Chapter 1, Part II

The massive auditorium roared with the shouts of the masses. Every one of the fifty thousand seats were taken, a large number of the spectators cramming themselves into the walkways between the chairs. Despite the large number of military supervising the event, the audience could not be quieted or controlled. This was typical of most major Netopian events – chaotic disorder in the masses.

Today marked the trial of a prisoner, caught breaking into the compound surrounding the palace by night. And even though the authorities had given the public no description of the captive, it was rumored that he glowed white, a feature none had ever seen before.

The masses cheered as a figure stepped onto the balcony, raising his hand with grand gesture. It was the judge – a powerful man who made even the most criminal men wince at his every word. Another shout erupted from the audience as the jury and the court moderator took their places beside the judge, adjusting their microphones and thumbing through their papers.

While the hubbub of the court continued to build, Lova awaited the trial in his cell block, thinking of what lay ahead of him. What would be his fate? Only time would tell, and much depended on the disposition of the court. His past alone would be enough to convict him, notwithstanding his recent breach of the compound. Though a faint glimmer of hope still lived in his heart, the weight of his capture and pending punishment almost snuffed out the tiny flame.

Was all the effort worth the cost? Lova still could not decide, resenting how readily he threw his former life away for these mindless drones. Though he was still set on finishing what he set out to do, the irritated voices of his friends bombarded him. Deluded into believing impractical methods of sharing the truth? Gerate might have been right.

Lova gazed with disinterest at his surroundings, contrasting it to the clean lodging hall at his base. The walls around him were painted a dark grey, though they were splotched with graffiti from some former occupant. The twenty-foot ceiling was a similar color, leaving only the off-white floor to lessen the gloomy atmosphere.

The sound of footsteps jolted him from his thoughts, focusing his attention on the opening door. Was it time now? He assumed an air of indifference as the guards examined the information posted outside his cell block. Not that they needed it – Lova was the only prisoner in the entire sector that glowed, but the government always kept an outward façade of professionalism.

A guard nodded with satisfaction as he looked from the information sheet to the prisoner. He stepped forward, motioning to his companions. “It is time for your trial, and we are taking you there. So decide if you will work with us or against us, because either way you will be coming.”

He chose to submit, more from nonchalance than actual obedience. What could he gain from attempting to escape? Every door in the prison would be guarded, every passageway watched by vigilant eyes. And even if he did escape the clutches of the guards, he would never be able to run through the city in broad daylight without being discovered, let alone leaving the city.

Lova gasped as a guard twisted the chain binding his hands, locking it securely with a small metal lock. Stumbling forward, he followed the lead soldier out of the cell block into the corridor, the remainder of the guard following closely behind him.

*****

He felt somewhat queasy as he stepped into the defendant’s box, gazing at the large crowd with apprehension. Where did their sympathies lie? Would they be willing to hear what he had to say, or were they as stubborn-minded as his former comrades? So much depended on the audience, his life hanging in the balance.

The deafening screams of the audience began to subside, their focus now on the moderator who was droning off a list of charges against Lova. Suspicious activity, attacking the military, disturbing the peace – they had dragged every single charge they could think of against him! Lova sighed, losing interest in the moderator’s monotone reading.

He surveyed the audience, realizing for the first time just how many people were watching him. It seemed as if all of Netopia had come to watch his trial, but that of course was a gross overstatement. The crowning of the dictator had drawn a much greater crowd.

“DEFENDANT!” Lova looked up quickly, surprised at how quickly time had passed. He should have had at least an hour before he was questioned…

“We begin your questioning now, as the prosecution has already submitted their charges and do not need to appear further.” The judge narrowed his eyes, glaring at the man standing in the defendant’s box. “What is your name, defendant?”

“Lova, High One.” Lova – a name that would soon be forgotten. A name that meant nothing in this ephemeral world of darkness, amongst a people who lived a lie.

“Lova, could you explain what you were doing the night of your capture, breaking into the military compound outside of the palace?”

“I was trying to enter the city, High One.”

