Descendant

by Jeffrey A. Levin

  “You’re looking at the president of a planet called Hevyo, which is many light-years away. His name is Cerberus Asmodeus Thoth.”

  “He’s the one who murdered Victoria?” Menes asks.

  “In the flesh … well, sort of,” Proto says. “It’s just a simulation, but it’s happening in real time … right now! Listen!”

  Cerberus Thoth Asmodeus appears before us. We can even hear his thoughts in iMovie form.

  “Now remember, they can’t hear us, so if you want to comment about what you observe, feel free.” Proto hits play.

  “Don’t be afraid!” he tells himself over and over again. Powerless! Impotent! Weak! Irrelevant! I can always feel it coming on: the feeling of wanting to be a predator—the exhilaration of the kill!

  “This is actually him?” I say.

  He wipes the sweat from his forehead. But it is the insecurity of knowing he is slowly losing his mind that is eating away at him. He needs to prove that he can still be a leader. He wants desperately to do what is right. He can’t be weak. But most of all, he has to prevent his secret from ever becoming public.

  He determines to be strong one more time. After all, he is the man—the renowned president of his planet. “Show them in!” President Cerberus Thoth Asmodeus exclaims to his subordinate, a young lady by the name of Robin Sparo. President Asmodeus hails from a long line of prominent men, dating back to the greatest of all his grandfathers and, of course, great-grandfathers—the man who was first in the line of generals, Thoth Eagalus Asmodeus, born in AD 1147.

  He dabs a cloth on his forehead, pouring himself a quick drink of water. After all, his throat was parched, perhaps drained of all humanity. He didn’t feel like chirping, singing, or even telling a joke. For some strange reason, his assassination of Victoria is now playing a rather cruel trick on him. He wonders if perhaps he really did love her.

  Menes shakes his head in amazement. “Is it possible that Cerberus is actually a real descendent of the god Thoth?”

  I nod. “It’s indeed possible. Their entire history on our planet could have changed as a result of what happened in the Egyptian ancient building that we found.”

  The doors to Cerberus’s inner office swing open, allowing two of his most distinguished members of the court to enter. Both gentlemen, Lark and Falk, are leaders in the community; they are part of the government’s most important governing body, the Carnivores. Lark is a retired colonel in Hevyo’s supreme army who reached prominence through his multitudinous military efforts, thwarting murderous and bloodthirsty attacks from other planets in the galaxy. Cerberus himself was, of course, a military leader in his youth; he brought himself much distinction during the Raptorial Wars.

  Both men are shown to their perches; after all, a perch to a Hevyonian bird was like an ancillary throne to a king. The higher the perch, the more respected the bird felt. Both men are elevated to extremely high levels; however, Cerberus Thoth is somewhat higher. Cerberus lowers his eyes, scanning the thoughts of the two men.

  “I just wanted to say thank you for the way you handled the Victoria crisis, Mr. President. It showed strength and courage,” Lark states tersely, being a man of few words, like most military generals. “Ms. Vorashian’s comments about birds were indeed inflammatory and an insult to our culture!”

  “All of this happened over an insult… is that possible?” Maya inquires.

  “Crazier things have happened in our world,” I say.

  Both men shake their heads. “Not them again! Why don’t we just get rid of them? After all, they’re noisy, ignorant, and ridiculous!” Lark says, shaking his well-dressed feathered head in disgust. After all, Lark thinks of himself as a strong leader. He is the Caesar of his planet, and if it were up to him, universal domination would be the aim.

  “Don’t you have any knowledge of our history?” Cerberus says. “We’ve interfered with Earth before; don’t you remember? And the last time we really interfered was about three thousand years ago in Egypt.”

  What Cerberus doesn’t want to tell them is that he feels another one of his spells coming on. They have been coming more and more frequently. He already is experiencing a bad headache, which he knows will grow into a migraine. He can feel his frontal lobe swelling; it is too much pressure, and he knows he has to make a decision quickly.

  “Can you hit pause?” I ask.

