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Mind and body, against their own primal desires, reconcile to surrender completely to the machine. As I give up control, the Oracle Device wastes no time in seizing it. My mind and body are no longer mine to control.

The journey begins and I am a puppet on a string. The world I grew up in drops away. Floating in the emptiness of space I feel my body give its last bit of self-control over to the machine. Rocketing off at unachievable speeds I cross over galaxies and solar systems, too quickly and too many to count. I can only revel in the scope of the universe. Far in the distance a tiny blue speck appears. Hurtling toward it, it continues to grow in size until I can see nothing else. A blinding light pulls me from the universe and I hang for a time in limbo at the whims of the Device. As the light recedes and I regain my sight, I know I have arrived. Experiencing everything I delve into the vision, and my first step toward the truth.

Chapter Fifteen

The thunderous roar of rockets overhead drops me to my knees. Holding onto the steel helmet on my head, I become aware I’m somewhere else. Looking around the small one room shack I’m in, I see radios and maps set up on collapsible wood tables. The walls of the tiny shack are made of sandbags. The roof looks to be made of heavy rough-hewn pieces of lumber. I’m not alone in this shack either. Huddled beside me are four men wearing brown uniforms and steel helmets. The sound of the rockets passing overhead disappears. Moments later the rumble of their distant explosions reaches my ears. I stand up, reflexively dusting off my highly ornamented uniform. Looking down at my chest I see all manner of ribbons and pins. The four men have returned to their positions behind the radios. Words form in my mind moments before they exit my mouth.

“How is the assault going, corporal?”

One of the men turns to face me. His face is young; he’s no more than twenty. His eyes are soft brown and innocent.

“The barrage has broken their last line of defense surrounding the perimeter of the parliament.”

“Order all units to fix bayonets and charge. I’ll personally give two weeks’ pay to the unit that captures the Prime Minister!”

“Yes, sir!”

Turning back around, the young corporal relays my message into the radio. The chirping of units acknowledging the orders blares through all of the shack’s radios.

Moving with the bearing of a person without self-doubt, I make large strides until I reach the shack’s one small opening. Picking up a long telescope from the table, I extend it to full length and peer out onto the battlefield through the window. Before me lies the outskirts of a devastated city with its many buildings smoldering and shattered. Columns of thick, black smoke billow high into the sky and make it difficult to discern much detail. Despite the thick smoke, I can make out several columns of tanks being followed cautiously by brown uniformed soldiers. They all appear to be heading toward the center of the rubble. Looking at their most likely destination, I see only black smoke.

I watch it for minutes hoping to peer through a break in the dense haze but no such break occurs. Trying to find the soldiers again, I’m able to spot the tail end of a column disappear behind the wall of smoke. The telescope collapses smoothly and I place it back on the table. Walking to the back of the shack with the same bravado, I take a seat on a small wooden chair.

Next to me is a small side table with a beautiful hardwood humidor sitting atop it. Opening the box I see a row of fine looking cigars. My fingers roll over a few before finally settling on one from the end. A small guillotine shaped like a radiating star and clad in silver slides from its velvet slot and feels cool and heavy in my battered and aged hands. Looking into the reflective silver of the guillotine I see my face for the first time. A long nose sits framed by a trimmed short white beard. Dark blue eyes set into a thick brow stare back at me. In this moment my reality sinks into me. Whoever I am, I’m living his memories through his eyes. For the rest of this journey I’m going to be a passenger. Judging by how it began though, this is looking to be an unpleasant trip. Knowing I can’t change or interact here doesn’t help alter my feeling of helplessness. Fighting to suppress it, I light up the cigar and take a deep draw. Holding it in my lungs, I feel its warmth and every taste bud in my mouth dances in delight to the familiar taste. It billows from my thin lips in a grey, swirling cloud.

“Sir, our men have reached the parliament building. The Prime Minister has surrendered and the remaining republican troops have laid down their weapons.”

I stand quickly and take two massive strides stopping at the corporal’s side. Patting him on the back I take the microphone from his hand.

“All units, this is Commanding General Antonius Neptus. The parliament is ours and the Prime Minister is in our custody! We’ve come a long way men, but here today, on this cold fall morning, the blood and toil of the last ten years has come due! Victory is ours, long live the Great Society!”

I return the microphone to the corporal with little enthusiasm.

“Corporal, get me transport to the parliament.”

“Yes, sir.”