The judge snorted. “Enter the city? What a fool!” A roar of laughter erupted from the audience, temporarily interrupting the trial. Finally, the shouts of guards and irritated remonstrances of the moderator brought the audience under control.

“Honest people enter through the immigration center. It is only those who plot evil that break into restricted areas at unearthly hours of the night.”

“I had to reach the palace – entering through the immigration center could take days. In addition, I would never be able to enter the presence of the dictator-“

“Of course not!” the judge scoffed. “A common citizen does not have any reason to approach the dictator. You must be lying!”

“No!  I tell you the truth! I have an important message!”

“Then you should have reported it to the Embassy and they would have passed it on – if it was worth telling!” He calmed somewhat, shuffling a few papers around on his desk. “Why the dictator?”

“Because I believe that hearts such as his, though vile and perverted to the core, still have the aptitude to comprehend truth!” Lova ignored the angered shout of the moderator and looked straight at the judge. “This was my purpose.”

“Silence that cursed noise!” the judge shouted at the moderator. He was beginning to feel bewildered at this man who would not wince under his questioning, and who boldly stated his beliefs despite the possible consequences.

“So you are an anarchist, my friend? A dangerous position to hold in Netopia.”

Lova shook his head. “I am a believer of truth, one that yearns desperately for you to believe it! This truth is more important than anything you will ever see or own here. It is more important than this world itself!”

The judge leaned back in his seat and toyed with his pen. For a moment all was silent, the defendant waiting for the judge’s reply. Finally he sat straight and looked the defendant in the eye, his gaze strong and unflinching.

“If your truth is so important, please, tell us all so that we might all benefit!

At last, he had his chance. The moment of truth had come – but what would be the costs? Best not to think of it, for procrastination would only hinder his message. Boldly, he stepped closer to the microphone and gazed unflinchingly at the audience, his blue eyes flashing. Lova’s voice rang out clearly through the speakers, loud enough for even the most deafened observer to hear.

“You are all dead! This thing you call ‘life’ is an illusion, a simulation your dead bodies are watching and interacting in. The world you live and die for is your tomb, for the departed’s only home is the grave! You think you see reality, but you are blinded – thinking you understand what is right and what is wrong, but such things are invisible to you!”

The eerie stillness of the room was broken by the scream of a woman. The judge glared at Lova. “You lie, you rebellious-“

“No!” Lova looked the judge straight in the eye. “You lie – in a morgue on assigned beds, dreaming a dream called ‘life’, not knowing that soon it will be too late!” He turned back to the audience, pleading with them.

“Times are changing, people of Netopia! It approaches more rapidly than you could ever imagine, brought on by your increased rebellion and defilement. Even now, your bodies stink with decomposition, making Finland smell of rotting flesh. How can you resist this oncoming terror? You can neither see, nor stand. When the strike comes, you are hopelessly in its clutches!

But there is still a chance for you, a hope in the midst of this dark news. The dead cannot see, but the living can. All you have to do is come to life, and break from your false reality. I-“

“Enough!” The judge rose to his feet, his countenance lit with fury. “Even despite the evidence, we could have released you under parole and a heavy guard – but your immature display of anarchism and violence has sealed your fate! You have no guilt for what you did on that night, no, not the smallest hint of it. You glory in your crime! Henceforth, you will be executed four days from-“

“High One, you can kill me a thousand times over through electrocution or other forms of painful murder, but this will not alleviate your condition. Even now, your time ticks away, for defiled corpses let up a smell too attractive for It to remain hidden for long! Taken over and consumed, you will commit suicide to flee the monster you have become!

Who is with me, people of Netopia? Who will come out of your trance into true life and freedom?”

Stunned with the intensity of Lova’s delivery and shocked at the revoltingness of his message, the judge sat frozen in his chair, looking blankly at the defendant. The room was silent, the audience mesmerized into silence. Lova looked pleadingly from face to face, with no response.

He had done his best – he could not persuade them to accept. Every face in the audience was painted with genuine confusion. Finally, Lova began to walked past the dazed guards toward the exit door.

