scaly white powder flakes off their surfaces. On the first day, nine out of ten people who landed died. The remaining ones, their skin, eyeballs, bones, and muscles thicken and strengthen at a visible rate. When they awoke on the second day, they had lost the appearance Mother Earth had given them upon arrival. People's pulses reached 190 beats per minute, and their hearts beat 200 per minute. Children are born on the first day, spend their childhood on the second, hunt for food on the third, meet their lovers and have children on the fourth, raise families on the fifth, teach their descendants survival skills on the sixth, and die on the seventh. Each person's life lasts no more than a week, but in every generation, someone 'lives'.
Countless generations have passed, and I have come, in the same aircraft, falling in the same shattered state. I was abandoned by you in this very hell, the place you call 'the world beyond the Iliad Gate'.
I fainted on the scorching sand. When I awoke, a pair of innocent eyes were looking up at me. My lips were wet, and a pair of soft, white hands gently patted my chest, which was struggling to breathe. The boy said, 'Drink some more water. This is the nectar of Mother Goddess. Drink it, and you'll feel better soon.'
A sweet aftertaste lingered in my mouth. I said, 'Who are you? Where am I? Why am I here?'
"I have no name." The boy's eyes were clear. He held a black pottery jar with a small chip at the rim, its handles missing. It was clearly a piece of junk he'd picked up from beside the flying machine. I recognized it immediately. I was in a cave, and the tinkling of spring water dripped onto a high, layered stone platform to my right. The center of the platform was sunken, holding pools of clear water that shimmered with a faint blue light. "Is this your first time here? The Titans are powerful; you shouldn't challenge their authority, standing right under their noses."
'Titan?'
"Look," the boy pointed outside, where a gigantic, terrifying red eye hung high in the sky, "the glowing Titan. The father of the gods."
'The Father of the Gods? Then who is the Mother of the Gods?' I felt terrible. I tried to move my toes, but found that I couldn't move anything below my knees.
"The Great Mother Goddess is long dead. Before she died, she cut her wrists and let her blood flow to nourish her unfortunate children, destined to suffer and die young. Her blood became springs and rivers. What you just drank was her blood."
It turns out that 'the blood of the Great Mother Goddess' and 'the juice of the Mother Goddess' actually refer to water.
This is a land both recorded and forgotten. The initial human colonists wouldn't rashly set foot on a seemingly habitable alien land; they would first throw down some "seeds." These "seeds" contained criminals, murderers, thieves, the mentally ill, reactionaries unable to integrate into any human society, or overly talkative thinkers; some were physically strong, some had astonishing intellect, but they all shared the common trait of being lone wolves who hated crowds. The light of the "Titan" was too dazzling; they avoided the terrible heat and scorching sun of the day, only daring to act at night, cheating, stealing, and robbing to obtain the remaining water for survival. Water could sustain their lives for seven days; not long, but for the people of this land, it was a lifetime. Their understanding of Earth's civilization was only superficial, existing only in limited reveries about the wreckage of spaceships on the hills. They didn't ponder where they came from, where they were going, or what the purpose of living for these seven days was. Foraging for food and water, survival had exhausted all their energy. From what the little boy told me, I quickly summarized my current situation.
I have at most seven more days to live.
First, my heart, then my blood vessels. They started working at an alarming rate after I woke up, and I tried to avoid the terrible radiation. The generally short lifespan and extremely high metabolic rate of life here are directly related to the energy radiation from "Titan." The little boy told me that after "Titan" came down the mountain, it had to go out to find food.
“Water isn’t scarce,” the boy said worriedly, “but this morning, when I brought you here, a group of people spotted us. They wanted water, and I said I’d trade you food for it, or they wouldn’t give it to me. They left grinning maliciously.”
'Are you the only one guarding the water in this cave?' To be honest, I think even if the water was passed down from his great-great-great-grandfather to him, it wouldn't matter; because with his physique, it would be taken away from him sooner or later.
"No," the boy said shyly, "I... I was just passing by. My sense of smell is very keen; I can smell water vapor from ten kilometers away. I smelled water, so I stayed here for a while. I don't plan to stay long. I never stay near any water source for long because I feel that water is precious, and I can't keep it all to myself; I have to leave it for those who need it."
"Then you can run away now. Before those people arrive. Anyway, you don't seem to care at all that your things have been taken."
"But..." the boy's eyes widened, "What are you going to do? Your legs are sunburned. The skin is peeling off; you can't move at all!"
