Bad Blood

One of the Many

Velvety, inky black stretched above Aeslir, littered with a billion bright jewels. It was beautiful, infinite, distant. That a being such as he should feel so small, so separate from the night sky was astonishing. Just a year ago he'd been dancing in the sky, one cog of the collective. One ephemera among many. He had never thought of himself as small though, or separate. Never imagined himself to be unique. Yet here he was, master of his own physical form. An enhanced physical form. He was no longer just ephemera, nor simply human. He was a hybrid, an entirely new species, one of his own creation. He was other. He was more.

The mountain beneath his feet would have conquered his weaker human suit. Now he was the Conqueror. Aeslir exhilarated in the powerful muscles of his body, in the sleek new lines of his stomach and back, in the sharpness of his vision and the precision of his aim. This was his body now. Rock turned to dust beneath his hands, great distances were swallowed swiftly beneath his feet. No icepick would pierce his flesh now. The harshest regions of earth were his to explore. He no longer had anything to fear from this planet. Standing at the summit, at what seemed the very apex of the world, he bellowed his triumph to the heavens. There was nothing he could not do.

The temperature dropped sharply and the air crackled as a nimbus of light flickered into being. A million colors zapped and sparked along its edges as a being coalesced at its center. The giant portal pulsed an eye searing blue and Aeslir dropped to one knee before it. A consciousness enveloped him, monolithic, ancient and cold. It vibrated along his spine as it swept through him, assessing every particle of his newly enhanced body. He ground his teeth against the overwhelming pressure. A flicker of thought and his limbs spasmed in response. Another thought and every nerve ending in his body lit up like a christmas tree. He was left gasping and shaking in the dirt. The presence retreated and Aeslir felt violated. He squashed the notion down. Hard. He was but one of the many. This was not the first time the collective had inspected him. Why did it feel so different now? Why did it matter to him at all?

The eye searing blue rippled, like eddies in a pond, as a thousand voices shimmered through the air, "Red-blue-green fourth iridian wavelength function, our insurgence proceeds. Tell us of Earth's defenses."

That Aeslir no longer identified with Red-blue-green fourth iridian wavelength function would not matter to The Collective. They would find his request to address him as anything else impertinent. As substandard. As weak. He was one of the many.

"Earth's defenses are minimal. We have had a few minor skirmishes with a subset of species on this planet but the dominant species still remains unaware of our presence."

"Subset species?"

Aeslir's words were slow and careful. "They are aberrations to this planet. Feared and even unknown amongst humans. They will not be much trouble, particularly with our growing numbers and enhanced flesh suits."

The portal rippled sunshine yellow, "this pleases The Collective."

"Thank you." The words slipped from Aeslir's mouth in habit. His assumption of their gratitude was a gross human flaw.

A blast of wind tore across the mountaintop as the portal crackled a lurid red. He fell on both knees, palms raised above his head. "Nothing was given to Red-blue-green fourth iridian wavelength function. WE ARE THE MANY." The mountain beneath him trembled at the force of their words. The portal crackled and hissed like an angry snake.

"I apologize," his voice quavered, "a human habit. A human weakness. Forgive me," he bowed low.

"To forgive is to acknowledge the self. To acknowledge the self is to invite chaos. WE ARE THE MANY."

Irritation rippled through him and he stood tall. It had not been the many who had traveled to earth. It had not been the many who had spent months of painful human existence preparing the way. The fate of their species had not hinged upon the many. But they would never acknowledge him. They would never even use the words they, he, she, I or you. He was but a cog in the wheel, a faceless soldier, he was not even one of the many.

They would see though. Once they descended to this mortal plane. Once they felt themselves encased with human flesh, they would see. He would show them. He had done this thing. He had dragged his species away from the brink of extinction, from annihilation. They would understand once they had conquered their own mountains.

"We are the many," he intoned as the portal fizzed out of existence with a loud pop. Aeslir stared into the sky, a surge of unruly human emotion rising in him. Rage. He basked in it. Reveled in it. Drowned in it. "I am the leader of many." He liked the sound of those words very much.