From behind the station emerged a container, much like the craft I had back at my ruins except bigger and still in one piece. It looked very much like the tanks that dominated until the twenty-third century. It had treads and thrusters instead of anti-gravity plates, armor plating, cannon mountings atop its roof, radio frequency dish. Indeed it looked like a tank, but not. I was surprised that such a craft existed. Silas had been specific that we had to travel all together if we were to reach the Sandmarch.
I hadn't heard that name for almost ten years. It was a nostalgia trip that I wasn't sure I was ready for. Except, I doubted I had a choice in the matter. So, ready or not, here I come. Silas was sure that it was where I could become ready for what I intended to do. Something about an old bunker built before the Fifth War. It was a place where a particular child had been born. But, he was reluctant to say who.
The container pulled out in front of me and honked. Unlike in the earlier centuries, vehicles didn't have retractable windows. Hey, when it came to protecting yourself from the dry earth, you wanted to make sure that wherever you went it was safe. Or, something like that. Earth's resources were quite slim these days.
I got into the craft and was immediately assaulted by Silas' rambling about the useless. "This is the Hazma Battle Jitney. Eleven hundred seventy horses with six two hundred sixteen caliber cannons, it's perfect against marauders."
"Silas, I'm not interested." I retorted. I looked around inside. The size belied what it looked like outside. There were several consoles with the most uncomfortable-looking seats, a bench for soldiers, and a bed. I laid down on the bed, remembering just how little sleep I'd gotten the night before and how long the day had been. "Are we really going to the Sandmarch?" I changed the subject quickly. Something in me shivered. I was just hoping that Silas didn't see it.
"Of course." Came a gruff and low voice from the bench across from the bed. I looked over to see Abryi and Hina sitting awfully close together. "Of course." Abryi repeated. I just shook my head at him. "What?" He noticed.
"Nothing." I said. And, though the tone in my voice said it was everything but nothing, he didn't bother me more about it.
But, Silas on the other hand, well, he was a different person. It was almost as if he didn't understand the tone of leave me alone. "Ever since I mentioned the Sandmarch, you have been quite distant and spaced. What's in the name to you?"
I sighed. I guess it was about time that they learned something about me. I really didn't feel comfortable divulging my past to strangers. But, if they were to understand the significance of the sight they were about to see, I had to tell them, didn't I? "The Sandmarch is the desert that covered the northern half of a country that used to be called the Sandlands. It was a small country in the grand scope of things and very young. Just south of the Sandmarch was a town called Haddock-Upon-the-Desert, founded by my great uncle, Thaddeus Wilfred Haddock, III. That was before the Sandlands fell to the Gyalt Empire."
"The Gyalt Empire?" Hina sounded stunned. "You're one of those refugees?"
I nodded.
"It's no wonder you don't believe in anything very much. It was Emperor Nilas II's fault that its people suffered through the Fifth and Sixth Wars. But, most importantly, he was the reason the automatons were created." She clicked her tongue, whispering to herself, "It's no wonder. No wonder at all." Her spiel was more as a reminder for herself than it was a history lesson for Silas or me.
We didn't talk more about it for a while. Silas just started pulling away from the station. The container passed the ruins of my home, where I saw the cleanup process of people scurrying around like overworked rats in a junkyard, looking for things to steal. Benny wasn't there anymore. If he had revealed any leads, he would have given the information to Silas, probably. The medics went back to the clinic. Not that a hospital would exist in a small hamlet like this. The closest thing was the café, which we also passed by. Mister Nesmith or should I say Nesbeth was in his rocker as always, as if nothing, not even the world turned. It now made sense how he could stand such cold.
As we passed the mayoral mansion, which was nowhere near the mayoral offices, I could see Benny in the window, scribbling something at his desk in his office. I wished I could say goodbye to him. He was my only true friend. But, it would be much harder to leave if I did. So, I just silently prayed that I would return. To whom I prayed, I knew not. I just did.
The container rumbled on. It quickly reached to the end of town. What a town it was consisting only of seven streets. As expected, there was a sign like in most towns for travelers. Not that there are many. It read:
Atlanta's Rest
Population: 346
I was surprised there were that many people living in this shithole. But, if I was lucky, I would return to my shithole. It was the closest thing I knew to home. I didn't really remember Haddock-Upon-the-Desert very well, and I left when Uncle Thaddeus died. I was a refugee upon a refugee. Thank you Sixth War.
We quietly rolled along, down the mountainside, which was no longer rugged from millennia of feet and wind traversing its paths. Roads were built to ease the flow of supplies for the dying empire. Not that it did much for Nilas II's troops. A war on three fronts never goes well. The Sether Kingdom, or what might have been called Poland, and the Republic of Sonenburg-Brandenburg, or yesteryear Belgium and Germany, divvied it into provinces that don't even exist anymore. But, that is for another story.
