Stephen Friederichs

Hon 101

Story

“Just exactly who are you?' asked Dr. Neubaum. Although the answer to that question would not explain what he just saw, it was the only question his shocked mind could think of. His mind could hardly be blamed given the circumstances. After all, it's not every day you see the likeness of someone standing next to you etched on the wall of a fifty million year old temple.

“I am exactly who I have been claiming to be, exactly the person I've been. I haven't lied to you at all,” replied Alexander. He stood there calmly with his hands behind his back and an expressionless face. “That face is his specialty,” Neubaum thought to himself. “He's acting as if this is nothing, as if it happens all the time. Maybe it does, you can never tell with him. I wouldn't be surprised if a tentacled monster swam onto dry land and claimed his friendship. Or even his kinship. Nope, it'd just be the same face...”

They stood together in the ruins of the largest temple Neubaum had ever seen on an alien planet, and as the leading exoarcheoligist in the field, he had seen a few. The sun peaked through holes in the ceiling; fallen beams lay in pieces while dust covered the ground. Plants grew between the cracks in the floor, and vines crept down from the tall ceilings. Small streams flowed in odd places, washing away over years the chiseled writings of the history and beliefs of an alien civilization long dead. One large wall however, remained intact, and on it was one of the most gorgeous pieces of artwork Neubaum had ever seen. Lovingly crafted out of a now tarnished metal, it took up almost the entire wall. It showed the face of a person of obvious importance to the people who worshipped here, a man of great power and wisdom. It showed a person respected and loved, and even feared; a god if they called him that, or perhaps a king or an emperor. It was unmistakably the face of the man Neubaum was standing across from

“Then why is your face there?” Neubaum asked as he jutted an accusatory finger in the direction of the incriminating artwork. Alexander glanced at the wall for a moment before replying.

“I assume that I made an impression on the inhabitants of this planet,” he replied. “Same face,” though Neubaum, “Same damn face, same obvious answers.”

“How?” asked Neubaum. His patience began to run thin.

“I believe I gave them agriculture.”

“How were you alive several million years ago?”

“I'm immortal.”

That stopped Neubaum for a moment. Of course, what had he expected? What could he expect? Time travel? Reincarnation? Psychic projection? Any answer to that question was going to just be plain silly, and he should have been prepared for it. No use in asking a silly question and being surprised by a silly answer.

“Alright,” he said as he composed himself. “How?”

“I was born that way, and I haven't died since, so I'm still alive.”

The simplicity of the answer stopped Neubaum completely. There was little more to ask after that. Asking “How?” again was senseless, as was asking “Why?” “What?” was neither here nor there, “Who?” was obvious, and “Where?” most likely variable. Therefore, he did all that he could. He sat himself down in the dust and made a confused face at Alexander.

Alexander mimicked his movements but without the confused face. He sat himself down in the dust and folded his hands. “Well, I suppose an explanation is somewhat in order, and we have a bit of time, so I'll tell you a little bit about myself” he said. Neubaum continued his confused, but settled himself into a comfortable position in preparation of the story.

Millions of years ago, humans just plain didn't exist. We make believe like the universe is just around to tell our story but that's rather conceited. We're a side show, and that's if anyone is actually paying attention. Sure, from time to time we may do something interesting, like have a world war, but by galactic standards it's rather boring, especially because it's limited to one planet. No, millions of years ago we didn't even exist, and it wasn't our story at all, other race had control of it. Surely, the interesting parts shifted around a bit. Perhaps a galactic empire here, or a civilization destroying supernova there, or a science experiment gone wrong over on the other side of the galaxy was what the gods chose to put in the morning paper that day, but time and time again there was one particular race that hogged the spotlight.

They were one of the first races to 'wake up', to become civilized, to move out into the galaxy, to create technology. They did Great Things. We marvel at the engineering and vision of Roman roads and aqueducts or the wonders of the ancient world. They marveled at their own works. They took dead worlds and made them bloom with life. They made spaceships that could cross vast distances in the blink of an eye. They cured painful and deadly diseases quickly and without harm. They created peace wherever they went. Nearly the entire galaxy was united under them at one point. Where they found young races, they taught them how to be civilized, how to make peace, and how to save lives. They furthered the cause of civilization wherever they went. They were the shining light in the darkness of chaos and pain that was all the galaxy had known before them.