  “Sure,” Proto says, stopping the video feed.

  “He’s showing weakness. Any sign of weakness in this bird society generally means death.”

  Proto nods. “Cerberus looks like he’s going to implode at any moment.”

  “He’s showing a very vulnerable side,” I say. “Let’s watch.”

  Cerberus recollects that his prominent descendant was killed by enemy Earthling forces over three thousand years ago. Perhaps it is time… too many years have passed. Is it the right time for resplendent revenge?

  Cerberus’s head is now throbbing, the pain reaching excruciating levels. He senses both Falk’s and Lark’s wills penetrating his brain. You see, it Cerberus’s superior ability to read minds, both human and fowl, led to his tumor, which is growing in his frontal lobe. Since Victoria’s death, his entire physical being has been deteriorating. He doesn’t know why; but he is feeling severe pain and depression while his migraines continue to increase in intensity.

  “So what should we do, gentlemen?” says Cerberus. “You tell me! I know people think I am heartless and cruel.”

  “No!” decrees Falk. “We know that you are a majestic and benevolent bird; no one says otherwise. Your raptorial presence has been an inspiration to the entire bird community.” Falk leers at Lark, and both men smugly force a smile.

  “We believe in you, Cerberus. You are perhaps the wisest of all our species in the Raptorial Party,” Lark proclaims. “However, we believe that Earth has been a nuisance to us for many centuries.”

  “They’re playing Cerberus; I don’t trust them,” Menes interjects.

  “I don’t either,” I say.

  “Ironically, thanks to our newly deceased friend, Victoria Vorashian, we have the technology to control Earth and all of its inhabitants without annihilating them.”

  “You’re kidding, of course!” Lark declares; his face flushes while his heart begins to race. “Cerberus, don’t you think they will just become a burden to us? Humans have proven to be pesky and rebellious! That tactic would take too many of our resources. Our militarily is already stretched way too thin!”

  Cerberus feels the throbbing, raging pain in his head burning into the three lobes in his cerebellum. Unlike other birds, he has three heads. Although no one could see it, his brain had mutated into three unique chambers, and their antithetical functions were now disabling his afflicted frontal lobe.

  “Are you guys thinking what I am?” I ask.

  “Cerberus is showing tremendous weakness. Falk and Lark are not going to take no for an answer,” Proto says.

  Presently, Cerberus is growing more and more suspicious of Lark. He can feel the room swimming in hate and distrust. Cerberus feels woozy, like a bird that can no longer fly. His divergent brains are swelling; he feels as if his multiple brains are going to explode right through his skull.

  Lark rises abruptly. His face is stoic and his resolve is sure. Cerberus’s eyes meet Lark’s.

  Cerberus tips his scepter, smiling luridly. One might even say that this is his swan song.

  Lark reaches for his weapon; he grabs a miniscule Solar Pernicia Silencer 32 and shoots Cerberus directly in the forehead, spilling blood from all three of his brains. Feeling only relief, Cerberus crashes to the ground from his elevated perch.

  “The man is a fool! He is of no use to us anymore!” Lark chirps. “He wasn’t changing with the times.”

  Falk nods. “Indeed, Lark, we need a new leader—like you!”

  Lark widens his wings, showi
ng his reborn strength, finally achieving the power that he has craved for so many years.

  CHAPTER 61

  May 4, 2401

  10:33:17 a.m.

  Come you masters of war

  You that build all the guns

  You that build the death planes

  You that build all the bombs

  You that hide behind walls

  You that hide behind desks

  I just want you to know

  I can see through your masks.

  —Bob Dylan (ancient songwriter)

  The sand has already been carefully removed. “Through the use of transducer levitation systems, we can just about make sand dance on a string.”

  I laugh. “C’mon, Proto; sound waves and reflectors have been around for a long time. Creating a standing acoustical wave is like flicking a string on a cello—simple! I don’t think you need to be so dramatic!”

