“Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive.
It would be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies.
The robber baron’s cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated; but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience.” – C.
S.
Lewis
‘When that dreaded clock strikes fifteen all of it will be lost.
The great work that your father has put his heart and soul in for so many years will be turned to dust.
He will be forced to watch as the fruits of his era-defining efforts wither away, once more.
I weep at the thought, and I cannot abide by it.’
A golden needle large enough to pierce the very skies shines brightly in the dark, illuminating the ocean, the nearby forests and the city of Vendaal in which it stands.
The last wonder of a forbidden age, it dominates the horizon and dwarfs the thousands of buildings scattered around it.
It is beauty incarnate and proof of the Divine.
A place of true knowledge and perfection, the pinnacle of human architecture and its ultimate achievement.
This holy monument would have been the pride of all who lived there, were it not for the rot that ran beneath.
On the roof of one of the many nameless, stone-crafted buildings within the outer city, Sascha quietly vandalizes a book with her many notes and annotations.
Using her enhanced eyesight, it took little effort to read the words from its pages, even in this darkness.
Mourning the loss of what should have been, she reads of Rein procedures allowed to her and her kind.
Frustrated by the nonsensical limitations imposed on these operations, she wondered what level of retardation afflicted the degenerate that had decided the subject of medicine had to be Rein.
She did not even consider herself especially gifted when it came to the arts, but even she could see the clear flaws and unnecessaries written on the page.
Beneath her the streets were empty and unlit, as curfew demanded.
While violations were rarely punished closer to her home, the Others populating these parts were not treated as kindly.
Understandably, no one wanted to risk the wrath of one of the Kruizenaars roaming here at night.
Looking down, one of them was doing its rounds nearby.
Supposedly mechanical, these overly long beings were shrouded by a cloak hiding most of their features.
The only part clearly visible being a long metal neck shaped like a swan’s that ended in many bright red, spider-like eyes.
In its thin and armoured hands it held an oversized staff ending in the shape of God’s Endless Spiral, symbolizing the forever cycle of birth and rebirth of its subjects.
Like all of its kind, the thing carried a large wooden cross on its back.
Partially a religious statement, doubling as a potential punishment for those unwilling to follow its absolute demands.
Or so the stories went, as she hadn’t actually seen the decorative cross be used in that way herself, nor did she know anyone that had.
The noise of someone stepping on nearby roof tiles slightly startled her, despite knowing that they would never support the weight of those looming monsters.
Recognizing who it was, she warmly smiled at the person slowly stumbling towards her.
Not that he could see it of course, the poor man sharing none of her enhancements save for maybe some extra durability.
After all, what need would a future politician have of being able to see in the dark?
‘Here,’ she said.
‘Let me help you.’
She grabbed his hand and guided him to the edge of the roof, where she had made her place.
Even though he would never admit it, his nervous breath made it painfully clear that he did not cherish this height as much as she did.
Albert sat down closely to the right of her, but unlike Sascha he did not put his legs over the edge of the roof.
Sascha put her book away and they sat in silence for a while, not wanting to talk about the things that will be lost to her when the sun would show itself again.
Finally, she softly heard Albert’s heart rate steadily increasing and she knew he was building up the courage to say something drastic and wholly out of character.
She could predict what he was going to say.
Even though she wanted to, she had already considered the penalties of such blatant disobedience.
‘We should leave this place, Sas,’ he began.
‘I’ve bought us a spot on one of the trader-owned carriages so we can avoid those damned identity checks traditional transport would normally force upon us.
They plan to leave shortly before dawn, well before the start of your ceremony.
Within days we’ll be in the Anderslanden, surrounded by many other accepting, kindred spirits, all too eager to have another blessed healer in their midst.
We can live a full and happy life there, Sas.
A simple one, maybe, but when has that ever mattered?’
Sascha looked at Albert, seeing none of the calm and certainty that normally radiated from him.
Nor was he using any of his debating skills, which she greatly appreciated.
Even though he would have easily been able to convince her if he truly tried, he clearly wanted this choice to be hers, and hers alone.
In the depressing silence that followed, he knew he had failed her.
In his remaining days, he would curse this one moment’s weakness, knowing that the awful happenings of the future could all have been avoided were it not for the objections of his heart.
In the far distance, sitting as nothing more than the tiniest dot on the moonlit horizon, the palace-island of A’dam floated in the sky, uncaring for the problems of its subjects or the lands beneath.