THE MOMENT WHEN ALL WENT SILENT

Matheus C. Bevilacqua
September 30, 2013

November 21st, 2058.

Studies have been going extremely well and results have been leading us closer and closer to
our great discovery. The day to have the formula complete seems to be extremely near.
Intensive research for nearly a decade will soon pay off; The Solution will finally be found.

As requested by the Command, directly from the Tower in the capital of our nation, a team of
young and brilliant scientists, under my control, has been working incessantly in a highly
advanced laboratory, to uncover the formula for a drug able to cease the function of the
portions of the brain responsible for critical thinking and creative thought. The day displays
itself near.

November 22nd, 2058.

It seems as if our team has reached a census that tomorrow will be the day when our devoted
work will be culminating into the greatest discovery of all human existence. Our expressions
display clear eagerness and our anxiety levels have seemed to surpass human limit. We now
await.

November 23rd, 2058.

Our extensive studies have led us to conclusive results; the formula is now available and has
forthwith been taken by the government for safekeeping within the invulnerable walls of the

National Vault. Our team momentarily displays great exhilaration, and excitement spreads
throughout the building. A lifetime study has terminated. My mind is finally allowed to
loosen from my avid scientific investigation and observe the world that surrounds me.

November 24th, 2058.

Profusion of time has allowed me to truly see the astounding world outside the lab. I am now
allowed to truly observe and place thought upon the people that walk beside me on the
streets, the buildings that encompass me in this busy city. I am finally allowed to think. Time
had previously been my nemesis; all the seconds it gifted me with, I utilized for the study. I
was denied the right to think about things. We have now become old friends.

November 25th, 2058.

As peculiar as it may seem, this is the first time since my early years that I am able to place
my eyes upon the City. It seems to me as if the order has always gone unnoticed by my
exhausted eyes. The organized buildings, on organized streets, filled by organized traffic, led
by organized people, that crowded the sidewalks, where they walk in an orderly fashion.
Things have changed from my old memories. It seems as if these were not the streets I used
to walk on. Perhaps its my eyes that have changed. My vision of the world. It all seems
different now. Too different.

November 26th, 2058.

Patterns surround me at every corner. They freak me out. They devour my soul as hounds on
quarry. The people seem to live a life lacking of thrill. They are as orderly as the city itself.
The City gives me uncanny feelings; it seems to enter the minds of the people, with its order
and its structure, forcing them to do what they do for the simple sake of repeating what they
are capable of and living on, indifferently. Decision seems to not be part of their limited
vocabulary. Shivers go down my spine to this very thought.

November 25th, 2058.

Today, I have spent my day observing the central edification of the Command, most
commonly known as the Tower. Its faade is of exquisite beauty, glistening to the lights of
the sun. Its summit is unseen and reaches beyond the clouds. There are patterns so complex,
only a selected few would recognize them and comprehend their majestic nature. A building
of splendor and grandeur beyond words. It is, nonetheless, the contrasts it displays to all other
structures in the City that intrigue me to a great extent.

November 26th, 2058.

The people of the City seem to be exceptionally fond of the Command. It ironically appears
to me that, for some reason, they are the precise converse of what they display. This
preposterous theory has entered my mind and refuses to leave. The Command does not

appear to enforce law and order; however, people maintain self-organization to a level of
uniformity. The Tower does not issue changesapparently nothing has been done for long;
people remain silent and indifferent. It is of the human nature to urge for change,
innovation, no matter how good conditions may be. It has been so in the history of men-kind.

It is droll, but silence is too great for a city such as this. My mind is perhaps having a partial
breakdown from the avid studies it has been subjected to and as I place deeper thought upon
such ideas, I see further and further on what a huge imbecile I am for imagining such
foolishness. Anyhow, nothing can be done to make this idea depart from my mind.

November 27th, 2058.

The order has been disrupted by small group of wasted lunatics that like to call themselves
The Union. They seem to be a group of rebels that fight against the government with ideas so
absurd as my ridiculous conspiracies here presented on yesterdays entry. They allege that the
Command has long held power through the order over the people, both withheld and
maintained by the people themselves. Stating also that the order of the City has made
peoples lives miserable and repetitive. The futility of their existence makes them indifferent
toward the Tower and the Command. Likewise, they claim that people are unaware of the
snakes that crawl and creep through the putrid and corrupt walls of the Tower.

