The
Eternal Quest
The Hero strode quickly through the carnage and ruination of battle around him. He held his sword before him as he went. In spite of his heavy armor, his footfalls were light, quick. His eyes darted across the fallen bodies of his foes as he near the large stone steps that spiraled up to the place where the Oracle slumbered. Slowly he ascended. There were threats still that he had to consider.
His quest was far from over. It had really just begun.
When he reached the top of the ancient pathway he dashed quickly across
the dusty marbled floor to the place where the wall of the great stone fortress
overlooked the battlefield. Below him the fighting was already over. Bodies
were strewn across the valley. The dead. The wounded. Cries of agony and
triumph were coming from the devastation below him.
“Not again” he muttered to himself. There was a poignant silence after
this statement. The walls of the place seemed to sigh and then were quiet
again. The Hero ignored this. He looked out across the Valley to the place he
must journey to fulfill his mission. The looming mountain spewed fire and smoke
from its restless interior.
“Haven’t we done this before?” the Hero muttered, slipping his helmet
off and dropping it to the floor. It clattered loudly in the quiet of the
place, skipping across the marble floor to crash down the staircase.
The Hero listened to the clatter of the helmet until it ceased. “See…
now you’re stalling,” he complained quite correctly.
The Oracle came to life and its voice quaked across the horizon,
shaking the foundation of the great fortress.
“WHO ADDRESSES THE ORACLE?!”
The hero sighed. “It’s me again… oh sacred one and blah blah blah… Look
can’t we do something different?”
The Oracle was silent as it considered this. “AS IN…?”
“As in anything but poorly developed mythical hero’s dashing across
fields of carnage on some undefined eternal quest. You’re the Oracle right? Use
your imagination.”
The Oracle did not respond at first. It had been considering an
alternative initially but had decided to go with what it knew. “WHAT WOULD
YOU SUGGEST,” it queried after quietly pondering.
The Hero shrugged and scratched his head. “I don’t know. Something people
can relate to for a change. Like..” he tweaked his chin as he thought, “Like
something in an office. A lot of people work in offices, right? That way you
establish a familiar environment and you know… take it from there.”
“HMMMM,” the Oracle grunted, tweaking its non-existent chin. “AN
OFFICE, EH? LIKE IN THAT TELEVISION SHOW… YOU KNOW THE ONE I MEAN… THE SITCOM
WITH THE BUCK TOOTHED GUY.”
“I don’t watch much television,” the Hero observed, “But that might
work.”
Then the universe quaked and the Hero found himself sitting at a desk.
Around him the carnage and ruination of battle filled the room.
“Uh… not quite,” the Hero complained.
“OH, YEAH.”
The Hero found himself sitting at a desk; the containers and ruination
of lunch lay strewn around him. It was against company policy to eat at the
desk. He shoveled the scraps quickly into the garbage pail and hefted it up,
hustling it towards the lunchroom before the office manager noticed. He held
the pail before him as he ran. In spite
of the weighty refuse, his footfalls were light, quick.
When he reached the hall he ascended the stairs to where the pail could
be emptied. At the top of the staircase he dashed across the linoleum floor
quickly and dumped the evidence of his minor infraction into the bin.
“SO IS THAT BETTER?”
The Hero turned. It was the Office Manager.
“Well… it’s ok I guess.” He responded trying to mask his utter
disappointment. “Not much of a story though, is it? I mean… eating lunch at
your desk… I mean…”
The Office Manager let out an exasperated sigh, which boomed across the
room and shook the building to its foundation. “WELL YOU SAID FAMILIARITY!
RIGHT? WASN”T THAT THE OPERATIVE WORD IN THIS SCENARIO?”
“Yeah… I guess,” the Hero conceded. “But you can’t forget excitement. I
don’t know… maybe an office environment isn’t really what I need after all.
Maybe…”
“OH! OH! I HAVE AN IDEA!” the office manager bellowed and the
world quaked and twisted out of form.
The Hero stood in line. Around him the continuation of the Friday afternoon
line-up wound around the partitions and out through the front door. He held his
checkbook in front of him. In spite of his hefty check his bank account was
light and would go quick.
The woman in front of him began to fill out her deposit slip just as
the teller called the next in line. She seemed oblivious to the teller’s
request. Soon throats were being cleared, impatient glances turned to angry
scowls as the anger of the awaiting throng grew to a fierce crescendo.
“This is worse than the lunch thing,” the Hero sighed.
“Pardon me?” the woman said looking up from her writing.
“Look, don’t bring her into this,” the Hero said. The woman turned her head around, looking to see who the man was talking to.
“You don’t get it,” the Hero said to the confused character. “See,
everybody is getting angry because you’re holding up the line, right? And then,
who knows, maybe in a minute they’ll all morph into demons or zombies or
something ridiculous like that, and then I’m supposed to save you. Silly huh?”
“Well actually right now they’re all looking at you,” the woman pointed
out politely.
The Hero glanced around to find that she was indeed correct. “This is
not gonna work,” he muttered to himself.
“THERE IS JUST NO PLEASING SOME PEOPLE!” a voice boomed from an
indeterminable source, rocking the building to its foundations. As the crowd
screamed and scattered for the exits the world quaked and twisted out of form.
The Hero dashed quietly through the carnage and ruination of the
gunfight. He held his gun out before him. In spite of his heavy flack jacket
his footfalls were light and quick. He ascended the stairs at the back of the
room quickly.
“Gig’s up Mendoza!” he yelled fixing the surprised drug lord in his
sites. Mendoza spun around to find himself staring down the muzzle of a Glock
9mm. And then he wasn’t.
The Hero dropped the weapon to his side, shaking his head. “ ‘Gig’s
up?’ GIG’S UP?! can’t believe I said that.”
Mendoza donned a sinister smile and pulled his own weapon from his
jacket quickly. “Well, well, well,” the stereotypical antagonist chuckled, “If
it isn’t my old adversary…”
“No! Don’t say it!” the Hero interrupted holding his palms to
his ears, “I don’t wanna know! Get me outta here!”
The world quaked and rocked and…
The Hero sat at the console. The contamination of radiation from the
malfunctioning laser cannons sizzled all around him. In the view port the enemy
ships hovered as they prepared for docking maneuvers.
“Oh no you don’t. Beam me up, Scotty,” the Hero whined.
The world quaked…
The Hero strode slowly through the empty house. It was familiar yet somehow different. He held his robotic Teddy bear out before him. In spite of the weight of his lonely solitude, his foots falls were…
“Uh, I think we’ve all had enough of this theme by now,” the Hero grumbled.
The world quaked.
The Hero descended the ancient steps slowly. His helmet lay on the
crumbling stone floor. He picked it up and regarded its layered folds quietly
for a moment. Then he placed it on his head.
He sighed deeply. “Go with what you know, I guess,” he said to no one.
Then he set off across the valley to the place he must trek in order to fulfill
his mission. The looming mountain spewed fire and smoke from its restless
interior.
The walls of the place seemed to chuckle when he left, and then were
quiet again.
His quest was far from over. It had really just begun.
