Here I Remain

The snap of electric drums and the notes of a synthesizer keyboard rang out from my auraphones, stuck into my ears. They were miniscule, wireless, black in color, shiny and slick from my sweat. I had worn them for more than half a duul now, riding the rail motive to this transit stop. I paced back and forth, walking up and down the faded white pavement, bobbing my head to the beat of “New World” by Mindbender, one of several music groups that defined “Zond sound,” that is, heavy use of the synthesizer and electric drums, sometimes accompanied by echoing, amplified vocals. Music fit for an arena, where a crowd of thousands dance and clap and sing in unison with the band. The sun shone brightly in the blue mid-afternoon sky, lightly peppered with fluffy white clouds. I had no work on this day, no cooking of foods, no catering to rude customers, no cleaning restrooms, no sweeping floors. This was a day set aside for classes at the universalion. Digital historiography, xenophilosophy, and contemporary xenohistory. We began learning about the Xyphonites – they call themselves “the Covenant,” while the Emperor calls them “the Enemy.” There have been many Enemies in our history, I thought to myself.
Here came the road motive, and I felt some relief. Now I could escape the moderate heat of this day, which was compounded by my wearing of multiple dark layers, with the air regulator that would assuredly be activated in the road motive. The holosign on the vehicle was alight, with the number nine. My road motive to home. I boarded it, shoving just enough coins in the meter to grant me access to the seats. My stop was within the city limits of Lusia – my home city – and so I paid half what others would usually pay to ride all the way to the motive’s final stop in the neighboring city of Silverbend. After a few khodovs of waiting, we set out along the route, passing by industrial quarters and parking fields half-full with private motives. I tuned out every other passenger on the motive as I patiently waited for my stop to come along. The vehicle occasionally picked up more and more passengers, but this was an uncommon occurrence. I presumed that most of them worked in the warehouses or light industry factories, packaging or manufacturing goods for sale or consumption elsewhere. They seemed to be a rough but sensible people. I could never see myself relating to them, so I would not speak with them. They chatted amongst themselves, and occasionally tried speaking to me, but I sought solitude, and largely achieved that with my solar spectacles, mouth mask, and auraphones. Once one would see that I had these accoutrements, they would refrain from approaching me. I tried to ignore the feeling that I offended them as best I could.
I kept looking at my mo-comm (mobile communicator), making my way through social media. Oh, Synth Erdellia is touring on Zond this week? Nice, I like that band. Maybe I will get a ticket. One of my old secondary school friends posted more pictures from his modelling job? Wonderful, he looks wonderful. New art from an artist I follow was just revealed? It looks amazing. Admittedly, in my experience, social media is a double-edged sword. Every time I go there I see my old friends and family living good lives, having good careers. My dear friend, the model, Mursili. Look at him in the large leather overcoat, snow-white undershirt, pitch black trousers, and high-reaching shoes. Look at the stoicism in his face, the poise, the grace. Look at Innana, another friend of mine, who is also my neighbor in Lusia. She, like Mursili, is already graduated from universalion. They all are. She knows how to play multiple musical instruments. She passed a pedagogy exam. She is becoming a teacher. Another friend, one who I have not spoken to in a very long time, Arnor, has become a disc jockey. And then there is me. I cook food. I cater to rude customers. I clean restrooms. I sweep floors. I have not completed my studies at universalion. They are there, while I am here. They have moved on, while here I remain.
I stepped off the road motive, thanking the driver with a nod. He said nothing. I disembarked in front of a store that sold alcoholic beverages. I went inside, where the owners, who were Sangheili, were familiar with me. I saw one of them, the patriarch. He wore a long robe over a plain tunic and walked with a pronounced limp. I patronized his establishment regularly, usually purchasing some sort of liquor. It was a small business, with shelves slightly taller than me filled with bottles of variously-colored liquids. There were handwritten labels on the shelves indicating types of alcohol and their price. The store also sold smoking products, although I was not there for that. As I walked to the back of the store, I grasped a bottle of dimmia, which is a type of fruit wine. It was dark blue in color, and this particular subtype had a semi-sweet taste. I had an affinity for sweet, so naturally I gravitated towards drinks such as this form of dimmia.
With the bottle in my hand, I removed my left auraphone and placed my purchase on the counter.
“Hello, I said in a clear voice.”
There was a space nudged between the small register and a display containing smoking packages. The multi-madibled alien pressed several buttons on the holographic interface of the register, and numbers appeared on the display for customers.
“Fifteen-ninety,” said the Sangheili. I took out my card and handed it to the proprietor. After some brief time where he pressed some more buttons, he handed it back to me, and I stuffed it safely away. I placed the bottle in my book bag.
