Triggered Town

Triggered Town by Maxwell Blue ● Chapter One.

“Malik! Malik!” Jeremiah called out. His friend was knocked out as if he was hit by a mighty thunderclap. Studying the scene Jeremiah noticed that their explosives were gone. Jeremiah knew Malik to be his best fighter so something must have gone horribly wrong. Jeremiah shook Malik in an attempt to stir him.

“Is that you, Laila” Malik whispered into Jeremiah’s ear.

“I’m not your girlfriend, Malik” Jeremiah said as recoiled from him. “How did you let those machines get the drop on you? If you only stuck to the plan and stayed low we might’ve blown an opening into the Complexes’ interior.”

“One of the machines told me something. I can’t say what it was. I was too weak to flee. That’s when they must’ve relieved me of my explosive gear.” As much of a setback it was to the cause, Malik couldn’t help to look at this as anything but a mark of good fortune. There was no telling how many pieces he would be in right now if those charges were set incorrectly. Visions of Jeremiah reducing a Redwood to splinters gave him some idea. The thought to what could have happened was poignant.

“It’s not right these soulless enforcers are using unnatural means to oppress us. You think that after The Great War our people could have some peace. Not put into camps with nothing to do all day for years on end.”

“At least these overlords feed us.” That is what Malik kept telling himself for as long as he can remember. The notion was of little comfort.

“Hey look, Malik!” A young woman with the most beautiful shade of hazelnut skin appeared several yards in front of them. Despite being partially blinded by the midday sun, they could both see her plainly on the hill, in front of the silver radiance of the Southside Complex, a colossal structure that towered over nearby mountaintops. The woman’s silhouette was a shapely image of gracefulness. Jeremiah knew no one other than Destiny would be so brazen as to come here alone. She was the most vicious warrior woman from just beyond the Valley of the Songs. Neither of them was surprised to see her here on this field. Malik clearly delighted in the sight of her and he did nothing more than to crystallize his thoughts around how he could get Destiny to bestow her admiration on him. Jeremiah’s momentary joy in seeing her was quickly overshadowed by horror when an enforcer appeared there before her. Destiny didn’t seem surprised by the robot’s agile movements that defied its lofty stature. Somehow she thought she could turn the robot’s strength against itself. A waking-dream passed before Jeremiah. He was once again a young man running on the Uplands of Questions and drinking from the River of Reason and wondered what mysteries resided in the massive Southside Complex. Never had he seen anyone who had walked through those gates, those gargantuan walls as solid as stone. Jeremiah had heard whispers once. They were like tales without tails, like an endless supply of tomorrows with no day different from the next. The mundanity of it stretched beyond any recorded marking of time. The ancient ones talked to him in prayer about the ancient times before The Great War and that is why Jeremiah keeps walking toward the end of the tale, to answer the riddles others were too fearful to touch. He knew his years were too few to leave a lasting impact, but the resistance would be there. Malik and Destiny would be there. Even if this destination in time extended beyond the slow circling of his years the resistance would still have its many followers. For a dreams with deep emotion stay in motion

 only needs to have motion to be in motion.

For dreams need only be turned into motion,

watermarks only need to be set so high, before distant visions can be foretold in earnest and become a myriad of memories, rewarded by Destiny and sold tenfold.

“It looks like she’s taking on that monster alone,” Malik called out as if Jeremiah was unaware. She was armed only with a plank of dry wood. Destiny swung at the robot and swung at it again and again and again like she had gone insane. Malik had never heard about anyone who had knocked down one of these guys, let along defeated them in battle, but it sure wasn’t for lack of trying. Destiny, attacked the robot again, with her plank of wood, and the robot twisted and turned, like a honey bee in the wind. Undeterred she swung at it one more time and completely missed it. The robot stepped back and held out one arm to defend itself on the next blow. Sure enough Destiny leaned into the next swing and broke her plank against the robot’s right arm. Then both Malik and Jeremiah heard the robot say something to Destiny and like a bird landing on a lifeless branch, she tripped over her own feet and fell down without the robot laying a hand on her. Unopposed the machine assessed the situation and continued along its preprogramed path.

Jeremiah spoke first, “Did you hear what that monster said?”

“It sounded like ‘stop’”

“What about the last part?”

“I couldn’t much make that out.” Malik said. He tried to think about what he just heard. His head ached from before and his ears were ringing quite a bit. “Sounded like ‘boo-man’”

“That can’t be right,” Jeremiah said shaking his head. “What’s a ‘boo-man’?”

