MDA: Chapter Nine - The Soul's Eclipse

The late, summer evening glow of the amber sun illuminates the bleached wooden decking of the Ikebukuro promenade.  The orange and purple sky creates refractions of radiance across the calm, peaceful water beside it.  Distant bells can be heard chiming in the gentle breeze, and a small group of young children skip ropes merrily down one end of the walkway.

Anne and exsuscito stand motionless ten feet away from each other, staring intently into each others eyes, sizing each other up.  Anne playfully strikes a kung-fu pose towards ex, and gestures for him to begin with a nod of her head.  Amused by her self-belief, ex takes the cue and they both lunge towards each other with great agility.  Their light, linen clothing flows gracefully along with their every movement.

They come together, and exchange some attempted, half-hearted blows.  She’s visibly well-trained and compulsive in her alertness, a constant state of readiness which appeals to ex’s restless sensibility.  Her moves are elegant, her timing exquisite.  After making little effort to break her defence, Anne wheels back suddenly, creating space between them.

“Distracted, are we?” she says with a flirtatious smile, proceeding to withdraw the pin holding her hair up, and shaking it alluringly and playfully.  

Concealing his true distraction, ex returns the smile and counters.

“I’m just getting started.” he answers, somersaulting towards her and causing her to stiffen her stance and re-enter the fray.  

The two combatants block each other’s blows with methodical precision, a stalemate fashioned between finesse and experience.  Time slows to a crawl. The children jump rope in slow-motion.  Ex spots a split-second opening in Anne’s defences and attempts an improvised foot sweep.  Anne switches her pivot foot and blocks the attack with the other, carrying her momentum and hitting him with a palm to the Solar Plexus, knocking him backwards off his feet, and onto the decking.  She somersaults back, landing softly on her feet and relaxing her stance, beaming proudly.

“You could’ve blocked it.” she declares, placing her hands on her hips.

“I didn’t see it coming.” ex responds sarcastically whilst rising from the floor and brushing himself off.

“You’re a terrible liar.” she says, laughing, but appreciating the attempt regardless.

“And you’re quite the warrior.” ex returns, walking to within a few feet of her.

He stops and searches for the words to describe how proud he is of everything she has accomplished.

“My, just look at what you’ve become.” he proclaims, sighing with immense pride.

Anne closes the small gap between them by rushing forward and greeting his words with her finger on his lips.  She places her hands in ex’s, and moves to whisper in his ear.

“What we’ve become.” she offers, fixating her eyes on his.  

Time seems to slow once again.  Ex cannot bring himself to resist, and the two embrace.  The setting sun bathes the couple in an ethereal, iridescent glow.

Past tortures, duty, war, terrorism, time lost, all dissolve as Ex feels himself begin to let it all subside for, and because of this beautiful woman.  How he had longed for this moment, how he had never allowed himself to believe that it could ever cross his path again.  Not since…not since it was last taken away.

This is 'real'.

The muffled thud and subsequent reverberation of a gunshot sends a shockwave of sound across the promenade.  A nearby flock of happily idling seagulls take flight, and flee across the water.  The children’s laughter turns to penetrating screams as they run away in terror, unconcerned with the skipping ropes they leave behind.  

A sudden, searing pain courses through ex’s chest as the echo of the gunshot takes it path.  The intrusion immediately ruptures the couple’s bubble, tearing ex from his thoughts with no remorse as he and Anne stagger backwards from one another.  

As the anonymous bullet tears mercilessly through her chest and into mine, I come undone.  No new beginning, no sound, lungs rapidly devoid of air.  The last gasp of a breeze blow a few strands of her beautifully dark, flowing hair into her bloodshot eyes as they close, and she collapses to the ground.  My vision begins to haze as I grow weak, and I drop to my knees beside her.  I try to reach out to touch her, but a heavy boot slams down onto my hand, pinning it to the floor.  

As the world sways and clouds gather, I look up at the silent assailant.  An agent looks down at me with a vacant glare, and begins to raise his gun.  I take a last look at Anne, who had since taken her final breath, alone.  She somehow seems peaceful, content even.  The agent presses his gun against my temple and pauses briefly, seemingly curious about the moment.  “Do it” I say defiantly, and close my eyes.

Pain                  trepidation            elation sorrow                         change joy                                 failure                               triumph                                         rhythm          family                                                 knowledge                             love

The sun sinks below the still waters, and darkness envelops the promenade.

The black tomorrow.  


* * * * * * * * *


Exsuscito sits bolt upright in his bunk on his ship, The Praemeditatio.  Sweat pours profusely from his forehead, limbs shaking from trauma.  

“I must go back.” he says to himself declaratively, and taking a few seconds to collect his thoughts and regain his balance, he swings out of bed and onto the cold floor beneath him.  He marches purposefully towards the primary console with new resolve.  The Praemeditatio’s crew are off-ship, busying themselves with other responsibilities after Ex had called a halt to all activity within the Matrix, and given the order to go home to their families.  

Why must we dream?  What purpose does it serve?

Are dreams purely synaptic spasms of accidental, rabid electrical impulses, or a coherent ensemble of unsolved puzzle pieces, extending beyond our capabilities of reason and perception?

I consider the possibility that they’re the voices of our better angels, attempting to show us our true paths in our sleep, when we can do nothing but listen intently to their efforts.

I’ve heard it said that they are answers to questions we have not yet learned how to ask.  I struggle to comprehend why any person would seek the ‘answers’ presented to us in our darkest nightmares.  

Some things are perhaps better left unresolved, left to the individual to provide their own explanation for the things contained in their minds more private, and secure chambers.

Despite the lack of a conclusive rationalization, and whatever truths and falsehoods lie within the swirl of our bashful thoughts, we are forever prone to their mystery, and their unhinged grace.  We do not allow ourselves to be dictated to by them, but lest we ignore their wisdom, hidden in the walls of our sub-conscious.  

Ex reaches the console, and nonchalantly enters the auto-pilot sequence.

“There is much to do.” he says quietly as he lies back in the chair and closes his eyes.  

The sequence begins, and he is loaded into the simulation.

Lost time, so much lost time.