Draft: Animacide
After researchers discover a way to sever a part of reality from existence, a nation decides to establish a death penalty for the soul, and it won't just change the world - it will duplicate it.
This is a draft excerpt
“Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made or a garden planted - something your hand touched, some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you’re there.” ~ Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451
The Councilor spoke emphatically from the podium. “Fifteen years ago, researchers at our very own Renlark University, including Dr. Benjamin Andrews, published the paper that would become the foundation of modern ontolytics. Just three years later, Dr. Andrews himself led the team behind Project Sunder to build the world’s first reality decoupling device. Since then, institutions worldwide have developed and employed this technology for military, business, and environmental efforts. Today, I propose on behalf of the Technological Advisory Council to you, Prime Minister, that we now employ it to solve a problem that has followed our species since our cave-dwelling days: criminality.”
The other Council members leaned forward slightly, eager to hear what Councilor Rogers would say but not in suspense of what his idea would be; talk of a possible ontoprison had been nearly all of the focus of this year’s council session - and only two weeks into it no less. The Prime Minister did not move in the slightest, but his eyes turned intrigued yet somewhat reserved.
“Today,” Councilor Rogers continued, “I propose a way to truly rid ourselves of the dangerous individuals we can at most imprison or execute currently. You may think there is no need to do more - after all, what harm can come from an inmate contained in his cell or the corpse of a convict put to death? - but the people grow concerned. There is a sort of primal discomfort that comes with living in the same existence as those who have so severely wronged us - even just their souls. We now have within our ability a way to soothe that discomfort - a way to separate a body and soul from the very fabric of the reality we live and breathe. The science is already in order; the same devices that now clean our planet of nuclear waste could soon clean it of the felonious. All we need now is your approval.”
Part I: Starting Over
The sun’s warmth on a clear spring day could always brighten Thomas and Lyra’s mood. They had arranged to meet Sam at the North Library today, and so they walked together, watching the grass sway in the wind. Trench buses hummed past just below and beside the road, pulled along by their cables and carrying their passengers - presumably D:9 workers on their way to work.
“Do you think we’re ready for the exam this time?” Thomas asked, evidently nervous but not too keen on showing it.
“We’ll be fine,” Lyra replied with a silly tone, “We’ve done so many practice runs we could probably write them now.”
Up ahead, the gold corners of the Library building became visible through the surrounding trees - six of them in total - hexagonal, just like every other building unit. Roads converged from six directions, parting the treeline like corridors leading to this hub of knowledge. The bus trenches running alongside them were interrupted by steep brick steps leading up to the road from both sides while bridges ahead proceeded over the trench turnaround points.
The glass doors slid open as Lyra and Thomas approached the main entrance. Reflections of the treeline behind them gave way to the cooled library air and the smell of old books. They took a step down at the threshold, as the Library building, just like all of the Districts’ buildings, was just slightly inset in the ground to keep the air inside temperate during the hot summers and warm in the cold winters. Sitting at a nearby table, Sam waved to them as they made their way over and sat down.
“Today’s the day,” he said. “I’m glad we’re taking our exams on the same day. That way we can celebrate together after.”
“If we celebrate,” Thomas replied. “I sure hope this goes well.”
After some brief chatting and a little encouragement for Thomas’s nervousness, the three parted as each went to an exam cube. Only one item was allowed to be taken into those compact, windowless rooms: a pen. Not a regular pen, mind you, but the kind of multipen that just about everyone in the Districts owned. These compact devices were the amalgamation of four features and four symbols that represented the heart of the Districts’ culture: the pen’s ink, to make a lasting mark that shares one’s mind with those in the future; the flashlight on the other end, to ensure one can always bring light to see their way through dark places; four inset buttons to easily interact with its other functionality, just as the pen interacts with its user; and, when the two halves of the multipen are separated, remaining connected by an elastic cord that resides inside, a spool of semiflexible film would be revealed that can be unscrolled into the device’s display, which the user can interact with using the pen’s other half. The paper books on the Library’s shelves sat ironically close to their successors, the omnifunctional paper that expanded the reach of knowledge a hundredfold. On a ledge running under the west windows, a row of multipens lay unscrolled with the films’ backs to the sunlight at the Library’s public charging station.
Thomas entered the cube, sat down, and removed the designated exam pen from its holder. Unscrolling it onto the desk, he entered his pin and prepared his mind like he had more to prove than just his knowledge of advanced organizational strategy.
Laying open on their study table was the book about natural history that Lyra had been studying, open to a page about the species Homo sapiens.