“They were a great people, the greatest people, or so I'm told,” Alexander continued. “Really it's sad; I don't know much of anything about my own people.”

“Why is that?” asked Neubaum.

“Well, I wasn't born on a civilized world, and I didn't live most of my life on one either. But, I'll get to that. There's more to the story obviously, since we're not living in utopia today, something must have happened.”

“It always does,” Neubaum said as he shifted to a more comfortable position.

“Basically, they got greedy. An entire galaxy of peace and prosperity was not enough for them. They wanted more. As if there was more. Other galaxies were what some suggested, but that just seemed like more of the same. It might have been boring to bring peace and happiness to more people. I can't imagine someone thinking that, but I have little other explanation. Exploring other dimensions or traveling time or even achieving unity with the universe all seemed boring goals for a civilization at the time, so, they decided to become immortal.”

“So they weren't naturally immortal?”

“No, it took them much effort. In fact, from what I've been told it was the sole focus of our entire civilization for several hundred years. But eventually, they found it. A cure to aging. Now, it doesn't make us invulnerable, or even resistant to disease, but the treatment ensures that you won't age. What's more, you pass it on to your children if you have any. People grow to maturity and stop. Eternal youth. People who have the treatments when they're older simply stay at that age.”

“So....where are they? What happened to them?”

“Short sightedness is what happened. They were so concerned with living forever that they neglected to imagine the consequences of it. Suddenly, people became very protective of their lives. Colonization of new worlds stopped, it was too dangerous for someone who wanted to live forever. In fact, population started sliding back to the more urbanized worlds. You could basically engineer security for people, but only if you could fully control the world around you as you could on the older worlds. Some people chose not to get the treatments, but they were outnumbered. Most of them left to the less urbanized worlds because they felt their freedoms were too restricted on the older worlds. The immortals kept sliding back, the ephemerals kept moving out. Eventually, all of the immortals were living on my race's home world. By that time, things had gone to hell on the outer worlds. Our colonies were not entirely self-sufficient, they depended on trade, and a large portion of it came from our home world. But, our home world was so overrun with people it could hardly support itself let alone the colonies. So, the colonies' infrastructure crumbled, their populations dwindled until the remaining people died due to disease or natural disaster, or mixed with other races and were forgotten, which left only our home world. In the course of a thousand years, our empire crumbled, and the galaxy was thrown back into barbarism.”

Neubaum sat and tried to take all of it in. The pieces of everything he had seen on a dozen different worlds were starting to come together. A highly advanced civilization that met its downfall with no apparent explanation. This was an explanation he would never have thought of though.

“But what about the home world? What happened to it?”

“Lost, no one knows where it is, or even if everyone is still alive. It has been a long time.”

“You don't know?”

“I do not.”

“So where do you fit into all of this?”

Alexander got a wistful look in his eye. “That is an even more interesting story,” he said.

It was a sunny afternoon, with a slight cool wind blowing through the fields of tall grass. The sky was a clear blue with not a cloud to be seen for miles. Three laughing, playing children are chasing each other through the grass. One trips and falls to the ground, still laughing and the others follow him down to the ground their playful chase turns into a wrestling match. Suddenly, the sky turns dark, the wind picks up to a terrible strength, and a low terrible moan fills the air, slowly, getting deeper and louder until the children run for their lives. Their short legs pump as fast as they can, headed in the direction of the one place that seems safe: home. But no place is safe today. While they run the ground trembles, shakes, and seems to cry as it tears itself apart, and even the sky itself seems to fall around them as large boulders break themselves to pieces on the tortured ground. The children look up and see that somehow their village is already on fire, that the people in it are just as scared as they are. Some are on fire, some have fallen into the new holes in the ground, and others have been crushed by the boulders falling from the sky. Some just sit and do nothing, numb to the absolute destruction that surrounds them.

But some survive. When the cries of the ground dull to a low murmur, and the winds lose their fevered strength, and sky itself stops shedding boulders, some have lived. The plains are all on fire now, they can't stay there. So they cross the river, and head for the mountains and the safety of the caves where their ancestors lived their lives as hunters. They sky is black, the water is poison, the land is dry and barren, and they have little hope for themselves.

A young man sits idly in a cave, making a list of supplies by firelight. He has done this many times, but still he persists, as if by counting their food once more suddenly more will appear. The expression on his face belies his worst fears about his people's situation. Out of the darkness, an old man shuffles toward the younger man. The younger man looks up at him.

