“We are The Celestial,” the congregations of voices soar high in unison as Grand Master, Dr. John Hammond, raises his sturdy hands to the sky. He is a man of stature with his back straight and his jaw firmly set. For a moment, his position reminds me of Jesus hanging on the cross in the old abandoned churches slowly fading out of sight below us, on Earth. Except he is not bound, this man soars, as do we all. Maybe Dr. John Hammond see’s himself as a God, I wonder skeptically.
“We are The CELESTIAL,” the voices grow louder and more robust around the stadium. The sounds ignite images within my mind of the long forgotten ocean waves that crash mightily against the shore then ebb out into their own before once again bursting forth and soaking the sand high upon the shoreline.
“WE ARE THE CELESTIAL,” cheers break out as everyone rejoices in their birthright.
The excitement dying down, I turn my back on Hammond’s arms raised high and shift my way through the entranced crowd, steadily headed toward my personal jet, BluJay. Connor waits for me, casually leaning against it, his mind focused on sharpening his Saworian Blade, a gift he received from my father, before he died many years ago. The sword resembles that of the Japanese made Katana but the Saworian Blade is the only one of it’s kind. The blue current running through the golden metal catches my eye. I always feel heat rush through me at the sight of Connor engaged so peacefully in his actions. My father had known then, somehow, of the way our world would escalate after his death and had begun preparing us for it, years before we ourselves could understand what was happening. Looking up, Connor sees Hammond perched far beyond and above us, arms still raised to the sky as we all ascend further above earth. Darkness penetrates his carefully composed features and my heart tightens knowing his anguish to see his father standing like a king on a throne above his throng of devoted subjects. Lowering his eyes to me, Conner’s face is back to stone, but a knowing, yet small smile from me relaxes him and softens the hard shell he so carefully has created for himself.
“Let’s get out of here before he and your mother send guards to fetch us,” Conner says quietly, turning to hop twenty feet, straight into the cockpit of the jet through a secret opening on the front left-side of it’s nose. A small loading ramp lowers at the back of BluJay and once there I stand steadfast on the edge. Conner turns the jet around, I now face and watch those, family and friends that we used to know and belong to, fade away. BluJay rises with ease straight up into the navy sky surrounding the stadium like a bubble. Slowly the people become smaller and I realize this is what Dr. John Hammond sees from atop his balcony. I stand at his level, looking down on all these hopeless souls, wondering how and when our society transformed into such mindless creatures, gazing adoringly up at their leader.
“Then again, in some way, our society has always been this way. Hasn’t it?” I whisper sadly. The floating island the stadium rests on slowly begins to descend back to earth and I am left standing above them all, even Dr. John Hammond, his hands still raised towards the sky. The true gods must feel the same as I in this moment while staring down on these pitiful creatures: disappointment and sadness for a once great world now reduced to that of petty followers. All of who just happen to be made of the wealthiest, smartest, and most stunning of humans, my own mother among them. A defiant tear rolls down my cheek. The sun begins to set; it’s colors dancing through my eyes, magnifying their crystal features. The sea blue iris hardening as the crystal takes in pinks, reds, and oranges. Light doesn’t even make me blink and my gaze never leaves Hammond who is now barely visible below us.
“You are not God, Hammond.” I say softly, “The Gods will make you pay. We will make you all pay.”
“We always have made them pay, Ash. We always will.” Conner says through his thoughts to me as I enter our aircraft, he then presses a flashing red button that pulls up the loading ramp, sealing our craft. I look to him and find myself nodding in agreement. As I think back to the stadium hundreds of feet below, I begin to plan how we will tear this colony apart.
Sipping on my juice and nibbling on a sandwich I stare at Conner through the glass door separating us, which is now closed. The cockpit has always been his safety zone where he can relax and focus on flying, forgetting for a moment the rest of the world and its problems. I don’t always have the ease of finding such comfort as everything constantly reminds me of the world we have all left behind. You would think this species would have foreseen their forthcoming demise with all the movies made about the earth’s apocalypse. It happens every time, however, someone takes over the world and changes drastically, infested with the power, and that leaves Conner and myself cleaning up their mess. But Hammond isn’t just anyone, he’s Conner’s dad, and he used to be the sweetest man in the world. Our parents had been the best of friends, and together they had watched over this universe. Conner and I now carry out that mission with our select-few friends, while separating ourselves from this colony. Hammond and my mother believe they are doing well by and for the people and planet, but they have both become corrupted with greed ever since my father left his bodily form. Father. Oh, how I miss you.
“Ash! Ash! Come this way sweetie. Look at daddy. That’s a good girl, now come over here, Ashley. Just a few more steps little one.” Canen McKall coos to the tiny curly blonde-headed girl taking stumbling steps toward her father. Her arms stretch out to him as a giddy smile brightens her cheerful rosy cheeks. Blue eyes shine with a rim of crystal, a solid man with brown stubble and slicked back sweeping hair reaching for her as she takes her final step into his arms, reflected in them. “Ba Ba,” Ashley grabs at his face and laughs with utter joy, sounding boundlessly through the room. “Ba Ba,” She repeats. “Yes My Love, I am Ba Ba, and you are my Princess.” Swinging her around the room and holding her high, the two play and revel in the contagious happiness..
“Conner,” Canen states, “You can come in, son, It’s okay.” A young dark haired boy, only a few years old, pops his head into the room and cracks a wise smile at the man, his violet eyes a-glow from the sun shining through the open windows. Ashley faces the window behind her father, her head resting on his shoulder, entranced by a butterfly drifting slowly beside the glass pane. Conner comes to stand beside Canen, asking, “Is this your daughter, sir?” Canen stares at the boy for a moment, an intent expression in his eyes, and after a moment, a knowing smile reaches the crinkles in his eyes. “Conner, this is indeed my daughter, she is very special and dear to me, as I believe she will be the same to you.” Pulling Ashley from his shoulder to face Conner, they both notice the butterfly now perched on the babies finger and she holds it to her cheek, eyes closed. Conner steps towards Ashley and is now within a foot of her, the wind suddenly picking up in the room, sweeping the curtains from their still positions, and sunlight filling the room with a golden glow. Unaware to the happenings, entranced, Conner reaches out to touch the tip of his finger to hers that holds the butterfly. Looking up to her gentle face, crystal blue eyes bore into his own, finding their way to the very heart of his soul and latching on to it. ‘As I believe she will be the same to you’ echoes in both children’s minds. “Conner,” Ashley thinks silently with perfect pronunciation. “Ashley,” he thinks back. “I hear you.” With their fingers still touching, the butterfly walks across her finger onto his, changing colors to a deep violet, as she responds, “I see you.” The room is blinding golden, swirling with the fury of winds, but neither child blinks nor looks away. “Et ita factum est.” Canen whispers to the heavens. Both Ashley and Conner’s eyes roll into their heads as they black out and Canen catches Conner before he falls. Picking him up, he carries his adoring daughter and her partner for life out of that innocent playroom. Before crossing the threshold he repeats himself once more. “And so it is done.” A smile unlike any illuminates his wise face, knowing his daughter will always have Conner to watch over her and they will always have a connection like any other. “And so it is done.”
We will make them pay, father. They will all pay.
