The Lover's Parable Through A Seven World Journey (27 page)

“Where are you taking her?” John demanded.

“Far away from you. Her story’s pretty solid. We’re going to see how you like being the one taken advantage of. Some people are going to be pretty happy to see you tonight,” the agent
roared.

Sofia’s attempts to turn to John one last time were hindered by her
escorts.

“What are you going to do to him?” she cried.

“He’s a criminal, he’ll be getting what he deserves,” was the
answer.

Buckling under the weakness of her legs upon hearing those words, she was caught under the arms and dragged out of the cone of light and into the darkness.

“Wait. She’s my friend,” John said tearfully. “You can’t do this to her.”

“Those men know how to treat a girl right, unlike you. She’s in good hands. You can stop your worrying,” the agent said with a biting tone.

Grasping John by the back of the neck, an agent forced him to place his head between his knees while his partners assisted each other with the act of cuffing his hands behind his back. Removing the remaining restraints, John was unwillingly made to stand upon his feet as a gloved hand grasped the thick of his hair, raising him from his chair. With a heavy shove towards the blackness before him, he was led out of the room and into the cool, damp hallway.

As his legs began to give out under the mental anguish he was experiencing, John fell to his knees from where a forceful blow of a leather boot burrowed deep into his side. With the air blasting from his lungs, and the intense pain from the snapping of his ribs, he dropped backward onto his cuffed hands, gasping for breath and writhing in agony. Dragged into another large enclosure, he was dumped upon the floor while the men proceeded to cut and tear the clothing from his body, leaving him in the middle of the room bound and naked, curled up like a fetus ripped from its mother’s womb.

Dressed in a light blue smock with a matching thigh-pocketed pant, a single male figure approached him with a small, leather container, which he set upon the floor. Unlatching the brackets upon its face, he lifted the top upon its hinges, pulling a tourniquet and needled syringe out from one of the drawers before tightly strapping the band around John’s arm. Drawing several tubes of deep, dark blood from his vein, the man gently rolled the cylinders in between the palms of his hand before placing them into a slotted matrix inside the lower half of the case.

Grimacing in pain, John was pulled to his back, where two agents proceeded to restrain his legs. The man in blue pulled several items from his kit before pouring a cold, brown solution upon John’s genitals. Pulling a pair of gloves over his hands, he tore open a long, flat rectangular package, from where he retrieved a lengthy rubber tube.

Grabbing John by the penis, the man fed the rubbery line into John’s urethra, extracting a sample of urine that was captured in a small, plastic bag connected to the distal end of the tube. Mentally exhausted, John wanted to fight them off, but he could not find the physical strength to make the first move.

The man in blue placed the bag of urine into his case and closed the lid. Placing the cold, metal diaphragm of his stethoscope against John’s back, he listened to the sounds of his breath. Standing up without a word, he walked out of the room followed by several other men.

Leaving John alone to cry and agonize by himself, the last remaining agent made his way towards the exit. The overhead lights blinked off. The dim, orange glow from the hall was the only source of illumination.

The savage cruelty by which the men spoke to Sofia had its objective based in the dehumanizing and humiliating of her entire being. Treated as if she were an animal, she was stripped of her clothes, probed for samples of blood and urine and placed into a brightly lit, glass chamber under the perversely watchful eyes of the agents. Attempting to cover her body with her arms, she curled up in the corner of the receptacle, weeping and ashamed.

A blast of cold water pierced the skin of her body. Like needles and thorns pouring forth from the faucets above her, she screamed out, her muscles constricting with a strangulating tension. Struggling under its freezing blanket of pain, gasping for a breath of air, Sofia crawled on her hands and knees, desperately feeling about for an area that was dry and warm. Her lips and fingers, purplish pale, her body shivering uncontrollably, she was on the verge of losing consciousness.

As the blackness of wasting away was nearing, a sudden shift in the temperature of the falling water became immediately noticeable. Sofia’s mind began to clear, and she let out a deep sigh. The comforting warmth that she had been desperately seeking was finally showering down upon her.

At first it was a relief from the torment. Slipping down the drain in the center of the room, the cold water was fleeing away. Feeling the ease by which she could breathe again, Sofia rubbed her frigid arms and legs with the soothing liquid.

As the room began to fill with steam, the glass walls coated in moisture, hiding the evil eyes behind its drape. Standing upon her feet, Sofia sensed that there was something that was no longer pleasurable in the environmental change: the temperature of the water was increasing beyond a reasonable degree of easefulness.

