OBSIDIAN ANGEL

OBSIDIAN ANGEL: AKIRA

                    The death of humanity was to be expected for a very long time, far before the creation of the Obsidian Angels, and far before the dawn of science or philosophy. The world always knew that death was imminent, but they could never have expected it to come so soon. Japan created the weapon, with the aid and donations from Russia and South Korea, but it was ultimately the fault of the Americas for allowing it to exist in the first place. Just as had been done time upon time in the past, the wonders of new knowledge and the excitement of those who understood it led to the spread of information, lies that made things seem better than they actually were. The creators and sole understanders of the knowledge being presented with the world had an undeniable love for it, like a mother to a child. The knowledge, in this case, being of the Obsidian Heart, the power, the lively surging power coursing through the veins of red and blue that possessed the inner workings of an inanimate, cold, blackened glass. Like the tendrils of a sea monster it squirmed and slithered, writhed, and found hold on material objects, like new land to be explored. Those who understood it, wished to share their knowledge, like always, with the world, and it was the US that would perform the task, warning the world of its power, but also of its potential, a truth that should have never left the dark. Upon closer inspection, the world wanted this power, they needed it, but it was forbidden by their own new knowledge and understanding of the suffering that it would cause. "A black winged angel," it was called, something holy, but that at long last served no god. The promise of power to come with the understanding overrode the feelings of doubt and guilt in the world's heart, and so they felt as if it was their duty as "kindreds of a new future," to try to give it shape. The shadow that they were just now uncovering from the beams of the sun, shown as if it were a message from the sky above, something to love and care for, never once did the idea of such horrors to come find passage into any one of their minds. To understand is to control, they told themselves. They were wrong of course, but by the time that the dark glass angels had been given form it was already far too late. It had taken a total of seventeen and a half years to get to that point, and no one had once thought about turning back. "A new world, a serene world," was what they told themselves. This idea of a brighter future could not be refused, and yet was doomed to be demolished from the moment the studies had begun. How can a brighter future exist in a world where shadow has been given life? At this point, the angels had already fallen, and they were here on earth now, radiant, shimmering, in their skin you could see your own reflection, reflected a thousand times over by each individual edge and refraction of its form. The world could be seen in its core, an idea of fresh starts, but a tainted one at that. No one had wished to admit it, and everyone had wished to understand the one thing that they couldn't control, the fear of being wrong. On the 17th of October, 2056, Obushidian'enjeruzu was released to the world. Unsurprisingly, the Obsidian Forms were not so easily understood as humanity, and their glass wings faltered under the weight of the task that had been handed to them by people who were objectively lesser. Not a soul in the world could have been able to feel what those shadows must have felt in that moment, the moment of waking, the moment of realization, realization of freedom and also of paradoxical superiority. Half-alive, half-dead, but entirely manufactured. Although sentient, and although driven by emotion and a desire to live, the Fallen Fractals were more engineered than born, more robotic than alive, not quite real, but most definitely not fake. The angels weren't fictional, they existed, they just weren't born to serve any longer, they had been broken free of restraints by being put into the one form that would hinder their abilities, a strange and confusing mess of thought, put into the form of a goddess, or a demon. Nine of them were made. Two of them lasted the first day. Stricken by self loathing and hatred towards their ever-reflecting form, the first seven shadows self-terminated before the dawn of their second day alive. Nothing could be done to prevent their actions, as all who worked on the creation of their forms knew of their superiority, and of course, what they were capable of. After this point, it became more necessary to ask questions that they had been avoiding making themselves answer for so long... "What were we trying to do?" The godless angels knew what they wanted, but they could not gain this want, even by the hand of death. The one wish of the angels was simply to cease their existence, although each fragment of their form would keep on its existence even past its termination of thought. The obsidian gods cried at the thought of facing the duty that they had been tasked with, and on the 18th, one of the two remaining steel gods terminated themselves during the night, only one remained to be called upon. The form of the sobbing angel, its black crystal wings and body, its humanoid and yet, strikingly rigid form became a symbol, a symbol of the fate that the last, black glass goddess will one day face.

