08-23-2016, 09:25 PM
The water bottle resting on his knee, Nik drew a thoughtful breath. Nobody had asked such s question before, not even himself. How to begin formulating an answer?
He dissected the question.
The creation of the CCD was his idea, but the expansion of Russian power was an old one. The Ascendant Soviet Union had been a natural progression. From there, the CCD was born. But like any new child, perfect circumstances had to exist for its inception. Orchestrating those circumstances had also been his doing; a disturbing secret, but necessary. Was the world not better off? If only the remaining countries would see the greener grass, finally they would be united.
In an astonishingly short amount of time, the Ascendancy was the ruler of more land than any man to have ever lived. Yet the effort was far from over. Was the work this far valuable to him? Of course it was. He loved the CCD and proudly stood as its leader.
But it wasn't the Custody that Marcus referenced. It was personal. As they sat in the stillness of the subterranean home, peaceful and dim, he was acutely aware how alone they were. The recognition flickered across his face before he reigned it in with another drink from the bottle.
His parents had the happy home life one always imagined for themselves. The American Dream. How did that end? With funerals, farewell, and an escape to Italy. He had one real friend, a future as a lawyer, and a life in the Atharim. How did that end? With fire, graves and retribution.
He answered quietly, reverent almost. The topic deserved more than flippant dismissal of the bitter and immature. If he was alone with his thoughts, it was because he preferred isolation. "It feels right."
Had any of those events unfolded differently, they would not be here today. Even if he had died on that train out of Bologna rather than endure the Sickness... Having lived it, nothing seemed unusual at the time, but the sequence of complicated events to unfold exactly as they had was remarkable. Almost designed.
He needed to brush the nostalgia away like cobwebs. "I'm hardly distanced from humanity, as you described it. Through the Custodies, I am probably more aware of the movements, habits and culture of the human race as anyone ever has."
His gaze sharpened, refocusing upon the present. If something was missing in his life, he couldn't grasp what it was. He'd never been interested in a spouse or children; the American Dream was not for him. Relationships came and went over the years, but he never found anyone striking in personality, intelligence and beauty to tempt him with such dreams. The standard of such a woman simply didn't exist.
He dissected the question.
The creation of the CCD was his idea, but the expansion of Russian power was an old one. The Ascendant Soviet Union had been a natural progression. From there, the CCD was born. But like any new child, perfect circumstances had to exist for its inception. Orchestrating those circumstances had also been his doing; a disturbing secret, but necessary. Was the world not better off? If only the remaining countries would see the greener grass, finally they would be united.
In an astonishingly short amount of time, the Ascendancy was the ruler of more land than any man to have ever lived. Yet the effort was far from over. Was the work this far valuable to him? Of course it was. He loved the CCD and proudly stood as its leader.
But it wasn't the Custody that Marcus referenced. It was personal. As they sat in the stillness of the subterranean home, peaceful and dim, he was acutely aware how alone they were. The recognition flickered across his face before he reigned it in with another drink from the bottle.
His parents had the happy home life one always imagined for themselves. The American Dream. How did that end? With funerals, farewell, and an escape to Italy. He had one real friend, a future as a lawyer, and a life in the Atharim. How did that end? With fire, graves and retribution.
He answered quietly, reverent almost. The topic deserved more than flippant dismissal of the bitter and immature. If he was alone with his thoughts, it was because he preferred isolation. "It feels right."
Had any of those events unfolded differently, they would not be here today. Even if he had died on that train out of Bologna rather than endure the Sickness... Having lived it, nothing seemed unusual at the time, but the sequence of complicated events to unfold exactly as they had was remarkable. Almost designed.
He needed to brush the nostalgia away like cobwebs. "I'm hardly distanced from humanity, as you described it. Through the Custodies, I am probably more aware of the movements, habits and culture of the human race as anyone ever has."
His gaze sharpened, refocusing upon the present. If something was missing in his life, he couldn't grasp what it was. He'd never been interested in a spouse or children; the American Dream was not for him. Relationships came and went over the years, but he never found anyone striking in personality, intelligence and beauty to tempt him with such dreams. The standard of such a woman simply didn't exist.