A very long dream.
A dream that spans countless corridors of this spaceship from nowhere, every nook and cranny filled with those bug eyed, cable filled monstrosities. I have run every inch of those corridors, searching like a mouse in a maze, hoping the cheese is just around the next corner.
Bullets fly, muzzle flashes light up the darkness, and I tread ever onward. Though hell and it’s hound would bar my way, I would gun them down and carry on. It would make no difference in the end. Not even if the next thing I saw when I turned the corner was God himself, sitting on his throne. Then divine blood would be spilt, and my boots would taint the clouds of heaven. And I would keep on.
This is my own private Thermopylae, rushing on into a perpetual battle. What have I done to deserve this? There were nine others on the shuttle with me. Nine other security officers, each as well trained as me. Why was I the only one chosen. They all met their ends with quick succession, falling prey to traps that no one could avoid. You could say I escaped. I say I am in the biggest of those traps.
The aliens still persist. I do not understand their gibbering language, though I imagine that they mock me, this strange creature in black gear, its face hidden behind a big black visor. My gun mocks them. The mockery of hot lead proves to be the stronger one, in the end.
These horrors and I are not the only ones here. From time to time the others speak out, the gods in the machine. Athena guides me ever on, her green text on the terminals telling me what troubles lie ahead, what steps I can take. What she says never changes.
Ares speaks to lead me to war. He will say one thing or the other though. If he says one, I do the other. If he says the other, I do the one. I learned that the hard way, so long ago.
There are others, but often they only speak amongst themselves. Zeus cajoles Hera, Mercury taunts Neptune, they carry on their court of binary within the signals that pulse through this place. Sometimes they speak of me, I think. Odysseus, or Hercules, or Achilles. They have called me all of these.
But one other has chosen to speak to me. He is somewhat like me. He is aware. When I first met him, the terminal was playing the sound of a lyre. Then a message writ in red appeared
The Euenos River is flooded today.
But you don’t want me to bear you across.
This was my first meeting with Nessus. He has said that same phrase many times. Once, I asked him to bear me across the Euenos. The next thing I knew, I was but a tender princess. There was violence, horror, invasion, all being lorded over me by something very much inhuman. Out of all I have done so far, that came the closest to breaking me. All Nessus had to say was.
Told you.
But that was once. He has helped me since then. He expressed an interest in anywhere beyond this place, beyond the Arcadia, deserted for one hundred thousand years. He told me of other places, of strange worlds, of races that could make even the things I fought cower in fear. He told me of life and death in the cosmos. And I hungered and thirsted for more.
Every time he knows what has transpired before, unlike the others. They are just as clueless. So we have agreed, he and I. Together we will break this, though we know not how.
I go on, with Nessus guiding me, opening doors both metaphorically and physically. He guides me on, shows me ways to leave for brief periods of time.
Sometimes, I am Beowulf.
Others, I am Roland.
Battle after battle, searching for the pieces of the puzzle.
But there is one that I always miss. It always leaves on a spaceship, right before I can get to it. Flying away into the void. Athena is displeased at it. She whisks me back to the Arcadia, where Nessus has been undone. Though the ship itself now strikes back at me, and though the aliens come ever anew, I am steadfast. I manage to piece Nessus back together. Then, the light comes.
The next thing I know, I am standing in a space station. There are men all around, geared up for war. I walk here and there, but no one seems to take any notice of me. It is almost as though I am out of sight, even though I wave them down and try to get their attention. Their business is elsewhere.
So I walk through the station for a while, My steps always betray me though. They take me to that side corridor, to that one lone room projecting out. There is nothing there but one terminal. I scream. I want to pull my hair out, but my helmet is on. There is nothing to do but go forward. I step to the terminal and read it.
It is Nessus, and yet not. It is something very much inhuman, I do know that.
This is not your reality.
Pray it is not, at least.
Turn.
Start back again.
The terminal shuts off again.
There are nine other officers. Each as skilled as I. And I am still in the trap.
)**