“Thank you,” I said.
I quickly departed the store, just in time for an Imperial Announcement to ring out in the large plaza I was in. Triumphant fanfare signaled for all to pause and listen. The plaza was lightly populated, but these individuals, along with myself, heeded the Announcement. A holoprojector displayed a three-dimensional image of His Imperial Majesty, dressed in a formal military uniform, wearing the Emperor’s Helm over his upper face. His breast is adorned with dozens of military decorations, and the Amber Cape of Barzea is draped across his shoulders. The Cross of Barzea also hangs from a necklace around His Majesty’s neck, shining brilliantly, solid gold and bejeweled with the most precious and glamorous of gemstones.
“Dear people of All Erdellia, this is the voice of your Emperor. I bring grace upon you and all your days, and upon the days of your children. I do not make this announcement lightly, nor is it without the wisest of council. Our people and our Empire are strong. Prosperity reigns across the thousand-thousand systems. Our military safeguards us eternal, and for that they have our infinite gratitude. Happiness abounds. But there is one darkness in the Beyond that threatens us. There is a force out there that arrays itself against us. It seethes with jealousy. I speak of our old Enemy, the ancient Foe, the Xyphonites, who call themselves a “Covenant.” For four hundred years they have menaced our borders. For four hundred years they have sought our utter ruin. For four hundred years they have dreamed of the extinction of the Erdellian species. No more. With the wisdom of my council, I have chosen to move against them now.”
His Majesty looked away briefly, and apparently interacted with some sort of interface at his lower right. He then brought back his attention to us, the viewers.
“Now, I have just issued orders for general mobilization. What this means is simple: A minimum of thirty million men and women are to be mustered into the armed forces at once. Twenty million shall be drawn from the Core Worlds. Ten million shall be drawn from all other worlds.”
Zond, my homeworld, was a Core World.
“All mobilized shall be of the following species: Erdellian, Fawnd, Exe-Mac, Reblan, and Sangheili. As with all forms of mobilization except full mobilization, individuals allotted to Military Readiness Class 6 and above shall be exempt from mobilization, and may live out their lives in peace. All others shall heed the call. The Enemy is weakened, and in their weakness, we shall strike them down and forever rid ourselves of a foe who would seek nothing more than our prompt and utter destruction. We shall totally eliminate the Enemy’s capacity to make war. This conflict will signal a new era in All Erdellia, an era where we shall no longer have to live in fear of the Xyphonites, of their machinations, of their dark and nefarious plans. I promise you all a swift and decisive conclusion to this conflict, where we shall all live again in peace. This is the promise of your Emperor.”
“By the grace of Erd-El, we shall find victory, my dear people. Erd-El is with us. Long live All Erdellia! Long live the Empire!”
Fanfare erupted, and everyone in the plaza said “Long live the Empire!” His Majesty’s visage was then replaced with directions to the nearest military allotment center, and instructions on what to bring with you.
I quickly walked back to my home, a small individual accommodation in a large public living structure. I entered my unit, which was little more than space for a bed, a tiny kitchen, a separate bathroom, and some space for cabinets and closets. I put my things down, and placed the bottle of dimmia in the refrigerator. Then I sat on my bed. I looked at my mo-comm, watching as my display exploded with messages on social media and from friends and family.
“Are you mobilized, Keleon?”
“Keleon, I’m heading to the allotment center. Wanna come with?”
“I love you, Keleon.”
I put my mo-comm away. My heard pounded in my chest, I felt a bit dizzy, and I was certain I was going to vomit. I took out my ident card.
Keleon Bryndaryn. Date of Birth: 11 Hett 1107. Age: 22. Sex: Male. Nationality: Erdellian Empire. Citizenship Status: Full. Place of Birth: Luria, Krekker, Zond. Height: 190.3 zvorti. Weight: 202.4 darni.
Military Readiness Class: 5.
Then I thought to myself… perhaps… I could find myself in the Imperial Army. Perhaps this was my calling after all. I was not an erudite student. I was not terribly athletic. I had no oratory skills. I was not particularly sociable. I could not fix a machine or code a computer. I could not create a beautiful painting, or sing a song, or compose a work of music, or write a moving page of fiction. I had nothing. Just… experience cooking food and sweeping floors. What was I doing with my life? Nothing. Nothing at all. I was nothing. Just… a random being on a random planet in a random star system in a random galaxy in a universe more vast that I could properly comprehend.
But maybe I could be a soldier. Maybe I could fight.
Maybe I could kill.
That’s something. Isn’t it?
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