Dark Sanity
Chapter Eleven

Above Love

Since seven hours had passed, Flint laid his shovel by the soal and left his station. He walked over to the western catwalk and followed its path until he reached a corridor that had several doors on each side. This section of the Core surprisingly resembled a hotel. Flint had to admit, Soalace had an elegant appearance even in the engine sector. He searched for room number sixty-two. Upon replaceing it, he tried opening the door.

Flint’s eyes widened when he recognized the same hole in the door that he’d seen back in Panzo Mine. It was a confirmation that the undertunnels reached as far as there. No wonder the miners had come across the lurkens, he conceded. They’d dug so deep that they had accidently penetrated an undercity. It all made sense to him. Yes, he thought, that would explain why the architecture was so sophisticated. Then he was plagued with a terrible realization—that area in the undertunnels had been abandoned, infested with the lurkens. Perhaps the derelict undercity was once greater than Soalace, Flint wondered to himself. If so, this meant that Gunthrel wasn’t honest; the lurkens were spreading and slowly defeating them.

“What am I doing?”

He realized he’d been standing in the corridor thinking like a madman after working so many hours. He put his hand into the hole, and a translucent light waved through his wrinkled body, scanning him. When finished, the door unlocked. Flint stepped into his bedchamber in awe. Inside was silent. He didn’t hear a single sound of the steam engines, nor did he feel any vibrations. The walls were one hundred percent sound proof and sparkled with beauty like the upper levels of the city.

“Unbelievable,” he said to himself.

He noticed a panel on the wall beside an indigo table, and below the panel was a recessed shelf with an empty tray and cup. Flint walked over to it, seeing that there were two buttons on the panel: food and water. This was a dream come true. He clicked the food button, and the same pudding-like food he’d eaten before in the cell drooped onto the tray. He quickly ate it and then poured some water into the cup, drinking it in a single gulp.

“I can do this all night.”

Feeling ecstatic, he clicked the buttons again. Unfortunately for him, only a little extra food and water came out. It apparently had a limit. He hoped that it would automatically refill within a few hours. In the meantime, he ate and drank the remaining sustenance. Shortly after, Flint lay on his bed. It was a canopy bed with an exceptionally soft mattress on a glittery, stony bedstead. He took off his tattered clothes, covered himself with a warm blanket, and fell asleep in less than a minute.

Over the next few weeks, Flint worked hard. He had a simple job but felt proud about it since it was so important. Living in such a strange place soon became normal to him, and the pale humans he lived with were now more real to him than those he’d lived with in the town of Desonas—at least those who’d betrayed him. Living in the city of Soalace actually seemed to be a life worth living to him. He felt safe from the extreme heat, the occasional violent storms, and he never had to worry about having food on the table. As long as he worked hard in the Core of Soalace, he was always able to return to his bedchamber and have sustenance.

Sometimes he thought about Sarah and Jake in his room. Though he had no idea how they were doing, he felt it was best that they stayed on the surface. If they had followed him all the way to the Outlands, then they could have been killed either by the harsh weather or by the lurkens.

“I hope you’re happy, Sarah,” he said on his bed.

His life in Soalace didn’t start out well, but it eventually became a comfortable home for him. He doubted things would have turned out just as well if the others had been with him. Yes, thought Flint, he had definitely made the right decision by telling Sarah and the others to stay in Desonas.

The only thing that he occasionally missed was hunting. Though, when he thought about his hunting days, it reminded him of Joey. An urge to kill filled his veins whenever Joey came into his mind. He’d feel so angry and miserable that it actually made him hate the idea of ever hunting again. And so, little by little, even his most precious sport—the game that once made him feel one hundred percent free—faded into his subconscious.

Flint gained a new life here in the city of Soalace, a city occupied by those whom he now called steamwalkers since they were the masters of steam technology. He soon gave up on his past lives and looked forward to each day. Though he’d occasionally have dreams that reminded him of his past, they would never reveal anything new about his previous lives. In due time, he no longer cared. And so his mystical dreams faded away. Instead he started to have more natural ones about his life in Soalace.

