Infinite Lazarus

 

And again… 

The Mother breathed life into his mortal spine… Into his strange brain…. Into the curled, rapidly withering form of his… He was weak… Lacking anything… Nearly crumbling… So, he fell into a deep sleep for another hundred years… Until the Mother would regenerate him…When the day would come, and when war was no longer an ’idea’, or even a word… When he would forget all that he’d done, and his mind was replaced anew… And the rust would be washed away, and he would regenerate from the ashes... And he would remember thoughts… Thoughts implanted… Thought’s recycled...

From the emptiness… From the near-oblivion of his thoughts… He awoke…. Rose forth from the metal sheets, and the metal carapace, the engines, the infinite black, and grey. Then down the infinite carriers, down the staircases, through the melting flames, where heat rushed through his frozen fingers… Frozen body, and he breathed a new identity, a new place in reality… Filled his empty shell with newfound life.

There was only one thought…. An infinite Lazarus… An infinite bridge, rushing through the span, the length of the world… The great infinite… Like rain rushing down the slopes, continuing forever and ever. Mountains rising up from the clouds, going into space… Plants sprouting from the emptiness… This was infinity… It was an idea… Never a number… But the bridge was reality… It was the key to existence… The key to a strange door in the back of every head… And yet the Mother, with all her infinite wisdom, with all her strange magical power… Could not even touch the mere cusp, even an edge of brick… Of that beautiful bridge… She was a star… A great flame… Eclipsing thousands of suns, devouring entire planets… Yet…. Trusan Delphan…like Old Runes, but stranger… A name he couldn’t remember... But he knew what it was in his dying mind… It was power… True, raw, unimaginable power… Collectively building together one by one like bricks... Like old tongues.... A great godly being… Some strange godlike presence that drank souls as nourishment, and watched beings from a window to the universe…And he faintly remembered the name… Faintly saw the resemblance… Between faces…Between personalities… The same mindlessness, droning on and on toward power and conquest… He remembered the infinite regeneration… The infinite times… The knowledge… Yet faintly….

The ship arrived, a mere metal box, blasting through space and rubble. Arriving with three men and five comrades... And a quiet metal whisper, as the door opened, and he sat down. 

He stared at each of them, analyzed their faces, each indifferent, a pair of twins, and a single loner… Degenerates… Wandering nomads, constantly wishing and wondering… With strange thoughts, strange dreams… Always escaping into their own welcome worlds… 

But these feelings were not his thoughts… They were of a personality… From a true emotional standpoint… 

There were worlds and thousands of them…Thousands of thousands of worlds… Strange difficult worlds. He could see them all in his strange metal head… Like his eyes merging with the future… Merging with sights he’d never seen before… Thousands and thousands of strange glittering lights, and thousands of worlds atop the cusp of a great height… Atop the jealousy of gods alike… On a mountain… In a place, where colors were truly reality. Where he had light cusped, bent, all glittering… All underneath his palms… 

    He could see everything… Everybody…. Everyone… It was only a matter of knowledge… Merely bendable… Like power… Like human emotion… But he did not require sight, mind, or eye. It was a clear painting, a strong picture in his eyes. He did not require the Mother or the Universal Library… There was knowledge of bricks and stone… In mortar and a rainbow of dust… And he saw Trusan, he remembered that dull, strange, face… That omnipresent, omnipotent mess of power… But only slightly in reality… Bent in a strange cracked glass… He nearly remembered now… Barely remembered the threads… The strange strings… All attaching together….

He remembered dully, in a strange gleaming light, merely something small, something strange… Something interesting in his mind…

He could see it all now… The truth, the light… There was something soon… A great wave of blood, a shadow, and a spark jumping in the dark… Trusan strangely twisting, yet so present in reality… So strangely present, for he was not machine… He was of the mind, of the moment… Neither dead nor alive… Purged of all belief and strange feelings… But he had a mind… Thoughts…. Raging around his head… But he remembered, from thousands of years, thousands of loops… Time and time again…

“Desist! Desist! Desist!”, said a dull, monotonous voice in the corner of his mind. He looked at the ship in his vision, moving past him, until he was inside the ship, and he could see himself… And a dead comrade… A pistol raised up high… The other two mercenaries were quiet in the background, just staring…

“HAHAHAHA!”, said the soldier wearing thick goggles, laughing, chuckling, dancing, sweating, with an empty canister of Will, drinking and drinking from it, as if it was still full “Look at it move! Look at it dancing a little jig! Will you dance for us too little robot?”

“Desist! Desist! Desist!”, shouted the weak little assistance droid, from those beady emotionless eyes. 

“HAHAHAHA!” said the man laughing at the weak God above. Firing his pistol straight into the circuitry and computers. “Why don’t we all dance! Dance, then dance without our feet! Dance with a bullet in our brains… Dance…. Quickly dance… DANCE DAMMIT! DANCE! DANCE! THE FIRST ONE TO STAY STILL IS GOING TO DIE!”

