The Shire: 3250CE - An excerpt from The Book of Xeiyre Knowledge

Hay

It is the year, 3250CE on The Shire. The beloved planet is dying. A new planet has been found by the Shire's International Space Exploration Administration and testing has already begun for Shirelings wishing to secure passage to the new planet.

Orbiting the Shire is the space station, Xamichine Prime. It was launched into orbit in the year 2764CE and has been home to an entire nation, since. The great leader of this nation, His Divinity, has just returned from another visit to The Shire below.

Massive double doors to the grand chamber fly open as His Divinity is greeted by advisers and elite citizens. At some point, His Divinity may have been human, but no one can be certain. With two bionic legs and a bionic arm, his movements have, for a long time, been more jerky than fluid like other humans. Light glints off of his metallic skeleton and an ironic shadow falls across the small generator that rests where his heart should be. His Divinity's 50-foot long cape, a royal blue, lined with white fur and gold epaulettes, drags across the floor of the great chamber as he makes his way, creaking toward the 30-foot tall throne. The throne is poised at the front; its back to ceiling-to-floor glass - a view that overlooks The Shire floating in the distance.

"OIL!! OIL!!" He bellows from the column of steel and wires connecting his head to the rest of his body as the rest of his body squeaks with every movement. A young boy and girl run to his side with golden decorated oil canisters, spraying all his joints. His breath rattles as you can hear all the intricate parts of his bionic body working together. His asymmetrical body tells stories of being built and rebuilt over centuries - having the signature stylings of dozens of engineers.

An adviser timidly walks toward the throne as His Divinity is making himself comfortable, eyeing the young boy and girl so they do not stray far.

"Your Divinity," he says sheepishly.

"We've gotten your test results back... and... it seems that even with the uh... guidance... the results are uh..."

"WHAAAAAT??!!!" Echoes through the chamber, loudly.

The two oilers shudder and shrink back, one of them dropping their oil can. The other starts to go over and help but His Divinity stands up, quickly, in one swift, aggressive, movement - popping a bolt in the process. Everyone in the room stares, mouth agape and fearful, as only the sound of the bolt tumbling down from the throne onto the floor echoes through the chamber.

Fearfully, the adviser continues.

"The... results... I don't understand how we... That is... There is still time to test again, Your divi-"

Before he can finish his sentence, the tile on the floor he's standing on opens up and he falls into a glass cylinder hanging just below the grand chamber. His Divinity slowly makes eye contact with everyone in the room and turns around to look out the window facing the black space sky with Planet Shire in the distance.

There is a very long uncomfortable pause and then everyone suddenly looks away from the window as His Divinity continues watching; the adviser's limp body floats by.

"Oil..... Me."

The room of people lift their eyes from their clasped hands, terrified of being the next person who has to address His Divinity. An engineer clears his throat to speak. With his back still to the room, His Divinity turns his head slightly in the direction of the voice, light accents his horn, showing signs of decay - a stark difference to the golden, ruby and sapphire encrusted crown atop his head, a two-headed eagle with wings spread, wrapping his head.

"Your Divinity, the vessel is ready."

"Take me to it."

The vessel had been in production for decades. Dozens of engineers and scientists spent their lives perfecting this vessel to the exact specifications made by His Divinity. They could not understand why. It was so.... archaic. It wasn't as beautiful or modern as the rest. There were no bells or whistles to it - the simplicity was frankly baffling to the engineers and scientists who worked tirelessly to produce it. Though they'd never say out loud, they all thought His Divinity was losing his mind with this request.

In the past, His Divinity had always held a grand ceremony for his vessel transfers. A huge 3-day celebrations with feasts and parties always took place for the grand transfer ceremony. But this time was different. This time, there was no celebration - there was only necessary personnel in a sterile room.

His Divinity walks into the room, suddenly annoyed by his 50-foot long cape. In the middle of the room, on a pedestal,stands the vessel under a tarp. He stares at the tarp for five long minutes, barely breathing. He, then, looks toward an engineer and nods. The tarp is slowly pulled away. No one speaks. 

He is paralyzed where he stands. He can't take a single step toward it. His red bionic eyes shift slightly left-to-right as he feels a sense of undeserving; a sense of embarrassment. He can barely stand the thought of the vessel seeing him as he is now.

A single tear rolls down his cheek; the first he's cried in thousands of years, as he finally takes a step toward the vessel.

His Divinity quietly asks the engineer nearest to him, "Do you know why I asked for this?"

The engineer timidly shakes his head to answer, "no."

"This is me. This is who I was..." he trails off as he lightly touches the vessel's cheek, jerking his hand back, as if realizing he was touching something he shouldn't. He continued, "...before everything."

He stood staring at the vessel again. This time, taking in every detail from the smooth gray skin to the youthful horn atop its head. Every detail had been meticulously added down to the plain blue, skintight suit with a white diamond-encrusted belt and white fur boots. 

"This is the vessel I want to die in... I should have died in the original one thousands of years ago."

His Divinity reached out to touch one of the white leather gloves when suddenly there was a great turbulence in the space station. An explosion. Everyone stumbles as the room begins to fall apart around them and the vessel topples over onto the ground. 

His Divinity rushes to the vessel and falls to his knees beside it, "HELP ME, YOU FOOLS!!" 

He can't lift it. He starts crying. Sobbing. "HELP ME!!"

The doctors run out as fires break out in the electronics, sparks flying around and lights flickering. His Divinity reluctantly leaves the vessel's side to get to the computers that aid in the transfer. "Please. Please help me," he says, begging a God he hadn't spoken to in thousands of years.

He tries pressing different combinations of buttons to no avail, connect himself to the machines for the transfer but it isn't working. Everything around him is in chaos. People's screams can be heard in the distance as other explosions go off. The section of the space station where the lab is located detaches and gravity is turned off. His Divinity and the vessel are now floating in the room as wind swirls all around them as air is being vacuumed out into space. He grabs the vessel and holds on tight - memories flooding his mind of the day he discovered the land upon which the Sammichian Empire would be built. 

He holds the vessel tight in one last embrace, looking over its shoulder down at The Shire. He closes his eyes tight. Then darkness.

Hay

Sammiches822

whoever that robot guy is, he sounds like a melodramatic asshole with a lot of underlying issues and an obvious fear of dying. smh learn when to give up

Lord_Drekar

I love you guys. xD This is awesome!