“The hell that I know, Jeremiah,” Malik said still trying to break loose from the ringing he had felt by rattling his head some more. “Well what did you hear?”

“The robot said ‘Stop Human…’”

The next thing Jeremiah and Malik knew they had both fainted and were just two heaps of bewilderment on the freshly cut lawns outside the Southside Complex. It was a lush space of majestic trees and verdant surroundings. Destiny was vigorously trying to stir them awake. “Are you woke?”

“Woke and a believer, my child. I only wish I could say the same thing about the rest of our people,” Jeremiah said “but I doubt they will believe what we saw.”

“I saw it and I still don’t believe it,” Malik said doing his best to remember what happened a few moments ago. His thoughts raced and a plague of questions looped around him.

“Belief is just as much faith as it is belief,” Jeremiah said with a half-smile.

“What I don’t understand is that word you heard the robot use. What does it mean? I haven’t heard it used before today,” Malik said.

Still heated with rage and compassion for her friends Destiny jumped into the middle of the conversation. “I didn’t hear nothing. My mind was a total blank. When I came to I feared you both were shot by that relic from The Great War.”

“Destiny, how can you think such a thing?” Jeremiah said.

“I think the worst. I always do,” Destiny admitted.

“All guns disappeared ages ago. As an old man I know this.” Jeremiah reassured her. “You mustn’t listen to those ghost stories around the fire.”

“But what is THAT word?” Malik compelled an answer.

“I suppose it is an ancient slur meant to keep our people down. It appears to overpower us and makes us weak before them. We mustn’t use this word. We mustn’t even think it. There is no accounting the damage such a triggering word can do. It’s bad enough these robots use it. I fear a deep and nefarious connection,” Jeremiah explained.

“I don’t get it,” Destiny pushed into the discussion with the energy she showed battling the robot. “How can a word have that much power over someone? Speak your mind with me. I shall not fear what you have to say or anyone’s speech for that matter. We are the masters here! I am not going to be a victim of triggering words.”

“You don’t know what you speak of,” Malik said losing patience with her. “Jeremiah and I both saw you fall when the robot spoke it to you.”

“You heard that machine say something triggering to me? Let’s hear it…” Destiny said.

“What?” Malik asked.

“The word!” Destiny pressed.

“Don’t say it, Malik” Jeremiah warned. “Don’t you dare say it!”

“The problem with you Destiny is that you are too ‘Human’.” Malik said with a grin.

*          *          *

“Malik, are you awake yet?”

“Destiny, is that you?” Malik asked.

“Destiny? Who is this woman, Destiny?” Laila asked. “You’d been playing around on me?”

“Where am I?” Malik asked.

“Home.”

Malik felt well rested despite the slight buzzing around his thoughts. He rubbed the side of head and it gave him some needed peace. He needed time to think. He knew he could get the best of those robots. He was certain that no word, no matter how triggering, would defeat him. He just needed to build up a resistance to the word somehow.

Laila, his bride to be, was standing impatiently by the only source of illumination.  Like an enchantress in the doorway the sunlight beamed pass her and into the room; the open door leading to the outside world. She wore a woven wrap of dark blue and grayish-green, figure-hugging tightly around her midsection. Malik found Laila attractive. She was slender and her demeanor was very personable, but lately he had tired of her mothering ways.

“Malik, I had you pulled off the Southside Complex,” said Christopher, the general representative, storming through the open door. “Antagonizing those machines again? That will be enough of that. There’s no telling what will happen if you persist on pushing them. They might snap you in two next time and retaliate against us in the villages.”

“Do you hear yourself, Christopher?” Malik seethed “Those machines keep us locked up in these little clusters. We don’t even know how many other tribes are out there. We have no communication with the outside world. There could be numbers beyond count or we can be the only tribesmen in the world. That makes us very special. We could be on the edge of everything or on the end of nothing. I have to find out which is which while there’s some fight in me.”

“What you don’t know can’t hurt you.”

“I like to hear you say that when those machines decide to wipe us out.”

“Don’t they provide everything for us? They give us food, shelter and water. We need for nothing.”

“I don’t want to keep living that way anymore.”

Christopher hoped to end this exchange with Malik, “So what are you going to do,” he spat at him.

“Oh, I believe I found a way,” Malik said with a smile as wide as a blueberry pie.

“How?” Christopher asked with his feet already pointing out the door.

“I just have one more word to say to you, Christopher.”

