A Humble Account and Plea
A Humble Account and Plea- by Clive
First of all, we would like to extend our condolences upon you, dear reader, for coming upon a larger plot that holds a terrifying amount of responsibility should you read on. We come to you, wherever, or whenever you are with a single human perspective in that long, but dreadfully limited strand of human perspectives throughout mankind's interval of existence. We send it hence this day, the fourth of October, in the year 2553. Many questions arise to an astounding statement such as this, and one can only imagine the impact of it all. The invention of time travel. Yes, it is indeed possible. It seems as though if man can envision it, the idea tends to stand a good chance of coming to fruition. This discovery is particularly recent to this period, and although we ourselves have not traveled to you through the winding of space and time, hopefully this written narrative has. We have sent many copies through the void, and most tests have ended in a ball of ash and smoke just five or so minutes before or after transporting the experimental ventures. This makes the reason evident as to why we ourselves dare not chance a journey, that is, not yet at least.
The doom of the human race is imminent. If but a century could be spared us, the crisis can be averted. We have but two years to usurp irreplaceable supplies to write this humble account and plea that is to be placed in a small capsule that may or may not find its way to you. If it indeed arrives, our best prediction as to when it will is somewhere between the 16th and 22nd century. The location as to where it can be found could be any of our guesses on this end, but probably evident to you. Only one copy can be sent through the void this far back in time, and it is only written in the English language. If the current situation were not so dire, we all on staff would find it very humorous if a 17th century French villager had come across this, and God forbid, use it for kindling, seeing as how he might not understand the writing or even be able to read. Nevertheless, an attempt must be made to warn past generations of certain historical events that have led to a rather crippled and unforgiving planet.
Ground rules have been laid amongst us, the few that remain. One of which is that no names, not even our own, are to be mentioned in the narrative. This is to accommodate for many naturally foreseen problems that complement time travel. For example, to prevent the murder of individuals whose evil actions are unprecedented, even to this day and age. Though these people in history have conducted evil actions, they are not to be harmed, especially while young and innocent. Who knows? This individual might be you. For one to receive consequences of actions not yet conducted, is evil in and of itself. Not to mention that the instance of their murder may start a chain of events that could, in turn, cause more sinister leaders to arise.
Numerous other decisions of the machine's use had to be made in haste, with our best intents and morals in place. Yes, morals can mean different things to different people, and could you be here, near the end of it all, you would help decide these ground rules. Seeing as you the reader are not, please forgive any of our shortcomings, for we have merely done the best we can. I pray that if you damn our concept of morality, that you will not damn our cause.
Essentially the rules come down to this: We will not send you, the unrefined children, the designs of the contraption, and we will not portray anything in this narrative that would encourage the taking of a life. You, the reader, will only be made aware of several moments, in which several individuals needed to make one decision or another, as well as the result of those decisions. If you find yourself in any situation similar to the ones found in this narrative, we hope you make the right choice.
Beliefs are a highly debated topic, and a tricky thing even for our time, but one thing is certain; the most powerful force in the world is a team of individuals who have no regard for their own distinct legacy, but work for a cause greater than themselves. It is evident that in the fires of our recent time that the average gentleman is indeed a so called "dignified human" until faced with survival. Often he will act in turn like a trapped animal, ready to strike even his own kind, if it indeed means his or her own survival and welfare. Take note: a treasured survival of personal life, legacy, or ideals that promote homicidal action, will kill us all. The transformation from man to beast is horrifying, and it begins here. Defend your lives, not your life. Act as a whole, and fight as men, not as animals.
Death is inevitable, and I tell you now, as I look it in the face, it is not terrifying. We must all welcome it eventually, but in doing so, let us pass the torch, and not quench it. It should not be in despair that we die, but in optimism. It is in the belief of a greater cause that man is able run headlong into battle against beasts, build entire civilizations, and die for his fellow man. It is this belief that will permit us to continue as a species. A belief that is tied to beautiful grace, and her name is hope.
The names are fictitious, the places fictitious, but God forbid you pass this narrative as fictitious, for I see only doubt in most human eyes who study that which they cannot see or understand, even if that study is the future of their own race.
Chapter 1
Year 2524
Dusk. The dreary and distant glow of the engulfing horizon met the sun in a dance of shifting color, but the only color in the spectrum that shifted shades was not an orange or a red, but a dull and hazy blue. Harsh winds had brought a storm of dust that battered the traveling company's pressurized attire, while their arduous bodies, laden with gear, fought onward. Prints in the sand followed the company, as they hastily made their way through the miasma. Their window of time was small. The temperature would soon drop as far as minus 60 degrees Celsius in that region of their red planet. Adrian glanced over his shoulder from where they had come. Their tracks were readily disappearing. It was easy to get lost in the dark. His thoughts somewhat slipped away from the task at hand, drifting with the rhythmic pattern of his step.
