The Last Nukyi: Fear Cosmic Annihilation
Chapter 5: UNLOCK THE NUKYI
Tom sped homebound. His front door was visible at the end of the drive. The porch light glowed like a beacon in the dreary night. His old wreck overheated and stalled in the driveway. He yanked on the emergency brake lever and was grateful that he survived another work day.
He took a few deep breaths to cool his anxiety and readjusted his rear-view mirror. On the opposite side of the road, an animated couple hissed at him while exercising their dogs. They appeared un-neighbourly due to the excessive amount of tailpipe wheezing and ugly pollutants his rusted clunker choked out before dying in the driveway.
Tom hopped out and waved and barely noticed their womanish reactions as he advanced up the walk. He fumbled with the door keys in one hand, the briefcase in the other and finally unbolted the lock. His free hand fondled the wall while he searched for the light switch. He unavoidably tripped over a pair of hiking boots, seldom worn. “Man, the days are getting short,” he mumbled, and ruminated at the moon that seemed to hover overhead as if close enough to reach out and touch.
He sought the living room, turned on the television, went into the kitchen, and fixed a microwave box dinner.
The hours flew by until it was 11:15 p.m. He was unable to stargaze on the couch so he climbed up to his bed. Today, he felt mentally drained, but he realized he was growing physically stronger with each passing day. He also realized that he was unable to tap off the metamorphic nerve tonic the dimensional entity somehow was administering.
Tom could taste Exsorbo’s mystic concoction and smell his exotic world, the world he touched in his splintered dreams. The mind pill dissolved and he drifted into lullaby.
The echoes of the night peppered the electrified air as he was unruffled by the mishmash of noises, as service vehicles raced past his window, as cats scavenged fallen garbage cans, and as chained dogs barked at the ghostly shadows. Still, he crashed.
Early morning, he was thrust into the dream mode. The insane potency of the mind-crash transported his soul to a land of unknown origins where he cropped up in a deprived cornfield. He cautiously manoeuvred through the scrawny stocks and dry husks and followed the dirt scented air and dark clouds that warned of a storm, not knowing where he was headed, which didn’t matter as he walked onwards anyway.
Exsorbo appeared in the distorted sky as he cleared his throat with a thundering roar.
Tom jolted around, spooked by the boundless entity that radiated all godly and wrapped in a glory of overwhelming purity--a flood of life energy poured forth like a waterfall and penetrated the lifeless harvest and revitalized the dead landscape.
“The complexity of your mind depends upon the simplicity of your internal belief,” Exsorbo said with an echoing voice.
“You make poetic quotes from your book of nonsense rimes,” he called, “it’s driving me crazy just trying to understand what you say.”
Exsorbo floated weightlessly. He appeared to be reading Tom’s puzzled comportment and sizing him up and evaluating the amount of training required to rupture the crypt and awaken the Nukyi Salient. “You are the end to the beginning.”
“And what does that alien scripture mean?” He stood tall and confused.
“Believe not with your humanly eyes but with your inhumanly mind; it means just what it means,” Exsorbo commanded. He flexed his energised fist and nabbed Tom skyward; then they vanished into the clouds.
They emerged from a vortex and arrived at a magnificent estate. The well-maintained scenery indicated that there was a devoted community of workers tending to the grounds surrounding a typical, old-fashion English-styled manor with heavy oak doors and a traditionally polished brass knocker--all displayed like a historic museum.
Exsorbo guided Tom through the main foyer and into the study where countless books lined the wall shelves behind the scholar’s wooden desk. The room decor was old-looking; it appeared as if each piece of furniture was crafted by master woodworkers who lived centuries ago.
“Please, feel at home,” Exsorbo said, and gestured to a comfortable-looking armchair positioned in front of his desk.
Tom was in awe of the endless pool of knowledge, wealth and power Exsorbo controlled; and, from his hospitality, Tom sensed this was the master’s private sanctuary.
Exsorbo’s behaviour was like an old, country-style doctor examining a patient’s documented medical history for the first time. Then, suddenly, he clapped his strong, magical hands together and created a sphere of lambent energy that burned in the palms of his extended hands. “Thrond, see into the future and focus upon my power.”
The discharge of warmth masked Tom’s face; the soft light soothed his bloodshot eyes.
