This is a novel planked in a universe that occupied our orbital space before it painted its own doom. The murder of the king/president of that world triggers a chain of events that unfold, to arc the doom hammer. The saga of a disgusted detective for whom the wheels turn to make him a man destined to garb the clothes of a .......... Read more to know more.


22. Crescendo


Sliding down her pipe was I, her mouth water lubricating the process. Down the drain of food I go and the tangles of vein do I navigate. The mundane yet fascinating internals of body humongous, the facsimile of what I am seeing is not commendable, as I myself am not able to comprehend the technicalities of god. But one thing do I have to agree, the intricate yet delicate handiwork of god, can never be achieved even after deepest of artistic penances. The nuances of the body performed with élan, the inverted cousin of flesh is a remarkable sight in itself. 

So immersed am I in the sights that the ingrained task seems fade into the background. My reverie breaks at the sight of an organ, the source of the sourness being the heart, cause the structure of it is not the same as the romanticized envision that has infiltrated into us. It is not a figure explicable, for it is of a shape I have not seen, perhaps that is why it is exalted. This adds to my ever-increasing vault of intrigue.

I decide to probe into this matter once I become a god, if ever I become one. Once I ams endowed with the protection of godly secrets, my dubious questions would disintegrate, or so I think. How, I will create a world akin to the one I existed in, or the process by which the supposed world I create can be made breathable, I know not, for my future hinges on this one mission and I decide to concentrate, a trait that comes with years of deductive work.

As I stand experimenting with the heart and clinging onto the ringed pipe, I hear a sound that does not jibe with the internal symphonies. It is a sound of mechanical origins and the presence of the synthetic inside a natural baffles me.

Then does the stupendous glass enclosed vehicle enshrining Hades appear from the cascading darkness. This apparently coincide with my suffocating, I did not notice the lack of oxygen inside the body as my lung capacity exceedes normalcy. Even my lung could not withhold for more than ten minutes. The glass vehicle draws close to me and one part of it opens magically. I enter inside and the presence of breathing gas is higher than in the outside, and this makes living easier. But one thing this glass vehicle does is, it curtails the liberty of movement. Nor can I reproach Hades for this, for his apparatus is what provides me with the essence of life.

I stare at the vehicle and realize that we are suspended in air and that there is a gas discharge at the bottom of the vehicle, which powers it. There are several punch buttons in front of me, none of which the mechanic in me can recognize.

A heads-up display board in front of me exhibits numerals aligned with alphabets. Here I notice that the alphabets are spaced but are actually words. There several words like “Lungs, Heart, Cerebrum etc… Words except the heart are incomprehensible to me but make sense to Hades. He grunts in disappointment as a number denoting the power of heart comes down by two places and ends up in fourteen. That is when I realize that some fuelling substance has been inserted into Gaia’s body. Though not a god, I reckon, Gaia’s status as the consort to one gives her certain power over death. This, she is making use of by letting Hades operate her body.

This makes Hades, now, the handler of death. In some way, he is the god of death, and to my chagrin, he is handling it with relative ease. I know that he is destined to become a god one day, either way he is the offspring of Kronos and his steely nerves might have grabbed the Fate’s attention. Whatever the circumstances that the aftermath brings with it, Hades has the elastic flexibility to twist to fit. To be precise, Hades bears all the hallmarks of a god. This I envy, and the fact that he is a natural kindles the fire for me.

After clicking some buttons, Hades lets out a sight that I take for relief. Then Hades turns to me and starts talking in a muffled voice, which I suppose is because of the inadequacy of oxygen.

“So, can I now rip your soul”, asks Hades, his voice nonchalant, yet an amount of solemnity creeping into his voice.

I now realize that everything Gaia did from the initial phase were with the clearest of intentions, bereave me off my soul to further some ambition of her. Now that the pang of kinship has faded in me, I am on the very tip of the iceberg. But, as I am in the dark about the actions Hades is going to oscillate into motion succeeding his declaration, I remain in the cell of confusion.

The reaction Hades gives is a simpleton as compared to my expectations, but that is what makes it more effective. He uncaps a circular hole and switches a button. Now, happens the most bizarre and chaotic thing, there comes out a suction energy from inside the hole. The energy in no way confronts me, but as time passes, a small part of me becomes weak, and then slowly my body parts start decaying.

That is exactly when I realize the obvious; the energy is ripping the soul apart from me from the inside. This explains the initial churning of my insides. I had then no qualms with it, but now I do. Once again, the situation demands attention, I have to somehow destroy this vehicle but it is clear that my staying would herald them victory.

The panache that Hades exudes is frighteningly deliberate as if he is conceiving them for my debacle. My vision is on the verge of glowing out when I notice a red button in the panel. I veer back, push the steering buttons to the right, and punch Hades in his chin, which temporarily stuns him. In that small portal of time, I push the buttons in which is engraved the picture of a door, the right one opens. The vehicle now bangs against the inner lining of Gaia’s flesh. I realize that my bolt is ineffective inside, so I lay foot on my brother’s spinal cord, as he has his face in his lap, which I guess is to prevent the exposure of blood in this unsuitable atmosphere.

I hack at the inner lining, which does not give away. To reconcile from the arc, I balance on the wall to prevent from tumbling. I try again, this time thrust instead of slashing, the sword gains tempo and the flesh gives way, and the air from the outside comes thrashing in. I nudge the red button, which I know by standard protocol is the emblem of destruction. I then jump regardless of the perils within. I swerve in the air to look back and find the now upright body of Gaia blasting. I then turn back to see an arm flailed Poseidon.

Poseidon manages to break my fall by aligning his butt to my fall. We both stand up bruised and scarred but with the happiness of ridding the world from the ridiculous.

It seems the Fates are not finished with their ploys and they still have a lot to unravel. The world we are in turns back to the lava it was before, but the sky somehow is sheared off and we behold the empty orbital space where the world was.

Behind us, the charred carcass of Gaia suddenly lifts off the ground and gravitates to that empty space. There her head is bisected from her body, and her atrocious body globed. Magnified tenth fold there dangles a world lusher than its precedent. Water flows through the major part of it. The land is symbolized by green and water by blue, as are their natures.  The visage of her becomes ashen white and starts with all the slowness in the world to revolve around her body. Under my own vision a world is formed.

I hear a voice in a blurred sentence, yet a voice clear as a crystal, only that it was not verbal but mental in its approach. I know it to be the looms. The translation of what it said to me roughly means, “The world you are bestowed with is unclean and it is your duty to cleanse it off its vices and to make it mortally livable. You are to make it civilized, with all the frills attached to a normal life. It is your duty to make it as vibrant, gallant, breathing in the sense where decency and reverence are woven into the fabric. With that said, you are also to choose a person, whom you think is worthy of being a god. You will have to, from now on bear the burden and grieves of those who grace the land. You are from this very moment appointed an Olympian”,

With thus said a panel appears in front of me listing the names of those who had become victims in the Apocalypse, whose souls in a mass exodus reach the new world. I choose Hades to be resurrected.





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