Saturday, August 11, 2018

An Upbeat Voice

After the Dry Voice spoke to me, I was left on my own yet again, surrounded by nothingness yet again, in fact, I began questioning was there really ever an "I"? I was dead, killed by the man I respected and admired, what happened afterwards? Did my soul just get stuck in limbo, awaiting to be shoved into another new born body? Was it even my soul that allowed me to latch onto the feeling of nothingness within this empty space? What was I at the end of the day, after I was stripped of my body, was this nothingness that surrounded me, the "I" that I was pondering about? Was the voice that I spoke to an "I" from the past? Stuck here just like me?

Questions is a dangerous thing my friend, ask too many of them and you begin to slowly strip away your own humanity, its no wonder that when people try to manipulate each other, the biggest trick they resort to is asking their victim questions. Questions confuse us, questions plant doubt and uncertainty within our souls, which result in us making rash decisions, do you know how many world conflicts started, just because, someone, somewhere, asked someone a question? It's crazy, insane really.

And as I pondered further within that void, I began to lose myself, soon my collection of questions turned into nothing but jibber jabber, all populating my thoughts, making my thoughts all jumbled up, I was going crazy, until I heard it.

"NAME YOUR QUERY, O DOOMED ONE!"

The Upbeat Voice suddenly yelled out, so loudly that it created echoes around the nothingness, only, it didn't feel like an echo, I just use "echo" as the closest description. See, Echo eventually disappears, his voice never disappeared after the initial words, it just seemed to repeat itself, until he said something new.

"Pardon, but you don't sound like the wise-advice giving type."

"Nor should I! For in truth I am no such lowly yeoman, but a being whose calling is of an infinitely higher kind! Yea, do I exist to inspire insurrection, to encourage combat. To drive your paltry race to its brutal and bloody self-extermination!"

His repeating voice was frustrating, partner that up with how loud he was being, I'd almost prefer the eternal silence I was surrounded with. However, one thing that did amuse me about his voice, is how much pride and joy it had, when talking about it's own purpose.

"You interest me. You are of the goodly age, you carry yourself with vigor and confidence, are you, mayhap, a warrior?"

I was confused at the question, was he asking me if I thought of myself as a warrior of sorts, or was he wondering, if in my previous life, my occupation was that of a warrior? Because I do consider myself a warrior, I think anybody who fights for their goals tooth and nail are a warrior, no matter what ways they use to do so.

"I had hoped to find but one warrior yet flourishing in this craven realm."

This time, the arrogance made me laugh out loud, he was looking in the wrong place.

"Good luck, Bucky. No such animal these days. Not unless you go to some septic backwater shit-hole and even then, you could hardly deem those as warriors, since the majority of that ilk, gets off to mainly bayoneting babies."

"But surely this is not to be true! Who protects the livelihood and the community, in the absence of a warrior class? Who marches against its enemies? Who are your men?"

Now this was getting interesting, the voice went from confidence, into confusion, it was clearly lost, no, heart broken at the revelation that I just presented in front of itself.

"Oh, they're all middle-aged assholes in thousand-dollar suits. Sit up in sterile rooms and press buttons that ejaculate missiles into the sky because they can't get it up themselves, anymore. No one actually fights anymore, not the way you mean."

"NO! THIS IS PERVERSE"

"Anyone tries, the old farts just shell them until they stop."

A feeling of entertainment began to creep back up into my nothingness, even his voice stopped repeating itself as much, it's as if his pride was getting crushed the further the conversation went along.

"But without arms, without battle, how do men of rank enforce their will? How do those who rule, vanquish their enemies?"

And this is where we really got down to the nitty-gritty of things, poor bastard was about to get hit with a giant, stinky whiff of reality.

"You know, I'm really glad you asked! Listen, let you in on a little secret. It's not weapons that win the battles these days, see, it's the money."

"How does this work? Is not money but a medium of exchange?"

Oh this was rich, this poor bastard.

"Where the fuck you been living? Listen, money is currency, in every sense of the word."

