literature

War Is Consistant

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The circular room was illuminated by the light hanging over the metal, slab in the center of the room.  It glowed with an erie brightness, dimming as you moved closer to the steel walls.  A cold chill lingered and the lack of moisture made the room seem uninhabited.  Sealed by a thick, steal door powered by hydrolics that resembled that of a spaceship, the room was empty and dead silent.  A group of "bipedal formica", otherwise known as Formics enter the room.  They are the Heirarchs, the highest of any of the classes and the smallest in number only comprising of the ten who have entered.  More resemblant of the Monarch class with numerous spines, they still have the ant-like look that the entire species has.  Unlike the others, they wear robelike clothes that are decorated with intricate designs and lines that resemble what you would find on a carpet.  With a dark green color, spines and hair like structures running down their backs, spines on their shoulders, forearms, and legs, and many parts of their exskeleton jutting out throughout their body, these heirarchs are the most decorated of any other class.  Each is also decorated with a portruding exoskeletal horn-like structure above their jaws, and unlike the others they have a full set of teeth with the top jaw covering the lower.  Their heads have the shape of the Workers and the Drones, but have the spines and features of the Monarchs.

Entering, they stand around the slab of steel that is a table in the center, and begin to discuss the rising developement that has plagued the ever more worrisome Monarchs.  The one with the most pronounced robe begins the conversation by clicking, hissing, grunting and hissing in their language.  Their language is simple compared to human languages, comprising of the subject, the action, the object being acted on, the degree, time, etc. can be added if needed, and ending in whether it is a statement, question, exclamation, sarcasm, etc. with a certain hiss.  "What issue has come upon the Monarchs," he asks.  The literal translation for example's sake would have been, "Monarchs to have issue something what?"

Another replies from his right with his own set of clicks and hisses, "The Drones seem to be conspiring.  They worry of rebellion."

Standing at the opposite end of the table, one interupts, "They are idiots!"  The others turn to the Heirarch who has interrupted, "You do not think this," mutters the leader to the Heirarch.  The interrupting Heirarch is a Lieutenant, who has power, but is usually overriden due to lack of experience.  The more experience, the more worth your input is.  "The Drones are innovators.  They are just having a prosperous period.  They do not know how to rebel.  The only way they could is if Monarchs defected.  Take away these restrictions before you start a war."

The leader sends a sharp glare to the Heirarch, "Are you questioning my conclusion?"  Resting his hands on the table, he responds, "I am questioning our conclusion.  We have misunderstood their intent.  We must correct our mistake.  The consequences could become fatal."

Another interrupts, "Blasfamy!  They are assemblying!  Never have they assembled before!  They have even begun to mingle with Monarchs," the other exclaims as he gestures with his arms and claws.  The Heirarch rebutts, "That does not represent rebellion!"  The two erupt into an argument, but it is ended by the leader, "Silence!"  The two quickly stop, and turn to the leader, who now looks down at his hands on the table.  He looks back at the party around the table, "Is there any more input?"

No answer is given, so he continues, "Now who supports this claim of no rebellion?"  The Heirarch from earlier is the only one to say "I", and the leader continues, "Then we are dismissed."  The others leave, but the Heirarch from before remains standing at his spot, staring at the leader.  The leader approaches him, "You feel we have made a mistake?"  The Heirarch continues to stare, "If death comes to us, may it be slow.  This way we suffer the same mistake we are about to unleash."
The leader responds with a cruel humor, "If you are right, then I'll make sure you die slowest."  The leader exits the room leaving the Heirarch alone to contemplate the outcome of the descision.

The Heirarch's fears are confirmed merely a day later when the militarization of the cities begins.  A Drone lies on the filth covered floor in his small room.  The room is steel, with a table, cooking box (similar to a microwave), and window overlooking the city from his room three stories high.  A lowed bang awakens the Drone as armored soldiers enter through the blasted door.  The grab him by the arms as he struggles to loosen their grip.  They throw him to the wall and point their plasma rifles at his back, and he stops thrashing as he holds his hands out as if about to fly like a bird.  Throwing him through the doorway, the escort him to the streets below where a full view of the carnage is seen.  Smoke rises from burning buildings down the street, and debris covers the roads.  Drones are shoved into ships that lift off imediately after being filled.

As one lifts off, the remaining six stragglers are lined up in the street.  The three soldiers pull out their sidearms, and move to infront of the six.  Their sidearms are bullet weapons, but are electric fired instead of combustion.  They aim, and in six quick shots shoot the Drones dead, and leave their bodies.  Holstering their weapons, they walk toward the Drone and the soldiers escorting him and speak to the escorts, "Is this the only one?"  One escort responds, "The others seem to have left.  This one we found sleeping."

The soldier examines the Drone curiously, scanning him head to toe and then looks to the escorts, "Send him to Research."  The escort responds, "Yes," as the Drone feels a needle penetrate the soft flesh in his neck, and he begins to slowly loose conciousness.  He falls to the ground and fades unconcious to the image of the street burning brightly with the smoke covered sky.

The Drone awakens in a stasis tube, floating in a clear liquid with an oxygen mask over his mandibles.  He scans through the glass, and the muffled conversation can be heard.  One says, "This research is not necassary.  Stop this killing frenzy."  The other responds, "We made our vote and this is what was planned."  The first continues, "The rebels are trying to bring the humans into this."
The other interupts quickly, "And they will fail.  If not, they will suffer the same fate."

The rest of the conversation is too muffled to understand as the Drone fades away once more into a deep coma.
A little to the backstory of "Non-Human".

Story inspired by songs:
1) Parallel Universe by Leiahdorus
2) Ruled by Secrecy by Muse
3) Con-Science by Muse
4) Seige by Hans Zimmer
5) Coup de Grace by Hans Zimmer

Story inspired also by:

1) Holocaust survivors
2) Pride of Freedom
3) District 9
4) Current atrocities plagueing the world
© 2010 - 2024 SH9DOW
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