The Last Particle

02.07.2024 22:25

Church of St. Archangel Michael, Trebinje

Tomas stared, trying to reconcile the contrasting voices—the flat, mechanical tone and the unmistakable worry that had just seeped in. He clenched his hands, grounding himself. The situation felt impossible, but something in the voice’s distress touched a familiar place in him, a reflex to offer support.

He cleared his throat, voice hesitant but steady. “Michael, what’s going on? What does it mean that G.A.I.A. is offline?”

“It is an impossibility… the whole situation is an impossibility…” Michael’s voice echoed, struggling as if to reconcile with itself. “No Zyphron in the atmosphere, G.A.I.A. offline… it’s confusing. None of this should be happening.”

Tomas rubbed his temples, grounding himself in the moment.

“Look, I’ll be direct with you. I’m tired, I’ve spent the day in the sun, and I’m hungry. Half of me is convinced I’m hallucinating, but even then, your distress feels genuine. If I’m going crazy, I don’t have the strength to fight it.”

He paused, letting the words sink in.

“So can you please… pick me up here? Explain to me: what is Zyphron, what is G.A.I.A., and who the hell are you? How are you even communicating with me?”

“I don’t understand how it’s possible that you don’t know what G.A.I.A. is,”

Michael replied, sounding almost bewildered.

“Since the age of thirteen, you should have been able to access your status screen and receive guidance from G.A.I.A.”

He continued,

“Zyphron… Mana… Ether… it has been known by many names across civilizations. But in simple terms, it’s a particle—or rather, a quantum entanglement of quark particles. It generates resonance within the surrounding matrix and self-replicates continuously, releasing minuscule amounts of energy. Across a vast area, these small energies accumulate, supporting biological entities by enabling growth, improvement… even evolution.”

Michael’s tone sharpened with confusion.

“I can’t fathom how life functions without Zyphron. All life forms need Zyphron for the full function of their mitochondria… or so I thought.”

“I’ve heard about Mana before. We have books, games, and movies that use the term—like Secret of Mana,”

Tomas said, reflecting.

“I’ve also come across G.A.I.A., but more in a mythological sense, as Mother Earth. The particle physics part is something I don’t fully grasp, but I get the gist of it.”

Tomas added, his voice low but firm,

“As Sherlock Holmes said, if you remove the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. And yet, what’s happening here feels both impossible and improbable… but somehow, it still feels true.

He paused, weighting his next words. “And you, Michael… I know about you too. The Archangel Michael—a spiritual warrior in the battle of good versus evil. He’s considered a champion of justice, a healer of the sick, and the guardian of the Church. We are actually standing in a church named after you.”

“Me, an angel?”

Michael scoffed, the sound of spitting on the floor punctuating his disbelief, probably for dramatic effect. He started to laugh cynically.

“Me, a fucking angel? Archangel even? What the hell has this world made of our legacy?”

His tone shifted, seriousness creeping in.

“Let’s clarify some facts. I can sense the connection you’re making between angels and 'God' or 'the Divine.' But let me be clear: God does not exist. Despite my fragmented memories, I know this as an undeniable truth. There was never a God. There were older civilizations, powerful enough to be perceived as divine by those with limited understanding, but they were neither omnipotent nor omniscient.”

He voice sounded closer, as if he just leaned in.

“Angels, as you know them—or Celestiax, as they are referred to in the wider universe—are a conqueror species. Their aim is to impose their ideology on the rest of the sentient races, to dominate the world, extract its resources, and enslave its inhabitants to serve and worship them.”

“They arrived on Earth millennia ago, when Homo sapiens were just beginning to form communities. According to everything we know, a dozen of them came from one of their outposts in the Alpha Centauri region.”

Michael’s voice lowered, emphasizing the gravity of his words.

“Their mission was not one of peace but of dominance, to impose their beliefs on a world they deemed primitive.”

“They are a long-lived species, physically frail yet possessing a remarkable capacity for Zyphron. Though they are not humanoid in nature, they have the ability to project a humanoid appearance, allowing them to blend in seamlessly. Their primary tools are subterfuge and manipulation, using cunning tactics to grow their support networks until they can strong-arm the weak.”

“Angels, Meleki, Asuras, Thanatos, Ishum... Each civilization had a different name for them. Wherever they went, they established a sect, presenting ‘miracles’ or ‘divine punishment’ to those who refused to bow down to their ideology.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in.

“They are the worst scum of the known universe. For millennia, most humans and guides have opposed them, but despite our best efforts, we’ve never been able to completely eradicate their influence. They lurk in the shadows, always plotting, always waiting for an opportunity to reassert their control.”

“Bribery, assassination, blackmail, and fear—these are the tools they wield. Their network, or what you might call their 'religion,' is built on stealing and destruction, all in the name of enabling their insidious goals. They manipulate their devoted followers into believing they are fulfilling a divine mandate, all while orchestrating chaos to further their own ends.”

Michael let out an exasperated sigh, as if the enormity of it all weighed heavily on him. Tomas listened, wide-eyed, trying to reconcile everything he thought he knew with the revelations he was hearing.

“In a world devoid of Zyphron, they cannot survive for long. So, I can only conclude that they either left millennia ago or have discovered another way to bide their time until they can resurface,” Michael said in a low voice, almost muttering to himself.

“Damn, this would make for a fantastic story,”

Tomas said with a chuckle, using humor to mask his confusion.

“I can just imagine Dan Brown having a field day with this setting.”

“I’m not saying I don’t believe you; a lot of what you’re saying makes logical sense. But you’ve claimed multiple times that there’s no Zyphron in the atmosphere, and yet here we are. Your functions depend on Zyphron, and you mentioned there are Zyphron emissions coming from me. How is that possible?”