Absurdity marked every one of their words. Lunatics. People seemed not to notice; they
ignored such ludicrous statements that insulted their beloved government. Their words, in

spite of that, resembled mine. A resemblance so great, absurdities began to seem less and less
absurd at every pondering of events. They remain, nevertheless, too insane to be true.

November 28th, 2058.

It has completed a week since the end of my extensive study, and for such reason, I have
been invited to attend a formal homage ceremony in the Tower, where I will be finally able to
see its resplendence from within. My excitement increases; the thoughts remain.

November 28th, 2058.

Reflection would be the best word to describe the effects of this ceremony on my individual.
As expected, the Tower is even more exuberant from within. Platinum, gold, silver
surrounded me at every detail, from the fractures on the ground to the intricate designs on the
ceilings. Massive pillars of pure white Italian marble of insurmountable heights filled its vast
rooms. The finest of silks covered the elegant restful chairs of the auditorium. Mirrors so
huge, each of the five colossal walls of the room appeared to be covered by one single
reflective sheet, beautifully placed, in a way one would swear capable of crossing their
physical barrier, deeper into the Tower, to a dark world of obscurity. I, along with many
others, sat around this very room, leaving the center free from both chairs and people. When
the time had arrived, a podium elegantly erected itself from the ground. A male speaker of
great pomp stood upon it with amber eyes of fire. He remained still, silent, for a minute.
Then, he spoke; his voice soothingly forceful. He spoke about the research that would soon

change the lives of all. He spoke about the study that found the solution to destroy the
origin of all evils: imagination. He spoke about my research, yet he did not speak about it. He
orated about the mindmy love, my passionwith hatred and disgust. He spoke about evil.
He spoke about good. In his eyes, heaven was hell, and hell salvation. The creaturesyes,
creatures, for I refuse to call them peoplethat sat beside me and filled the five-sided room
shouted in consent. Their eyes burned, yet there was no smoke.

Nausea began to fill my body. I was about to leave, when they summoned me to the center.
They gave me a medal of gold, a repulsive medal that pulled me towards the ground. I looked
around, and people clapped; I was getting sick. Every second felt like an hour. When the
interminable clapping was over, we were allowed to leave. I did so, as fast as I could. Once I
reached the streets, I released the fluids that I had so long wished to release. I felt better then;
my throat burned, and so did my inner chest. As I arrived home, I needed urgent rest; I was
fatigued, my body throbbing with anger. I slept, yet the smoldering eyes would not leave my
mind. It seems to me they never will.

November 29th, 2058.

My senses were keener than I thought. My theory was right all along. My stupid conspiracy
proven right. The rebels were right! They were right about the Command, the Tower, the
politicians. Filth. They have deceived me. Made a fool out of me. I have been used like an
expendable pawn in a game of chess.

What have I done?! My years wasted. My research deadly. I have destroyed myself, my
people, my species. Evolution has taken millennia to enable humans to think, to imagine, yet
I have been able to destroy this exquisite ability in less than a decade. My fanatical focus has
blinded me. My interest for uncovering the depths of the mind has blinded me. My anxiety
has blinded me. I was unable to see what stood before me: the threat such experiment posed
to society. Power will soon be unquestioned, untried, and unnoticed by all. No more Union.
No more rebels. No more danger to the delightful government in command.

If I will ever be able to forgive myself someday for what I have done I do not know. Soon,
for certain, it shall not be. My obligation remains to rescue society from the morbid plague I
have placed upon it. My mission now remains to find the rebels, able to see from the eyes of
truth, and ask that they aid me in my duty and salvage our species from the dark and somber
abyss.

November 30th, 2058.

How can they withstand to live a life such as theirs? Control and order right in front of their
eyes, being it the very thing that blinds them. No brutal force needed; the people, with their
empty minds, are the oppressors and the oppressed. The patterns that surround them have
incorporated and become a permanent part of their unconscious. Their existence: automatic.

I have planned to rummage the City in pursuit of the rebels. Their rendezvous remains
unknown, yet I shall learn of it location and will soon be allowed to exposition my
unforgivable mistakes to the only ones capable of helping. My search begins now.

December 1st, 2058.