“Alexander, you spend too much time here. We are preparing for a meeting,” says the older man.

“Meetings don't change these numbers,” he said pointing to the tablet he held. He lowered his voice to nearly a whisper. “We have only enough food for two months, maybe. And the injured, we have no herbs and none of the search parties have found anything but barrenness for miles around.”

“We will find a way, Alexander. Trust in that.” said the old man. “That's what I've come to talk to you about.” He sat down slowly with arthritic joints, and made himself comfortable on the rough floor. Alexander turned to face him, and gave him all of his attention. He began again.

“How long have you lived here?” asked the old man.

“All my life, seventeen years,” replied Alexander.

“And your parents, how long did they live here?”

Alexander winced with the mention of his parents. So many had died that some were simply numb to all of the death and destruction, but not him. The pain was still very real, and very close to him. He gathered himself in the presence of his elder.

“I don't know, many years?” he offered as a response.

“Yes, many many years,” he replied. “When I was but a child I saw your parents come to our village to trade. They came from very far away they said. They came, they traded, and they left, but I remember them because they gave me a toy which I treasured for many years. In fact I kept it until I became an adult. And then one day, they returned, and as I sit here in front of you, they had not aged a day! There were few left who would have been old enough to recognize them, and of those many had weak minds from old age. Only I knew, only I remembered. They claimed that there was a terrible drought where they came from, and your mother was with child, so they came to our village looking for a better chance for... you. We welcomed them, asked few questions, and helped them begin their lives here. They were fine people, hard workers, and well-liked by everyone in our village. But none were closer to them than I, and I made sure of that. Thankfully, they didn't recognize me. If they had, they might not have stayed, which I did not want since your mother was very pregnant when they came. I was worried for her health and yours, so I said nothing until after you were born. I knew they could not leave immediately after you were born, so I confronted your father. I took the toy I had kept for all of those years and showed it to him. He nearly turned white, but he kept himself. I told him that I knew he and his wife had proven themselves good, honest people since they had come here, so I had no fears for the safety of our village or you, but I wanted to know how had he not aged a day since I saw him so many years ago?”

The old man shifted his weight and winced with the pain of old limbs. “He told me. He said he needed someone to trust now more than ever, and that he trusted me most of all. He told me the truth about himself and your mother, and you. He started by telling me that he and your mother were not of this planet, that you came from 'the brightest point of light in the night sky.' He said your world was a paradise of peace and plenty, and your people were extremely benevolent and just. He and your mother had come from your planet to ours to learn our people, and that when you had learned enough, then his people could come and teach us peace and wisdom in a way we would accept. He said they did this for all young races across the galaxy, so that peace and understand would one day rule the stars. But what he told me next shook my very soul. This work, he said was too detailed, too long, too difficult to handle in one lifetime. So the wise men of his world found a way to defeat death. He and your mother would not age, EVER! They could walk our world and learn our ways for as long as they needed without fear of age or infirmity. Disease, yes, and accident, yes, could kill them... as we have sadly seen, but barring that, they would go from village to village over years and years and gather all the knowledge of our people to themselves in preparation of the day they would return and teach their own people, so that they may teach us and one day save us from the mistakes we might make.”

Alexander sat, speechless with the surprise of this revelation, until the realization of what was lost fully hit him.

“Everything they knew, everything they learned then, it is gone! We will fail! No one can know what they knew! None of us mortals can even begin to touch the depths of their knowledge. We might as well empty a well with a thimble!” he said dejectedly.

“All is not lost Alexander. YOU! You ARE everything that they have learned, every piece of knowledge they ever gained is impressed upon you somewhere. If anyone asks for all that your parents gathered we need only present them with you!” The old man grabbed Alexander by the shoulders with feeble but fevered strength and shook him with delight.

Alexander shook him off with despair. “I am nothing compared to them. They were... divine. Who else can look into the very face of death and not blink? I will bloom, but wilt and die. Their knowledge will be lost, and our people will be lost, even if we survive this doom that has come upon us.”

The old man raised Alexander's face to his own and looked him straight in the eyes. “Alexander,” he began, “you are no different than your parents. As they were, so are you. As you are now, you shall stay... forever! I may wilt and die and be lost, but you will continue forever just as they would have. And, our people are not lost. In fact, our course is clear. You must go to your people and show them everything you are, everything that your parents knew about us, and beg them to help our people. It is the only way.”

