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nickjonson

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Ara watched from the balcony of the capitol building in the undercity as the people gathered in the main square around it. "For years," Ara said once the crowd had gathered, "We have lived in poverty and disease. For years, we were naive and we tried to live with the wills of "the superiors"! But now, my brothers, we will return to the motherlands, back to our roots. We will grow strong and healthy. And when we come back, we will burn Taris down to ash. And the ashes in this dead land will remind us of the price that has to be paid for taking life from God's hands! Our own creations are coming to destroy us! We have two options: Stay here and be slaughtered like animals. Or take our chances out in the ancient human cities, rebuild ourselves, and come back to destroy Taris and Weskof's so called "Aryan" race!" Everyone shouted in approval and chanted Ara's name. "Now, my brothers!" Ara shouted, "Follow the ancient path! Walk in the footsteps our ancestors left, and let us return to the Old World!" Ara smiled as he watched his people walk down the "Dead Scar". It was the road that led to the ancient cities. Something caught Ara's eye; a considerable fraction of his people was missing. He spun around, but Jenkil was there. "Why do you think the Aryans aren't here already?" he said, staring out into space. Fear struck Ara's eyes. "You," he gasped, "You left them behind. You left your own brethren behind to be slaughtered!" Jenkil sighed guiltily, "Revolution comes at a price," he said. Suddenly, Ara noticed something. Jenkil had an imprinted number on the back of his neck. "You're a clone!" Ara gasped. Ara reached into his pocket, pulled out a knife, and pointed it at Jenkil, "Go," he growled, "You are not one of us." Jenkil looked at Ara, "After the years we spent together as friends, have you learned nothing?" Ara gritted his teeth. "If you're going to kill me because I'm a clone, then you're as bad as your brother." Ara sighed and put the knife away, "You're right," he sighed, "You will answer for your crimes, though." Ara brushed past Jenkil, and walked out the building to march with his people. Jenkil knew what he had done was wrong. He had left the entire population of those with a retardation behind to be slaughtered by the Aryans. He felt sick to his stomach. His face turned pale. He slowly skulked out the building.

It was a long march. Many children became thirsty, hungry, and tired. All things that the Fallible didn't have. They had neither water, food, or time to rest. Carrying all they owned on their shoulders, they headed for the ruins of the ancient city of New York. After two days of the long march, with miraculously no casualties, they arrived. The city was in complete ruin. Most, if not all, of the buildings were run down; some were partially demolished. "What happened here?" a man asked. Ara just looked around and spoke, "When the humans left the cities, the Aryans came back to kill all those who had stayed," he explained, "Weskof wanted to scare the people from leaving Taris, so he made everywhere else seem like Hell. He destroyed cities, closed the sun from many parts of the world, and slaughtered all those who chose not to come to Taris. Many survived the homicide, but at great costs. Be it physical or mental. Be wary, seeing your entire life destroyed before you can mess you up, even if you are an Aryan." The colony scattered to find new homes and look for survivors. Everything seemed like a terrible nightmare. The sky was dark and gray. Dark clouds  raged overhead. And the wood in the buildings seemed to creak louder than usual. The colony could always swear they heard heavy breathing around the corner. A family found a man hiding in an old house. He had long, unkempt hair, a grizzly beard, no arms, no legs, and no sanity. "They killed them all," he muttered, as though in a trance, "They were slaughtered. Chopped to pieces, stiched together, mutilated. The cyborgs were so bloodthirsty. Those who couldn't control themselves were torn apart by their comrades. Some cyborgs ran. Ran ran away into the darkness. So far away into the darkness. Then the clouds came..." the man kept rambling on. Ara was called in. He knelt before the man, "What is your name?" Ara asked kindly. "They ran away, hid in the shadows. They leaped out and hid again. And again and again. Oh, so dark and cold," the man wept. "Sir, what is your name?" Ara asked again. "Are you one of them?" the man wept. "We are not clones, we are God's children," Ara replied, "What is your name?" The man thought for a moment, "It has been so long," he said, "So much torment. So many memories. If I had arms, I would shoot myself. If I had legs, I would run away. Every day I see the same thing over and over. Repeating yesterday, drained of my very assets..." Ara looked at the man with pity, "Poor man," he muttered, "After years of torments and isolation, he's lost it." The man looked up at Ara, "Please sir," he begged, "Kill me. Make it quick and painless, or not. I don't care anymore. Just rid me of this world." Ara sighed sadly, "Are you sure you want to give up now?" he asked. "Please do, sir," the man begged. "Very well," Ara said. He dragged the old man a mile out of the town, reached into his pocket, and pulled out his knife. "Thank you, sir," the man said again. "God be with you," Ara said. He put the hilt of his knife on the back of the man's neck, picked up a stone from the ground, and hit his knife with it like a hammer. Ara heard a click in man's head, and then saw his limp body fall to the ground. With a sad sigh, Ara went back to the city.