"Like unrecorded history, our steps fade. How did it come to this?" he thought.
They were moving at a faster pace now. Before the trio had left, it was discovered that only two of the suits could sustain power for a three man task to reassemble a signal component for the fusion reactor, miles away from the safety of the dome. Selecting the suits became a dreadful game of roulette, and with Jack leading the group at an immense pace, it was now apparent who had drawn the short straw.
Extreme relief seized Adrian, but the emotion quickly turned to fear for his dear companion, then to sadness when confidence in Jack's survival was quickly snuffed out with the odds. His feelings then finally turned to anger for his momentary loss of empathy. Had he lost so much compassion? Jack had survived so much, had saved so many. What gods could conjure up such an end to such a beloved leader? Tears filled his eyes and he drudged his feet onward. Suddenly, Jack darted forward in a delirious sprint. Adrian and the third companion, Wade, looked on the sad spectacle.
Jack reached the top of the recently endeavored dune long before the others, but he could go no further. The storm had gotten worse. He could not even see ten meters in front of him now. Exhausted, the man stood like a pillar of stone at the top, looking upon a sea of sand and rock. Jack was still, silent, in a daze, while the siren in his suit continued its condemnation: "Warning. Voltage low. Respiratory and pressure systems failing." His panic halted along with his strength to move any further. Hope faded, and his thoughts became as empty as that sea of sand that he knew stretched before him. The drape of drifting sand gave way for a moment, and before his eyes, in the distance was the dome, but it was still so far away. So far away. So… far…
As the momentary break of vision revealed their destination, hope shyly came walking back to his mind. His exhausted expression and wandering gaze gave way to an almost satirical smile as he said aloud, "We're going to make it. We are going to survive."
Adrian looked up and saw his leader standing alone. Wade met him at the top first. Adrian watched the two of them. Neither needed words. Wade relieved Jack of his gear, clasped his friend closely, and then continued on, leaving Jack still standing above his final resting place. Adrian took his time up the hill, knowing it was probably best if he hurried. Emotion outplayed practicality. He could not bring himself to accept that another companion was going to be left in the dust of memory, least of all Jack.
The reluctant Adrian finally met his leader, and their eyes locked behind the visors of their helmets. Jack collapsed to his knees and nodded ahead. "Go on. You have about two hours left of a walk and every second counts."
"We can carry you!"
"Adrian" grunted Jack with a sound of annoyance.
It was quickly getting dark, and the sandstorm was getting worse. Adrian knew what he had to do.
"I'm sorry Jack." He croaked.
Jack looked up and smiled, "You just get your ass back to the dome, and see what we have to work with, huh?"
Adrian walked down the dune, but not without one last glance over his shoulder. Jack waved in goodbye, before a surge of dust obstructed his silhouette.
"How did it come to this?"
Year 2456
Dr. Corkum was born in the southern province of New Colorado, where he lived and worked as a professor at the University of Talisman. He was a myrmecologist who taught biology to undergraduates, and had a keen interest in the behavior of cordyceps, particularly those of which effected ants. He conducted several private studies, but never with the gusto of ever achieving anything other than the sating of his own personal enquiry. A simple man, well enough. He worked hard, earned his place in life and lived comfortably in the district of Talisman, yet it is not always the case that a man becomes renown due to his dedication. Occasionally, achievement merely depends on the circumstances one finds him or herself, and this certainly was the case for Dr. Corkum. He accepted his status as his pique of achievement, which was simple. However impressive it was, in its own right, never in his life was he so wrong.
At a small, but relatively prominent school in New Colorado, Dr. Corkum exited his vehicle devoted to employee parking. It was a beautiful day on September the 21st, 2456. He was to conduct a lecture that day pertaining to the subject matter of biochemistry. Many students complained of his lectures, or the relative difficulty of the subject matter, but Dr. Corkum was dedicated to his work as a professor, to help pass on knowledge to a new generation that would determine the future. He heeded his position of the highest importance, even if his wage did not reflect his efforts. One student in particular always made it abundantly clear of her opinion towards Dr. Corkum's teaching method, which was not good to say the least. This student in particular questioned nearly everything that Dr. Corkum put forth in lecture. This in turn limited the time to depict the required information necessary to finish the text-book within the semester. Even so, he admired the young woman's delving inquiry. He himself would get caught up in explaining answers to her questions in quite a flurry of excitement. Unfortunately though, this would often times cause arise to more questions from other students, who would soon become lost and frightened by their lack of understanding. Not only would the new questions hamper Dr. Corkum's schedule, but would also lead to loss of interest for many students, particularly those who needed a more visual manner of understanding of the concepts being discussed. Each and every one of his students was smart, he could easily see that. It was just rather disappointing that he could not take each by the hand and open a new world of understanding like he hoped he would when he took the job.