“What ‘word’?”

“Human,” Malik said venomously.

This time Malik didn’t pass out; he just dropped to his knees, the smug satisfaction was overwhelming.  Christopher on the other hand fell mercilessly; he hit the dirt floor with an unforgiving splat, when he was swiftly shifted off his feet surely as a sneeze would blow out a deeply held wish.

Malik got to his feet just as Laila stepped into their shack. Laila’s outburst did nothing to deny her secretly shared love for Christopher. She took one look at Christopher’s comatose state on the floor and said, “What have you done, Malik?”

“I triggered him. That’s what I done. A short time ago I was like that, but no more, never again. I won’t be triggered. Words are not going to have power over me!”

“You are talking nonsense,” Laila shouted back at him. “What have you done to Christopher? Did you hit him, Malik? Christopher was right about you. You’re an uncaring beast who leaves nothing but disaster in his wake. I don’t know you anymore. I don’t want to know you anymore.”

“Think so? Well ‘Human’ to you.” And Laila slipped forward like she was standing on black ice. This time Malik just felt dizzy and was able to watch Laila fall, savoring every second of it. She collapsed on top Christopher with a thud. “It was nice knowing you,” Malik said, without a though of turning back. He never felt this powerful before. He thought he could do anything. He would show those robots a thing or two. He won’t be triggered by their words. He marched with purpose to the edge of the village.

“Stop Malik!” Christopher called out barely able to stand. “That man is dangerous!” Five beefy thugs responded to Christopher’s call to arms and many more blindly followed. They grabbed hold of Malik by his arms and shoulders, one by one and with the sound of his voice Malik triggered them all, in the end they turned out to be as bothersome as an autumn breeze.

The main complex was about an hour’s walk. From well over that distance he could see this massive monolith of polished metal and reflexive glass, a true marvel for any tribesman whose home was a boxy shack. This place was like a beacon that called to him. That was the real reason he took up the cause to fight the machines when it was deemed hopeless by people like Christopher. Christopher was contented to just survive and hold onto what power the tribespeople were comfortable in giving him. Now he had the power and he could feel it. Maybe he was a little mad; just a little. But what kind of small minded fool would just drop what they were doing and fall to the ground because of a simple word. Well, he was not going to be that way anymore.

“Malik you hardheaded rhinoceros,” Destiny said. “Off to battle the machines, again?”

“Don’t try to stop me, Destiny.”

“Are you going to strike me like you did, Christopher?”

“I didn’t strike him,” Malik contested.

They were walking along the wayward path on the Uplands of Questions approaching the River of Reason before Destiny let into Malik. “Are you going to tell me what is happening with you or are you going to keep me in darkness?”

“I’m going to fulfill Jeremiah’s dream. He told me there were tales without tails and some other nonsense, but he went on and on about how Destiny is the key to everything. Still I am not sure if you were the Destiny that he was talking about. It was always touch and go when he got into those waking-dreams.” Malik turned toward Destiny and it looked like she was trying to process a thought and couldn’t come up with the right words. The natural beauty of her face was mesmerizing, only slightly brushed with concern. “What have you, Destiny? Are you going to help put a tail on this tale or are you turning back?”

“I’m with you,” Destiny said calmly. Her spirit was too adventurous to be the one to turn back now.

“That’s good,” Malik said. “But that means I have to toughen you up.”

“Toughen me…”

“Human,” Malik sweetly whispered in ear and like the wings cruelly clipped from a butterfly Destiny lost flight and slid into a fog, but didn’t succumb to the triggering powers of that word. Her will was too strong and she was fighting it with the fearlessness of a lioness. All the good cheer she had when she first went after Malik had vanished.

“Why did you do that to me!” she demanded, her face flushed and her lungs huffing like she suffered a massive panic attack.

“I had no choice,” Malik said with just a touch of pity. “You said you’re with me. You know where I’m going, don’t you? We can’t have you going in there defenseless, can we?”

“Okay,” Destiny said. “I’m ready. Give me your best shot.” Malik dosed her with the triggering word again and again and Destiny tremored as they made their way to the River of Reason. The word barely triggered her the next time he said it and after that it was like he was calling her name. Not even a momentary reaction.

“Those machines won’t know what hit ‘em,” Malik said with smug satisfaction.