H. sapiens: The most recent ancestor of H. novus, this hominid species has been extinct for roughly 600,000 years. Evidence suggests that H. sapiens partially integrated into the newly adapted H. novus over time while populations of more “pure” H. sapiens struggled to survive the harsh conditions during the Five-Year Night due to their primitive instincts causing infighting and self-eradication. Unlike their modern descendants, H. sapiens lacks the distinctive bluish-purple forehead mark that is iconic of modern humans. The leading theory suggests that H. novus eventually adapted this visual feature to signal to their kind that they were other H. novus and not the chaotically inclined H. sapiens. ~ Dr. Janet Ethers, Timeline of the Biosphere
It may seem pointless for paper books like this one to be kept at a public library now that multipens were generally available and capable of fetching information from a vast network formed by wireless bridges through other nearby networked devices, but rest assured that these physical records of the Districts’ literature had an essential purpose. Libraries like this would store expansive collections of paper books to ensure that the information they held would remain archived in the event of another event like the Five-Year Night.
An hour later, the three friends left their cubes and regrouped at their study table. Each person’s face showed a mix of curiosity and repressed excitement. After a few glances among each other, Sam spoke up.
“Well, I’d say I did well. 82% isn’t so bad… compared to last time.” He giggled lightly, and the others followed suit as the mood lightened.
“Eyy, nice job!” Thomas said. “Mine went pretty well, too; I’m not sure what I was so nervous about.”
“Congrats, Tom!” Lyra replied. “I guess that means we really will get to promote at the same time.”
As they left the Library together, a soft hum started from within the charging ledge as its internal current powered on in response to dusk, ready to induce charge into the items above.
Part II: Schism
“Inspection is complete, and we are ready to proceed,” a technician declared from his workstation.
“Wonderful,” Councilor Rogers replied with foreboding enthusiasm. “Let’s get this thing charged and ready to make history.”
The Councilor, the Prime Minister, and several technicians were gathered on a grassy plain near a metal-plated box roughly three meters tall and at least twice as wide connected by several color-coded, reinforced hoses twisted together like a rope to a massive metal pylon reaching unfathomably high towards the wispy clouds above. Around the box were three smaller boxes - generator stations that wired power into the metal beast, with more cables running into the ground for a direct connection with Renlark City’s electric grid mainline. Not far from all this, a large crowd congregated to watch the big moment. Security officials kept the more ambitious, camera-wielding spectators at bay.
A few technicians finished their final adjustments on the box’s hardware and then dashed off to gather behind the workstation.
“Proceeding,” the head technician notified as he initiated the machine’s charge-up process.
The generators kicked into action and an audible electrical buzz permeated the air. The crowd’s chatter increased while the politicians stood back and waited for their moment. After several minutes went by, the head technician gave the signal.
“Care to do the honors?” Councilor Rogers gestured for the Prime Minister to approach the control panel.
The Prime Minister walked up next to the panels switch primary switch and turned to face the crowd.
“Today we make history in two ways,” he began. “Centuries from now, people worldwide will remember Renlark as the city where humanity overcame our most fundamental limitation: there is only one world, and we are forced to coexist with the things that plague us. Today we proclaim that we choose not to submit to that limitation, but to cut off the vile criminals who cannot and will not be compatible with our civilized society. No longer must we be content with merely physical executions; because of the great invention of ontolysis, for now and for eternity, we can end the very souls of those who have harmed our peace. We can cleanse the fabric of existence, rather than just covering up the stains. Today, tomorrow, and forever more, reality is ours.”
Reaching toward the switch, he activated the ontolysis machine. Rows of lights suddenly lit up along the pylon - one of four that marked the corners of the void-to-be - and a bluish glowing haze filled the air high above surrounding the great metallic spires.
The buzzing that had been barely present for the past while suddenly became a nearly unbearable screech that sounded and felt like it spanned every pitch and frequency. The crowd and politicians alike watched in awe as the expanses between the pylons slowly blurred. Progressing just slowly enough to make the onlookers doubt themselves, it appeared like an optical illusion that didn’t so much obscure the scene within as it did distort it, but the distortion soon became so intense that whatever lay beyond was now unrecognizable. The noise quickly subsided as the machine stabilized into maintenance mode, and if not for having seen the plains beyond just seconds ago, no one would know it was there. It was as if the air itself within that box-shaped zone had become something entirely foreign to the human eyes and mind. It wasn’t anything in particular - just a blurry mist of indescribable color and pattern.
Once the initial shock had subsided, a group of guards walked three people in prisoner’s uniforms and handcuffs over to the boundary of the newly synthesized void and faced the crowd. After a short pause, the Prime Minister turned to them and nodded. The criminals, resigned to their fate, shot condemning glances at the onlookers before falling into the ominous haze at the guards’ shoves. As they crossed the line between the world they could all see and the unknowable space past the blurred veil, their bodies seemed to dissolve into the formless mist.
“It is done,” spoke the Prime Minister. “They are now fundamentally severed from our reality.”
Part III: Beyond the Veil
“Little boy with faith so thin,
Little girl so strong within,
I said I’d never leave you, and I’m sorry, but I lied.
If you’re set to pay the price,
Learn the ways of sacrifice,
Leave this world to grieve you, take a breath, and step outside.
The broken doors are waiting, down the path you’ve always known.
My darling ones, be careful now, and don’t go out alone.”
~ Mira Grant, Parasite
The third part of Animicide is on the way!