I, the son of Bascor Ramirez, pass my days with empty passion and indignity.
(Take #2)
Lemor Ramirez, son of Bascor Ramirez, in a long line of no-good losers passes his empty days in a barber shop in the ground floor of a penta-tower spanning nearly 1000 floors.
(Take #3)
In the year 2150, Ramirez, the ‘Ramirez’, a dried apple of a tree that was felled by the central forces a long time ago. “Rebellion” was the reason as this large family of dissenters from Central Asia rejected the Sino-Nation in late 2050s, for its open use of human-bending technology.
This technology not only allowed physique to be altered but also mental power. In the beginning, as my only remaining grandparent sang in her unique hoarse chord, the Rebellion held their ground despite the disadvantage, employing guerrilla tactics, using the Central Asian terrain to its advantage, bombing the military routes and terrorising the corrupted humans.
Hope was indeed swelling in these mountainous communities. In one of those ‘forgotten’ books, life had been described by these anti-mod community as superfluous, vibrant, violent and most of all charming. ‘It was all .. just damn charming.’ she said. This is what those holding pincers of flesh and bone were striving for, rebelling the forces of change.
The ‘Nation’, after employing an army of super soldiers, lost one battle after another. Nation, while mostly rough and crude in its tactics, still had a raw power dominance. Every soldier unit could lift half a ton without breaking a sweat, I mean coolant fluids. With time, models got even better, sensors enhanced, mobility improved, bullets stronger. No amount of inventive scheming, or artistic nature could prevent the inevitable ‘onslaught’. It was said it all happened in a day.
Walls fell over a sharp cry of a siren. Rebels armed like fools and ran towards the source of light. It began with a beam of light swallowing all those flashing bodies. Then, warm lead rained from the sky. The front file disappeared and it cascaded along the whole platoon of rebels. Within minutes, the whole rebel army got evaporated. And the targets moved towards the civilians. Thousands fled in all directions, some hid. That day, the group lost more than half of its population. A quarter plead for mercy.
The losers were sent to prison, left to rot in those hyper-security prisons. A ‘few’ reformed and modded their entire body, one level above the regular cybo’s, to atone for their ‘sins’.
This is how the story ends and a new chapter begins. Time and time, the new replaces the old, while the latter complains and haunts from its grave.
Damn, that was a long script. Trust me, it shall put words to events that are about to follow. So listen carefully, future dweller, that little nihilist.
x ———————————————————————————————————————– x
(Note: What do you guys think about the nature of the story? I believe it is a beginning of something greater)
My other posts,
Djinn's Cave 
Leave a comment