GuNNhead

As the decades slip by, civilization continues to grow, taming more of the wilds and reclaiming more wilds from scorched earth. The beasts that once roamed freely over the land recede away from developing areas, leaving much wilderness safe for the average Loamerian. Despite regular battle and murder, over time I feel my thoughts atrophy. I sense that before I became the Gravity Surge, I used to have wants and desires. A belief that one day there would be a life of satisfaction, built with connections and fondness. When one could sit back and be warmed by the company of others, warming them in turn. One would think that this is it, upon my planet, surrounded by the brave, the valiant, the idealistic. This warmth does not occur. Within me there only exists a cosmically vast emptiness, where only death can be felt. I am faintly reminded of why I had originally left this planet a lifetime ago. I don’t feel connections with the people on it. Existence was hollow and empty. Even now, after fighting side by side with these heroes, I know only solitude, isolation. An endless drive to the death of all life, and all that exists. Everything else falls by the wayside.

I witness these connections being made, see uncontrollable smiles appear when those connected see each other, sense their heartbeats flutter. These are not experiences that are available to me anymore, a few times I have felt them in dreams when asleep, ancient synapses firing in a dead mind possessed by a force of nature. They fade as I awake, but it is good to know that I am still who I was in some way. I do not envy the living for their love, connections. They all end; in misery; in death. The Golden Gravity Surge appreciates this, and retains the shared love in her memory. This is not something that I can do, I see only delusion, chemical reactions of meat, as without meaning as all astrological events. Stars die, planets explode, black holes collapse. It is the significance imposed by the mind that exists beyond my grasp; the emotions that cannot be controlled. I feel only death, the drive towards the inevitable end, the need not for the life and love of others, but the need to end life and existence.

I was never very attached to life.

1000 years killing demons and 1000 years amongst the living are two very different things.

I do not know if my growing drive towards death is noticed. I am killing less discriminately. I am staying in my craft for longer and longer periods of time, and leaving across the galaxy to find beings to slaughter, The Network’s files make it simple. No matter how much abundance there is, there are still those who want more, who want to spread their evil on the galactic stage. They thrive in disavowed zones, non-communicating planets, expansive nebula without planets. Countless hunting grounds for me to pursue them to their death. However, continually I feel the pull of the center of the universe. It makes me restless here, remaining in place. Eventually, I decide that I must make it to the centre, I must make my final departure from Loameria, from this galaxy.

This entry was posted on December 23, 2024 at 3:33 am and is filed under Fiction, Gravity Surge, Sci-Fi. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.