An unearthly scream arose from a young man in the crowd. The piercing noise was so loud that not a word could be distinguished, but his face alone displayed his anger. Stopping for breath, the young man glared with hatred at the defendant.

Suddenly the silence burst into screams of hatred, as the formerly lifeless crowd surged like a wave toward the defenseless Lova. The guards did not stop the mob – they joined it, fired their weapons at the defendant. A shriek cut the air as several bystanders fell to their deaths from the upper balcony. Lova turned away from the crowd in fear, a single word resounding in his head.

Run.

*****

As Yama talked with an acquaintance, Reshnu began to wander from her side, marveling at all there was to see. The throughway through the marketplace was a rather unusual route for their morning walk, but Reshnu’s mother had determined that as Reshnu aged, he would not a more extensive knowledge of the property around the housing complex they resided in.

Straying farther, the boy noticed a man running down the inclined throughway, shining a strange white color. Though Reshnu had never seen the man before, he felt somehow attracted to the stranger who was in such a hurry. Why was he running? Was he trying to catch something? Or was he running away from-

Suddenly Yama felt a trembling hand grasp her arm, clinging to her tightly. Looking down, she saw the shaking, frightened form of Reshnu. He clutched her arm, staring up at her with fear in his eyes. "Reshnu, whatever is the matter?"

"Yama, who are all those people running along the street? There are so many…"

 *****

Lova dashed through the street, desperately trying to outrun the angry mob that pursued him. His tortured chest heaved as great drops of sweat rolled down his face. What the mob would do to him if they captured him he didn’t even want to think about, much less experience.

A woman shrieked as he swerved to avoid a head-on collision. If only she knew, he thought to himself. Lova turned to the right, dashing into an abandoned restaurant building. Hiding behind a counter, he listened anxiously for the sound of screams.

But no screams echoed through the air now; the mob had either taken a wrong turn or given up pursuit. With a sigh of relief, he leaned back against the counter and wiped his perspiring face with his torn garment. He had escaped, at least for now.

What was the use, though? In the mob’s minds, he was a condemned criminal, running from the justice of the law. Why should they believe him? He had become like the ones of Netopia; running from the truth. They would never believe him now.

Unless he went back, offering himself into their bloodthirsty hands – no! They would kill him, an innocent man; he would be ripped to pieces at the hands of the mob! Fatigue began to set in, pulling at his eyelids, begging for sleep. For a moment, he was able to resist the urge, focused on staying alert. The next moment, his entire world changed.

Lova saw a medical ward flash before his eyes. Seven endless rows of beds was its only decoration, each with one sleeping occupant. As he began to walk the isles, he looked at their faces, recognizing friends and family he knew from the past. There was the judge, bed parallel to the juries Lova remembered at the trial. The young man leading the mob lay quietly in his cot. Lova’s footsteps echoed through the disturbingly quiet ward, his shimmering glow the only light to be had.

Suddenly Lova discovered a horrendous truth, something he hadn’t seen before. Everyone in the room was dead! Every hand was cold, every heart was stopped. His life and existence was the only life in the room, the only warm body among this world of corpses. Dazed, Lova looked around for a means of escape, but the room was without end in all directions.

The ground started to shake as a hole split open in the ground, revealing an unseen world – a world of eternal damnation and suffering. As if magnetically attracted, the multitude of beds began to roll toward the hole. Too late, the people awoke from their slumber and saw their position; hopelessness. Lova frantically grabbed at a bed, desperately clinging onto the side. But none of his efforts could stop it, and he cried as the bed’s terrified occupant fell into the hole. Screams deafened Lova as bed after bed fell into the place of everlasting suffering. Not one of the beds was spared.

He jolted awake. There was the same abandoned building, as he leaned against the same metallic counter. But Lova knew that he hadn’t been dreaming. That world of suffering was real.

But he couldn't go back! He would be brutally murdered, subjected to torture and abuse! He was truly innocent! Lova mentally paused, considering the facts. He didn't deserve the life, either.

He bit his lip, an inward struggle with his will and His will. He would be torn to pieces, murdered by the ones he came to rescue. Forgotten by all those who once knew him – except One.

There was no other way.