The man stared at everyone…. Then put the gun on the table, and spun it around clockwise… Until it slowly stopped at the ever-beeping, ever-annoying assistance bot…. Droning on and on about desisting… Squawking without a head…

“Des-... Des- De-De-De”, And the whining voice stopped suddenly… A gun ripping through the metal brain…. Then… abruptly, as a foot crashed through the circuitry…

“Ever-so easy. A snap of the fingers… And their it go-”, And then every gun fired straight through each other… Bullets snapping, whizzing, like a drum crash, ricocheting, buzzing straight into each other… A single bullet snapped past a wire, a strong tendon of his… But it was a scratch, a flick of metal…And he felt something sickening, he felt fear… He could feel himself bursting apart at the seams, and each wire collapsing… And sand forcing his chest to collapse into himself, and a heaviness in his metal veins, as he saw the world again… But it was false… A fear he’d experienced thrice… A fear that was dully filled with a vain sort of fear and appearance.

He could see the bridge, the bass, the drums, the tune, the trumpets, a parade of sound and color, and life living on the bridge… A plentiful paradise of time, and there was 

The two men were still alive, firing bullets into the crowd of robots, firing and firing with no emotion… They had nothing to feel after all.. No pain… No fear. They were only soldiers. Soldiers of the same person… The same incarnation… The same, remembered being… Running into the pilot’s room, the others followed. 

But he ran deep into the farthest pit of the plane, hid under a seat, as he felt a strange feeling rush up his arms, aching, and aching, pain and pain, blood and blood rushing down his arm, although there was nothing, but frayed wiring…

A great explosion, rushing through his ears, and shrapnel hurrying everywhere, glass crashing onto the ground of the ship… They’d set off a bomb in the front, they were all dead… Blood was rushing through, he saw gravity letting go, flames forming, paper withering, and a great wind rushing through the ship… Rushing through the broken winds, and space rushing into him, pressure mounting up the broken, floating wires.

An alarm rang around and around… And he could see a fleet of ships behind him…. Millions of soldiers like the two men before…All filling the emptiness with thousands of glittering lights… In this light, he saw a rainbow…. A rainbow of dust… And a great, strange tomb… He could feel Trusan feeding on this life energy, pulling at it… See a thin body enveloping all this energy… All this power. Grow greater and greater… Stronger…. 

    So strangely powerful, as he shivered in the deep wreckage of the ship, looked around… Watched the stars pass slowly by… And the sun flare up, and he wondered what was life on repeat… Life going again and again… Life like a plague… Life as a mind unwrought and thought forever… Life as a repeat… And a tree that infinitely brought the branches together, and created something forever and ever…

And he thought about that bridge… Someplace in the future… He’d been on the bridge… He’d given himself the bridge… Even with the mind probes… Even as he’d been washed and taught again… With data spilling in his head… There was a feeling, a remembrance of deep space…

    Behind him, he could hear the deep rattle of gunfire, deep throaty rasps as the soldiers chanted war… 

    And a great ship sending out a beam of light….

        There was only one way...

                Only one way…. 

The bridge was home. It was a pathway to worlds unknown… To universes plagued by the same power, or peace constantly, all drilling and boring against the universe’s fragile, blessed mind.… But they were the same incarnations… The same beings… All mindless… Brought and blessed, but they were all gone… Only he remained on the rambling bridge, yet only for a moment… Down the shattered web of the universe… Where the future seemed ever-so strange… Ever-so fractional and unimportant. 

But he saw the same worlds, same places. The same sights… 

A gun fired into the air, not from a ship, not from a wave, nor a battalion, but from a single gun, firing straight into the air. 

Trusan Delphan stared right into his eyes, years of immortality draining in the shape of a gaunt face… But all from a different time, in a different space, with a stolen identity, and stolen power… He could recognize himself, see himself but older… More mature... Yet there was nothing on the bridge, it was all infinite, like a box with 30 facets, a diamond infinitely gleaming on Lazarus…. Or the fresh boils of space meshing together, and stars crashing into each other… Like blue azure...Like an ever-brewing storm of loneliness and attention… Trusan shot at him twice, thrice, but it would not kill him… 

For he was the same, unchanging... Unchanging… An infinite among the bridge… Time was some strange everlasting object… For he had moved the bridge in the future, not the past…. It, thus, did not exist… There was no name for the destruction, the endless repeat of the self-hated Trusan… The man who had lived on the same, same bridge, existing in-between, on the line forever… Trusan was an entity, the same as him… Living on that bridge for eons and eons… Forever and ever… On a strange… Thin line… For the infinite Lazarus was an idea, but could only be brought by… his mind now… A mind he would need to repeat again for another infinite Lazarus… He would give himself small hints. Small ruts in the road… Small rungs on a ladder… Familiar little, strange things… Like a tic, in the way, something somehow had walked… Like a long trail of blood. He would find his way back…

He would remember.