Exsorbo said hypnotically, “Purge your mind of all disbelieving thoughts and listen only to the sound of my voice,” (his tone was addictive) “and believe as the great Nukyi believes.”
Tom was defenseless against the mystic forces that weakened his postural muscles; his mind felt as malleable as red-hot steel.
Exsorbo leaned closer to his disbelieving student. “Your true identity is what you have been since eternity,” (his voice grew more dominant) “it is your previous life I am interested in. You were the most elusive of all the defenders, and it is he you must seek. Search your mind for the secrets of life that are bound in thoughts of who and what you are. There you will find the strength that will help you in your journey and, ultimately, your future quest.”
“I’m afraid of where it will transport me.”
“Afraid be not,” he bellowed, “search your mind for Kyi.”
“What’s Kyi?” he inquired, his voice lacked Nukyi strength.
“Not What but Who, the father Ancient One, he is known as Power-Kyi, the one who sourced your bloodline.”
“If he formulated the Nukyi, then he can reformulate others; and, therefore, my resurrection isn’t required.”
“That scenario is impossible.”
“Why is my suggestion impossible?” Tom replied sarcastically.
“Because the Ancient Ones constructed only ten such space heroes who were created for the purpose of defeating evils that crossed into this universe, but these soldiers of righteousness were considered a successful experiment that went horribly wrong; and no more can be conceived.”
“I’m sorry; I can’t be a part of this toxic insanity.”
“You have no choice.”
“There’s always an alternative solution.”
“That is correct, but not this time.”
Tom surrendered to the truth.
“You, like the others, were born from the womb of a B.R.I.P.”
“What kind of contraption is that?” He forced the voice from his lungs.
“A Breed Rack Interlocking Press, a technology employed to genetically select and assemble superior elements from two such extinct species. The Cralisk, a beastly creature that provided the enormous genetic strength the Ancient Ones sought, and the Krons, an extremely dextrous species, physically similar to human form, yet, intellectually superior; that and the exhausted magic of Kyi and you must be resurrected.”
“You called me Thrond. Why?”
“Yes. It was your desired identity.”
“And what does it mean?”
“To run from no challenge and to fight for what you are, a Nukyi Salient, an integral member of an invincible genetically engineered military squad.”
“Well then, don’t be shy; tell me more of your beyond world fantasy.”
Exsorbo complied graciously. “Hundreds of space years lapsed, and there was no stopping the Nukyi once they became infected with the war bug. It was genocide; they helped the Dynasty rape and plunder the galaxies, spreading the wrath of death into the deepest reaches of space. Soon the Nukyi Salients’ quest to promote a united galaxy and intergalactic world was converted to deeds of evil. Their great goodness died, and it was the wicked that became strong and possessed their souls.
“There is only one entity capable of this task; and
that is you, the most elusive of the squad. This great soldier is our final hope. Tom, Thrond, we must find this power deep in your mind and unlock it.”
“How can this be?” he replied with a tortured expression, “I’m just a nothing accountant teetering on a brain implosion.”
“Seek and you shall find the truth of your existence,” Exsorbo demanded forcefully. “Search your mind for the powers of Kyi and call them from the depths of your soul. You are the only one who can save space, time and this universal existence,” Exsorbo admitted before he parted his hands.
Tom was freed from the spell and collapsed further back, immediately observing that the glowing sphere of energy dissipated into mist that permeated his moistened skin.
The strain upon Exsorbo’s face was great when he looked deep into Tom’s eyes. “I was sent to aid your success, and that I shall do,” he said with a heavy breath, an expression of relief upon his well-travelled face. “It is almost time to go.”
“But I don’t want to go; you must teach me more, everything you know about this beyond world.”
“Go, search, and rediscover,” Exsorbo said. “I must inform you that your body and mind is experiencing a conversion. You are in a state of alteration; do not fight it. It is part of your transformation that the true powers of the Nukyi will be unleashed.” He thrust his powerful hands together. “Now, close your eyes as I’ve instructed.”
Tom obeyed willingly; a force shot him through the vortex like a ball of minced meat and into his world of unkind realities. He wasn’t ready to go, and he resisted; but the dimensional cannon dethroned him. “Exsorbo, there’s so much I must know about this crazy journey,” his words echoed and echoed, but there was no response to his demands as he lay awake in his bed.