My avid quest for the locale remains fruitless, despite my efforts. I have not yet given up. My
search continues.

December 2nd, 2058.

Urban myths have presented me with a possible, yet highly improbable, meeting site of the
Union: the ruins of the citys old and abandoned subway system. It seems to me that
Command forces have locked all access to the underground tunnels; nonetheless, my
meticulous examination of the old and decrepit blueprints of the system have allowed me to
encounter one alternative unlocked passageway to the subterranean tunnels of the City. This
would be the ideal location for Union gatherings, giving them the confidentiality of the
dilapidated structure, assumed inaccessible by authorities in the Tower. I have planned to
investigate. If good fortune besides me, I will be allowed to locate the rebels and present the
truth they do not yet know.

December 3rd, 2058.

My attempt has been successful. The Union has been found and informed about eminent
threats.

I strolled along the tracks of the abandoned tunnels the full length of the day; my body ached
with exhaustion and hunger. My body requested truce, yet my mind would not allow me. I
had almost given up, when my senses sighted a peculiar arrangement of debris. If not for my
keenness in finding patterns, these would have gone unnoticed. Large pieces of cement,
slightly higher than a foot, lay upon the abandoned tracks in what resembled a circular
formation. One of greater proportions stood in the center. My instincts told me that I had
found the place. All I needed was patience.

I waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, I could hear soft and gentle steps echoing through
the tunnels. No voices. Sounds came from the left; I hid on the right, behind the central
boulder. Once they had arrived, I heard a calm and soothing female voice, as of
compassionate mother, tenderly awakening her child early in the morning, Please,
gentlemen, take your seats. At once, I stood. Startle covered their faces. The voice again,
still untroubled, Take hold of him. It did not resist. I then went on to explain myself. I told
them all I knew: the truth.

Once I had ended, a number of them urged to bring my life to an end, with the fair argument
that I had brought all their chances of taking control of the City to an end. I remained
indifferent towards their choice. The ultimate verdict, however, was of the leaderwhich I
later on learned was Serenawho decided to spare my life, on the stipulation that I would
become one of them and be part of the Union, further assisting them on the obliteration of the
formula and the overthrowing of the Command. I agreed. Conditions were fair enough. Fairer
than I would give myself the right to if it had been my choice. I deserved worse. I still do.

Tomorrow: same time, same location. We shall then plan for the assault, which should be
taking place soon. Humankind no longer has any second to spare.

December 4th, 2058.

We have once again met. Planning has run thoroughly and all has been clearly defined and
organized. Serena led the meeting and a couple of us, including myself gave input to improve
plan to seize control of the Tower and overthrow the Command. It has also been established
the scheme to retrieve the formula, which Command has planned to implement eight days
from now; two week posterior to the repulsive recognition ceremony.

First step will be to figure out the buildings service schedule. By doing so, a few of us will
be allowed to enter the Tower through the front door undercover. Next we will require image
shots of the security featuresthe alarm system, guards, cameras. Planning will then be fully
complete and we should only wait for the day.

When the day arrives, we will enter the building and head up to the eleventh floor, where the
buildings security room is found. We will then silence the officials running the system and
lock ourselves inside the room. A hacker will then be able to enter the system and sound the
fire alarm. He will also disable the signal that should be sent to the Fire Department as soon
as the alarm is sounded. The building should quickly be evacuated, and once everyone is out,
we lock down all access into the building.

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The remainder of the rebel force will be ready, directly underneath the Tower in one of the
old underground tunnels that used to run immediately bellow. As soon as the rebels inside the
control room send us the signal, we will explode the ceiling of the underground passage,
giving us instant and simple access into the Tower. Once there, each of us will head to our
designated room of operations with the aid of the Towers blueprint, sent to us by the
undercover crew, where each of us will be capable of accomplishing our appointed task,
ultimately seizing full control of the City.

I have been assigned the task of taking over the National Vault through the Room of Central
Operation in the Tower. Once there, I will be able to destroy the content of any safe, then
obliterating the formula, lastly destroy my lifetimes study with the push of a button. It is the
least I can do to pay an infinitesimal portion of my debt with society.

December 5th, 2058.

