Brutalist Stories #60

We stole the stars from their sky, we stole the seas from their planet, we stole the souls from their young, and when there was nothing else left to take, we burnt them up like any other planet. There were some that escaped, as they always do, but the legions took care of them until there was no trace that they had ever existed. Complete and utter annihilation.

I was in charge, and I took my scar, one line for every civilization destroyed, one line every time a collective consciousness is wiped clean from the known universe. A scar cut deep from the top of my skull, along my face to the base of my neck. I have a lot of lines. There has been a lot of killing.

It has always just been a job, part of the process that has been going on for millions of years, tens of thousands of generations, and I am another in a long line of hunter-killers that ensure the propagation of our way of life, and move us closer to fulfilling our known destiny.

But now I am scared.

And I am scared of being scared.

There is something building up inside of me the likes of which I have never experienced before. An uncertainty, a doubt. Not that our cause is just, or that we will ultimately prevail, but there has been a change. A shift of sorts that I cannot grasp or hold onto or annihilate like I would with a civilization, something ephemeral that I need to let go of to set free, rather than grip and destroy.

I stand on the great balcony, the sea of grey concrete flowing out in front of me and watch the praetorian guards take up their ranks and ready themselves for another invasion. Taking their steel and their orders and crunching together in unison, each a unit, each ready to mop-up on the ground what was missed by those in the air. Warriors, killers, and murderers.

I am one, they are my brothers, we each have our task, and we each will fulfill it, but there is this gap now. There is this fear. Something that is eroding the righteous might. I am becoming ever the slave to it, I am scared.

Have they felt this? Each of them? Have the other Generals felt this? Experienced this fear and dread? I was so sure of so much for so long. There has been a little death, deep inside and it is rising and rising. There is doubt now, uncertainty where everything seemed so straight, so precise and sure.

The praetorian stand to attention and gesture to me and I gesture back. They begin their march on-board one of our vast ships, rows after rows, thousands upon thousands of them, do they know my fear? Do they know that I have it, or have they experienced it themselves? A creeping death, a tunnel with no end. Millions of them, as far as the eye can see, under my command, ready to wipe out another race, ready to march toward our victory. Now shrouded in doubt.

I am scared, and yet, I feel as though this completes me.

Building inspiration: Heroico Colegio Militar

Musical inspiration: S U R V I V E – "Deserted Skies"