I find it funny. 'You saved me, and I thank you. But ultimately, we're just strangers who met by chance. I'm nobody to you, and you're still practically a stranger to me. There's no need for that. Go on your way. I won't see you off.'
The little boy refused to leave. He said he liked me a lot. I threatened him, 'Get lost! Or I'll smash your skull open with a rock right now. Your spring will be mine immediately!'
He was so frightened that he burst into tears, his eyes turning red and swollen like two peaches.
I was at my wit's end. Even the slightest tug on my leg would trigger excruciating pain. Extensive nerve damage was occurring; I knew I'd be crippled if this continued. The little boy fetched more water, soaked a pale green herb in it, scooped it out of the bucket, chewed it, and spat it out piece by piece, applying it to my rotting, burnt-smelling thigh. The stench nearly made me faint, but the little boy seemed oblivious. The herbal aroma filled the air, making me feel drowsy, and I yawned. The cool, slippery herbal paste seeped into my decaying skin, easing the pain and burning sensation considerably.
Footsteps came from outside the cave, a jumble of about twenty people. I knew something was terribly wrong.
They were carrying all sorts of knives, axes, and sticks; some even had pistols and cannons. One of them was carrying a metal bag with a yellow high-risk symbol—the symbol for nuclear weapons—probably retrieved from a sunken spaceship. They were ugly; my first thought was that they were a hybrid of prehistoric cavemen and modern chimpanzees. Only then did I realize that the plain-looking little boy, with his exceptionally large, clear eyes, was practically a beauty among these inferior humans.
"Where's the water?" he asked fiercely.
"It's on the table to the right," the little boy said timidly. "Good evening, good evening everyone, uncles and elders."
The ugly men laughed heartily, 'You've got a sweet tongue. At least you're polite, buddy.'
The men tossed their swords, guns, and cannons aside with a clatter. Several men leered at the little boy, gulping down water and chewing on dried meat they'd hidden in the cave. "You're about the right age, kid. Don't you have a woman? Didn't you go out and steal one? Wait, how come you don't even have a woman?"
The men's eyes fell on me. I stepped back into the shadows.
"Oh, uncles and elders, shall I get you some water? Did you bring any earthenware pots?" the little boy changed the subject.
Their gazes remained fixed. In the firelight, my face became clearer, and more and more men wore expressions that could only be described as 'amazed'. It was an expression I knew all too well; many had looked at me like that since I looked only six or seven years old. The men approached me, tearing at my clothes. I struggled, biting down hard on the large, burning hands that were caressing my body, and was immediately punched in the face. I spat out half a bloody tooth and continued biting. A man twisted my head, forcefully—a crisp sound, probably a broken spine. A searing pain shot through me. I raised my hand, grabbing a wooden stick. The man stomped heavily on my clenched fist, my hand convulsed, and the stick slipped from my grasp. My legs, just regaining some feeling from the herbs, were immediately met with the stinging pain of tissue tearing apart. I pleaded in a voice, 'Gently. Please, gently.'
The men burst into laughter. 'Good, good. That's more like it! Honey, who raised you to be so sweet?'
The men were excited by my earlier struggle and my current submission. I looked at the faces in the firelight, faces radiating primal ugliness and ferocity, and obediently lowered my head. The men moved closer to me; some seemed unsatisfied.
'So beautiful. My God, what a stunner…' The men pushed me to the center of the cave, drinking water laced with hallucinogenic herbs. My face was pressed against the fire, less than half a meter from the center of the light source. My face was burning hot, and I was panting as if I were on fire. I shifted my body into different positions. The flames crackled, and a spark exploded.
The man behind me was breathing more and more heavily. I turned my back to him and sat naked in his lap. He wrapped his arms around my waist, and my fingers hooked onto the pistol tucked in his belt. I touched it; it was an old-fashioned revolver; seven bullets. I jerked my movements again. The man reluctantly touched my sweaty back. I drew the pistol, turned, and fired a shot through his forehead. A small, bloody hole. The other men, still clutching the ceramic jugs laced with hallucinogens, stared blankly at me, their companions' bodies falling to the ground with a thud, each with a gun. In the flashes of light, the gunshots rang out rhythmically; continuously, one shot every two seconds. This was the limit of the mechanical design achievable with this old-fashioned revolver. I emptied one magazine, then reloaded three more. I had killed all the intruders. I was expressionless as I tossed aside the gun, its barrel warped from the heat.
The little boy was terrified from the moment I started talking to the men. He stared at me for a long time and said, '...your hand.'
