Powers and Principalities Ch. 1-8

Powers and Principalities Ch. 3

Chapter 3

          For a short while, I fooled myself into thinking I was back somewhere safe. Childlike notions that I would wake up in a world where everything made sense buzzed in my mind. Consciousness set in as I began to feel the loveless caress of the sand. Upon feeling how my stiffness had returned, I questioned how long I had been lying helplessly.
          The silence was impeccable. I listened to the sand reluctantly pellet from me as I began to rise. The enigmatic tower off in the distance immediately stole my attention, emitting a foggy red, painting the nearby sky. It made me wonder what had happened after I was engulfed by the beam of the same color.
“I thought you were never going to wake,” an invading voice spoke calmly. My eyes met with a stranger’s as I turned around. Looking into his eyes, I knew there was something different from the man I had met. I saw a calm and evaluating look. I was a mediocre piece of artwork that earned this stranger’s disenchanted analysis.
          Of a tall and thin build, everything about his appearance was in perfect order. A lightweight navy-blue duster rested over his form. Gray pants rode his long legs down to his black leather shoes that matched his gloves. His hair had the same pure black color. Under the duster was a white collared shirt that matched his fair skin. A loosened blue tie was resting over his shirt. The fact that it remained on at all in this heat was incredible. A pair of sunglasses concealed his violet pupils when he grew bored of looking at me.
          Once again he broke the silence: “You should get some clothes. Why not use his for now?” As I turned to the direction he indicated to the man lying lifelessly in the sand. My mind was clear of concern of clothes when I saw him dead, when so recently he was vibrant. This soldier had threatened my life, but the emotion in that went flaccid.
          "What happened?" I shouted, "did you kill him?" I felt overwhelmed, similar to when I was being attacked. There were so many questions that weighed my mind down. Nothing about what happened made sense. Nothing about this place made sense. Nothing about this stranger made sense. Nothing made sense at all.
          The stranger made an attempt to answer my questions; “No, it looks like he died of natural causes. I showed up about the time he was shooting you with that stun-gun. Just in time to see him collapse right after you did.” Apparently not as disturbed as I, he pulled out a cigarette and began to smoke with his back towards me. Although I had no reason to believe anything the man said, I had nobody else’s words to cling to. Death had a new meaning to me. I began to accuse myself of being a murderer and held a little trial in my mind. It seemed impossible to reconcile if our fight could have been avoided, but remembering how I took pleasure in hurling the boulder at him was enough to make me feel guilty. Since there was no way to change the past, I tried to suppress the guilt. His clothes were weighted with sweat. They were worn to the point of being more sweat than cloth. I was very gentle with his body, as if he may spring back to life and need it again.
          The silence was broken a third time; “According to the Maxomian teaching, only those who have reached atonement can perform miracles. But I know that isn’t true because you are no Maxomian.” he muttered. He turned his attention to his cigarette as if what he said meant nothing to him and didn’t warrant a response.
          I replied without thinking for a nanosecond; “What does that mean? What are you trying to do?” It must have been instinct talking for me again, and just as before I liked it more than what I would have probably said if I were as calm as him. He whirled around and threw his cigarette away since I had earned his attention. His approach stopped before it began when he began to laugh at my difficulty with the pants. Before I could ask him, he took the initiative and introduced himself.
          “You can call me Nail. I believe everyone should name themselves; others know only projections. What do you call yourself?” he asked, in a sincere sounding voice. Names were something I hadn’t given much thought. When alone, it is easy to simply exist and know yourself. I knew that I must have had a name at some point, but I could give myself a name for the time being at least. Those remembered in history have their own names and I couldn’t possibly take theirs.
          Imitating his confidence, I announced; “I am Urian.” It felt odd to say that, like a lie that I had to convince myself of. He gave me an approving nod and extended his hand forward. Just as I had finished wrapping the putrid-smelling cloth around my face, I approached and extended mine as well. His firm grip produced an uncomfortable sensation, almost electric. As a reflex, my hand withdrew as soon as his grip let up. A grin grew on his face. This must have meant something to him, but what? I was overflowing with more questions but I could sense that he was about to take his exit.
          “Don’t stress about the Maxomian soldier. ‘Our Holy Mother’ has more than enough,” Nail said lightly. Had the soldier still been alive surely he would have thrown a canteen at him. Thinking of that made me wonder what his name was. The least a murderer can do is learn the name of his victim.
          Trying to conceive my own plan that would be approved by Nail, I explained; “I’m going to see what is at that tower. By the time I reach that... I want to understand what I did back there.” The plan sounded even worse than it did when I conjured it in my frantic mind.
          “That is quite a run, even for someone like you. I propose you stop at the town ahead and get your bearings, since it seems like you don’t know anything. Blue Crow contains a military post, so you shouldn’t stand out in your... dapper garb.” Nail said, with a sense of concern barely detectable.
          Before I could inquire further, he turned to leave me. “I will be in touch. You can bet your hooker-boots on that. See you soon, Urian,” he said as he strolled over the sand dune I had crossed ages ago. For a moment I wanted to chase him, just to not be alone and have to make my own decisions. This mystery man’s advice was sound enough, so I decided to proceed and see this town. My mind began to make so many postulations: would it be rich or poor, crowded or small... Even a handful of people would seem like a lot. It was sounding exciting; maybe something good would happen. Best of all, I had a course of action now.
          Running in this outfit was much more uncomfortable than in the nude. It was like learning to run again since I had to keep the shredded garments from falling away. After some stress, that vibration from within my chest returned violently. After awhile it began to feel tolerable, and I resumed my Zen. Watching myself run, hearing my steady but strong breaths, and feeling my veins pump battery acid. Imagining this was some kind of movie I was watching helped me not care, and after enough time, a trippy sensation washed over me that made my eyes glaze over.
          The uniform’s contents were alien to me. It contained about as many pockets as could be imagined, and each of them contained something. This man must have been organized to have things so separated. Many pockets contained rubbish; scraps of paper with information beyond my understanding, or objects that have no meaning to me. If I wasn’t in such a frazzled state and could hold a thought in my mind for more than a fraction of a moment, perhaps I could have made more sense of this. I did find an ID card that seemed badly worn despite being laminated. The name Yorick was legible.
          I figured that I couldn’t just skate into town and tell everyone my brief life’s story; especially if everyone was going to be like the first person I met. Pretending to be a “Maxomian soldier” sounded appealing. Given that I cannot even act like myself, I began to doubt my ability to execute that scheme.
         “Would there be another Nail to come and direct me?” I asked myself.