by Ian Shimwell
This time Harrys just closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable end. The click of a bolt sprang his eyes open. He saw the heavy door opening. Needing no further encouragement, Harrys flung himself towards the door as the first lightning pulses struck the metallic floor in a blaze of whiteness.
In the scramble Harrys had knocked his saviour, Roebel, over. Harrys detached himself and slammed shut the door on the House of Execution.
“To put it mildly – that was close,” breathed Harrys in relief. “Thanks.”
Roebel looked slightly embarrassed, so Harrys looked about him to see two PrimeMovers lying unconscious on the floor.
“I hit them with this,” said Roebel almost guiltily, holding a red metal box aloft. “I couldn’t get it open.”
“You wouldn’t – it only opens to my fingerprints – they’re keyed in, you see.” Harrys was more than pleased to see his box intact though. “Where’s Dayla?” he suddenly said.
“During the struggle, she fled.” Roebel replied who then handed the box to Harrys.
Looking at it, Harrys said, “You obviously got the message then. At first I assumed the box had been destroyed in the explosion but, thinking back, it must have been sent flying through the forest – it’s a wonder you found it, really.”
Roebel was nearly flushed with pride.
Harrys placed his fingerprints on the indentations on the box – it immediately flipped open. Harrys reached inside and pulled out a gun. “Now,” he said holding it high, “we have something to fight the Prime.”
“So,” asked Roebel with an uncharacteristic cluelessness, “where to now?”
“The Prime, the Prime, the Prime. The Prime, of course. Where is the Prime?” Gun in hand, Harrys looked determinedly at Harrys.
“I’ll show you – come on, it’s slightly out of the village.”
They walked through the village square and beyond – and started gradually climbing.
“Is it far?” asked Harrys.
“Not far – we’ll soon be at the Prime Location.”
They passed what looked like a gigantic funnel on their left. On various flights of steps, the PrimeMovers were climbing up, depositing the contents of enormous barrels they were carrying, into the funnel.
“Dare I ask what they’re doing?” Harrys dared to ask.
Roebel looked up. “Oh, the PrimeMovers are literally feeding the Prime with processed RaPrime.”
“So the Prime lives beneath there.”
“Not quite, it is piped to – there.” Roebel pointed to an enormous house on the top of the hill. “That is where the Prime lives.”
Harrys noticed the similar style to the houses in the village – only much bigger. They walked towards it.
Nervously, Roebel looked at Harrys’ gun as they stepped closer to the overwhelming home of the Prime.
Finally, they were at the doorsteps to the Prime Location. Determinedly Harrys was about to venture inside but he turned round to see Roebel standing quite still.
“Come on Roebel – I’ll need you in there with me.”
“Harrys, don’t you understand?” Harrys didn’t so Roebel continued, “The only person in the history of our people to ever set eyes upon the Prime is the Principle of the Prime. And the only people ever to have met the Principle are the members of the Prime Consul.”
Harrys held his arm. “Roebel, now is your chance to cut through the nonsense – to see what the Prime really is. This is your chance to really rebel.”
Roebel withdrew his arm. “I’m sorry – I can’t. Remember I am Roebel, the rebel of the Prime – of the Prime,” he repeated. “I have already rebelled more than I ever can have imagined. I can’t go on.”
Feeling that Roebel was sincere, Harrys turned around and pushed open the door. Cautiously and alone, he ventured inside the Prime Location. Gun held by his side, Harrys found himself in the centre of an enormous chamber. Now the architecture was decidedly marble – which gave the place an unsettling echo effect. Facing him was the drapes of a mammoth set of deep, red curtain-style drapes.
“Harrys, how nice of you to drop in.”
Harrys swung round to see an incredibly old man sat on a throne-like arrangement. “The Principle of the Prime, I presume.”
The Principle’s piercing blue eyes shone from his deeply lined and sagging facial skin. “Why are you here?” he asked wearily, as though addressing an awkward child.
Looking purposefully, Harrys said, “The find out why. Why does the Prime murder his people? Why does everyone, well especially the PrimeMovers, blindingly and slavishly serve him? They don’t need him – do they?”
The old man waved his hand dismissively. “Go away Harrys, your life is now with the People of the Prime. The Prime has graciously decided, because of your uniqueness as a visitor to Prime, to at least postpone your execution.”
“Try this then, why limit the population to 749?”
“Simply to maintain the planet’s delicate eco-system.”
“To keep the Prime in his prime?”
“If you like…”
Harrys walked nearer to the Principle. At close quarters, he could now see how impossibly old he appeared to be. “How old are you?”
“One million years old,” stated the Principle. “I am the only person to have ever seen the Prime – his only companion.” A withered hand shakily pointed. “The Prime lies behind those drapes.”
“Yes, of course he does – and I bet right now he’s preparing your one million year old birthday party.” A manic quality had crept into Harrys’ tone. Calming himself down, Harrys asked, “What is the Prime Directive?”
“Simply the will of the Prime. Now I urge you again to leave and never come back – you understand nothing.”
“I know some of your secret history. I know of the spacecraft – the PrimeShip.” Harrys now had him talking.
“But not the final secret.”
“Oh that, I can guess.” Harrys tried but failed to keep the smugness from his voice. “The spaceship was actually from Mother Earth – it probably came through the same portal that I did. So really this is nothing more than an Earth colony. You’re just very old – and this Prime is a fake – a legend, a ruse to get the people to do what you – or someone else wants.” Harrys finally let out a breath. “Am I right?”