[TO BE CONTINUED]
The doom of the human race is imminent. If but a century could be spared us, the crisis can be averted. We have but two years to usurp irreplaceable supplies to write this humble account and plea that is to be placed in a small capsule that may or may not find its way to you. If it indeed arrives, our best prediction as to when it will is somewhere between the 16th and 22nd century. The location as to where it can be found could be any of our guesses on this end, but probably evident to you. Only one copy can be sent through the void this far back in time, and it is only written in the English language. If the current situation were not so dire, we all on staff would find it very humorous if a 17th century French villager had come across this, and God forbid, use it for kindling, seeing as how he might not understand the writing or even be able to read. Nevertheless, an attempt must be made to warn past generations of certain historical events that have led to a rather crippled and unforgiving planet.
Ground rules have been laid amongst us, the few that remain. One of which is that no names, not even our own, are to be mentioned in the narrative. This is to accommodate for many naturally foreseen problems that complement time travel. For example, to prevent the murder of individuals whose evil actions are unprecedented, even to this day and age. Though these people in history have conducted evil actions, they are not to be harmed, especially while young and innocent. Who knows? This individual might be you. For one to receive consequences of actions not yet conducted, is evil in and of itself. Not to mention that the instance of their murder may start a chain of events that could, in turn, cause more sinister leaders to arise.
Numerous other decisions of the machine's use had to be made in haste, with our best intents and morals in place. Yes, morals can mean different things to different people, and could you be here, near the end of it all, you would help decide these ground rules. Seeing as you the reader are not, please forgive any of our shortcomings, for we have merely done the best we can. I pray that if you damn our concept of morality, that you will not damn our cause.
Essentially the rules come down to this: We will not send you, the unrefined children, the designs of the contraption, and we will not portray anything in this narrative that would encourage the taking of a life. You, the reader, will only be made aware of several moments, in which several individuals needed to make one decision or another, as well as the result of those decisions. If you find yourself in any situation similar to the ones found in this narrative, we hope you make the right choice.
Beliefs are a highly debated topic, and a tricky thing even for our time, but one thing is certain; the most powerful force in the world is a team of individuals who have no regard for their own distinct legacy, but work for a cause greater than themselves. It is evident that in the fires of our recent time that the average gentleman is indeed a so called "dignified human" until faced with survival. Often he will act in turn like a trapped animal, ready to strike even his own kind, if it indeed means his or her own survival and welfare. Take note: a treasured survival of personal life, legacy, or ideals that promote homicidal action, will kill us all. The transformation from man to beast is horrifying, and it begins here. Defend your lives, not your life. Act as a whole, and fight as men, not as animals.
Death is inevitable, and I tell you now, as I look it in the face, it is not terrifying. We must all welcome it eventually, but in doing so, let us pass the torch, and not quench it. It should not be in despair that we die, but in optimism. It is in the belief of a greater cause that man is able run headlong into battle against beasts, build entire civilizations, and die for his fellow man. It is this belief that will permit us to continue as a species. A belief that is tied to beautiful grace, and her name is hope.
The names are fictitious, the places fictitious, but God forbid you pass this narrative as fictitious, for I see only doubt in most human eyes who study that which they cannot see or understand, even if that study is the future of their own race.
Chapter 1
Year 2524
Dusk. The dreary and distant glow of the engulfing horizon met the sun in a dance of shifting color, but the only color in the spectrum that shifted shades was not an orange or a red, but a dull and hazy blue. Harsh winds had brought a storm of dust that battered the traveling company's pressurized attire, while their arduous bodies, laden with gear, fought onward. Prints in the sand followed the company, as they hastily made their way through the miasma. Their window of time was small. The temperature would soon drop as far as minus 60 degrees Celsius in that region of their red planet. Adrian glanced over his shoulder from where they had come. Their tracks were readily disappearing. It was easy to get lost in the dark. His thoughts somewhat slipped away from the task at hand, drifting with the rhythmic pattern of his step.
"Like unrecorded history, our steps fade. How did it come to this?" he thought.