The spray overhead was falling upon her with a light drizzle, and each drop was beginning to feel like the prick of a pin. As the pooling water commenced to bite at her feet, Sofia began banging her fists against the glass, begging to be let free. Clearing the moisture from the window, she found herself looking into the face of an arrogantly smiling agent. Backing away from the glass, she tipped her swollen feet out of the water by the toes, making every effort to rub away the searing welts that were forming about her back and head, and covering her arms.

A final spray of hot, scalding water dripped upon her neck followed immediately by the same cold rain of her first experience in the chamber. Falling to her knees for a second time, she continued screaming for a reprieve from the torment. Huddling back in the corner, horrified and brittle in heart, Sofia’s teeth chattered from behind her pale skin. The terrible cycle of pain was about to go around once again.

The torturous event had been continuing for an immeasurable amount of time. Sofia’s entire body was engulfed in a state of anguish as the last of the icy water finally emptied from the floor of the chamber. Curled up in the corner, her lips were as blue as her eyes, her skin as white as snow. The continued chattering of her teeth reverberated off the glassy walls. She lifted her head up as the entrance to her cell slid open, barely able to catch a short glimpse of the two agents that stepped in.

Grabbed by the arms, she was pulled to her feet and escorted out into the warm air of the compound.

“She’s mine,” one of the men growled.

“I’ve already claimed her for my own,” another agent sneered, pushing his comrade aside.

A third agent entered into the room shouting, “Knock it off, both of you. Neither of you are getting her. She’s
carrying
. Package her up and get her back to Basket Town ASAP. There’s a few other women in the hold that need to go along as well.”

John awoke to the blinding brightness of the room’s fluorescent lights. His wrists ached from the metal cuffs that were clenched tightly around the bones of his arms. Without any windows to determine the approximate time of day, he was not sure if he had slept for hours or minutes.

“Get off the floor,” a deep voice demanded.

Startled to hear someone speak to him, as he thought that he was alone, John struggled to get up to his feet. Crawling to the nearest wall, he leaned into it, using it as an assisting device to help him stand upright.

Two men stood before him, their faces cold and far removed from his suffering. Their haircuts were short and squared. Although one of them was expressed with a distinct scowl, the other lacked the snide cruelty of the agents that preceded him.

They were quite a unique couple. One was short and stocky, with a squared chin that gave the appearance of a man of fitness. The other was rather tall and lean, but he carried himself with a demeanor that was saturated with authority. Their uniforms were similar to the military fashion and very much unlike that of the Security attire. As they watched John gathering his balance, the shorter agent approached him, taking him by the arm.

“Can you walk, soldier?” he asked with a sense of calmness.

“Yes, sir,” John replied.

“Good. Then let’s move outside,” he said.

The taller agent directed them towards the hall. John proceeded as directed, limping under the pain. He realized that he must have lacerated one of his feet during his move from the interrogation room, as he left smears of crimson paste behind with each step he made.

Passing by several Security agents that paid little attention to the three men, the lone captive was led through a labyrinth of tunnels and halls before finding himself presented at the bottom a long, winding stairwell. Neither of the men spoke a word. Hand gestures regarding directions were the only communication.

“Sir, where are we going?” John asked. But as silence was the only answer, he made no further inquiries.

The top of the stairwell led to a steel door with a scanner mounted beside it. The tall, thin agent peered into the eyepiece. The door unlocked. Held open by an agent on the other side, the three-man group proceeded through.

Escorted into what appeared to be a master control room, John was aghast at the system of surveillance used to monitor the people of this world. The room appeared to be hundreds of meters across. It was filled with more men and women than he could estimate. They seemed to do nothing but sit and stare at the thousands of black and white screens set in front of them, apparently linked to a camera network that covered the entire inhabited portions of the planet.

Directed around the entire perimeter of the monitoring center, leading to another stairwell, it appeared John was being purposefully led in this manner in order for him to take in the panoramic view through the single, continuous window that wrapped around the central Security hub. From what he could gather, they were situated atop of a grand mesa from which the compound overlooked three separate facilities.