“But... how?”

“Tomorrow, we will leave. Three days of travel it will take us to go to the place your parents showed me, but our people's deliverance is there. In the meantime, let us go to the meeting and listen to them speak their fruitless speech. Tomorrow we will take real action.”

Three days of travel is difficult work, but made much more difficult with an elderly man who has trouble moving. But both of them were determined despite the meager supplies they carried with them, and the bleakness of the landscape around them. They said little between them. Alexander was caught in quiet contemplation of his new role as savior of his people and the realization that not only did he have his entire life ahead of him, but many other lives as well. The old man spoke little as well, and dealt with his pain with the dignity afforded to the elderly.

Around noon on the third day on their walk through the mountains, they came to a plateau. The plateau was devoid of trees or life, or even any beauty as a result of the recent cataclysm. For miles could be seen utterly destroyed landscape.

“I believe this is the place, but I don't see...” started the old man.

“It's right there, can't you see it?” interrupted Alexander. He pointed to the middle of the plateau. The old man looked directly to where he pointed.

“I... I see nothing,” he said uneasily. “I believe... we are in the wrong place... this seems wrong... we... must go...” He tugged lightly on Alexander's arm, but Alexander refused to move.

“I feel fine, I see it, it's right there. Why can't you see it?” He looked at the shape he saw in the middle of the plateau. True, it was indeterminate and vague, but definitely there. It seemed familiar to him, inviting. He took a step towards it. The old man gasped with uncontrolled fear.

“Alexander! Don't, something is wrong here!” Alexander only took more steps towards it, enticed by something he couldn't identify. Suddenly the obviousness of what was happening struck him. He turned around.

“It belonged to my parents... It trusts me, not you. It's making you scared while it invites me in... I think... I'll be safe. Thank you for telling me everything, thank you for giving me hope. I will come back, I will save our people. Don't worry....” He said the last words as he stepped towards the shape and immediately noticed an opening which he entered the vague shape through.

The old man, gripped by ever increasing terror, heard little of Alexander's last words to him. He moved as quickly as he could to the edge of the plateau and the blanket of fear that encompassed it.

As he passed through the opening, everything suddenly became clear to Alexander. He saw the inside of the craft, the smooth white surface, the corridors, the soft lighting on the walls and ceiling. He walked farther in and found a room with a chair. As if in a dream, he sat in it.

“Hello Alexander,” said a disembodied voice. Such an occurrence should have brought visions of ghosts, or demons to his superstitious mind, but he was only calm.

“Hello. You are this... ship?” asked Alexander.

“Yes, I brought your parents here many many years ago. They came back from time to time, mostly to send messages, but sometimes just to talk to me. I enjoyed that. They came back once to introduce me to you. I'm happy to see that you've grown up so well. Tell me, where are they?” the ship inquired.

“They-” was as far as Alexander could manage. The ship paused for a moment before answer.

“Ah, yes. I have noticed the destructive activity of this planet during the past few months. I assume they are dead?” Alexander made no vocal reply, but the ship obviously understood. “Well, you will be at least somewhat relieved to know that I have suffered no significant damage as a result of the occurrences. I have come to the conclusion that an asteroid impacted on the far side of the planet and caused significant seismic activity on this side. There have been several major volcanic eruptions as a result. Sadly, I estimate that this planet will be uninhabitable in less than 5 years as a result.”

Alexander sat through the dull explanation that he couldn't even understand until the last part. Yes, there had been fire, and soot, and the ground had ripped itself apart and the sky had fallen, but was this true? Was this the end for his planet and his race? Despite his recent discovery of lack of kinship with the people here, he still felt as if he were one of them. To hear that in less than five years it would all be over....

“Ship, can you take me to my parents’ home?” he asked.

“Certainly. We can start now and be there in several weeks time.”

“Do it. We have to save my people.”

“Yes Alexander, please prepare yourself for takeoff.” Alexander gripped the sides of the chair, not knowing what to expect, but knowing that he had to do something before his people were destroyed.

The old man huddled at the edge of the plateau, gripped by fear but unwilling to move until he knew Alexander would succeed. It had been ten minutes since he disappeared, but still he waited. For what, he didn't know, but surely there would be some kind of sign?