Eventually, two years passed. Flint had turned sixty-two, the same exact number of his bedchamber. He was getting older. And even though many of the pale humans in Soalace were very young, he felt that this was a place worthy of a gentleman his age. Somehow, he felt better about his age being here. Living and working in the Core gave him a great deal of pleasure, not just because he was helping fellow under-dwellers live comfortably by working with soal, but because he felt the Core was an old place. He felt that it was like his second heart, giving him a sort of “second wind” to life.

Another thing that made Flint happy was his friendship with Gunthrel. Over time, they’d become decent friends. Gunthrel wasn’t just his overseer any more. In fact, Gunthrel came to respect him so much that when he asked if Dale could have his own bedchamber instead of a cell, he agreed to it. Flint was, by far, the hardest working man in the Core. This amazed his coworkers since he was in his sixties. No other man at that age could work so efficiently; it was as if he were a machine. The steamwalkers sometimes referred to Flint as Heart of the Core, and it amused him.

A few months passed. Flint no longer thought about Desonas. He even stopped thinking about what had happened to Hamarah. Life in Soalace was so important to him that he’d finally decided to let go of everything, as though his past had been an illusion. Soalace was his reality now. Then, one day after working in the Core, he dreamed. Yet this one was vastly different than anything he’d experienced before.

Like most dreams, he found himself in a place without knowing why or how he’d gotten there. He wore a burgundy robe that had laced designs on the cuffs and collar. Although it was a robe, it seemed to be some kind of militaristic uniform. Flint stood in the lobby of a skyscraper. Just then, a chime emanated behind him. He turned, entering an elevator that had opened. It was encased in glass with lights along the plating.

Flint clicked the ninety-eighth button, which was the highest floor in the building. The elevator closed and took him up. A circular white city of dome-shaped buildings stood before him—it was majestic and utopian looking to him. He also saw a vessel flying into the greenish atmosphere. This made him realize that the planet wasn’t Earth.

Upon reaching the ninety-eighth floor, he stepped out of the elevator, walking through a carpeted corridor. He approached a pair of doors that swayed into the walls. Entering the atrium-like chamber ahead, he saw three men seated on a balcony. A fourth chair was among them but remained empty. And beside the balcony hung an embossed emblem depicting a hand rising up, its palm seizing the stars.

“There he is,” said Laskov, an elderly man dressed in white.

“Welcome back, Ethan,” called out Kuralan, the second man who was slightly younger than Laskov.

“I apologize for my tardiness,” said Ethan.

“It is quite all right,” said Tarak, the third elderly man. “Considering that you’re the Commandant—and the new Commander-in-Chief of our proud nation—we expect you to be quite busy.”

The balcony descended while he approached. He saluted the tribunal and stood still, awaiting orders.

“Don’t be bashful,” said Tarak. “Have a seat.”

Ethan was shocked and said, “But—”

“No buts,” interrupted Kuralan. “Your success to colonize Vorilian IV has truly made us proud. This is the next step in the history of humanity’s exploration into the stars. And none of it would have been possible without you.”

“You grace me too much,” said Ethan, bowing and then taking a seat.

“Now that you have proven your ability to seize the future,” began Laskov in a croaking tone, “is it time to begin humanity’s final evolution.”

“I beg your pardon?” said Ethan, confused.

“Take a deep breath,” said Tarak. “This news won’t be easy to swallow, especially since this has been debated many times.”

Ethan listened, bracing himself for what they were about to tell him. He wondered to himself, what did they want him to do? All his life he’d faithfully obeyed the tribunal—the true leaders and voice of humanity. He felt anxious and nervous, not knowing what to expect from them.

“Since the dawn of human consciousness we have tried to understand the laws of nature and its secrets,” said Tarak. “We survived the harsh chaos of Mother Earth at the beginning of our existence. And we proudly conquered Earth.”

“But we didn’t stop there,” said Kuralan.

“We reached out to the stars,” said Laskov faintly. “We knew that we were destined for greatness.”