The Principle spluttered and gurgled in a parody of amusement. “Your narrow-mindedness and ignorance are only complimented by your misplaced arrogance.”
“Maybe so.” Harrys held his gun up in the air. “But at least I’ve got the personality and determination to end this Prime charade.”
“Oh yes,” cried the Principle mockingly, who then began laughing. “Harrys, the one with the great personality. Harrys the great individualist.”
“I’ll show you! I’ll show you! I’m not a puppet of the Prime,” shouted Harrys angrily. He ran towards the drapes that seemingly went on forever and pulled a lone, golden rope. The curtains parted and Harrys stepped back. Whatever Harrys was expecting – he didn’t expect this. He cried out in horror and tried to cover his eyes – but his morbid fascination held. Amazement and shock somehow held his legs steady. He saw the Prime. He saw that it was horrible. The Prime was an aberration, an abomination.
The Prime was enormous. Harrys’ eyes tried to take it all in, but there was too much of it. How could you describe the indescribable? Harrys though tried. The Prime seemed to be made up of every creature he had ever seen. There were arms, legs, tentacles, feelers, tails, paws, ears and eyes in there. He could see parts of humans, animals, mammals, birds, reptiles, insects and even plant life. Elephants, dinosaurs, tigers, people and monkeys were all mixed in – all part of the Prime. The Prime was a beast – a beast of everything. It was utterly sickening. A crime against nature. It must be destroyed.
Harrys held his gun in front of him, pointing it at the Prime. He tried to pull the trigger, but found he couldn’t. Shaking with determination, he tried again. Disbelievingly, he realised that h
e couldn’t physically do it.
At that moment, Dayla ran into the chamber. “No Harrys, no! You can’t kill the Prime.” Reaching for the gun, Dayla dived towards Harrys. Her hands grasped the hands holding the gun. Collectively, they fell to the floor.
As Harrys’ hand hit the floor, the force of the connection activated the trigger. A red beam of death hit the Prime. The huge monstrosity glowed red for a moment and then visibly sagged.
“The Prime is dying,” announced the Principle.
“Yes, at last,” Harrys cried out with manic joy. “I’ve freed you from the Prime forever.” He looked towards Dayla. Strangely she seemed to be sweating profusely. Then her whole body suddenly turned into a flesh-coloured liquid, which dropped to the floor with a splash. “I don’t understand…”
“No, no you don’t,” the Principle said solemnly. “The People of the Prime, the PrimeMovers are not only part of the Prime – they are the Prime. Once the Prime is dead they, all of them, will perish.”
Harrys buried his head in his hands. “What have I done?” He lifted his hands away to see his own flesh-coloured liquid beginning to drip. “I shouldn’t be dying too – unless it’s because of the food I’ve eaten here. Is that why?” He looked at the Principle almost pleadingly.
The Principle studied Harrys with a great sadness in his eyes like a father wanting to say everything is all right to his son but finding he can’t. “You still don’t understand. Harrys, you are the Prime. You have always been the Prime.”
Harrys stared at him, shaking his head unbelievably. “That can’t be true. I’ve only just arrived on this planet.”
“The spacecraft you found out about didn’t come to this planet – it left it. 400 million years ago, the Prime decided to bestow his gift of life to another galaxy. That spacecraft travelled to your Mother Earth. The basic living cells of the Prime evolved into your eventual civilisation.”
“What are you saying?”
“You were right first time. There are no aliens. There is only the Prime. The Prime is written into your DNA and its genetic code into every chromosome in existence.”
“So, what are you saying? Are you saying that I have destroyed all life on Mother Earth, Planet 49, the space-station – everywhere?” Harrys was horrified.
“When the Prime dies – all life will die. All life: animal, aquatic and botanical – all life is the Prime.” The Principle looked at the broken man before him. “Before we too die, I cannot allow you to shoulder all the blame. Why do you think the Prime launched that spacecraft all those years ago – it wasn’t just to see how far a civilisation would advance without direct Prime control. It was because one day, the Prime knew one such as you would visit. Who created the portal for you to travel through? Who allowed you to retrieve your gun? Who really helped you escape the House of Execution? Part of the Prime wanted you to kill him.”
“Why, why if the Prime is all life, why?”
“After 400 million years, wouldn’t you be just a bit fed up?” The Principle smiled wryly. “The Diversionals weren’t that good.”
Harrys had one more question. “Is the Prime God?”
“The Prime is the Prime. He is only a living creature – or is that… was? He was created by a freak, accidental mixture of nutrients, molecules and chemical elements that were somehow fused with radiation and lightning. The odds of which are that remote, they are incalculable. It will never happen again.” The Principle smiled and then vanished into a soup of nutrients.
Harrys felt himself dissolving. His core-belief system had been completely shattered. He had always prided himself on being an individualist. But like everyone else in existence – ever, he was the same. Harrys was the Prime. Maybe he had known it all along.
Harrys’ flesh liquefied and he joined the ever-enlarging puddle.
The skeletal hand of Armageddon scarred the whole of creation. As the clock struck midnight, this time, there would be no celebrations this new millennium. The Prime-Cycle was over. A curtain of darkness was drawn over the entire universe.
Life had finally had its day.
THE END
NEXT IN THE NOVELLA RANGE: Murder By Suspects
Read more…
Read A Prime Romance, a ‘sideways glance’ which is intended to accompany and compliment this novella in an original and thought-provoking way.
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