Out the window at one side of the control room was a mining center, where an innumerable population of men labored under the heat of the Savior. Carts were manually pulled and pushed along their tracks, into and out of the deep tunnels that bore into the sides of the hills. Unending parties of men were elevator dropped deep into the mineshafts in one area, while on the opposite side of the facility others were simultaneously pulled out. Manually operated lifts were raising and lowering the gathered, raw materials along its intricate networks of ropes and pulleys. Taken from out of the planet’s depths, the carts were emptied into their awaiting wooden crates before being hoisted upon the beds of the endlessly awaiting convoy of wheeled transporters.

Moving along to another side of the control room, John witnessed the expansive, airship center. Massive in breadth, it quite easily dwarfed the Labor facility by comparison of their respective sizes. Tens of thousands of launch pads littered the land with hundreds of rockets landing and lifting off every few seconds. Its warehouse array was vast and far-reaching. It spread out to such an immense distance that even from his high vantage point John could not see the other end of it as it disappeared over the horizon. Roving lines of variously sized vehicles were channeling soldiers and raw materials into the launch area with a seemingly perpetual continuity.

The third side of the control room overlooked a military training base where thousands of men and women were actively engaging in physical activities necessary to making a soldier fit for war. There were jogging formations in abundance, firing lines filled to capacity, obstacle courses over-run with trainees.

“Come this way,” the voice of one of the officials said, directing him towards the final stairwell.

Leading them to the top of the staircase and through the door situated at its end, John was now standing inside a windowless room with a single table and three chairs: two on one side facing inward, and one on the other side, obviously meant for him. One of the military officials, calling for a Security officer below, made the request to have John released from his restraints.

As the officer entered the room, John avoided making any contact with the man’s unseen eyes hidden behind his reflective visor. Unlocking the cuffs, the Security official allowed them to fall from John’s wrists before removing himself from their presence.

“Have a seat, son,” One of the men said. “I’m going to make this short and simple. We’ve been investigating the claims you made to the Security interrogators yesterday. That’s when we came across this.”

Receiving a sheet of paper from the hand of the military officer, John held it up to his eyes. As astonished as he was to see the photographs of himself and Sofia on an official, Blue Planet Security printout, he was more astounded by the fact that beneath their faces, written in a large, red font, were the words
Presumed Dead
. Their faces were circled with ink so as to standout from among the several dozen other people whose images were set in rows and columns upon the page. A description below detailed the “
…kidnapping of the two children by one Mr. Eugene Sanders of the Class C Apartment complex
”. According to the report,
“…a multi-vehicle collision on the Highway took the lives of twenty-eight men and women
”, most of which seemed to have been unidentifiable, as “
the bodies were damaged beyond recognition
”. The detailed report concluded with the “
elimination of the suspected target
”… Mr. Sanders was
gone
.

The paper brushed against John’s thigh as he let his hand drop to his side. Mr. Sanders had died that day. “
Liberty awaits you, but stay away from the Red Xs
”. Those were the last words he said to
them.

“You two are very unique people, or, at least
you
are,” the shorter, stockier official said, taking a seat in front of him. “Eighteen years old and living invisibly somewhere in the solar system. To your own people you apparently died, to the rest of the worlds you were unknown.”

“Your home planet has accounted you for the dead,” the taller agent chuckled, walking over and leaning against the wall. “But look, here you are: alive and well.”

“You’re probably wondering why we brought you here, aren’t you?” the stockier agent continued. “I’m General Arlington and this is Second Lieutenant Corona. We’ve been sent here by a very influential individual who thinks that you may be someone of utmost importance.”

“Don’t play stupid with us, okay?” Lieutenant Corona interrupted. “We’re a long way from home, and we’d like to get off this wasteland and back to the real world. So, when a question is asked of you, just answer it, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” John responded.

“Now, just so you truly understand the importance of our inquiry, as far as military matters are concerned, there isn’t very much that goes on above us that we aren’t privy to. So if we’re here, you’d better believe it’s important. It’s been reported Black-side that some strange events occurred in Basket Town shortly after you arrived. Do you know anything about it?” the General asked.

“No, sir,” John replied.

“Well, we have a strong inkling that you do know something. Before entering this domain, when you left Planet Blue, did you ever visit the Star?”

“
Planet Blue
? I don’t know what that is, sir,” John said with all sincerity.

“You do know something, young man,” the Lieutenant began to say before being cut off by his superior.

“How did you bring those people back to life?” the General interrupted.

“Bring those people back from
where
?” John asked with a tone of confusion.

“We told you,” the Lieutenant yelled, “don’t play stupid with us. We don’t want to be here any longer than we have to, do you understand that?”

