♦ Synthetic.
Time is a warped thing: seldom static, always fluid.
Compact, at times. The universe is bold, a vivid
medley of cause & effect. Statuesque, he remains
seated in his throne, legs crossed with poise. He’s
ruthless, because he must be. He’s cold, because
his body’s been hollowed out.
He feels immortal on this slice of Elysium, watching
the species slaughter one another so maliciously. He
studies them in the grand paradox of a Roman senator
witnessing the fall of gladiators.
A hand swipes aside a screen. Ashes flutter down to
the ground. He misses the rain, but humanity had to
leave her crib to explore the great unknown. Fire light
years away flickers on the panel. The room is dark &
cool, reminiscent of a cave. No escape. This is Hades’
domain.
A ship explodes. It’s a supernova of color. Lives lost, all
expendable. He ordered them to death. They’re nameless,
soulless. They sacrified themselves for Cerberus. For
Humanity.
His smile is a muscle spasm.
He’s given up his name.
Who am I, who am I?
I am, I am–
No one.