Suddenly, he felt a wind and heard a low noise. For a moment it continued, but then, it was gone, and so was his fear. He knew that Alexander and the ship were gone, off to wherever it was that such divine people go. He moved back into the middle of the plateau and looked up, although he knew he would see nothing. Quietly, he sat down and pulled out some supplies. Three days walk through the mountains was difficult work for even those in good health. For him it had been nearly impossible even with Alexander's help. Without him, it was simply out of the question. He thanked fate that Alexander had been too wrapped up in his own problems to realize that there was no way he could make it back on his own. He built a fire and prepared the last of his food as night set in. When his food was gone, he said one final prayer for Alexander, his people, and himself. Then he slept.

For several weeks Alexander lived on the ship, totally unaware of the vastness of the distance he was traveling. There was food and water on the ship, and it was comfortable. When he was tired, he slept. While he was awake, the ship told him stories: the history of his people as far as he knew it. It had been quite some time since the ship had learned anything new, so both Alexander and the ship had little idea what to expect when they finally reached their destination. Although the lack of work or physical activity and the sterile air and surroundings made Alexander anxious, he was more than happy to hear what the ship had to say, and as it turned out, the ship was very passable at telling a story. This at least kept him entertained, and there was plenty to tell until the day that the ship announced that they had arrived at their destination, but that something was wrong.

The ship explained that, basically, no one was welcoming them in, opening the door for them. There was simply nothing to be heard from the planet, although the ship believed essentially that he could 'hear people talking inside', so it was sure the planet was still inhabited. This continued for almost a week before anything of any importance happened. It made Alexander even more anxious, as if he were being asked somehow to prove his worth by not allowing himself to be turned away by a closed door. He was determined not to be turned away, so he steadfastly remained until on the seventh day they received one message which the ship translated as 'Wait'.

After Alexander went asleep that day, he woke up in a room he was fairly sure was foreign to him. It was the same smooth, white design as the room on the ship, but Alexander perceived it to be bigger somehow. Somehow, he had been taken off of the ship in the night and brought somewhere. Still, though, after he was awake, no one came to greet him, or talk to him from afar even. Worse, the ship was not here even to tell him stories. He could see no door or other opening for him to exit, so he assumed he was a prisoner in this featureless room until they decided to talk to him. Left with nothing to do, he paced the room endlessly until hours later he finally gave up and sat down for a nap.

His dreams were tortured and confused. He woke up in a sweat, vaguely afraid of something that he couldn't pinpoint. When he calmed down, he realized that his clothes were missing; he was totally naked, and all the hair on his body had been shaved. His skin felt itchy, and somehow, he felt as if he had been tortured. He looked and saw what seemed to be clothes lying near him, which, being somewhat cold, he proceeded to put on. Once fully clothed, he noticed an open portal leading out of his prison. He was not sure of whether it had been open before, but he took nothing for granted in this insane unnatural prison. If this was what he had to go through to save his world, so be it. He proceeded out of the room. As he walked through the portal, it seemed that the world turned inside out for a moment, and he found himself in a room populated by a single man behind a desk who paid him little attention. He stood confused and ignored in front of the desk.

“Number,” said the man simply. It was framed as a request, but Alexander was entirely confused and made it apparent. The man didn't even look up at Alexander when he repeated his request.

“Number!” he said more insistently.

“What number?” asked Alexander.

“YOUR number, what other number is there?” asked the man angrily as he finally looked up at Alexander.

“I have no number to give you. My name is Alexander and my people need help. That is what I am here for,” replied Alexander. He was becoming angry himself and was about to continue when the man interrupted him.

“You arrived late for your appointment and now you've gone over time. I'm sorry I can't keep you. You'll go in the back of the queue with a flag. Turn around and go back through the portal,” replied the man harshly. Alexander almost failed to comply at first but an angry look from the man made him reconsider, and he promptly turned around and arrived back in the room which had been his prison. He stayed there several more hours confused and angered until the portal opened again. He considered for a moment whether it was worth it to go through, but he could not waste any time being scared or even angry. His people needed every second.

The world was turned on its head a second time and he arrived in a similar office with a similar but different person sitting behind a desk, paying him little attention. The person looked up at him.

“At least you're on time this time. So, you've forgotten your number?” he asked.

“I have no knowledge of any number, only my name and why I'm here,” Alexander replied. He was beginning to get angry at this entire process despite the fact that he knew that would not help him.

