We journeyed through the swarthy woods, searching for an abode to call home.
Unexpectedly, we stumbled upon a hidden village at the edge of the forest. The sign, hanging proudly from the entrance posts, proclaimed this was a city within a city. Nonetheless there were only a handful dwelling within. The inhabitants appeared friendly… genuine. Many of them with analogous features, as though they harkened from the same tribe.
Their charismatic Emporer invited us toward the central structure in the heart of the diminutive metropolis. As we followed him down a promenade, he elucidated the vision he had given birth to. The nucleus would momentarily play host to academies, entertainment, marketplace ventures, and political endeavours. Their influence would extend beyond the boundaries of their town and reach the entire globe. Their populace would work within the epicenter, serving the Kingdom to extend its metamorphosis.
As we entered the building we were served a chalice filled with an odd-smelling clear liquid. We were invited to take part, to drink the enigma. Bottoms up!
The chamber became hazy. Walls around us bent and dipped. The ceiling dropped. We collapsed simultaneously to the ground and fell into a deep slumber.
When we eventually awoke, we scoured our decayed surroundings. We were surrounded by walls crumbling, the roof had begun to cave in, as though it had sustained years of rain and mould. The glow that had formerly lit the iconic emblem on the veneer was stuttering and patchy. The signs were faded and peeling. The garden on the exterior was overgrown and covered in debris. A decayed bus was parked in an undercroft. Under the bus were broken, bruised bodies, staring at passers by, seeking rescue. A modicum of soldiers marched right past them, oblivious to their silent cries.
Next to us lay an awakened man. He was covered in soot. Burns on his index finger. As though he had smashed a nuclear regulator that had produced a detonation. He shifted over to reassure us.
A tortured soul, bearing visible scars, had his back to us. He was surrounded by tools and was using one of them to replace a lock on an enclosure. I could hear flapping coming from inside the chamber, and sounds of screeching. I caught a glimpse of one of the creatures through the glass, covered in shredded transcripts. Underneath were scars, some still bleeding. The creature turned to glance at us, wailed, and flew under a table to hide, visibly afraid.
Further down a dimly lit hallway, underneath a worn sign, proclaiming love of the city, stood an apprehensive woman, tears trickling down her cheeks. Her legs were captured in chains. She was awake, and she could see, but she was enmeshed in place.
In a dark corner I caught sight of HIM. A forlorn expression cascaded over his weathered face. The Emporer seemed older, much older. Grey specs in his stubble, creases under his dark, tired eyes.
We were awake. After a 20 year slumber, we could now see what had been hidden for decades. No longer were we inhibited by the toxin we had injested that had put us into a walking coma.
But we could not walk away. The scene was devastating. There were still fallen victims slumbering around us, oblivious to the carnage and erosion.
Awaken sleepers.
But alas, their antidote would be certitude not from us, but from a group of wayward soldiers who were gathered in the corner with the Emporer, speaking in faint tones.
Nearby sat a peaceable man, chains around his ankles, the lock was unhinged. He chose to sit there, watching on, periodically glancing our way with deep empathy. His eyes were opened, but he was waiting. His trust seemed to depend in the soldiers who were negotiating with the Emperor.
Would they stand and cry out? When would the final battle cry be heard?
