Infidel's Corner

by David Robert Morais

  A “Breaking News” flash screen drifted for over thirty seconds before a reporter began to speak.

  “We have a developing story here tonight. Across the north of England, a wave of kidnappings and deaths have been inflicted by Infidels crossing the border. And here to discuss it tonight is Summanus, England’s head of militia and religious policing.”

  The camera panned over to Summanus as the audience clapped. The anchor-man asked, “What will you do to stop these vile animals?”

  Summanus took a deep breath. “Excellent question. In a matter of hours, the Archbishop will receive a motion to see these ‘vile animals,’ as you so eloquently put it, exterminated for good.” The audience responded with tumultuous and prolonged applause.

  “In one such case, a law-abiding, God-fearing man was killed. They injured two policemen and kidnapped a gentleman named Simon Tomkinson. The land of Infidels may explain the disappearance and deaths of thousands.”

  “And what do they want with these individuals?”

  “It varies. From their godless perversions and urges to experiments and bargaining tools. The list goes on.”

  Simon leant forward between the heads of Joe and Sallace in front of him. “I can still return and tell the truth.”

  Sallace giggled. “Do that, and you’ll wind up dead.”

  Simon objected. “But the truth would render him powerless.

  Joe turned to Sallace and spoke up. “Autocracy’s youth shows when its citizens don’t understand how it works.”

  Sallace agreed aloud.

  Simon sat in silence as Summanus continued to yap about his desires for bloodshed.

  That night, the army engaged in practice drills. Sirens wailed on and off across the realm. Streets came to life as soldiers organised and citizens returned home. Hypatia’s eight thousand lightly armoured troops had the prospect of facing England’s tens of thousands heavily armed militia, at best. Over two thousand were stationed inside the city’s fortified perimeter mound.

  Sallace asked that his nephew return home with Joe and Simon. It didn’t help that, walking in the dead of night, Joe and his cousin argued relentlessly. Simon felt confused, Mezox a great sense of guilt and Joe like piggy in the middle.

  Their arguing continued within the residence. Mezox hadn’t said a word since leaving the detention centre. Fed up and exhausted, he couldn’t tolerate their bickering and took a lonely stroll.

  Across the nearby grasslands, the wind blew and leaves rustled. The moon’s glow waxed and waned behind fragments of thin cloud. A small measure of peace lured him further away from civilisation.

  He gazed up, wondering if God had punished him for his doubts. And in the sky, the bright white light re-appeared. This time, it seemed to move. Fast moving clouds couldn’t explain it away as an illusion. Its brilliance increased, and chills tingled down his spine. The air turned cold, and hairs stood on end. There was no knowing whether to sprint home or stay. And although he wanted to run, his legs refused to budge.

  Awe and mystery swirled as a mix of thoughts. It didn’t feel real, and he couldn’t tell if that was just his hope. With a pinch to his arm, the lucidity test was passed.

  The aura of light descended low enough to illuminate the ground. An urge to approach and investigate was also resisted. And while transfixed, a shadow formed in front of him. Only when a discernible black outline was seen did he peer back. And there, another object hovered overhead. A crackle of foliage forced him to look horizontally. A black figure stood three feet away, and he lunged back in shock, falling on the floor and scrambling for distance. Its lack of reaction eased his desperation until he sat and stared. The shroud of darkness began to lift, and a person stepped from it.

  “Inaya?”

  “I heard your sounds of war. It was time to leave, and I couldn’t do so without saying ‘goodbye,’” said Inaya.

  Mezox glanced around. “What’s happening exactly?”

  Inaya knelt and offered him a hand back on his feet. “Your species’ chance to enter a class of galactic civilisations will die with Hypatia. Few humans will survive the great dying to come.”

  “Why don’t you help us?”

  “Not a good idea to get embroiled in your affairs. I came to inspire, but the hypersystem came too late. Your species shall begin anew. And if lucky, evolve to look forward rather than cling to the dust of old.”

  “So, you’ll leave us here to perish?”

  “You can leave. Hide and survive. And when you’re crinkly, maybe the old world will have passed. Teach and guide the new one.”

  “Teach them what?”

  “To know it’s up to them. No natural or supernatural beings in the sky will come to clean up after them. If its any consolation, Alex’s technology is the signature of a fruitful and peaceful species. A key to the stars. A token of progress. Never before had we experienced a species so afraid of its own shadow and yet immaculately self-conceited in its affluence of superstition. Your species abdicated the power of thought for fantasy, locking itself away in a child-like state through perpetuity.”

  Head wilted, he said, “I feel like a child again; fearful and ignorant.”

  Inaya lifted his chin and kissed his cheek. “We also weep.”

  Mezox continued to look up at the craft when darkness took hold. In the next instance, he’s back in his pod with Joe prodding him.

  “Have you seen Simon?” Joe repeatedly asked.

  Mezox gave it some thought. “How would I know. I was asleep.”

  Joe had attempted to phone Sallace. He required Mezox and his pass to accompany him within governance central.

  There, Mezox’s permit didn’t hold a sufficient of clearance level to grant entry in an emergency. In a dash to escape the stampedes, Mezox led Joe to a local watering hole.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “I’m not leaving this world without having raised a final glass. Plus, there’s a television playing the news.”