A scald, blackish-red welt appeared on the palm of my hand that was gripping the gun; pus seeped into the tissue beneath the skin. My legs went weak, and excruciating pain shot through my hands and feet simultaneously. Sitting back in the cave, the hand wound was just painful, nothing serious. The real problem was my leg, which was already showing signs of ulceration.
"Let's drag the body out first," I said.
The little boy didn't move. So I grabbed the nearest body, braced myself against my legs, and moved it to the edge of the cave. With a push, the man's corpse tumbled down; then came the remaining twenty. While dealing with one of them, my hand slipped, and the corpse's head smashed open. Instead of rolling down, it got caught on a branch near the cave entrance, and milky-white brain matter dripped down, covering my hands. I grabbed a steel knife, intending to pry the corpse off the branch, but accidentally pierced its throat. Arterial blood gushed out, a small waterfall of blood cascading over my head. I stabbed again, and the corpse finally fell.
I was panting heavily. I lay on the edge of the cave entrance. I was so tired. The little boy brought me a bucket of clean water so I could wash my hands.
"Thank you," I said. I dipped my hand in water and wiped myself. The bloodstains spread across my hands, washing away the thick, tangled brain matter in my hair. I smelled myself; a strong, pungent odor filled the air, much like the smell of a bloody slaughterhouse chopping board. I couldn't hold it in and vomited. A lot of it landed in the bucket in front of me. My vision blurred with colorful spots and dark shadows, and I felt dizzy. The little boy panicked, telling me to lie down quickly, "Your leg! Your leg is bleeding! Lots and lots of blood!"
In the yellowish, foul-smelling water, I glimpsed a distorted figure, a blurry reflection obscured by churning filth. In the last second before I fainted again, I said to that shadow, 'Remember this. You can't die here. Live on, live on…'
The strenuous activity (not just the killing, but also the activity with over twenty men beforehand) deepened the wound, affecting the cartilage. The intense external radiation made the wound difficult to heal, leading to repeated infections and inflammation. I have a fever and feel terrible.
I had a dream, a dream of a giant running across a vast land, its gender indiscernible; it howled, and the heavens and earth trembled. Sometimes it transformed into a beautiful woman, crawling upon my body, contracting, demanding from me, pleasure permeating my limbs; sometimes it was a parent nurturing a child, a father or mother, gently patting me, as if sending a newborn infant, its arms and legs curled up, into a dream; sometimes it was the sky, storms, and seas, city walls and towers, priest's robes, the army of a city-state, the emperor's throne, fleets, the universe, and billions of stars. Finally, all the illusions vanished, and silent darkness enveloped me. I saw the giant reveal itself one last time, gradually transforming, and transforming again, into the form of a man. The man reached out his fingers to me, his index finger slightly hooking, hooking my heart buried in my sternum, the man intending to rip it out entirely. I trembled with pain, wanting to see the man's face clearly. But every time this happened, I would wake up in excruciating pain. The man had finally dug out my heart; it was warm and damp.
When I awoke, I stopped exploring my dream. I'm not a mystic; I don't believe in heaven or fate. I was only thinking about how to survive. I could feel my body aging at a visible rate, an irresistible force. "Titan's" terrifying heat and radiation ruled the day, while the night became a stage for war, murder, and revelry. Have you ever seen tens of thousands of people simultaneously stripped naked and making love in the vast desert under the cover of night? A woman and a man's lovemaking attracted other men. The woman's naked body writhed on the sand like a large, shimmering white serpent. One man pressed down on her, while another man approached, brandishing an axe, and cleaved the man in two. Blood and semen splattered onto the naked woman. The dead man's body still twitched slightly on top of her. The woman opened her eyes wide, glancing at the scene before her. The man wielding the axe threw down the blood-soaked axe, tossed aside the corpse, and embraced the lying woman. The woman cried out something with pleasure.
This is a land where all the gods have died.
What am I? And what are these people who live, reproduce, and kill like beasts? Are we just waste materials for your glorious, righteous, ancient, cultured, and humane Earth civilization? If the people of the Earth Republic Alliance can at least rely on the law and the concept of natural justice to uphold their rights and loudly proclaim, 'I am a citizen! Not a slave!', then what about us? We are experimental subjects thrown down by your colonists to test whether the outer realms are habitable, a grain of sand in your construction of a magnificent millennium-old human empire, a cog in a rumbling machine called 'history' with a predetermined mission.
I want to live. To live like a human being. Not a slave, not a dog, not a cog in a machine.
I am a human being. A human being created in God's own image.
——tbc——
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