The inception of the Liberation Path was not a singular moment of inspiration of course but
rather a gradual unfolding, a realization that crept upon me like the softest dawn. I sought
individuals yearning for something beyond the stark and moronic existence dictated by the SRC,
I began to recognize the potential for a deeper purpose—one that resonated with the very
essence of what it meant to be human.
At first meetings were small intimate affairs, hushed moments shared in the dim chambers of
seldom used chapel hubs, an "equal requirement" of the SRC. A mere decoration of equality
where the whir of machinery faded to a distant murmur and solemn worship could be left
undisturbed. Here, I articulated a vision of a simpler existence, a return to communion with the
divine, unshackled from the unyielding chains of progress.
It was a revelation I felt deep within, as though fate itself had woven a thread leading me
toward this calling. My words did reach many, a wayward flock being called back into the fold.
They came for the truth, they came for the word, they came for me.
As the successor to InterSolar Orbital, I had long understood the power of enterprise, yet I had
overlooked the profound influence of convictional truth my father had neglected in his pursuit
of profit. With each sermon, my Liberation Path had burgeoned, transforming from a mere
gathering of sympathetic souls into a movement. Together, we sought to infuse our lives with
meaning, untainted by the SRC's austere doctrine.
When the opportunity arose—a contract to construct a long-haul storage vessel for the SRC—I
saw not just a project but a pivotal turning point. They envisioned a ship for transporting
resources, a means to sustain their relentless appetite for expansion. Yet, in the depths of my
mind, I envisioned something far grander.
This ship could become our vessel of exodus, a sleeper ship capable of transporting us beyond
the reach of the SRC's iron grip. While they believed they were ensuring humanity's future, I
perceived their actions as shackling, binding us to a reality we could no longer accept. Mars had
not become New Jerusalem; rather, it had morphed into a place better deemed Hell.
YOU ARE READING
The Lysander Gospel- Prequel to Melancholia's Elegy
Science FictionA man is driven by a dangerous vision of salvation amid rising tensions on Mars. As secrets intertwine with ambition, he must confront the shadows of his desires. Will he be a savior or a harbinger of doom?