Our informants have sent us the intel on the buildings service schedule. It is unfortunate that
the servicing taking place closest to today is arranged for the 11th, one day prior to the
implementation of the formula. We have accepted and the inside informant has cancelled the
job with the original company. This will force our attempt to be successful; there will be no
time for a second try. A maintenance crew should be sent to the Tower to fix a sector of the
air conditioning system. All we need for the cover are uniforms and a HVAC maintenance
van, which will be sorted out by other members of the Union and should be ready tomorrow.

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December 6th, 2058.

The cover is ready and set. Disguises, along with the van, are hidden in a safe location
moderately far from here. Explosives still have to be obtained, which might be a slightly
harder task to execute, for their exchange is monitored by the Command, in spite of that, it is
nothing that cannot be accomplished.

December 7th, 2058.

Explosives have given a number of us a substantially large headache to be acquired. They are
nowhere to be found other than in military bases and mining operations, where they are under
extreme security and supervision. Although an attempt to steal them has been cogitated, the
team has agreed that the risk would be too great, alarming Command leaders of a possible
attack. We have therefore decided that with the scientific expertise of a couple of us, with the
correct materials, we are capable of assembling explosives that are equally efficient to the
manufactured ones. We must now search for the correct substances to have all prepared by
tomorrow.

December 8th, 2058.

Equipment and material have come into our possession. Our small team of former scientists
has been able to assemble a total of 15 explosives. With such amounts, our calculations have
showed that a circle with a diameter of 5 meters will be able to be open if bombs are places

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throughout the circumference of the circle approximately 1 meter apart from each other. A
team has been delegated the job to place them accordingly in the precise location. Guns and
somniferous darts have also been acquired by the crew.

It seems that all regarding the action has been sorted out and the Union is ready to take
action. We anxiously wait for the day of the tempest. Tomorrow we shall rest, before our
final meeting on the 10th, where details will be arranged for the attack on the 11th, when the
Command shall see its downfall.

December 9th, 2058.

Intense work has kept me focused once again. I believe my help has been significant;
nonetheless, my input has not freed me from my destiny. I continue to represent a threat to
human life. My past actions remain my exasperation. As much as I try placing my eye upon
the future, my mind craves to remind me of what I have done. My head turn back; my eyes
wide open. I hear sounds, peoples voices urging for the freedom they do not have, yet there
is silence. I have placed a plague upon my people, yet there is no death; only silence. I have
silently killed them. How could I have been so nave?! Idiot! Stupid! Fool! The future may
seem brighter, yet my actions, actions I shall never forgive, have attempted to take our fate
into shadow, into shade. Final planning is tomorrow.

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December 10th, 2058.

We have met once again upon the trails where once a vastness of trains once roamed; loud
voices, footsteps, spinning wheels, screeching wheels, now there is silence. Serena, to assure
everyone had fully understood the plan, went over its entirety once again. Details were fixed.
All was ready, yet uneasiness was unanimous among us, rebels of the Union. There was our
leader, nonetheless, Serena. She was calm. Her lightness of spirit soothed us. Her voice, slow
and steady, soothed us. Her mere presence, deep, intense, confident, soothed us. She was the
silence we all needed. She led in peace. She led to war.

December 11th, 2058.

The plan has been put into action. I now write a description of what has taken place.

It was still dark when we all met inside the tunnels. We were all given extremely discrete
communicators to be placed in our ears. Three our members left at dawn. They headed to the
maintenance van in the outlying location. Once they arrived there, they changed into the
uniforms and swapped vehicles. They waited for the time when the Tower would open its
doors. As soon as the time arrived, they started for the central building of our City. Once they
arrived there they went through a rigorous security check. No issues. Pistols were extremely
well hidden and disguised as tools within the multitude they carried inside their bags.

They headed to the eighth floor through the elevator, where the problem was supposed to be
fixed. Once they arrived, they were left alone. They soon set out for the 11th floor through the

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stairs. They were empty. As they entered the vast floor, they silently moved towards the room
they were after. There was no time to appreciate the beauty and the elegance of the inner
Tower.

Although their tension, they remained cold blooded, their voices steady. Once at the door, a
regular metallic keypad blocked their entrance. Our skillful hacker was able to get through in
a matter of second. The door unlocked. We followed through, with the communicators. In
one fell swoop, the other two members of the team slammed open the door and fired the darts
at the four officers that sat at their desks, observing the vastness of monitors before them. No
shots were missed.