They were moving at a faster pace now. Before the trio had left, it was discovered that only two of the suits could sustain power for a three man task to reassemble a signal component for the fusion reactor, miles away from the safety of the dome. Selecting the suits became a dreadful game of roulette, and with Jack leading the group at an immense pace, it was now apparent who had drawn the short straw.
Extreme relief seized Adrian, but the emotion quickly turned to fear for his dear companion, then to sadness when confidence in Jack's survival was quickly snuffed out with the odds. His feelings then finally turned to anger for his momentary loss of empathy. Had he lost so much compassion? Jack had survived so much, had saved so many. What gods could conjure up such an end to such a beloved leader? Tears filled his eyes and he drudged his feet onward. Suddenly, Jack darted forward in a delirious sprint. Adrian and the third companion, Wade, looked on the sad spectacle.
Jack reached the top of the recently endeavored dune long before the others, but he could go no further. The storm had gotten worse. He could not even see ten meters in front of him now. Exhausted, the man stood like a pillar of stone at the top, looking upon a sea of sand and rock. Jack was still, silent, in a daze, while the siren in his suit continued its condemnation: "Warning. Voltage low. Respiratory and pressure systems failing." His panic halted along with his strength to move any further. Hope faded, and his thoughts became as empty as that sea of sand that he knew stretched before him. The drape of drifting sand gave way for a moment, and before his eyes, in the distance was the dome, but it was still so far away. So far away. So… far…
As the momentary break of vision revealed their destination, hope shyly came walking back to his mind. His exhausted expression and wandering gaze gave way to an almost satirical smile as he said aloud, "We're going to make it. We are going to survive."
Adrian looked up and saw his leader standing alone. Wade met him at the top first. Adrian watched the two of them. Neither needed words. Wade relieved Jack of his gear, clasped his friend closely, and then continued on, leaving Jack still standing above his final resting place. Adrian took his time up the hill, knowing it was probably best if he hurried. Emotion outplayed practicality. He could not bring himself to accept that another companion was going to be left in the dust of memory, least of all Jack.
The reluctant Adrian finally met his leader, and their eyes locked behind the visors of their helmets. Jack collapsed to his knees and nodded ahead. "Go on. You have about two hours left of a walk and every second counts."
"We can carry you!"
"Adrian" grunted Jack with a sound of annoyance.
It was quickly getting dark, and the sandstorm was getting worse. Adrian knew what he had to do.
"I'm sorry Jack." He croaked.
Jack looked up and smiled, "You just get your ass back to the dome, and see what we have to work with, huh?"
Adrian walked down the dune, but not without one last glance over his shoulder. Jack waved in goodbye, before a surge of dust obstructed his silhouette.
"How did it come to this?"
Year 2456
Dr. Corkum was born in the southern province of New Colorado, where he lived and worked as a professor at the University of Talisman. He was a myrmecologist who taught biology to undergraduates, and had a keen interest in the behavior of cordyceps, particularly those of which effected ants. He conducted several private studies, but never with the gusto of ever achieving anything other than the sating of his own personal enquiry. A simple man, well enough. He worked hard, earned his place in life and lived comfortably in the district of Talisman, yet it is not always the case that a man becomes renown due to his dedication. Occasionally, achievement merely depends on the circumstances one finds him or herself, and this certainly was the case for Dr. Corkum. He accepted his status as his pique of achievement, which was simple. However impressive it was, in its own right, never in his life was he so wrong.
At a small, but relatively prominent school in New Colorado, Dr. Corkum exited his vehicle devoted to employee parking. It was a beautiful day on September the 21st, 2456. He was to conduct a lecture that day pertaining to the subject matter of biochemistry. Many students complained of his lectures, or the relative difficulty of the subject matter, but Dr. Corkum was dedicated to his work as a professor, to help pass on knowledge to a new generation that would determine the future. He heeded his position of the highest importance, even if his wage did not reflect his efforts. One student in particular always made it abundantly clear of her opinion towards Dr. Corkum's teaching method, which was not good to say the least. This student in particular questioned nearly everything that Dr. Corkum put forth in lecture. This in turn limited the time to depict the required information necessary to finish the text-book within the semester. Even so, he admired the young woman's delving inquiry. He himself would get caught up in explaining answers to her questions in quite a flurry of excitement. Unfortunately though, this would often times cause arise to more questions from other students, who would soon become lost and frightened by their lack of understanding. Not only would the new questions hamper Dr. Corkum's schedule, but would also lead to loss of interest for many students, particularly those who needed a more visual manner of understanding of the concepts being discussed. Each and every one of his students was smart, he could easily see that. It was just rather disappointing that he could not take each by the hand and open a new world of understanding like he hoped he would when he took the job.
[TO BE CONTINUED]