  Mezox persuaded Joe to try his first sip of whisky, which he despised. A diluted bit of vodka in fruit juice was more to his taste.

  Back in London, Summanus was delighted with the Archbishop’s belated sense of

  urgency to eradicate Hypatia.

  “It would be unfortunate to destroy such a useful asset,” said the Archbishop.

  “Unfortunate, my lord?” asked Summanus.

  “Polls suggest there’s little appetite for this war.”

  “But, how can that be?”

  “Their primary concern remains with the Empire.”

  “A legitimate concern, but nowhere as immediate as the infidels.”

  The Archbishop sighed and waved his finger at Summanus “You’re also my chief propagandist. Convince them that. Give me what I want, and you shall have yours.”

  “Forgive me. What do you seek?”

  “To go down in infamy and adulated for the infidels’ demise.”

  An advisor approached the Archbishop and whispered into his ear before conveying the news back to Summanus. “Well. It seems you have your chance, this Simon has escaped and on his way.”

  Summanus presented an infrequent smile and got to work.

  Simon had left Hypatia early that morning. A goods driver discovered him hours later, who was more than happy to cancel his schedule. A call back to office led to a series of conversations. Simon was invited to London.

  Summanus seised on the opportunity and scheduled a live interview. The whole country, including Hypatia, knew of the upcoming event. Simon’s apparent escape was all they understood, and millions waited anxiously to hear his version of events.

  Simon’s arrival was met by an exuberant crowd. He found himself outside the news studio as onlookers hailed and begged for autographs. Security surrounded him, blocking his face from view.

  Summanus welcomed him from the foyer. No cameras were permitted to roll. Led up a spiral staircase, Summanus made his demands, “I want drama, do you hear?” he said tapping on Simon’s che
st with an arm around his shoulder. “Let the country know of the Infidels’ depravities with emotion and spice.”

  Before Simon could respond, two young makeup artists took an arm each and lured him away. They sat him in a chair and slapped unpleasant clouds of makeup over his face. A few touch-ups and he was done.

  No mirrors exposed the work of art on his face. Only a door pane revealed dark patches dotted around his cheeks and forehead. And as his focus changed, an audience could be seen in the background, awaiting his arrival.

  Thrown inside, Cameras turned to him as spectators lauded his arrival. Summanus secured Simon’s seat adjacent to him. Regular broadcasting was suspended as the presenters made-way.

  In their wait for final checks, Summanus fluctuated with bouts of energetic spasms. He seised a nearby pen and tapped the table in rapid succession while rocking back and forth. The pen was slammed back down before maintaining a reasonable level of composure.

  Summanus’s smirk faded in preparation for his speech. The feature opened when countdown zeroed, and Summanus said, “Today, I am proud to introduce to you a hero. A man kidnapped by the godless infidels for reasons unknown but not benign. By God’s grace, he escaped to tell you his story here tonight – everyone meet Simon.”

  Simon’s face dominated the screen as his new fans clapped maniacally. He offered a gentle but expressionless wave.

  Summanus asked, “What was it like in the land of the infidels?”

  Simon inverted his lips and fidgeted more upright. “I didn’t get to see much. It was dark throughout my short duration.”

  “They brutalised, belittled, locked you away and made fun of your faith. How did that make you feel?”

  “They insisted that I’d” -

  “And you escaped as they slept?”

  “Well, yes,” said Simon. Unable to hold back any longer, he blurted out, “I was treated well and free to leave at any time.” He turned to the camera and smudged fake bruises on his forehead.

  The camera swooped back to a nervous but angry Summanus. “He escaped thanks to their incompetence, giving brave Simon a chance to escape.”

  Summanus froze in hopeful anticipation for applause. None came. The audience looked on, bewildered and unsure of what they had witnessed. The feed turned to another report.

  Simon’s intervention was more of a welcome than not in Hypatia. None could know if it was sufficient in halting any potential invasion. All war preparations continued as planned.

  Only Joe felt a hundred percent opposed to Simon’s actions. Already in the right place, he downed his long-standing beverage and asked for another, but stronger.

  Mezox happily obliged. They engaged in an evening-long conversation before heading back in a positive sing-song mood.

  “You know what I hate?” said Joe gazing into the sky.

  “The fact you can’t sing?” said a more sober Mezox.

  “No – but yes, and that I’m powerless to stop that sum… some-anus from hurting my cousin.”

  “Me too, bud.”

  “I could kill him, you know. I’m prepared to kill again.”

  Mezox stopped, “You’ve also killed someone?”

  “I understand how you feel about Graham. People like him aren’t worth a second thought.”

  “Who did you kill?”

  They continued onward. “How should I know. The bastard jumped me when I was about your age, and I got the upper hand. And I jabbed him with his own knife,” laughed Joe.

  After a brief moment, Mezox replied. “I’m also ready to kill again.”

  Joe considered their moments in the Tower. “You were ready long before taking Graham out.”