The three crept into the room and were careful enough to lock bolt the door behind them. The
hacker rapidly went into action. Not a single word left his mouth until he was done. We now
full control of the building.

The fire alarm was sounded. People rushed down the floors of the building. Now, all we
needed was time. The crew went on observing the monitors as floors gradually became
empty, top to bottom.

Once everyone had left, cramming the streets around the Tower, our crew activated full
exterior lockdown. No way in or out of the building above the grounds of the city. Any
military attempt to access the Tower would be automatically contained by the buildings
automatic security system, which could solely be deactivated from the inside.

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Now the next step remained with us. Explosives were detonated. A circular portion of the
Towers main lobby thundered down into the aged underground tunnels of the City. A roar
echoed through the walls around us. Once the dust had descended, we, the other portion of
the rebels, escalated through the debris, finally reaching the vastly ample entrance hall of the
Tower. People were mesmerized. For a second there was silence, then a unison cry spread
through the rebels. We shouted for glory. We ran.

Serena, two of her Commissioners, and I headed to the Room of Central Operations, where
we would have full control over the City. Once there, the Union would become
indestructible. The old liberalist authoritarian regime of the Command would be
obliterated.

We soon arrived. Access was simple; our fellow rebels at the other room had disabled the
maximum-security system of the room, never off since the construction of the Tower. Serena
and the Commissioners rapidly went to the controls that ruled the City Systems. Once they
had understood the highly intricate system, they activated the insurmountable barriers that
shut the streets that surrounded the Tower from the rest of the City. The Command and its
entire personnel were now enclosed and under Union force. Military bases and systems shut
down and locked out.

I rushed to desk where could see a placard with the words National Volt. The system was also
quite complex, yet patterns, scattered everywhere, allowed me to comprehend the controls.
An archiving network; boundless. The Vault went as deep into the earth as the Tower did into
the sky. Floors, main sectors, minor sectors, rooms, rows, shelves, items, and finally the safes
themselves. No descriptions, only numbers. All in a meticulous pattern, except for one. There

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was one, only one, that broke the interminable architecture of the system. Uncertainty
encompassed my being. The ultimate decision remained with me; no use asking Serena. Full
obliteration of the safe could result in massive damage to our species once again. It was one
in a myriad of safes. Possibility went against me in every sense. My decision had to be quick,
time could not be wasted. My finger crept towards the button. Elimination. It was done.
Obliterated.

Instantly, a message presented itself before me, Error. File transference failed. The
following document could not be fully delivered to its recipient. Partial transfer displayed
bellow. As I bit my lips deepthey bledI read with angst the sole line of the document
that had left the Vault and was expected to be fully transferred by the end of this very day. I
read the first line of my formula, far from its completeness, yet specific enough to assure me
that it was it. My choice had been correct; I had ended with the plague before the pandemic.
Society is safe, yet I remain a threat.

December 12th, 2058.

It is one day after the Union has begun ruling our beloved City. Changes begin to be
observed throughout the area. Soon, a process to reinstitute thought and break the patterns
that maintain the extreme order of our nation will be initiated. Momentarily, Union concerns
are those of publicly executing every member of the Command as a method of protection
from any insurgent group formed by former Command officials. Capital punishments sent out
by the Union should be initiated tomorrow. And I remain a threat.

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December 13th, 2058.

Not one individual from the Command has endured the mass massacre run by the Union. In
groups of five, they stood in a row above a podium placed before the Tower. They had to
stand there, waiting for their death, until Union leaders gave the signal and rebels
continuously shot them to death. People from the City were forced to watch, as they crammed
the streets around the capital building of our nation. Images of the killings were projected
onto the walls of the building throughout the region. The silence was complete. Once every
single member of the Command had been eliminated, a cry could be heard in the distance.
One voice within a multitude of people. Then there were two. Then three. Then five. Eight.
Fifteen. Thirty. Seventy. One-hundred. Three-hundred. One-thousand. It grew. And it grew
fast.

People have succumbed to the Union. The blank slates have now been painted. They now
begin to think for themselves. A step out of the abyss. A stairway has been build out of hard
stone. Slowly they will be freed and imagination shall soon be able to prosper once again.
The future now has light. Be it one type or the other.

December 15th, 2058.