  Proto and Menes have presided. We all stand in awe in the presence of uncovered history. My eyes look like two magnified eggs as I peer at Thoth’s mastaba—one of the greatest discoveries in man’s history. “We are not alone!” I whisper as I stare at the ancient skeleton of Thoth the mighty.

  “Great!” Proto quips sarcastically. “Maybe we’d be better off if we were. Hevyonians visited our planet over three thousand years ago!”

  “Yes, fascinating, but we have work to do!” I assert.

  “Not until I do one thing,” Menes exclaims. “Wait for it!” Menes anoints me with a white archeological hat, placing it atop my head.

  We all laugh. “Well, he now has the white fedora… It fits!” Proto proclaims. Agreement seems inevitable until Menes shakes his head. “I think that sounds almost too absurd. We’re not ridiculing Michael; we’re pronouncing him king. How about ‘Michael, King of Sands’?”

  I snicker. “Guys, I think we need to talk.”

  “Ah, Father Michael has something on his mind,” Proto says, brushing some of the sand off her tan T-shirt sporting the words “Sands of Time.”

  “Listen, guys, we may be in some trouble.” I shuffle my feet and clear my throat. Maya, Menes, and Proto stand there like little sand soldiers waiting for direction.

  “Menes, can you confirm this? Thoth had many shrines in many of the cities that he occupied: Abydos, Antcha, Mutet, Hesert, and even Ta-kens. We’re either standing inside one right now or we’re close to another one.” I sniff at the air, noting the dry atmosphere. It seems as if the ancient Roman building has been sealed from the ravages of time. “The original Cerberus Thoth Asmodeus was a real force—someone that all of the Egyptians listened to. I don’t know if you know this, but there are sensors all over this place; some of them are flashing right now. It’s possible that someone on Hevyo knows we’ve disturbed their religious, sanctified place, and they could be watching and even listening to me right now.”

  “So what do we do?” Maya inquires.

  “If it’s Falk and Lark who are listening, I can say that they won’t pose a problem. But listen, guys; I know something about Eschew. We’re not dealing with Victoria anymore—capiche?”

  “What do you mean?” Menes inquires.

  “From what I know of Eschew, he could be holding some very special cards for us.”

  “So what do we do?” Menes says, still brushing the sand off his fedora.

  “We know that he can be clever and even sadistic. Get busy,” I say. “Something big might be comin’ our way; we need to be ready.”

  I look out at the schizophrenic sky. I observe the ashen firmament switch precipitously to crimson, followed by an eerie glowing light peeking through the clouds.

  We hear crackles of what appears to be artificial lightning and rumbling thunder off in the distance. “We’ve already detected a strong wave of magnetic intensification on this very spot! I’ll get Osiris’s sword!”

  “Why?” Maya utters, appearing confused.

  “They’re coming for us—probably soon.” I squeeze Maya’s hand.

  “It’s going to be all right… we’re prepared,” Proto says. “If we place Osiris’s sword over this spot, right where Thoth perished, we will receive a magnification force that’s strong enough to lift a pyramid!”

  “Are you sure this is going to work?” I ask.

  “Yes. Kinetic energy can be found in all objects, especially something as large as Earth. Also, if a portal has been created in the same vicinity of the power source, the two energy forces can work together!”

  Proto places Osiris’s sword above the time portal created centuries ago. “We’re going to do this, Maya. I promise I won’t let any of you down.”

  I force a smile. “We need to watch out for Eschew. He’s a crafty one!”

  “He’s more than crafty Michael. He’s pure evil.”

  CHAPTER 62

  Planet Hevyo

  May 14, 2401

  Late afternoon Hevyo time

  Lark and Falk fly out of Cerberus’s home, realizing that they had not killed just anyone, for Cerberus was an icon on the planet Hevyo.

  “What have we done?” Lark screams. “We’ll be ostracized! Cerberus was the greatest general of them all!”

  “Silence!” Falk stares at his friend. “We need to see Eschew. I’m sure he and Chandra will understand.

  Lark nods in agreement, “Truly Eschew’s magnificence will tell him we acted in the best interest of our planet.”