  Mezox was surprised to find Inaya cataloguing their recent procurements. Joe went inside as though she’d never left, adding to his perplexity. She also continued as usual while Joe began to sleep off the drink.

  He offered to help, which she accepted. They worked in silence, but Mezox’s head burned with confusion and a desire for answers.

  Before a suitable dialogue starter was conceived, Inaya made it easy. “You didn’t tell anyone what you saw?”

  “I can’t explain what I don’t understand.”

  Inaya didn’t respond and moved scrap metal to one side.

  Mezox stuttered. “Just for the record, what did I experience?”

  Inaya stood straight. “The edge of death.”

  “No, I get that. But, what was with the lights and…” -

  “What did you assume at the time?”

  “At first, spiritual. Then, something tangible and yet not of this place – so I didn’t dream it up? But why are you back?”

  “No threat of war – not yet, at least.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “No increased activity that are the hallmarks of an impending attack.”

  His extent of reprieve brought about an involuntary grin. “Those lights were shaped much like my father’s prototype.”

  “The same style of technology – except, yours will not look like that. Not for a hundred years.”

  “Being more advanced. Could you tell me, please? Is there a God?”

  “Define God.”

  “A creator of the universe, of life, of destiny…”

  “I understand human minds are still child-like, but there’s nothing that remotely comes close.”

  His smile dissipated. “I’ll never see my parents again?”

  “If it helps, post-existence is the same place as pre-existence. Our sense of self is an illusion created by the firing of neurons. In death, It could be that one’s illusionary perspective is free to propagate elsewhere.”

  “So, some sort of reincarnation?”

  “Perhaps – but without appealing to your supernatural. And funnily, your next life isn’t you. You are your brain. A new mind will possess a fresh identity altogether and become as individualistic from one another as we are now.”

  Inaya’s portrayal of death was both helpful and unsatisfying. “But they’re still gone. Forever.”

  “You cannot allow wishful thinking to get the better of your rational side. Your world is the product of too much irrationality.”

  “Joe had sown the seeds of doubt, but I find it difficult to divorce myself from those beliefs.”

  “Because you cannot replace them with an emotional equivalence. I can’t offer you an alternative means to see your parents again. And whether you realise it or not, your doubts do mean you’re on a path toward reality’s acceptance. It’s just a long road, and you need a little time to adjust.”

  Mezox viewed some pliers clutched within his hand. “A tool, designed and made by someone. And yet, we’re immune to the same premise.”

  “A non-sequitur, I think you say. It cannot respire, repair nor replicate. We’re moulded by the power of our environment.”

  “You’re not from here and yet appear human.”

  “My world’s not that dissimilar. Animals can independently evolve identical features separately. You call this convergent evolution. Different genes can independently evolve similar functions. Chances for life are very high. The galaxy teems with it.”

  Mezox tied Inaya’s explanation with that learnt from his mother’s work. “And if this prototype works, we’ll have gained a superior technological trait. Survival of the fittest.”

  “Survival of the fittest doesn’t refer to a group’s ideological or political prowess over another’s. But yes, I see your connection.”

  The sorting process took an hour to complete before bed. Tomorrow was a day that couldn’t come soon enough for Mezox.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  First flight

  The Archbishop had surrendered any pursuing of Hypatia’s destruction. He sought a new means to garner affection by playing the moral high ground, preaching the whole “love thy neighbour” theme – a false pretension.

  Hypatia went along with it nonetheless. It was an opportunity to make some small deals. One involved the ability to
exchange resources across Northern England. However, it required opening Hypatia up to yearly inspections.

  Mezox couldn’t give a damn for current politics. His one focus turned to proving his doubters wrong. There was no early morning run or sluggish waking process. Eyes opened after four in the morning and got straight to work. Inaya and Joe remained fast asleep.

  The sound banging metal soon added to their annoyance. Joe arose with a hangover, clutching his pulsing head. Inaya advised him to down two cups of water.

  With a cup in hand, Joe emerged from the water facilities and watched Mezox work with unrivalled dedication and concentration. Sympathetic to his plight, he offered to help. With little to do, Inaya seised his offer in constructing a foundry outside.

  Mezox continued to cut metal according to pre-determined specifications. New alloys, copper-silver, developed by Inaya and Joe were ready the following day. These were also reduced to their desired measurements. Their strength to conductivity ratio made them ideal for core material. The welding process began on day three – after a little practice.

  Even as the vehicle took shape, it was far from ready. Power, vacuum and controls required completion. Their extraction of air within the system became the most tedious. Old refrigerator pumps barely worked, and their ion pump was far from efficient. Once necessary repairs were complete, it still took another two days to reach sufficient pressures. And only then, after a week of working fourteen hours a day was the foot-wide prototype ready to usher in a new era.

  Such a pivotal moment would have little impact if few were there to witness it. Sallace was thusly informed of its upcoming event – two evenings post completion. The urge to test it there and then was difficult to resist. Yet, given the importance of it working first time round warranted the delay for final checks.

  Much of Mezox’s intervening time was spent staring as the hypertron rested centre ground floor. Little could shift his focus or hopes.

  Sallace arrived for the scheduled activation at nine that evening, along with a team of other security officials and Professor Jones.