Sonata to the Everlasting:
Marks is arisen form his sleep, images from the most powerful dream in his life burned into his brain, he had seen himself passing a book form his withered and worn hands into the hands of a younger self. Marks swoops down picking up his cat, Nuku, with intent of traviling to his office in the tower. He grads his hefty black overcoat from the door but fails to grab a shirt.
Nuku lies quietly in the jeep as her gentle master drive into his work in the early hours of evening, Nuku like to drive, every day she rides in the car with him, and when they arrive at work she gets a cookie.
Marks eye glassine with anticipation. Marks struggles to contain his excitement, all the mysteries of the last near hundred years have been revealed onto him. He has become the vassal of unspeakable power, the endgame of his life is within reach.
Marks grips his cat firmly in his arms like a child as he makes his way up the hundreds of steeps to his office. He has the energy of a schoolboy, empowered by his dreams. The way to his desk is lit almost solely by a lone spotlight. All doors open in his wake.
Nuku leaps from her keepers arms to the spot on the table were she typically sits, she feels something is horrible amidst. ‘Their here to early’ she thinks ‘where is the hairless man with my cookies, he meats us at the door everyday?’
Marks slaps a empty notebook down on the table. Before he is dun today this one and maybe a dozen more will be full. Marks lifts a pin high up over head and dynamically stick inc to paper. His teeth grind as his pin flies form corner to corner, he take on a almost wolf like exasperation as he lies over the book digesting every line as he writes. His lip curls and he cackles as the images he constructs start to divide out before him.
All the works of Marks life have been adding up to this moment, this glorious moment. A coworker of Marks once sad to him “Loath me for I am becoming Death.” Marks is about to do the opposite ‘I will, conquer Death. I will, Rob the reaper of his power.” Like a composer demanding strength of his orchestra he thrust his arm to the side throwing inc into the air crossing his “T’s” then again accenting the note he need to remember. Finding he lacks the speed he need too finish his calculations in a timely fashion he employs a second pen to write in a second book calling out the greatest of dexterity.
All strife, all heartache, his every experience, good and bad like needed to align in this one instances of triumph. His adulterous wife, his deceitful best friend, the words of a monk in a distant land, his failure to protect one daughter, and the absences of another. All this events give him the passion to bleed out the poetry that must be his final works.
Like a painter he lashes his pens, his liquidly silver hair flows around his body like a typhoon, his hardy black jacket flutters like batwings in the night, the pages of his books thunder a warlike chant as page upon page flash by. Marks laughs in madness throwing his first completed book aside to make room for more. The work most go one. The doors remain locked long into the day, the lights remain off, Marks can not be interrupted now.
Nuku sees her masters pain in his heaving breaths and the sweat rolling down his skin. She sits up and places a paw on his thermos inviting him to stop for a drink. Marks is feverous he struggles for air as he works maliciously, he most not stop even at the coast of his vary soul. His hands cramp and arms become num with hunger his veins grow dark but with nerves of steel and a heart of stone he push against his own mortality to carry on. Light trails from his pens as he slashes them across his body his eye burn with intellect.
Nuku pushes a plush mouse with a bow wrapped around its waist to remind her owner that it is approaching dinner time. Marks falls to his knees and looses the strength and focuses to maintain his grip on his secondary pen. He throws his third and fourth books form the table and focuses with all his might on his fifth precipitation runs in abundances form his face and hair. He slaps the table hard with one hand and the old man forces himself upright.
He has found the soul. The vary essences of life and humanity! A peaces of coding in are neuroses the hides the tiniest peaces of our being that defines the differences between artificial-intelligent, and true intellect. With this knowledge, he will become the master of destiny. His useless wife and her shallow ideas will be the first to see the truest extinct of Marks Vigeta Karingson’s near omnipotent might, then the fair-weather friend of his that is her boy-toy and his power will be their unmaking.
His foolishness has seen the end of enough lives. This foolery will mark the end of it all, when this work is finished there will be no more sins. This revolution beyond the limitations of physical existences will be the end of everything for him. No more death no more hunger no more sickness. Dr. Marks Vigeta Karingson will cure all the ailments of humanity with this code. ‘We will ascend, we will endure, hark onto ye all the day of giving is upon us. The end of suffering is hear and all men will be with their brothers and sisters, lovers and beloved we will see the time of eternity as one mind. This is my last and finest gift onto humanity, we need on gods and messiahs, our savors are ourselves and the endless reaches of the mind and Our one concusses. Christ offered you eternal forgiveness, I offer you eternal life.’
Marks drops his pen the last of his strength has left him. He lies his head on his desk and wraps Nuku in his arms. The slender black cat looks at him a slight look of distaste and a hint of scolding in her eye but loving adornment fallows quickly as she places her paw on his shoulders and rubs her noise in his ear in act of forgiveness. What goodness and humanity is left in this cold and hardened vessel seems to have leaked away and found its way into this motherly feline. With the loss of his children Marks became more metal then man. The hardest part of this ascension is past tomorrow the next phase can begin, till then this old man can pray for the cleanliness of peace giving sleep.
