Wednesday, August 03, 2011

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Part 2

Outside the dome the air was unbelievable–not stale with the scent of metallic. I’d never smelled anything that fresh, so pure. I’ve always been down below. Artificially born a slave drone, and born to die a captive. I continue my advance at a stead clip. In the distance I see mountains. The valley glows verdant all around me, and I walk in amazement as I hear odd birds chirping for the first time, odd sweet smells of the natural landscape engulf my senses. At first I don’t know what to make of it all checking my thoughts and wondering if it’s some aftershock of the bomb blast or possibly a delusion from some of the drugs they kept us on. The birdsongs were subtle, like a ringing in the ears of angels.

I look back behind me from time to time, making sure I’m not tailed. I see black smoke billowing from out of some of the domes. I hope some of my friends fared as well, and that my family weren’t hurt or killed in the revolt and the ensuing mayhem we’d mounted. The mooks in downbelow have mounted a posse. I can see as they saddle up their black steeds, something a cross between a horse and a hellion hound. They also have some form of hideous, shaggy cat-like animal, a bailtoff, but more like the size of a sabertooth to track the escapees. If you are lucky, they’ll find you before the bailtoff does. Otherwise, you’re dinner. I’d once read or was it merely something I half remembered or downloaded into my memory about a weak point under the neck of the beast? I pray it has an Achilles’ heel if ever I encounter one. I can’t recall, and for the moment I keep my thoughts on escape. How quickly the false bravado made while talking about this to friends fades now that I'm out and on my own.

It’s all mixed up now, my thoughts are just a chruning whirpool as I make my way across a plain of scrub brush, bits of tangled vegetation rips and claws at my exposed skin. I’m exhausted, but once I can get to the mountains, I hope to find a place I can hold up in, hide, and get a bit of rest. At any rate, one time, birth was different, not so sterile and detached. Family meant something. Not some artifice made up by some obscene gesture for exploiting. It was more natural. The natural world speaks of this as I trot, watching my footing as I go. I don’t need a sprained ankle now. I’ll have to get used to the idea of this new found freedom, and of being hunted. Something half remember though, makes me think it was more warm, carrying. I wonder how much of the past is passed down through genetics, and how much they erased. My intuition tells me that some of that is never extinguished. How could we lose something that sounds so radiant? The downloads to forbidden knowledge said it was detrimental to our species. Ain’t that a kick in the head? The world is mad, and I’ve got to deal with it all. The light in the sky glows blood orange. Is it on fire? Regrettably I wish I had learned more, gained more from their computers. I hunker down in a dark spot, and drink from a skin flask that I found in the store room. The water is a salvation. At least I have brought along a skin port. It doesn’t contain as much knowledge as a mainframe, but will at least provide some answers if needed. I do know this outside world cycles, when the fire in the sky goes down, I won’t be able to see as clearly, and it will harbor more dangers. God, I'm scared, I cap up the water skin, and move on. I really need to make it to the upper elevations, and then I’ll rest.

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