Anthem's Fall

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Eighteen

Vengelis

The unmistakable silhouette of towering buildings rose against the sharp contour of the horizon to the south. Even from his distance Vengelis could see that New York City was vast, its edifices tall. He squinted at the distant city's profile before cautiously decelerating and soaring in an elegant arc toward its skyscrapers, his altitude shrouding his approach from any unsuspecting skyward eyes below. A surreptitious hand would be the one of choice for the time being.

Vengelis could not help but feel a small pang of conflict over allowing Hoff and Darien to venture out on their mission of inevitable annihilation. They, and he, would shortly become heralds of torment and death to these unwary people. The men and women far below were about to be swept up in a conflict based far away, a conflict in which they were in every way faultless.

But there was no other choice.

The danger of innocence is that it is eventually lost. In the end innocence is not enduring; rather it is a transient state that has yet to be exposed to all the aspects of reality. Vengelis would provide the people down in the city with the same level of mercy the Primus race had received at the hands of a more advanced species: none. Despite the invasion the Primus race encountered—a traumatic and scarring holocaust that tore through the fiber of their worldview—still the Primus stood. Stood more powerfully and proudly than ever before. In a way the forthcoming tribulation would be an enlightening experience for the adolescent civilization below, a chance for it to evolve and grow. Vengelis would alter their conception of their world much as a parent teaches a child to look before crossing the street. The child may not be aware of a speeding bus coming, but that does not change the fact that the bus is coming. No warning came for the young Primus race before the Zergos invasion of old ripped through Anthem. No hand of mercy was extended to his people as the Felixes slaughtered them in the present. Vengelis knew he could not allow himself the indulgence of compassion. Reality may be heartless, but it was better than false beliefs based solely on one's tiny world.

And for the naive people far below, reality was banging at their door.

The strong command the weak. When pushed close enough to the brink, compassion, empathy, and morality were all just words. Power was the only balance—the only truth behind society's falsehoods. If Vengelis had been stronger, at that moment he would be sitting on his throne. If the humans were stronger, they would have no reason to fear his wanton intrusion. But such as it was neither he nor the humans were strong enough in their own respective plights.

Pulling to a stop high over the enormousness of New York City, Vengelis lingered silently above the countless array of skyscrapers for several minutes, examining the teeming streets and rooftops. He had to admit the enormous glimmering city was attractive. But so too had been the noontime splendor of Sejeroreich. The meeting of their scientists, his single source of hope, was in one of these tall buildings below. The scientists would be tasked with finding a cure to the scourge of the Felix. Vengelis had no other option, and thus neither did they.

Vengelis reached into his armor and pulled out the Harbinger I remote. A three-dimensional image of the peculiar Felix cell rotated slowly on the display. All of his suffering, peril, and fears resulted from this one technology—this one trivial-looking cell. With great effort he consolidated his array of emotions into wrath. Someone far below would provide him with some insight, or his frustration would be forced to spread like a pandemic across this world. He placed the remote back into his armor and descended toward the city with a faint popping sound. Far below, the sound of his descent went entirely unnoticed, lost in the raucous streets.