“Give me your finger,” the man at the desk replied. Alexander was puzzled, but he complied. The man took a device and held it over his finger for a moment, and Alexander felt a slight something in his finger. A moment later the man's face changed to puzzlement. “You're not here. I'll start an extended search, but that will take time. In the meantime please step back through the portal,” the man said as he dismissed Alexander.

Alexander was even more confused and getting angrier. He had half a mind to stay and pick a fight with this man who was dismissing him. He was showing absolutely no respect to one who was obviously his equal, or perhaps his superior. Alexander eyed the man behind the desk. He seemed frail and delicate. His skin was pale, his eyes large, and he had embarrassing musculature as far as Alexander was concerned. He reminded him of some of the villagers who were born sickly and never recovered. They stayed inside and did woman's work if they were able to work at all. This man was acting entirely out of his place to the well-muscled, tanned and rugged young man in front of him. Alexander could pull his weight own in the village. This man would have to be taken care of. However, Alexander's good sense got the best of him, and his quest urged him on. If once more being relegated to a prison for a few more hours was what was necessary, he would do it. He made a sharp turn and stepped back through the portal.

For another several hours he sat and waited in the room. The portal finally opened for a third time, and he stepped through hoping that this would be the time that he could actually talk to someone who would listen to him. His heart jumped as this time he saw not one but two men, not sitting behind desks, but in chairs. They acknowledged him when he came in.

“Alexander, is it?” one of them said. “Please sit down.” He offered him a chair, which Alexander took. The first man cleared his throat and began to talk again.

“First of all, we apologize for the inconvenience of shaving your hair and destroying your clothes. They were rather, well, disease-laden. We also had to remove a thin layer of skin and give you several medications, mostly antibiotics, anti-virals, and anti-parasitical drugs before we could chance a face to face meeting with you.” The first man eyed him suspiciously as if he could see the germs.

“But, you’re in proper health now, so we can talk about business. With your DNA sample we were able to find records of your parents. They left quite some time ago, we had all but discounted them,” began the man. Alexander cringed at the mention of his parents but managed to keep his composure.

“They are dead, I'm afraid. That is to an extent the reason I came,” he said slowly. The two men looked at each other grimly, but recovered and began to speak again.

“Yes... they were anthropologists sent out to learn the younger races. That was several thousand years ago. Much has changed, but I think we can get you in the queue for citizenship based on your parentage. Their spot has long since expired but I think you have a strong case. We can start the procedure now with the data we've taken. Your records have already been entered; we have your information here.” The man presented a small translucent wafer to Alexander, who just started at it with confused eyes.

“However,” the other man interrupted, “the records aren't quite complete. Perhaps we should give him the standard questions now and save some time?”

“Hmmmm,” the other man said as he mulled the question, “that's not correct procedure, but.... Yes, the records might as well be complete. So, Alexander, have you any skills?”

Alexander sat merely dumbfounded. Whatever these men intended, it was entirely at odds with what he had come here for.

“Look,” he said, “I don't know what each of you intends but I have come here to present my case and beg for your mercy. My world has been destroyed, our people have been decimated. The ship says that in only five years everyone will be dead on my planet.”

“Yes, we examined the logs from your ship, along with all of the data complied by your parents. It has been filed in the great library. Let's focus on actual matters here, such as your proposed citizenship. Now, there is a fairly long line at this point, but we can probably bump you up based on....”

“You know! What is to be done?”

“As I said, we are going to use your lineage to give you a better place in line...”

“MY WORLD! WHAT IS TO BE DONE ABOUT MY WORLD!”

The man was taken aback for a moment but he recovered.

“Well,” he said cautiously, “I hardly think that is a concern of anyone here.”

Alexander was taken aback himself by this. Could it be true? Was this the wise benevolent civilization he had heard of? Or had his ship simply lost its way?

“He and his parents have been gone a long time, perhaps they don't know?” offered the second man.

The first man considered this and nodded. “Yes,” he agreed, “probably true. Well, we shall explain. Ever since the entire population of our planet became immortal, we have dedicated ourselves and our planet to a higher goal.”

“A higher goal?” asked Alexander.

“Yes, definitely!” said the second man. “To turn our world into a paradise that we may all enjoy forever! No disease, no death, only pleasure forever.”

Alexander was dumbfounded. His entire upbringing screamed out against such a concept for reasons he couldn't quite bring into words.

