Ryan: A Visionary in Science

Some people look past things that are insignificant. Power can outstretch the will of a person to the point where their own past and everything that they did to achieve such a strength-was forgotten as if it never happened, but some men choose not to see an event as a seat of power. In fact, individuals have breached history time and time again, claiming that their power is a curse. Here is a story about insignificance, it is also a tale of power.

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1. Altruism

Page 1.    Altruism

 

    Deep within the bowels of the Merchant District of a prosperous city lies corruption, but not in the gutter of the streets, no... it is in the foundations of their walls, in the pockets of the guards, and slipped from the tongues of nobles. This society was a maw, tarnished with lies. Although it’s castle was grand and the King was pure, it held a large separation of class. It was less of a kingdom and more accurately a piece of shit, veneered with gold. This was a place where one should no longer fear death, for it’s accustomed--but instead, fear whatever alternative the system of judgement the high society had to offer: starvation of your family, amputation, even a test of skill and cunning through your ability to murder another. This was a time of wrath, a time of greed and of course a time of spite. Within the Great Wall--which was built to block out the prosperous city from the rest of the world--people's lives were either made or broken and with each moment of darkness or impulse, a life was defined. This is the story of one of many, and today... this man is only known as Mr. Ryan. A tall, but slender individual with the will to act out against all that is authority.

 

    Within the beginning of life, man is born with a clean slate; however some may still carry the burdens of humanity on their shoulders, whether it is the sins of their fathers, or the sacrifices of the fellow loved, it all becomes a heavy weight on the backs of few. Young Ryan was no different than any other boy at the fact that he had a clean slate, and he had burdens to carry. Though few understand what it is like to live on the streets by choice. This boy, Ryan, had much talent and capability, it was almost impossible to be at the bottom of the social ladder for this bright child, though he did not like the terrible sight of the rich and powerful, nor did he enjoy the dirty stench of their ideals. Born into a rotten society, young Ryan only understood two things: authority... and revolt.

A street rat grows accustom to the starved that live in blackened alleys. It creates a blaze, directed at kings and queens that not dare leave a crumb for the dying to nibble on; the very thought that a scrap of nobility was not worthy of the mouth of the poor. So this boy named Ryan chose the path of the dying, for he would rather be sick and starving than a monument to insidious acts, selfishness, and animosity. He understood that a nobles job was not to own the land, but assume responsibility for it, a value that was lost in time.

 

    On this precise night, in the streets of the Market Quarter, as the cold and hungry stayed wrapped in blankets on the wet stone floor-Ryan stepped forth to a common fruit stand, approaching a barrel of apples. He made a choice to execute a simple task... one that would define the rest of his life. For you see, the rats of this city were starving, but they were still rats, ready to skimmer at the sight of any movement or sign of entrapment. However, Ryan had the idealist touch. Here, he defied gods. A movement so simple yet so powerful: to bite the hand that feeds. All he needed to do was extend his hand and grasp it, and so he did. As Ryan gripped and raised his rightful prize in the air, a mounted noble approached for a shopping routine; guards at his side. The nobleman looked down in quiet contempt at young Ryan's defiance and saw but one thing... an example. The boy was held to the ground and asked to explain his foolishness, though no words were met. For his silence, his fingers upon his right apple-grasping-hand were broken, one by one. Then for his thievery, the noble told him that he would give mercy, and relieve him of the pain that they had caused... by removing his right hand with a butchers cleaverOne could only imagine the elongated torment that these moments had to offer. Those who saw Ryan on that day may have never forgotten the terror in his eyes as he screamed a banshee’s wail out to the sky. When the deed was done, he gripped at the end of a bleeding stub, shaking on the ground and smashing his shoulder into the stone floor just so he could feel something other than the hell-wracking agony of a dismembered limb. The nobleman stood tall upon his steed, speaking out against the dangers of revolt and the questioning of authority, but as he left... Ryan's eyes burned with a livid passion. After that day, Ryan was never seen in the prosperous city again.

 

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