10-12-2013, 11:53 AM
Had Alric mumbled a string of panicked questions, Nikolai would have been disappointed. As it stood, Alric absorbed his circumstances as expected for a man of his caliber. Perhaps surpassing expectation, however that was to be determined; Nik had not yet explained what they were.
It still stung bittersweet, this discovery. As realized in The Facility, the Ascendancy did not have the luxury to ignore reality staring him square in the face. It threatened to undermine everything he'd spent his life building, but the danger was only a foreshock to coming events. Evidence of that very truth, flesh and blood evidence, was sitting across the table from him. Nik knew now, they weren't alone, he and Alric. Their godhood was shared across the very plateau of the world. The Sickness devoured countless numbers, and he shuddered to think of so many uncontrolled forces roaming the globe and they were only going to grow stronger. Estimates put disturbing numbers in his own capital. In his own government. And such as this young, trusting man personified, in his own military.
That idea had merit. If those who were loyal to him were drawn to his command, and if they had the potential to do even a fourth of the damage Nikolai himself could inflict, he had the rare chance at consolidating terror into his own Patriot Missile, not to foster war, but to keep the peace. The ideas flashed so quickly across his mind he could barely keep up with them. Never before had he been so tempted to cover the globe with Custody Orange, but with sure victory for permanent peace in arm's length, he would need to take great care at exploring the chance: calculated and careful, but with quick action nonetheless. There were those mongering for war at this very moment.
"Very well."
Nik pressed fingertips to the cool metal of their shared table, and the apparent stainless steel rippled like disturbed water. Images appeared across the flatness between them oriented toward Alric.
It was a beautiful depiction of The Creation of Adam by Michelangelo. The famous painting adorning the Sistine Chapel recreated the image of a Creator fashioning Adam, their outreached arms joining one another.
Nikolai studied the inverted image, recalling having seen it in person during his brief life in Italy. He remembered standing beneath, feeling unfairly insignificant, and imagining Michelangelo's state of mind as he crafted the masterpiece.
"The Bible says that in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God and God created the heavens and the earth,"
Nikolai's quoting was flat and unimpressed.
His eyes were drawn across the connection between Adam and God as he continued, "The earth was formless and void, and darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was moving over the surface of the waters."
Light pressure on the edge of the table turned screen diminished the size of the artwork to make room for a scrolling passage straight from Genesis. The text picked up on the quote where Nikolai left off. "Then God said, 'Let there be light'; and there was light. God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness."
The cut of his voice snapped, and at that final decree, of separating light from the darkness, Nikolai consumed the power burning the perception of his world. On that same breath an orb of light soft and gentle as a dove, burst divine illumination overhead. Nikolai watched Alric's reaction as its rays cascaded upon both their brows. The demonstration continued with a second orb, as lovely as the first. Then a third and fourth and so on until there were more than a dozen filling the room.
He allowed Alric to absorb the farcity of human nature for a few moments until the stars swallowed themselves all at the same time. Nikolai barely saw the miracle occur; he was well accustomed to such wonders -- as was the agent watching.
The passage from Genesis dissolved, and in place of Michelangelo's image appeared the marble poses of ancient Greek deities. The Greeks worshipped these three brothers as protectors and rulers. Their ancient forms were elegant and commanding, powerful and fearsome and each could be identified by the symbol of their scepters. The Greeks were infamous among western culture for their mythology, but despite having never visited those lands, Nikolai preferred their images over their roman counterparts. The continuity of their logic compared to the Romans settled more agreeably with his idea of the past.
"There was no beginning,"
Nikolai referenced Genesis, "there are no beginnings."
By that logic, there could be no ending either, something the Atharim did not appreciate. There is no end that does not have a beginning. Wilhelm, the long-dead Regus, was wrong about that. Apollyon does not personify the end, he personifies an end. But try telling the Atharim that.
He continued, gesturing at the images beneath his palm, "They were real, Alric, the Greeks, the Romans, the Norse, the Hindi - every culture with a mythology. They lived and breathed as men,"
a twinge of a smile paused long enough to capture any remainder of Alric's attention he may not have already won. "But they were not men."