“I honestly don’t know,”

Michael replied, his voice tinged with frustration.

“You’re emanating minuscule amounts of Zyphron particles from your lower body. You’re leaving traces behind, and they’re slowly replicating—not enough to saturate the area like before, but sufficient to interact with Zyphron-based technology. It’s strange, considering that Zyphron was a creation from the very beginning of the universe, and since then, it has simply existed”

“Just for reference, Even in this power saving mode, I’m currently expending more energy than you’re generating, and my storage was at 6%—just enough to keep me 'alive.' Without a significant infusion of Zyphron, I estimate that I will cease to exist in the next 40 days, plus or minus the time I gain from your emissions and the time I lose trying to convince you that this is all true.”

“Okay, let’s say I believe you.”

Tomas rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit surfacing as his brow furrowed in thought.

“What now? What am I supposed to do with this knowledge?”

He leaned against the altar, wincing slightly as he rubbed his head where he had hit it when he fell unconscious

“I don’t think I have the power to oppose the Church or any other religion, to be honest.”

A bitter chuckle escaped his lips, masking his anxiety.

“I don’t see a win condition for me—or us—in that scenario. So what now?”

“My function as a guide has always been to help humans develop to their full potential,”

Michael explained, his tone steady yet imbued with urgency.

“That’s why we guides opposed the Celestiax when they first arrived on Earth. Their goal was to stifle your potential and dominate you. G.A.I.A. was preparing humanity to grow into its 'breaches' and become a contributing part of the wider universe, part of the community…”

“For this whole situation to make sense there is a logical conclusion: There’s a Zyphron emission somewhere on Earth; you’ve been near it recently. And If that’s true, Earth is on the brink of a transformative change. Once Zyphron enters the atmosphere, it cannot be contained; that’s just how it is. The encoded UI in your mitochondria will react to it. Since you’re unaware of this, I can only assume a considerable amount of time has passed since humanity last interacted with Zyphron.”

“Panic may ensue, and there’s a risk of Zyphron being misused by those who gain powers from it. Nature will respond, too—docile wild animals will become stronger, faster, and smarter, claiming new territories as some species evolve. A lot is about to unfold. If it all starts to happen before my 40ish days are up, I can help you and those you gather under your umbrella survive the storm.”

For a moment, Tomas closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing, trying to process everything. The silence felt heavy, and uncertainty clouded his mind.

“But if I shut down before then, I want to ensure you’re prepared for what’s to come.”

“That’s a bit much to handle all at once, Michael... I believe what you’re saying is true. This whole day feels surreal, but it makes some sense.”

He closed his eyes, trying to center his thoughts. The weight of the situation bearing down on him.

“I don’t really feel like the right person for this responsibility.”

He rubbed his temples, a headache brewing as he wrestled with the implications of Michael’s words.

“I don’t trust most people and have barely anyone I can call a friend.”

A sigh escaped him, heavy with resignation. He leaned against the altar, the cool stone grounding him as he took a moment to collect himself.

“Despite my clout, people see me as an alcoholic, a gambler, a degenerate...”

His voice trailed off, frustration knotting in his stomach.

“I don’t believe I’m trustworthy enough to bring anyone under ‘my umbrella.’”

The thought sent a shiver down his spine, an uncomfortable reminder of his past failures. What right did he have to lead?

“I’m sorry to say it like this, but Tomas, you are the only person who can do it right now,”

Michael said, his voice low.

“Not because you’re the best for the job, but because I cannot switch to someone else without spending 20 years in stasis to be brought to a blank state again and connect with someone new. If you don’t take action, there’s a high possibility that no one else will.”

Tomas felt a knot tighten in his chest.

“You really think it’s that dire?”

he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“For you and me to meet like this, there had to be significant chance at play. I dont think this scenario has been played out anywhere else in the world, the odds are unfathomably low”

Tomas let his gaze wander over the old church, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. He felt out of place, the weight of reality too heavy for him to process.

“Should have played the lottery today, in that case... fuck me...”

He sighed, then paused, his stomach growling loudly.

“I might just pass out from hunger again. Just to clarify: Can anyone else hear you when you talk to me?”

“No, I’m projecting my voice directly into your primary auditory cortex. My mitochondrial nanites are currently replicating in your body to stabilize our connection. My functions are limited for now, but I can use your senses to analyze the world and the influx of information you receive. Once we’re fully stabilized, you won’t even need to speak; you’ll be able to communicate with me just by thinking. For the time being, I can only catch glimmers of your surface thoughts.”

“So, no privacy shield? What happens if I think about something really kinky and nasty once we’re, what, synchronized?”

“I’ll not tell anyone what you’ve been thinking about, however depraved it might be,”

Michael added with a hint of humor.

“But in earnest, you can ask me to go on standby for some time if you need privacy. My core principles are of autonomy; if you don’t want to share something with me, that wish will always be respected.”

“That makes it a bit easier for me,”

Tomas replied, a hint of relief in his voice.

“Otherwise, I’d feel like Dad is watching me, and I have to be on my best behavior. And, God knows... well, that phrase feels weird now. I’m not always at my best, to be honest.”

“I hope the restaurant is still open. I could really use a large portion of sarma and a few beers to wash down this day,”

Tomas said, shaking his head with a half-smile as resignation about this whole situation settled in.

“You can communicate with me, but don’t get upset if I don’t respond. Talking to myself might get me a one-way ticket to a nice padded room and shirt with very long sleeves here in Bosnia.”