Legacy of a Traveler, Prologue

By Polar Kodiak

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The last additions had been integrated into the whole.

The old man sat hunched over the microscope, his eye pressed against the small glass lens. No part of his body moved visibly: it was like watching a cadaver leaning over, as if that was the last moment of life of the old man and gravity hadn’t pulled him down to the ground from the uncomfortable, wooden stool that he was perched upon.

The object of the observer’s attention was a small transparent liquid, held in place under the penetrating view of the microscope by a cover slip. To the naked eye, the observed substance was static. However, to the trained eye of the scientist, there was a plethora of activity that was underway. This was a familiar sight to the old man; this action had been done and redone hundreds of times over now, perhaps even thousands. All of these previous attempts had ended in failure.

But not this time, the scientist was sure. This time, the project that he had been working on ever since he learned the intricacies of-

"Are you still working on that joke of a project that you call your life’s work?"

The old man moved visibly for the first time. Gritting his teeth, he dislodged his eye from its former focus, the degenerated figure sneered at his companion, equally frail. However, where the fire was visible in the eyes of the observer, the visitor was wearing sunglasses, cloaking his passion-drenched eyes in a shade of black, a testament to the character of the hunched over figure that depended on a cane to walk due to his lack of sight.

Ignoring the blind man, the first man returned to his former post, gazing at the clear object under the microscope. Muttering more to himself than his critic, the old man grumbled, "This time will be perfect. My project shan’t fail again."

The sight-deprived husk of a man laughed; a shrill cackle pierced the surrounding air. "Oh, but it shall, my old rival. However, that is a moot point; my project has been in active testing for so long that any project that you put in the field for study would just be devaluing your already useless reputation. Face it, you’ve lost."

This time, the first man gazed straight at his opponent. His thin hands were now clutched into fists, freckled with age. "Prove it."

Grasping his cane tightly, the second man lifted it up and slammed it on what appeared to be solid ground. This could not be verified, however, given that the only objects solid in appearance were the two men, the cane, and the microscope along with its invaluable cargo.

The cane-wielding man raised his voice to echo throughout the black hiatus. "I don’t have to prove it! Too great a time has passed for you to catch up for you to fail once more!"

Yet again omitting all of the blind man’s ranting, the freckled figure smiled and returned to his study. His small, yet sturdy smile returned. "Tell me, who is overseeing the project development…oh no. You don’t mean to suggest that he is running project development?"

"You’re the one who always says that it is reasonable to give individuals second chances. I’m merely giving him what you say all should be given."

The figure hunched upon his stool turned around so fast he nearly knocked the microscope off of the shaded table, invisible to all but the most piercing of optic organs. His voice had a slight tremor in it. "I meant that for society in general, not something as delicate as this project! The head of project development is one of the most psychotic, dangerous individuals that exists, and yet you thrust the future of Humanity into his butterfinger-hands? Have you gone as mad as he?"

Feeling the anger pour into the hiatus between the two of them, the blind man gripped his cane more tightly. "I would advise you not to insult your betters, young revolutionary. The Hive may tolerate your radical propaganda, but I shall not. Who cares about that little primitive race, anyway? Humanity has yet to show its worth. All that they do is run around killing wild animals with those stone weapons of theirs that they prize above each other. You have no reputation, no completed work to show that they are worth protecting."

"Oh, but I do. Allow me to give you the finished product of my toils. I give you," the now-rejuvenated man stated as he removed the cover slip and held it aloft, "1-JDK-985. The one who will guide them to true Reason."

Sneering, the blind man turned away. Under his breath, he muttered inaudibly, "That beast will not live to see the rise of my creation until it is too late. Humanity will be under my heel, not yours. While the Hive may be sympathetic to your views now, young radical, I have ensured that my project will overcome yours and that the Hive will disregard your foolish little Reasonist drivel and elect me to lead the hive back to the fold from which we came!"

To be continued….

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