A gradual process of change has now begun. My duty is done. I have now left the Union,
seeing that the Command no longer has control over peoples lives. The curse I have place
upon my people has been undone. I now vow that I will no longer exert influence over the
lives of the people, should I judge it good or evil; I will remain silent about all that takes

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place on the outer world. My confessions here written shall be my sole influence on
humanity, and shall remain here and here only, reflecting exclusively on myself. My opinion
no longer matters. I am a threat.

December 17th, 2058.

The Union seems to be attempting to change the minds of people. Patterns begin to be
broken. Entertainment returns to its originators. There is vision. There is thrill. True
knowledge returns to schools. There is thought. There is creativity. A spark. Curiosity.
People have freedom at last.

The Union seems to be attempting to change the minds of people. Any attempt to support the
former Command is oppressed. There is obstruction of sight. There is constraint. Authority
remains with the ones in control. Although there is freedom in every sense, they attempt to
hide the true past from the people. There is distortion. Opacity.

Yet, there is no order. The good face returns. Or does it? Thoughts shall flourish. Shall they?

I keep silent, I, a threat.

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December 19th, 2058.

Although my uneasiness towards a few aspects of the Union control, all seems to have settled
and seems to function accordingly. The mind of the people goes through slow, yet steady
change. The areas of the brain that used to display extremely low neural activity now begin to
emit a greater number of waves. Transformations, psychological and biological, internal and
external, can commence to be perceived. My good presentiment, for the moment, endures.
Things seem to have changed; nevertheless, the current situation does not exempt me from
my immoralities of the past. The heavy burden prevails upon my back. I remain a threat.

December 21st, 2058.

Time goes by. The gradual process of change endures. I remain to question if I will ever
forgive me for my actions.

December 23rd, 2058.

Arguments have arisen between leaders of the Union. Factions have been created. One led by
Serena. The other by one of her, now former, Commissioner, Jacob. His radicalism and urge
for full reform instigated a number of Union members that have decided to follow his ideals.
They see present approach as overly mild and agree that change is barely seen throughout the
City. The other portion has confidence upon current action, agreeing utterly that Jacobs
extremism will lead humanity nowhere and will solely cause chaos, damage, and disorder.

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It has less than two weeks since the Union has seized control over the Command.

December 24th, 2058.

A Civil War has begun and my efforts to pay my debt with society now begin to loose their
value. The unexpected has occurred. The light has become dimmer. My existence remains a
threat. Evil roams the planet. It is everywhere. When the time of the choice had arrived and
the two roads diverged into the wood, I took the one less travelled, yet that has made no
difference. I went for good. I have worked for good, yet all that returns is evil. My efforts
have been enormous, truly exhausting. I have tried and tried and tried. And I have failed. It
seems to me that Frost was wrong. Good does not depend only on one person, but on
everyone. True virtue can only be attained if all is good. Then it will make a difference.

I believe I have done my part. I have worked for a change and it is all that matters, yet my
actions of the past have chained me to the ground; they have cut my wings. I am a bird that
can no longer fly. I am a knife. A threat.

December 25th, 2058.

Civil War within the City begins to spread. It now presents major danger to the people.
Destruction is observed through the entirety of the region. Guerilla battles widely spread.
People, now able to make decisions of their own, hide in their dwellings from the violence of
the streets. I remain in mine, observing through the window. Chaos rules the Tower,

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untouched, yet fought for by the opposing factions. We must wait for the end, one of three
possible outcomes.

My knife remains hidden. I will not influence the future of our kind. If it evil that awaits for
us in the future, then it is evil that shall be. I remain indifferent, yet I grieve for what has
become of my people, my kind. My mind races, forever chained to the past.

December 26th, 2058.

Destruction endures. And it grows. It grows fast.

I begin to question if the Command was never better that the Union at the present moment.
There used to be order and freedom to roam the streets at will. Now, people remain home,
afraid. They can think, yet they cannot speak. Their voices silent.

They could once speak, their voices loud and clear, yet what could they speak? There was no
thought, no creation. They could speak, yet they could not think. Their voices silent.