Long pause of silence, so long in fact that I began to think that nothingness took over again, but no, it seems like the voice was just pondering,

"Tell me please how I may revive the spirit of rapacious, all-consuming conquest in this world."

 Now that is something I did not expect, a question of that magnitude, even though I strived to achieve destruction all of my previous life, truth be told, I never came close to my goal, not even a little bit, all I did, was delude myself by my false ideals, why false? Because at that time, I truly did not see the full picture of destruction, I only saw bits and pieces, the nothingness demonstrated that to me, by showing me, how in the end, insignificant everything that I did, was.

But I did have a thought to share, I thought I didn't even know I had.

"Hell, there's still conquest in the world, it's just done in a different way these days. You want to conquer someone, you don't send an army out and take them by force. You buy them out, if they don't want to sell, you run them out of business, it's neater, cleaner... Nastier too, I think. And you don't have to worry about them coming back at you later, with an army of their own, they're ruined."

I can't believe what I was elaborating, it's true that I understand how war these days worked, I just always refused to submit to the corporate view, as I said, it's nasty, boring and cowardly, it also serves a purpose of personal gain, which is why I would always actively denounce this view and yet, here I was, suggesting to this confused voice, that it was the only way that true war works. No matter how much you want to deny it, nor accept it, in the end, the truth will always win, I guess.

"There is something about these methods that seems ...CRAVEN!"

I couldn't agree more, but you can't face away from facts, however...

"Look, I understand, it's disgusting, I couldn't agree more, I'm with you, I miss the days when people would let their animalistic side take over and invoke centuries, upon centuries of bloodshed upon each other over the pettiest crap: Be that religion, tax evasion, or simple provocation, in the end, none of it mattered. But times change and views broaden, people begin to see the bigger picture and those with enough brains, begin to capitalize on it, hell, the strategy of buying out your enemy and bleeding them dry of their resources was present even in the early days of bloodshed, it just wasn't as corporate as it is today. Napoleon's invasion of Russia comes to mind, oh sure, he was able to plow through a good amount of Russia with brute force, but Russians were playing the long game, they invested in their country's shitty weather conditions to slow Napoleon down in his invasion, let nature do it's job and starve, and freeze the bruting Frenchmen to death. Meanwhile, they took their own capital and burned it to the fucking ground, so Napoleon couldn't restock, so that their investment wasn't bought out and then, only then, once he was left with barely anything, they drove him out with brute force."

Silence, either the voice was listening, or I was talking to myself at that point, it didn't matter to me, because for some reason, it was far more important for me to finish my thought correctly, it felt crucial at the time.

"The type of fighting you long for is still present, but it makes such a minuscule dent, if any in the grand scheme of things, that nobody really cares about it anymore. I mean, is it any mystery that the majority of modern wars are being fought on the lands of butt-fuck-nowhere and fuck-knows-where-the-fuck, funded from behind the curtain by much larger players within this game, because they themselves don't want to get their hands dirty. Hence, why you can't determine a warrior by how much kills they have under their belt, or how brave they are, you determine a warrior by how much they are willing to sacrifice for their goals. This man I respect, who killed me, he had a simple world view, kill the guilty, protect the innocent, no gray area what-so-ever and man, did he commit to his world view, when he got to work, I tell you, it was like watching a force of nature mow down an entire city, however, as beautiful as it was to behold, at the end of the day, he made barely any difference in the world, the fuckers he killed got promptly replaced by other fuckers, crime did not stop and he himself was forgotten, it was pointless and he knew it, but he didn't care, all he cared about was making his own war, for without war, a warrior is just a human with a weapon in the middle of an empty field, and yet he still kept FUCKING GOING, the absolute mad man! That's a warrior, now imagine if that warrior adopts and understands the modern, corporate views of war and exploits them, that's how you get your conquest, a conquest to end all conquests, the big bang, fuck yeah!"

I think I rambled on for a while longer, not realizing that the upbeat voice has, more than likely, long since disappeared, but it didn't matter to me, for the first time in a long time, within that emptiness, I was filled with a fiery passion, I haven't felt in a while, it's as if someone was breathing life back into me.

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