“Greatness indeed,” said Tarak. “Even though the sun defied us and destroyed our most precious home, we prevailed. We have proven ourselves to be the masters of life. Even death is having difficulty catching up with us, thanks to nanotechnology. We as the tribunal proved this by living for over three hundred years, guiding humanity through the stars. There is, however, one thing that still remains—our greatest nemesis to which we’ve never been able to defeat. But this will finally change with you, Commandant.”

“Humanity believes in you,” said Laskov.

“Which is why we’ve made you Commander-in-Chief and asked you to come here,” said Kuralan. “The time has come for the military to make its most glorious move.”

Ethan, though flattered, was growing too anxious. As much as he respected the immortal tribunal, he couldn’t help feel that they were essentially rambling. He already knew all this—it was history 101. He wanted to know his orders: the reason why he was here.

“Sir?” said Ethan in a calm yet slightly restless tone.

“Evolution,” said Laskov. “As you know, thanks to dimensional technology, our brightest physicists have discovered another dimension—unparallel to ours. Do you know what this means for us, Ethan? There are different humans there; they are superior and filled with insurmountable potential. Yes, it is time to fuse our dimension with theirs. Despite the risks, doing so will create what we refer to as dimensional synthesis, allowing us to physically and mentally unify with the humans from the other side and transcend into one ultimate race…call it godhood.”

“Synthesis is essential to our survival,” said Kuralan. “And we want you to convince humanity that such an evolution is necessary.”

Ethan felt as though his heart sank. It was true—humanity had just invented the most powerful and sophisticated technology in the world of physics. But did the tribunal truly want him to take advantage of every person who loved him for the young leader he’d become and betray them by ripping their freedom and lives away? Yes, humanity needed to evolve because the vast majority of humans were still the same blood-thirsty animals they were millennia ago. Yet shouldn’t such a change be natural? Why, after all this time, would the tribunal want him to manipulate the laws of nature and play God with every living being in the universe?

“You are the voice of humanity, and I am your body,” said Ethan. “But please forgive me for wanting to ask this one question: Why?”

“Think about it, Ethan,” said Kuralan. “We have seen everything within the universe. It is the 54th century, and not once have we ever come into contact with any scientific evidence that a superior being or race exists in this dimension.”

“Our imperfection is the one thing that has always held us back,” said Laskov sadly. “We would have stood united and reached the stars ages before the sun destroyed Mother Earth if we were perfect. It is time for the final evolution.”

“You are the only one who can do this, Ethan,” said Kuralan.

“Me?” said Ethan, taken aback.

They were wrong, he thought; he needed to take more than one deep breath for this. What with the rumors he heard from scientists in the past, this union could cause the entire cosmos to collapse. If he was to truly carry out this order, he felt that it would not only eliminate freedom but possibly destroy all life in the process.

“Do not underestimate yourself, Commandant,” said Tarak. “The people do not hear our voices. They see you and only you—a young man filled with life. We may be your voice, but humanity does not think of it this way. Like authors, we are an invisible hand, writing the law down. And you are our publicist: our Commander-in-Chief.”

“You have brought humanity to a new age of existence, Ethan,” said Kuralan blissfully. “To create an analogy using our ancestors’ beliefs, Vorilian IV is the paradise that we’ve been searching for since cast out of Eden.”

“And now that we have returned, so to speak,” said Laskov, “we can close that old book and start writing a new one.”

“One in which we are gods,” said Tarak. “Forget about genetic equilibrium; we shall transcend in ways beyond anyone’s comprehension.”

“The people will always listen to you, Commandant,” said Kuralan.

“It may seem impossible,” began Laskov, “but in about twenty years—our physicists estimate—the dimensional gateway will be operational. Then together as a nucleus we shall transcend and evolve as we were always meant to.”