Can there not be a balance? Equilibrium? Government and its way of leading can be
compared to the summit of a slippery inclined mountain. One must try to keep balance and
remain at center. One can move slightly to any of the directions; the balance can still be kept,
but as soon as one moves too much to one of the sides, one looses balance, slips and begins to
fall. This descend may take a while; years perhaps, but sooner or later one will be smashed
against the hard stone once they hit the ground. No one is strong enough to survive the fall.

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Shortly, someone else will have climbed the mountain all will be at the top. The process
repeats itself. There is no climbing gear. There is no safety equipment. There is only the wind
to change things if they are too stable.

Destruction remains and so do I, a threat.

December 27th, 2058.

Destruction and chaos reach a major scale. I begin to wonder if I have not been the one to
lead my City into chaos. My choices, my actions have put the rebels into power. I have
attempted to help my nation, yet I have failed. I have been the generator of the evil that
surrounds me. People in peril. Death.

I hold a scythe. I am the reaper of this world, yet all I reap is fruit that has already withered. I
am a knife, a scythe, a threat.

December 28th, 2058.

Rumors presented by the dark media allege that both faction leaders plan on mass destroying
each other. The possibility has been avidly discussed and debated upon by many, and I
remain worried. Bringing an end to our Civil War may bring an end to our people. Is it all
worth fighting for? Lives will not be spared. More destruction. Wreckage. Rubble.

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December 29th, 2058.

A synchronous ultimatum. The beginning, most likely a lie, yet a lie interpreted as truth may
hurt. It has been stated that misunderstanding has led both Jacob and Serena into believing
the other would secretly attempt to eliminate all threat to their respective ideals. Both attacks
are apparently undergoing preparation. When they are completed, the first will be put into
action. The second should follow. Simultaneous trigger pulling. Bombs shall burst in the air,
yet our flag will no longer be there. Obliteration. And I, the threat, falsely remain.

December 30th, 2058.

The chances of an attack are to high to force me to remain in my dwelling, unprotected.

Thoughts have rushed through my mind and I have remembered of the place where it all
began: the lab. It is now soiled and empty, yet fully armored, once prepared to protect the
research in the past, at any cost. I believe the systems can be reactivated. Explosions will not
harm me. There I will be safe. Alone. Indifferent. I, the threat, shall remain, but not for long.

December 31st, 2058.

It is new-years eve.

I am afraid. Afraid that life will end and thought will cease. My muscles have stiffened.

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I am fearful. Fearful of what is to come. Fearful that it is the mind, knowledge, the creator of
all evil. My sweat pours through my skin; cold.

I am frightened. Frightened by evolution being futile and lives becoming pointless. My body
quivers. I try to stop themthe tremors and twitches; I cant.

I am terrified. Terrified of the unknown; of the future and of what is yet to come. My heart
beats fast and loud. I can hear it coming through the ground, the walls. Pounds.

January 1st, 2059.

It has past the witching hour. A new year has begun. I have not slept. I hear the bombs.
Explosions, as if to celebrate the new beginning. I hear cries. Cries of innocent people that
used to roam the streets in silence. These noises have endured for hours. I can hear the sound
of death.

The blasts were louder and louder every time, yet the silence grew. A last eruption, then
silence. A silence unknown. One I have never heard before. Not like the silent society of the
Command, or like the quiet people of the Union, a beautiful sound of nothing; a sound of
silence. No whispers, no murmurs. No sighs, no sniffs, or chuckles. No constant humming of
the machines. Only pure silence.

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Pure, if not for a different sound, a buzz, which disturbed such sublime silence. The buzz
seemed to follow me where I went. It is the buzz of my existence; the sound of death calling
upon my soul.

I had decided to leave the lab and so I did. Destruction surrounded me at every corner.
Patterns have gone to the ground. Havoc. No more buildings stood upon the old changing
streets of the City, only people, dead upon ground. Dust. Blood, running through the paving
of the streets as river. The piercing sight of scarlet red. Obliteration, yes obliteration, was it
perhaps humankinds ultimate salvation?

The closeness to the Silence disturbed by my existence. It annoys me. I can no longer live.
My life must come to its end. I saw a gun lying beside a dead man who once urged for
revolution. My hands have wrapped around it. My eyes have searched for a bullet. One! At
last. I have placed it, my finger sitting on the trigger, waiting for my command. And as the
muzzle sits beneath my chin, I write these words of resolution.

The world can now have its moment of silence, once and for all.

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