He dutifully obeys, sending the call out over the radio almost immediately. Returning to the small window I look out over the ruins of the city. Taking deep draws from the cigar I keep my eyes fixed on the fires. A malicious smile curls up on my lips.

Dropping the smoldering butt of the cigar to the dirt floor of the shack I snub it out with my highly polished black boots.

“Transport is waiting outside sir.”

“Carry on, Corporal.” My response an automatic reflex of life in uniform.

I move to the back of the shack and stoop down through the short, wooden door. Stepping outside, I shiver in the cool wind. Standing where the sun does not reach, at the bottom of a trench that slopes up gently to ground level, the cool air feels even colder. As I reach the surface, and the rays of sun hit my old frame, the bitterness fades. A column of armored cars is lined up on the road headed into the city. In the middle of the column is an open-topped car fitted with small flags of deep blue. Sitting in the driver’s seat is a soldier wearing goggles. Beside him is another goggle-wearing soldier and sitting in the backseat is man who appears to be another officer. I advance toward the car, and the soldier in the passenger seat gets out. His pressed, brown uniform makes him look out of place on the battlefield. He opens the door for me. Taking my goggles down from my helmet I position them over my eyes. I slide into the empty back seat, its supple leather much more enjoyable than the hard stool in the shack. The car’s engine roars to life in chorus with the rest of the convoy. As we drive slowly into the rubble, I look over at the officer. I recognize him immediately.

“Nice of you to join us at the front, Daedalus.”

“You know me, General, I’m always around when there’s glory to be had.”

“So you’ve heard the news already then?”

“Why else do you think I left my drawing room at headquarters?”

I pause for a moment. This colonel is astute in the art of war, but when it comes to politicking and subterfuge he has no equal. He is a powerful ally, and not a man I care to cross, but his bullish comments can, at times, be almost too much to handle. Not wishing to argue with him, I divert the subject.

“What are the initial casualty reports?”

“Better than predicted, but still pretty grim. Most units are at seventy percent strength, however, many of the vanguard units are wiped out.”

“Well I wouldn’t have expected them to go down without a fight.”

Wanting to speak on other matters, I hesitate and look at the soldiers in the front seat. Pointing a finger at the two soldiers, I make eye contact with Daedalus.

“Colonel, can these soldiers be trusted?”

He smiles and nods.

“They’ve been handpicked. Both men have sworn their allegiance to you and the army.”

“Excellent. I’m glad the day has gone so well but what is troubling me is why they surrendered at the last minute? Doesn’t the Prime Minister realize we are going to execute him? He’ll be dead either way, so why go out like a coward? What is he hoping to gain? What’s his play here?”

Daedalus takes a moment to answer. His eyes are fixed on the side of the road which is starting to fill with debris and bodies.

“He must hope that now that the war is over, the soft civilian wing of our revolution will take pity on him. If Cornelius gets his way I’m sure he’ll be right. With peace looming, Cornelius will more than likely spare his life as a sign of good faith.”

“I’ll be damned if Cornelius can overstep my authority. He may be the spirit and face of this revolution, but I’m the one who slogged through the trenches for ten long years while he gave speeches! This is my victory, my revolution, and I want the Prime Minister’s head on a spike.”

“I couldn’t agree more sir, but we must tread softly. If you make Cornelius your enemy now it will wash away all of your success in the last decade. We both know he’s too radical. He dreams of a utopia, of peace and prosperity that can never exist. We have to steer him to our way of thinking.”

“And how do you suppose we do that? I’ve tried to get through to that man until I was blue in the face. He doesn’t see reality. He’s hell bent on his dream of a better tomorrow. The people don’t want more change. They want stability, they want normalcy after all of the bloodshed.”

“We’ll make him see it one way or another. Leave the details to me, but we’ll either convince him or eliminate him.”

“Eliminate him? How? He has too much popular support and abroad he holds a kind of mystic romanticism. If we killed him…”

“Who said we would kill him? We’ll talk to him first, but if, and when, he decides to start the implementation of his Great Society, we’ll get another player to take him out. Why send your knight to take out the queen when a pawn can do it?”

“And we’ll emerge with clean hands from all of this?”

“We’ll emerge as saviors! Trust me, when this is all over the people will throw themselves at your feet.”

“You better be right Daedalus, or it’ll be our heads on spikes.”

We both know the conversation is over for now. Looking at the soldiers in front of me, I make a mental note to have them killed, just in case their loyalties aren’t pure.