Ethan gave them a faint nod, but it was a lie. He had always agreed with the tribunal. Yet, after hearing his orders, he became disgusted with them. They were old, pompous dictators who defied death; they had lived for so long that they could no longer recognize how precious life in its innate state was. And they were certainly no longer capable of experiencing empathy—the human condition that allowed people to understand one another. In their arrogance, they would destroy the tower of mankind, forgetting that its foundation was the very nature surrounding them.

“Never!” cried out Flint Cross, rising from the chair that the tribunal had allowed him to sit in. He gazed at the relics of mankind with fury. “I will never betray humanity!”

The tribunal disintegrated, and every object in the room started to wither away. Slowly, the military emblem crinkled and fell, flapping down with holes due to age; then it dissolved on the rusty floor. Afterwards, the lights flickered and blacked out. Flint stood alone in the derelict chamber. With the exception of hearing his heart pound madly, it was silent in the room. Not a second later, he heard someone clapping behind him. He turned around, looking at Ethan—a slightly younger version of himself.

“Now you understand why you’re on this backwater planet,” said Ethan.

“No!” bellowed Flint, his voice resonating.

He awoke on his comfortable bed in Soalace, screaming hysterically. Flint wept, filled with despair. Now he understood everything; he defied the tribunal for the sake of humanity. It didn’t matter to him if his orders were from a god. He simply couldn’t replace it within himself to take away others freedom and play with their lives. And so he did the impossible: he ignited a revolution to overthrow the tribunal. The war that he’d ignited against the military—against the tribunal—was the final, ultimate war in the history of mankind.

And despite the outcome, the war wasn’t over just yet. Oh no, thought Flint with the rage of a demon, they will all pay dearly for this treachery. Flint got off his bed, almost falling on the floor. He limped forward, briefly staggering, and strode out of his room. Flint ran into the Core, screaming and crying in an ululating tone.

“Pardashan!” he cried out, falling on the catwalk. “Pardashan!”

No one had ever seen Flint act this way. He’d been living in Soalace for a little over two years, and not once did the steamwalkers think he would ever break down like this. He’d always been known as Heart of the Core, the most dedicated man. Now he lay on the floor, screaming as though he’d lost his mind. Even his best friend, Gunthrel, approached in a wary manner, startled by his behavior.

Flint continuously cried out for Pardashan. But his lamenting voice was more than just an outcry; it was a voice filled with regret, hatred, release, and fear. If this were any other man who was pitifully weeping on the floor, Gunthrel would have instantly locked him up. However, the man before him was Flint Cross—Heart of the Core. And he was also his best friend. He felt he had no choice but to take him to Pardashan.

Within the next hour, Flint had managed to calm down from his sudden outburst. He sat outside the throne room with bloodshot eyes. After waiting a few minutes, Gunthrel approached and signaled him to enter. Feeling relieved, he entered Pardashan’s chamber.

“Thank you for seeing—”

“I’m not doing this as a favor,” interrupted Pardashan, sitting on his throne. “I only agreed because Gunthrel said you were screaming like a madman.”

“I’m sorr—”

“Do not interrupt me, Heart of the Core,” said Pardashan sternly. “Yes, I know all about your merry life down in the abyss. It’s quite romantic and utopian. But I do not care what you do with your life. You chose to stay here for these two...three years, however long it’s been. I really don’t remember, nor do I give a damn.”

“But—”

“If you interrupt me again,” began Pardashan, his veins bulging, “I will throw you out of my city.”

This time Flint remained silent.

“You once helped me during that accident down in the arena, and I in turn helped you. From that point on, we were even. I do not play favoritism. No one sees me anytime they want, not even Gunthrel. I am the ruler of Soalace. Everyone bows down to me and only me. Maybe you think you’re some hero down in the Core, but you’re only one of thousands keeping the city alive. So what if you finally lost your mind? So what if you croak and die? We never needed you before, and we don’t need you now. Is that understood, Heart of the Core?”

“No,” replied Flint, clenching his teeth and walking closer to the steps of the throne. “No, it’s not understood.”

“Eh?” uttered Pardashan, surprised by his reaction.