"They were gods."
Alric would understand where this line of thought would conclude. The power flowed through him, lending a relaxed confidence to the decree that followed, "as are we."
It still stung bittersweet, this discovery. As realized in The Facility, the Ascendancy did not have the luxury to ignore reality staring him square in the face. It threatened to undermine everything he'd spent his life building, but the danger was only a foreshock to coming events. Evidence of that very truth, flesh and blood evidence, was sitting across the table from him. Nik knew now, they weren't alone, he and Alric. Their godhood was shared across the very plateau of the world. The Sickness devoured countless numbers, and he shuddered to think of so many uncontrolled forces roaming the globe and they were only going to grow stronger. Estimates put disturbing numbers in his own capital. In his own government. And such as this young, trusting man personified, in his own military.
That idea had merit. If those who were loyal to him were drawn to his command, and if they had the potential to do even a fourth of the damage Nikolai himself could inflict, he had the rare chance at consolidating terror into his own Patriot Missile, not to foster war, but to keep the peace. The ideas flashed so quickly across his mind he could barely keep up with them. Never before had he been so tempted to cover the globe with Custody Orange, but with sure victory for permanent peace in arm's length, he would need to take great care at exploring the chance: calculated and careful, but with quick action nonetheless. There were those mongering for war at this very moment.
"Very well."
Nik pressed fingertips to the cool metal of their shared table, and the apparent stainless steel rippled like disturbed water. Images appeared across the flatness between them oriented toward Alric.
It was a beautiful depiction of The Creation of Adam by Michelangelo. The famous painting adorning the Sistine Chapel recreated the image of a Creator fashioning Adam, their outreached arms joining one another.
Nikolai studied the inverted image, recalling having seen it in person during his brief life in Italy. He remembered standing beneath, feeling unfairly insignificant, and imagining Michelangelo's state of mind as he crafted the masterpiece.
"The Bible says that in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God and God created the heavens and the earth,"
Nikolai's quoting was flat and unimpressed.
His eyes were drawn across the connection between Adam and God as he continued, "The earth was formless and void, and darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was moving over the surface of the waters."
Light pressure on the edge of the table turned screen diminished the size of the artwork to make room for a scrolling passage straight from Genesis. The text picked up on the quote where Nikolai left off. "Then God said, 'Let there be light'; and there was light. God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness."
The cut of his voice snapped, and at that final decree, of separating light from the darkness, Nikolai consumed the power burning the perception of his world. On that same breath an orb of light soft and gentle as a dove, burst divine illumination overhead. Nikolai watched Alric's reaction as its rays cascaded upon both their brows. The demonstration continued with a second orb, as lovely as the first. Then a third and fourth and so on until there were more than a dozen filling the room.
He allowed Alric to absorb the farcity of human nature for a few moments until the stars swallowed themselves all at the same time. Nikolai barely saw the miracle occur; he was well accustomed to such wonders -- as was the agent watching.
The passage from Genesis dissolved, and in place of Michelangelo's image appeared the marble poses of ancient Greek deities. The Greeks worshipped these three brothers as protectors and rulers. Their ancient forms were elegant and commanding, powerful and fearsome and each could be identified by the symbol of their scepters. The Greeks were infamous among western culture for their mythology, but despite having never visited those lands, Nikolai preferred their images over their roman counterparts. The continuity of their logic compared to the Romans settled more agreeably with his idea of the past.
"There was no beginning,"
Nikolai referenced Genesis, "there are no beginnings."
By that logic, there could be no ending either, something the Atharim did not appreciate. There is no end that does not have a beginning. Wilhelm, the long-dead Regus, was wrong about that. Apollyon does not personify the end, he personifies an end. But try telling the Atharim that.
He continued, gesturing at the images beneath his palm, "They were real, Alric, the Greeks, the Romans, the Norse, the Hindi - every culture with a mythology. They lived and breathed as men,"
a twinge of a smile paused long enough to capture any remainder of Alric's attention he may not have already won. "But they were not men."
"They were gods."
Alric would understand where this line of thought would conclude. The power flowed through him, lending a relaxed confidence to the decree that followed, "as are we."