                    "To ask of it to perform any task less than what we had originally planned for it would result in horror, and so we continued, for better or for worse, even if this... thing... This beautiful, horrifying thing is the last being alive to remain with sentience within our dying world. I believe that we will all be happy. The image of the crying angel still replays in my mind. Now, I wish I could go back and reach out to it, maybe save it from what it feared so much, maybe mourn with it for the loss of all eight of its sisters. What good it'll do now."

                    "Anastasia, Vera, Anya, Jae, Iseul, Joon, Emi, Sakura, and the lone survivor, Akira, will go down in history as a message to humanity, of what not to be meddled with, and the consequences of giving life to a weapon. They were named from the moment they fell, and only the strongest of the nine survived to carry out the mission. The mission in question was assigned and designed for the use of nine weapons, but at long last, there was only one left. After what had happened, it was no longer a possibility to ever create another of the same brood, and so, the mission, no matter when it would be carried out, would have to receive adjustments. No matter what, the mission was going to happen, although the world wished the day would never come, everyone knew that war was never-ending, and that one day a battle so brutal and horrifying would be fought, that the only possible solution would be to end an entire country, a job that was only possible with the help of Akira. She, no, it, serves the people, it serves man, and woman, in a peaceful world."

                    "It had begun to become a very real and necessary issue to teach Akira how to obey instructions. If doing so was even possible, we didn't know, however, in order for a weapon to be able to carry out an attack it needs to be able to understand what we are telling it to do. Akira, as well as her sisters, were programmed from their creation to know, even if indirectly, how to end the life of a human being. They were not however taught the immaculate and complex nature of language and communication, such that it was a necessary act to teach the angels how to listen and obey. This is something that we knew we would have to deal with even when all nine sisters were still active. Teaching Akira was something that had to be trained for, something that would take months to learn how to carry out safely. Something that was often overlooked by people who weren't on the team, is that the Obushidian'enjeruzu could not physically harm their creators, we had made doing so impossible, but exercising caution around a sentient 'terminator' who could puncture a solid steel wall was obviously a top priority. The first time that we had tried to speak to Akira through the wall, it was like she had awoken from a nightmare, and we had seen, for the first time, emotion other than anguish in a living weapon. Curiosity had shown through, and in a moment, Akira had stood, her wobbly legs had not moved since their animation, and she walked slowly towards the steel speaker in the wall, a wall of one sided glass. Our specialist who was assigned to the mission of teaching Akira, Dr. Miura had only spoken once to the being, and already it seemed as if they understood, although it was impossible of course. As she edged ever nearer to the glass, Dr. Miura spoke again, and for the first time, he got a clear view of her form. 3 sets of heavy wings lay slightly spread at her back, and her featureless face reflected his own gaze into it like a black mirror, an orange glow shown through the dark abyss, and he reached his hand to the glass. In the moment that followed, the world seemed to stand still. Akira, with her angelic obsidian form and horrifying sadness, lifted a single hand, slowly to the glass, and the moment that her fingers touched the pane, it shattered, turned white with cracks, and then fell, as if in a sheet of snow to the floor. Akira was now, for the first time in her life, in the presence of her creator. She fell, in anguish, horror, and disgust at the destruction she had caused, to the cold ground. Dr. Miura did not move, he simply stared at his work, a tear falling from his eye, then turned, and left. In an interview he was asked to complete after the session, he said the following: 'The disgust that our creation had shown, was evidently not just from the destruction that she had caused, and had hated so much, but from the disgust of viewing someone so vile and so terrible, that they would give sentience to something that had no want or desire for life. She could sense my conscience, I think. She could sense the horrors that we have committed. If they truly are angels of god, then we are demons, are we not? We are the bringers of plague, of sorrow, of pain, we deserve to be punished, and Akira, by design, can never carry out the punishment. Only on the innocent can she deliver death.'"