“I am a man of freedom,” said Flint. “In my world, there are no dictators or tribunals. I’m done with the abyss. From this day forward, I will no longer answer to anyone. And if I suffer or die because of this, so be it. I die a free man.”

Pardashan laughed. “Were you down there for three years rehearsing to say this to me? Just where do you think you live, heaven?” He laughed again and then abruptly stopped, glaring at Flint as though he were ready to kill him. “Earth is dead. The sun is dead. There is nothing outside of these walls but death. Soalace is the only home left for humanity. And even this sacred sanctum is dwindling because of the lurkens that are gradually growing in numbers. It is only a matter of time before they invade my city and destroy the remnants of humanity.”

“Is that what you want?” asked Flint. “I can help you.”

“Help?” responded Pardashan, trying not to laugh.

“I remember the man I used to be,” said Flint. “I remember my past and purpose. That’s right, I remember everything. And I know of a beautiful world far away from this dead planet that would ensure your survival.”

“You must be senile,” said Pardashan. “Yes, you’ve finally lost it.”

“You know very well that I’m not insane. The planet is called Vorilian IV, and I helped colonize it before the tribunal betrayed me.”

Pardashan raised an eyebrow, a dubious yet curious expression on his face.

“They wanted to take away the soul of man and bury it,” added Flint, his hands faintly trembling.

“And let me guess, you chose to fight for it?”

“You know the kind of man I am,” said Flint. “You may hate it, but this is how I’ve been from the beginning. I have always defended freedom. The tribunal decided to take that away, and I chose to fight for it. My war isn’t finished yet, Pardashan. I tried to start over, but my memories won’t let me.” He curled his hands and continued, “Help me leave this chasm—help me build a starship based on your steam and soal technology. If you do this, I promise I’ll guide all of you to paradise.”

For the first time, Pardashan gulped heavily and stared at Flint with hope. “Perhaps some of your words have truth,” he said. “However, thousands of years have passed since we withdrew into the undertunnels. It may be too late for us.”

“It’s never too late,” said Flint. “We can help each other.”

Pardashan grimly shook his head. “To build a steamship worthy of taking us to the stars, we’d need a tremendous amount of soal and, most importantly, titanium.”

“It seems like you have more than enough soal to me.”

“The problem lies with titanium,” said Pardashan. “The foundation of Soalace is from the superior metal. Since the lurkens have grown so far in numbers throughout the undertunnels, we can no longer mine it to expand.”

“Then we fight for it.”

“Are you insane?” shouted Pardashan.

“Many seem to think I am, but I’m not. I still have a few years left in me, and if a sixty-two-year-old man is willing to fight for it, then I’m sure your people will be up for the challenge too.”

Pardashan stared at Flint with a crazed look. “In all my years, I have never met a man so hell-bent on helping others. Why are you doing this?”

“The simple answer: I need you, and you need me,” said Flint. “The complicated answer: I don’t like leaving something unfinished, especially when the universe is at stake. The tribunal killed my beloved Hamarah, took away my soul, and left me to rot on this dead planet. This is not acceptable. But more than anything, an old aboriginal friend of mine once told me that there is one thing more important than love—one thing that’s above love.”

“And what’s that?”

“Duty,” said Flint.

Pardashan exhaled, rose from his throne, and stepped down to where Flint stood. What he’d been told was hard to believe. Yet something within his gut told him that Flint was telling the truth. After all, what sane surface dweller would ever believe that a city exists deep within Earth? Surely the opposite could be said: what sane under-dweller would ever believe that a city could exist in outer space?

“A land where no lurkens can harm us ever again?”

“A land where no lurkens can harm us ever again,” repeated Flint, nodding. “I will lead you and your people out of this hellhole and guide you all to paradise.”

For the first time since they had met, they shook hands. This was the end of Pardashan’s tyranny. Taking a leap of faith, he lifted Flint from the Core and gave him the rank he had in his previous life—Commandant. From this point on, they decided to work together to build a steam-powered starship that would guide them to Vorilian IV. Before doing so, however, they would first need an insurmountable supply of titanium, and that meant dealing with the lurkens.