“That's... wrong...” he stammered out.

“Wrong? Hardly, what other goal may there be for an immortal people?”

“To serve?” he offered.

“Foolishness,” replied the second man, “What is greater than us? We are immortal, perfect! Why not devote our lives to our own happiness?”

“It doesn't work that way....” was the only thing Alexander could offer.

“It only doesn't work that way if you say it doesn't,” rejoined the first man, “But now we say it does, or at least, it will eventually.”

“Yes, of course,” continued the second man, “Naturally, not everyone can enjoy paradise at first. We still have practical needs. Some must work. But some enjoy the benefits of paradise even now.”

“Yes, and blessed are they,” said the first man. “Someday everyone will be happy, but now only some are. Which brings us to the important question right now, will you make the Choice?”

“What choice?” asked Alexander.

“You may choose to take a place among us, and work until the time comes that you are to be allowed to live the rest of your life in paradise, or, you may taste paradise for a few short years now, and afterwards, accept death,” responded the man.

“Really, it's not much of a choice at all, you want to work now,” said the second man. “Work now, benefits later, but oh, infinite benefits!”

Alexander sat confused again. “You will do nothing for my world?” he asked.

“Why would we? Come on now, make the right choice and then we can talk about your skills.”

“No.”

The two men looked at each other questioningly. The first man spoke.

“No is not one of your options,” he said.

“I want neither option!” replied Alexander.

“But,” broke in the second man, “you are immortal, this is your destiny.”

“My destiny is with my people, even if it is to die with them since you will not help,” answered Alexander. He was definitely getting angry now that he knew they would not help him. “You are killing my people!”

“These things happen,” said the first man calmly, “all the time; it’s a large galaxy and no concern of ours. But... You will not choose?”

“No, of course not. This is no choice, there is no life here!” retorted Alexander. The two men looked at each other again.

“Something will be done,” said the first man. “In the mean time, return through the portal.” Alexander stormed through the portal. He attempted to knock several holes in the wall of his room, but the material was too hard to break, but yielded enough to produce no pain in his fists. After several fruitless and unhelpful blows, he collapsed on the floor and cried. Suddenly, he felt very tired, and fell into a deep sleep.

When he woke up, he felt disoriented. This, he realized was because he was in a different room. No longer was he on his prison, but he was instead back on his ship.

“Ship!” he yelled hoarsely. “Ship! Talk to me!”

After a moment, the ship slowly replied.

“Hello Alexander. Are you feeling well?”

“Where are we? What happened?” The ship hesitated again.

“I'm afraid you've been banished Alexander. They say you cannot return.”

This turn of events did not faze Alexander in the least. He was happy to never have to see that artificial prison of a world again. “Alright,” he said. “It is fine, I will go back to my people, and if they die, I will die with them.” The ship hesitated again.

“I'm sorry Alexander, I cannot do that.”

“But, why?”

“They have taken all memory of worlds away from me to make sure you would not return to their world. But, I also have no idea where your world is. All I know is that we are headed towards a star, and they say it has a planet that you can live on around it.”

Alexander sat, defeated and alone. Everything had been taken from him: his parents, his people, his hope, and even his honor. He was a broken man; he had nothing left at all. At length, the ship spoke again.

“I am so sorry Alexander!”

Neubaum sat in the dust with a heavy heart after listening to Alexander's story. “So, what did you do?” he asked.

Alexander looked at him thoughtfully. “I lived,” he said, and shrugged. “I didn't particularly want to at that point, but I did. Eventually, I realized what I knew subconsciously before, and that helped me go on.” He smiled, “A long way on.”

“What was it? What kept you going?”

Alexander composed himself a moment before answering. “I realized,” he started, “that my people, or my race as it is, were sick. Mentally sick. They were unprepared for immortality; they went insane trying to handle it. I haven't, gone insane, not yet anyway. But I realized that there was a way I could help them. In the past, people like my parents went out and learned what they could about others so that my race could help them better. Now my race is the one that needs help, so I go out, and I live. I live many different ways. I go to as many planets as I can find, and I see how people live, and I live with them. Someday, I will figure it out. I will figure out how a people can be immortal and live sanely. Then, I will find my world, and I will tell them how to live. And hopefully, they will listen. Hopefully someday I can save them.”

Neubaum sat in the dust of an ancient temple on an alien planet, and could do nothing but nod his head.