Soon they were on the verdant hills overlooking the exhilaration that was the Southern Complex. The grounds surrounding the Complex appear to be well maintained. The grass was even trimmed and the bushes have been well groomed and the old growth trees frame the building as though they were planted making them anywhere from two hundred to five hundred years old. Malik and Destiny would have called this place “Eden” if only they known the word. While some members of their tribe were drawn to this place like a mother bear to her cubs, others were contented to forever remain on the periphery of wonderment. As they approached the Complex the doors to the building came into view. They dwarfed everything on the grounds.

“What do you think is behind those doors?” Destiny questioned, in a way that gave Malik chills and a sense of dread, yet somehow determination stepped him one foot forward. He examined the doors, which appeared to be virtually sealed into the structure.

“I don’t know,” Malik told her “That’s why we’re here.”

As expected it didn’t take too long before the machines revealed themselves on the grounds. Whenever anyone from the tribe would enter this area the machines would gather to chase them away. In the past Malik and Destiny would attack them “By Any Means Necessary”, but this time they came empty handed and armed only with their wits. Three of the machines traversed the hills and stood before them. The machines stood there watching and waiting. They were at least nine feet tall, slender in form with a slick and shiny surface that reflected light as easily as the still waters of a pond. It seemed that they perceived objects like anyone else and could only see what was right in front of them. When they moved it was very graceful, despite their large size, but it was possible to outrun them if they didn’t pursue you, of course.

“Why aren’t they attacking us?” Malik questioned “Don’t they always react when we are near?”

“I don’t think so,” Destiny said. “They only now seem to respond to aggression. If you aren’t aggressive like we are now it doesn’t seem they will do anything. I believe they are like peacekeepers.”

“Let’s walk past them,” Malik said, “I don’t believe they will stop us.”

“You think that is a good idea,” Destiny said.

“Sure, that’s why we came here,” Malik said.

As Malik and Destiny approached the Southside Complex they grew to understand how substantial this building was. The closer they got to it the smaller they became. It reached across the fields like one continuous mountain range. When they were just outside the Complex the immense doors in front of them began to shift and turn, pulling apart like Malik and Destiny were standing on the epicenter of an earthquake. Once the gap in the door was wide enough a phalanx of enforcers marched out. The one in the lead had gold markings on its chest and shoulders, much like a tattoo.

“What do you think those scribbles are on that one’s chest, Destiny?”

Destiny was awestruck, like she just discovered a huge secret. “It’s an alphabet. Jeremiah told me there was a legend going back before The Great War that there was once something called ‘writing’. He called it words without speakin’.”

The golden tattooed robot stepped forward and addressed them. “I’m Veloso. We sense that you two have broken the social conditioning.”

“You won’t even try to trigger us?” Asked Destiny

“No need to…,” Veloso said “We are programed to know such things, Destiny.”

Destiny took half a step back in shock. “How do you know my name?”

“We know all our children’s names.” Echoed a voice from behind a cavernous entrance, Destiny thought it might be her Sky-God. “Isn’t that right, Veloso?” The robot didn’t answer. A man about a foot taller than Malik stepped forward. “Malik, do you want to see the tail of the tale? Say the words and you may enter.” Destiny shook Malik like she did a day ago, but Malik didn’t disappear, he was just in deep thought, damming the stream of doubt and moving ever closer to an answer.

“I never did mind about the little things,” Malik finally said

“You can have a home among us,” the man replied, “I’m Zunder. Welcome to the Caretakers, we protect what is left of humanity. Almost a millennial ago there was a world war, the war known to you as The Great War. Governments at the time enforced diversity and segregation and the populous would riot amazingly over the slightest things, ever so very small and minute things. They called them microaggressions because you needed a microscope to see them. We, the Caretakers, knew society was on the brink of war, too volatile to survive the approaching cataclysm so we built these centers to protect ourselves and later searched out and helped what remained of humankind. Only we couldn’t allow outsiders into our sanctum until they learned that the one true diversity is the diversity of thought and they must hold true to the ideals that a person should never mind about the little things.”

The material of Zunder’s clothing had a certain shine to it and the bright blue flowing cape he wore moved like nothing Destiny had ever seen before, but the most peculiar thing about Zunder was the color of his skin. “Why is your skin so much lighter than ours?” She couldn’t help but stare.

“The forerunners came from all over, yet slowly over the many centuries through commingling and ever increasing lack of sunlight out pigmentations have lightened a great deal for most of us. Great need brought us together before the start of that Great War, but it wasn’t the parity of sex or degree of skin color that we championed, it was our determination to survive and as you see we have made a sagacious heaven out of the crackling cinders of nuclear ciaos.”