Steel clad boots followed an invisible line that left behind a thin trace on the ground. It seemed whoever it was had done this march before, for years...
Jules swallowed hard, feeling the sensation of lava scorch at his throat. His fingers tapped against the blank space where machines used to live. Where their desks were, the photographs, their nameplates, coffee mugs. Now all that stood in their wake was emptiness. He had once told many people he’d been cursed with the ability to never forget. It’s what made him a good doctor, his memory held on to everything, voices, images, small insignificant details that now only served as needles driven into his heart.
Every place he stepped into relayed a flashback of a time before the present. His home, her home, the one they made together out of empty boxes was gone. Now all that remained was the smell of smoke and empty bottles of whiskey where they shared their secrets...their dreams. The cat went missing...the lights didn’t work and those he held dear walled themselves off for protection, hopping planets without a word, leaving behind the same empty lines like the one he traced with his feet. Perhaps it was true what they said about his destiny, to live the life he did was one bound by a promise of death or solitude. It was his burden to bear, yet it was also his duty to serve.
Every time the monitors beeped their song of promise, and the medicine pumped freely, cleansing, mending..it was great. But those hours were nothing compared to moments when not even the hands of gods could pull the souls back to their bodies. He remembered all their names, all the times he uttered the last four words that clawed at his heart... “Time of death…” He remembered his name..the last person to flatline in his hands, the Sovereign Imperator Irveric Tavlar.
All of those events always reminded him of his mortality. That all things must end. Even the blood that pumped through his artificial veins had always fed him this idea of faux invincibility...without all these parts, he was just a boy from Krieg with a dream.
Mechanized fingers pulled a pack of smokes from the pocket of his lab coat, it was crinkled, just like the rest of his attire...his demeanor had fallen. He was exhausted...every breath followed long sighs burrowed deep within the core of his synthetic lungs. One last time he would pull the chair to his body, slumping down while idle fingers traced the frame of his holo pad.
The chair had creaked under his weight, often his mind had wondered how long it could hold that heavy frame, just as he’d thought of how much tragedy could one person endure before it was too much. Now all he could think of was that one moment burned into his memory. It had been weeks since the moment he held the Iron Sun in his hand. Heard the voice of another begging him to stop. Saw the woman he loved blown apart...again and again, and again. It was a nightmare. It was painful to think that he believed he could do anything, even stop death itself...but he couldn’t.
Julian closed his eyes, chasing after a voice he hadn’t used for a while, “Start voice recording…” the drawl of his lazy tongue had been clipped, replaced by the low rumble of his machine.
[Voice Recording : Start] ://
:// Commence transmission
“Identify yourself…”
“Doctor Qar, Badge AX-919”
“You may begin, AX-919...”
“My name is Doctor Julian Qar, I a...was..the chief medical officer and head of cybernetics research for the Carlaci Corps. My job was to provide aid for both military and civilian personnel on and off base. I have served for many years in combat missions, provided medical care to the people of Carlac, created rescue and medical ops teams, and trained personnel during my time as chief. I am here to recount the events of...the events of…... 8, 1.....867… I-I can’t fucken do this…”
A hand went up to wipe at his face, he groaned and tapped his anxious foot on the ground. This was the part that would be easy, recite the events, the cause of death, the procedure he had performed, but he just couldn’t do it. It didn’t matter anymore. None of it did.
“Gods...I’m so tired….feels like my life is just reliving the same nightmare over and over again. The only thing that changes are the players, their outfits...the way they talk...but in the end..it’s just...it’s just all the fucken same...every bit of it. ..we’re jus running in circles pushin’ one pawn down only to have a hand pick it back up again...then back ta slammin’ our bodies into it...same result, same outcome...I jus fucken can’t anymore.”
He buried his face in tired palms, exhaling what felt like all the energy he had in him until he started sobbing. There was nothing he could do but thrust his hands against the desk, shoving everything off until they came crashing down onto the ground. Such was the metaphor for his life. The holo-pad shattered and so did the frame holding the only photograph that lived there for years. Julian slammed his fist on the metal surface, leaving behind a dent that screamed frustration.
“I dunno...I dunno where ta go...what ta do…” He wiped the tears with the inside of his coat, hoping to find resolve in the breaths that followed. Slowly he leaned down to pick up the only thing he cared for. That photograph of their younger selves, they looked so happy...so full of hope, so full of courage...all those things he no longer had. Now he was just running in circles in the dark.
“Are you ready?”
A familiar voice pulled him back to reality, quickly turning to look over his shoulder to answer. “Huh? Oh....yea...yea...I uh….jus wanted ta make sure I had everythin’...” he rolled the ring with his thumb before curling the leather strap of his duffle bag, looking over the desk. This was the place where they laughed, where they cried, where they fought...funny how a space could hold so much and so little all at once. Julian walked the same line he’d walked all those years, turning back to look at the last place he’d called home. No voice would utter his last word. They were only whispered into the darkness of his relay.
<“Ret'urcye mhi…”>
Maybe we'll meet again...
█ █ █