This land is lawless.
Westward into the wild, we went like the nineteen century pioneers. Except, we didn't have to concern ourselves with those worries of sickness, malnutrition, and natives. Well, maybe the natives. More or less. There were other dangers. Onward to the great desert, the Sandmarch. What once covered the Great Plains in green-blue grasses was now sand. Hey, you can't expect the world's deserts to sit idle. They grow like they have a mind of their own. Or, something like that anyway. A trek of just over fourteen hundred thirty miles, Silas said he could get us there in about twelve hours.
After a while, we passed through another small town and I began to wonder why people bothered living on the edge of the desert. It could be said the same for those living near the oceans. Especially, since most of the polar ice melted about three hundred years ago, only the brave did so.
The town had wells built in the center of almost every square and was much bigger than Atlanta's Rest. That said, it was probably a remnant of the Gyalt Empire. The signpost called the place M'phis. People actually busied themselves in this sweltering heat and dry earth. Nowadays, it was either too cold or too hot. If only people listened to Al Gore.
We stopped for some supplies and breaks we would not get once we were underway in the desert. We rested at a diner. No one said anything to each other. We barely said anything to the waitstaff that came over to take our order.
"You know, the world is nothing more than city-states like the days of ancient Greece." Silas mentioned, suddenly, when the silence became as thick as fog. "It is said that when the last kingdoms stood towards the end of the war, the automatons became unruly and started hunting humans until their master computer, Pandora finally was destroyed."
"I knew that." I answered. "Benny and I fought the automatons together. But, that was many years ago. Besides, I am the one responsible for Pandora's defeat."
"Oh." Abryi countered. "I didn't know we were in the presence of a global hero." I could hear the sarcasm in his voice. I guess I would feel some sort of way since it was the Amali who were responsible for rehabilitating us humans. The Sung'mallyans and Borda only road in on their coattails. The Fratali, Mizokathi, and other groups of our so-called trade partners never showed. "If you saved humanity, then why is it that we had to help your measly race recover from a war you brought upon yourselves?"
I wanted to ignore Abryi. Nothing good would come of answering him. Except, I really felt obliged to save face. After all, he knew nothing. Nothing of the hardships we humans faced. Nothing of what it was like to be in the shadow of our own failings. Nothing. He didn't even know how to find the dignity and decency to maintain his couth in not letting his resentment show. "There's only so much a pair of fifteen-year olds can do."
"Abryi quit interrogating Mara. She's not on trial for humanity. Besides, that is the least of our problems." Hina scolded. I wasn't sure whether or not she wanted to be his mother or his lover. All I know is that she flip-flopped betwixt the two and acted like no one noticed.
Something came to mind with all of Abryi's badgering. "Silas, if Nesbeth lived amongst humanity, why is it he never intervened with any of humanity's self-destruction?"
His answer was, "What kind of parent interferes with every single one of their children's quarrels? Does not a child learn better when they learn to compromise on their own? A parent's job is not to protect their children, but to set the ground for their own decisions." Then, he added, "It's called free will."
Somehow, that answer sounded like a cop-out. It's true, you don't have to force yourself upon your children; but, if you let your children kill themselves, isn't that not neglect? Especially, a god? Do they not flourish on praise? Or, is that a lie like everything else? His answer didn't sit well with me. It found harbour in my breast liking the nagging prick of a needle.
I laughed.
"It's good to see you have a sense of humor." He commented. "I can guess what you're probably thinking and while I'd venture to say that I have the same thoughts as yours, I blimey well don't see how any good it will do thinking about it. We can no more change their doings than we can change the race we were born."
Free will. What was the good in something like that when you see what mortals do with it? I asked myself. If the gods really cared for us mortals, then wouldn't they have actively guided us or was it like the early religions used to say, everything is on faith alone? If faith were something we could count on, something tangible, then wouldn't we have survived better? Or, did they call getting the attention of other races our salvation? I came up with only one answer. Probably. And, to me, that was simply not good enough. Here these beings, with the powers the size of a planet, did not bother taking an interest in us, why should we have to mop up after them? Aren't they powerful enough to have sealed the Great Ones once before, so why can they not do it again? Or, is there something we are missing?
I kept getting this nagging feeling that if I had those answers, I wouldn't like them. But, I needed them. I desperately needed something to tell me why it was something left to the mortals. Something didn't add up and it was making me tired.
"I'm going back to the container. I'm going to lie down." I said abruptly. Abryi went to respond to me but, I just got up and kept walking without even bothering to give him the benefit of a quip.