General Arlington held his hand up to the silencing of the Lieutenant. Continuing with his questioning, he asked, “Are you
the
One
that these people have been waiting for?”

“Me? I don’t think so, sir,” John said. “I mean… I’m not really sure what you are talking about.”

“The people here are very superstitious. They’re certain that we’re entering an era where a new type of, how shall we say it…
Leadership
, will come about. Are you a scout for
the
One
?”

“No, sir… the One? I’m just a…”

“Is Sofia an agent for the One?”

“No, sir, she’s just a…”

“About Eugene Sanders: did he ever mention anything about this world, Planet Raw?”

“No, sir, he…”

“Of all the places to visit, why did you choose this place?”

“When we boarded the ship, it brought us here,” John said.

The General let out a sigh, looking over his shoulder at the lieutenant. He appeared frustrated, but patiently so. Turning back to John, he said, “We’ve processed the onboard data of the craft that you traveled on. It wasn’t bound for this planet. Its destination was Golden World. Were you perhaps sent here to give these people a
message?”

”No, sir, I just wanted some answers.”

“Answers?” the General looked inquisitively at the Lieutenant as his inferior officer walked to the table, taking a seat beside him. “Answers to what?”

“I’m not really sure,” John said ashamedly.

The two agents looked at each other, puzzled in their
expressions.

“Can you raise the dead?” the Lieutenant asked.

“No, sir, I don’t know what that is.”

“An operator of the One is always supposed to tell the truth.”

“Sir?” John responded with an expression of oddity.

“Are you an operator for this… this being?”

“No, sir.”

“John, we have some terrible news for you,” The General’s voice was low and somber. “
Sofia’s
dead
.”

The words were numbing and surreal, the comprehension of which seemed unfathomable. John lifted the Security document back up to his eyes and stared at Sofia’s picture for a moment. He could hear the Lieutenant chuckle under his breath.

“She’s dead? What do you mean? No, she’s not. She can’t be.”

“She was killed yesterday while being escorted to Basket Town.”

“Killed? How?” John begged for an answer, his eyes filling with tears.

“The convoy she was riding with was struck by explosives hidden on the roadside,” the General answered. “Everyone on board her transporter died.”

Forming tiny puddles of warm liquid upon the table, the teardrops were rolling down John’s cheeks, falling off of the tip of his chin. With the palm of one of his hands he pressed hard against his eyes, covering his shame, while the paper crumpled between his fingers in the other.

“Do you think that you could bring her back if we were to take you to her body?” the General asked.

John’s thoughts were in disarray, filled with the images of Sofia in the interrogation room pointing at him. How could he answer such a foolish question? Why were they asking him such nonsense, he thought. He remained silent, his throat muscles clamped down upon his airway, suffocating and wrenching. He was smothering under the intense desire to be by Sofia’s side, but all he could do was
cry.

“John,” the Lieutenant said, “we’ll take you to her right now if you can bring her back from the dead.”

John did not respond. Recognizing the intense distress that they had brought to him, the two men ceased with the interrogation. John wept alone, paying little attention to the agents as they stood up and walked to the far corner of the room, quietly conversing with each other.

“I’m so sorry, Sofia. I’m so sorry.” He whispered under his breath.

The door to the room swung open under the heavy hand of the Base Commander. Accompanied by several armed agents, he entered in with a broad chest and a heavy chin held high. After saluting his superiors he proceeded to speak, “Have you come to any conclusions regarding the young man? Is he
the
One
?”

“We’re not absolutely certain on the closure of the case, but we’re pretty sure that he’s not the man we’re looking for,” the General answered.

“And, we’re at least certain that he’s not a threat to Black in anyway,” the Lieutenant added.

“Very good, then,” the Commander said. “So, are we going to leave him here? And if so, what is the wish of Headquarters as to where he shall go? Should I put him in the mines?”

“Mining might not be a good idea,” the General said shaking his head. “Considering the rumors going around, he might have a negative influence on certain members of the Underground.”

“Then what do you suggest that I do with him?

“He understands that the girl’s dead.”

“I, see.”

“So, perhaps
Kill Core Training
. It’ll harden his mind, and wipe away any innocence that he has left. Whether he happens to be or not, although it is very unlikely, an agent of the One, you could always assign him to a Sweeper squad when he finishes the course. It’s certain to numb his mind, destroy his soul,” the General smiled.