  “I hope so.” Falk quivers. “Eschew can be quite unmerciful when he feels birds have done something without his consent.”

  So Falk and Lark came calling. They speed to the palace of Eschew, who is an Orisha. As a scientist, poet, and intellectual, Falk convinces Lark that they can’t proceed without the blessing of one of the most spiritual leaders of their country.

  Lark and Falk bring gifts upon entering the Shiva temple, home of the prophet Eschew. As they enter the holy tabernacle, they witness large white doves flying overhead, watching their every move. Yet they aren’t avatars; that is a distinction earned only by Eschew and Chandra.

  Lark glares at Falk. “Eschew is a divine instructor of our entire race. He may look upon us with disdain.”

  “No, Lark! Eschew is a soulful creature who will understand that we were trying to help save all birds from destruction!” Falk proclaims. “If Eschew is benevolent enough to let us in, we will fall to our bony knees, retract our wings, and place our talons to the floor, displaying our loyalty and reverence to his and her holiness. That is the only way we will be able to save ourselves.”

  Falk and Lark are escorted to the domed aviary of Chandra and Eschew, who await them on top of two large golden perches called flavescens. Eschew is wearing a flowing white cloth, while Chandra appears in avatar form as a spirit.

  Lark feels as if his heart is going to explode, for he has never actually seen His Reverence in his birdlike flesh. Falk closes his eyes, displaying humility, knowing that he is not worthy to look upon their lofty presence.

  Suddenly Chandra changes forms, as she often does. Her black eyes are the symbol of holiness and goodness, whereas Eschew’s long talons denote his wisdom, strength, and, of course, power.

  Chandra floats around the two guests, displaying her power.

  A shrill, powerful noise emits from Eschew’s mouth, initiating further action from holy birds, who fly in harmonious, synchronized motion. Suddenly there are beautiful winged creatures flying all around them, singing the songs of their lord. Falk assumes they are angels, for there is a spiritual glow encompassing their bodies. Lark lowers his head, followed by Falk executing the same sacred action.

  Falk indeed realizes that he is in a very precarious position; after all, he has violated his oath, for only the high priests Eschew and Chandra can choose to take away a life—especially one as prominent as Cerberus Thoth Asmodeus’s.

  They pray
to His and Her Holiness, for they know that both holy spirits are fully capable of reading their thoughts, feelings, and even aspirations. Falk recites a prayer to His and Her Holiness over and over again: “We come in peace … we humble ourselves to your greatness and wisdom… we submit to your power!”

  Chandra claps loudly, and the birds halt their swirling and fly out of the room, leaving Falk and Lark by themselves in front of the holy spirits.

  “Why do you come here?” says Eschew. “You are aware that Chandra and I are very busy. Surely you have something of importance and righteousness to tell us.”

  Falk peers at Lark, and Lark glares back, neither one having the bravery to speak.

  At this precise moment, Chandra’s form changes into a beautiful, colorful circular orb that moves slowly toward them, and in this form, she says, “What you did was wrong. What you did was evil. Did you think we wouldn’t know?”

  Falk and Lark lower their heads.

  Chandra allows her words to continue their chastisement. “Because of this, you will no longer be able to enter our temple; nor will you be given any say in our government. You will be incarcerated inside of a cage until you show remorse. Do you understand?”

  Both men drop their heads to their talons.

  Eschew opens his wings, extending them twelve feet on either side.

  “Your actions were disobedient and arrogant! Did you ever think to consult with Chandra and me before you did this?” Eschew’s anger propels electromagnetic waves throughout the sanctuary. After all, why should Eschew allow underlings to dictate the future of the world on Hevyo as well as the universe at large?

  Falk and Lark begin shaking, feeling the impulses of hatred throughout their bodies. Chandra opens her wings benevolently.

  “Chandra and I do feel that the people residing on Earth have treated birds inhumanely for centuries. And because of that, we feel that your desire to punish Earthlings will, in fact, be granted.”