PLANET MAGAZINE

Illustration: “Entropy” © 2007 by Carl Goodman

I remember dying, but my earlier memories are beginning to go. Being a particle physicist gives one a unique perspective on death, particularly while participating in the greatest experiment ever.

My initial thesis was to attribute my memory loss to the Second Law of Thermodynamics. Our universe resists order and works to always try to increase disorder. We physicists refer to this disorder as entropy. The portion of the electromagnetic wave encoded with my personality and memories was obviously degrading, and taking me with it.

I thought back to earlier in the morning….

* * *

“Jim, are you sure you want to do this?”

I looked up at my brother from the medical trolley. “Mike, you know I have to. There is no other way to prove my theory.”

“This won’t bring back Jessie,” said Mike.

“I know, and I’m not planning on joining her just yet. That’s why I’ve got the best doctor I know — my own brother — supervising the procedure.”

“Jim, even if we bring you back there may be brain damage.”

“I know the dangers, and it is a risk I have to take. Otherwise, everything else has been for nothing. All the sacrifices and Jessie’s death will be meaningless. You have to do this, Mike, and if you won’t then I will find someone else who will. I trust you; please have faith in me.”

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Illustration: “Eliminate” © 2007 by Romeo Esparrago

“I want everyone on that planet eliminated, Shadrach,” proclaimed Braux, the leader of the Kestel delegation.

I nodded once, and with a wave of his hand he dismissed me. The species would not die as mine had. There would be a few left to start over. I always made sure a few were left.

I didn’t like the Kestel, and I particularly didn’t like that pompous leader, Braux, but I needed this assignment. I already felt the effects of my last feeding starting to wear off.

I entered the Kestel hangar and climbed aboard my single-seat war bird. How many had I killed over the years? There wasn’t any way to come up with a figure; I had fed on more civilizations than I could remember. I was the Eliminator.

My next quest was a small planet on the far side of the galaxy. This planet had been playing around with nuclear energy for many years, and they still hadn’t realized the potential or the danger; all they could see was a weapon, a weapon of mass destruction, a weapon that could kill millions of enemies in one strike.

I fed the coordinates of the planet into the computer and watched the ceiling of the hangar open.

I reached over and pressed the ignition button; both nuclear engines kicked in. I pushed the throttle forward and the war bird shot straight up. The twin engines exhaled white fire as I streaked across the dark-blue sky towards the total blackness of space.

As the acceleration pushed me back into my customized pilot’s chair, I felt cool air inflate my flight suit, taking the pressure off my back. The sprawling Kestel city surrounding the port grew smaller in my rear video as I watched the planet start to fall away. The sky turned black and I shot into space.

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Illustration: “Dover Cat” © 2007 by Robert Sorensen

It exploded off of the ceiling and went crashing down with a resounding bang that echoed around the chambers and shook the woodlands outside, jarring the blue jays from their midday rest.

The tower shook in response, the earth grumbled in protest. A lithe feline made her way up the stairs, the yellow dress she wore glided gently over the cracked sandstone steps.

“Arthos, what’s all this noise?” She shook her head and made a gentle clicking sound with her teeth as she tapped a sharpened claw against them.

“S-sorry Deliasssh.” He bowed his head in shame, “I was just practicing.”

“You should do this sort of stuff in the basement, where it’s quieter. You’ve gone and woke the dead.” She turned her back and studied the bookshelf in front of her.

He pulled his red robes tightly around his body, “Yes, milady.”

The silence was deafening. Delias selected a cracked leather book, pulled it from the shelf and brushed her paw lightly against it. She blew hard on the cover.

Dust danced in the streams of light that filtered in from the ceiling.

Delias shook her head sadly; a single strand of silver hair pushed its way out off her cowl, and she reflexively swatted at it, pushing the troublesome hair back into place. “We simply cannot have these kinds of experiments going on in the tower. At least, not without the permission from and knowledge of the rest of the council.” She squinted at the title on the book and smiled to herself as she made her way to one of the recliners in the far corner.

“I will seek the permission, milady.” Arthos bowed low, excusing himself, as he hobbled down the steps descending into the blackened heart of the tower of elders, leaving Delias to her studies.

She was the head of the governing Council of the Seven Roses, entrusted with the supervision of all magical activity within the realm.

The golden rays of sunlight faded into twilight’s purple hues; the room grew dark.

“E’glan.” Her soft voice accented the phrase as the room grew brighter, as if lit by dozens of invisible candles.

She opened her book and soon became lost in her studies, oblivious to the sound of the approaching hooves.

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