Progress through the city is slow. Every few minutes the convoy has to stop and clear a path through the rubble. Block after block, these once magnificent buildings, constructed of stone and wood, lay in burning heaps. How does Cornelius believe he can create his utopia from this rubble? The survivors don’t want the lofty promises of a dreamer. They want the cold hard reality only a warrior like myself can provide. I’ll rebuild their homes and put them back to work. Whatever liberties they lose along the way will be inconsequential to the comfort and stability I will provide. Maybe if Cornelius had succeeded with his plans of a peaceful transition, but that moment is too far gone. Dreams cannot grow in blood-soaked soil. Looking around, I see it clearly. Bodies litter the ruins in every form. The faces of the dead are locked in eternal agony.

Thick black smoke envelopes us as we drive further into the city. Pulling a thick cloth from my pocket I press it over my face to avoid inhaling some of the noxious fumes. The smoke is so dense that visibility has all but disappeared. The convoy crawls along through the smoke until at last it clears. Dropping the cloth from my face, I pull in a deep breath of clean air. The bittersweet smell of death hangs pungent in the air.

Before us is the shattered heap of the once glorious parliament building. The large stones supporting the roof have been shattered in a few places causing portions of it to collapse, but for the most part it looks able to stand, if just barely. Lines of trenches crisscross the crater-filled field surrounding the parliament. The burning hulks of tanks dot the field and bodies of innumerable soldiers litter the ground. The convoy comes to a halt. The driver turns around.

“This is as far as we can go, General.”

“Very good, soldier. Carry on.”

The soldier with the finely pressed uniform opens my door. I step out, the ground is soft under my feet. Daedalus exits the car then walks around the back to join me. Leading the way, I walk with slow, cautious steps across the still-smoldering battlefield. The moans of dying soldiers hit my ears while I step over body after body. Once we are out of ear shot of the car I stop and turn toward Daedalus.

“I want those soldiers relieved of duty.”

“Already on it sir, I’ll make sure their bodies are mingled in with the casualties out here. Great patriots sacrificing themselves for the revolution, you do them a great honor.”

“I’m glad you see it that way.”

Crossing the battlefield is slow and arduous but we emerge unscathed on the parliament’s white marble steps. Revolutionary soldiers have taken positions around the building. They salute us excitedly as we pass. With many eyes watching, I make sure to take each large step in full stride, shoulders back and chest held high. Cresting the top of the stairs, the once magnificently carved double doors that lead into the main foyer have been blown open. Only a few slivers of wood still cling to the hinges. Inside is a bustle of activity. Soldiers are hastily assembling a temporary command and control center. With the roof knocked in, the vast open-air hall dwarfs the small shack. This is the kind of space befitting a general, I think to myself. Noticing our arrival, a mud-covered captain rushes over to greet us. He snaps a sharp solute which I return in kind.

“Afternoon, General. I trust your ride over was smooth?”

“It was, Captain. Now tell me, where is the Prime Minister being held?”

“In the lower halls sir. Most of the building below ground is intact.”

“Take us there.”

“Yes, sir.”

Following the captain, we quickly exit the main hall and begin our descent down a long narrow staircase. The still-intact walls are illuminated by dim yellow lights strung along the ceiling.

“Where is the power coming from, Captain?”

“Generators in the basement.”

“What about water?”

“Plumbing is working in a few areas of the building, but most of it is destroyed.”

Reaching the bottom of the stair we enter another hall, but this one is much smaller than the one above and its ceilings are low. The dim yellow light gives the space an uncomfortable and cramped feel.

“Through the double doors at the end is a holding cell. The Prime Minister and the surviving members of his cabinet are in there.”

“Thank you for the tour, Captain.”

Snapping another salute, the captain turns and leaves. Walking into the room, the soldiers flanking the double doors pull them open letting us glide inside the holding cell without missing a step.

The Prime Minister and his cabinet look battered and broken behind the thick steel bars. I remove my helmet, handing it to one of the soldiers standing inside. Daedalus does the same then joins me next to the bars. The Prime Minister and his cabinet members sit silently. Their suits are ripped and covered in dust. I bang on the bars with my fist to grab their attention. Looking up at me, the greying Prime Minister makes eye contact. His green eyes are bloodshot and his hair is disheveled. Standing shakily, a younger cabinet member jumps up to help him to his feet.