Exposition:
Co'ol is an inhabitant of a planet similar to Earth, Opranus. Opranus is the former capital of the Galactic Federation. The people of Opranus are known as Potenes; the word "Jenti" is occasionally used to describe them. Opranus is dull. Being very mundane, shockingly enough, a warmongering Federation of planets would form an empire with that as its center.
Co'ol himself is a part of a minority on Opranus; his nation and religion tell him to wear a turban at all times of the day. He follows the Eye of Aheia.
Co'ol's parents were sent to temples long ago, never to be seen again.
Part 1
Space cowboy
29,962-29,980
From the day that I am born, I am branded, distinct from any other boy in my nursery of a few hundred or so. The brand of a large star is pressed on my forehead, then a turban is wrapped around the wound.
"Your greatest asset, young troai, your Diafótis, at the rate your onerariam paces itself, you'll be a great syreline user." It's a phrase that my childhood is plastered with. Diafótis means enlightenment in an Earth language, coincidentally meaning 'mind' in Aheian. Onerariam means 'pump' and translates to heart. We don't use those words in prayer.
My first memory involves me crying, the elders in their black and red ritualistic robes, Ministers of the Temple, scarred the part of my eyes where I cried. I learned to never cry again; the salt from my tears seeps into the wounds. No word for sadness, melancholy, depression, despair, or sorrow exists in the Aheian language; the closest being 'Aulli', which translates to desperation.
"The only emotion that you will feel in the temple is joy, joy because you are in the presence of the most high, the LORD, mother Aheia." "The priest of the Temple is named Awe; the city of Awburg is named after him, both of them.
I'm never able to actually meet my father or mother, or confirm that the people I've met are my father and mother. Several people in the temple look just like me, more than likely since we all share a common ancestor, 'Protos Esses', which is a big mythological figure in the Aheian community. He fought dragons out in space until the first Federation cadets captured him.
High Priest Awe has a grand appeasement strategy when it comes to the Federation dipping into our donation bin to pay for wars.
The eye of Aheia is like a cult; they force me to guzzle a blue liquid named 'syreline' before deeming that I am 'worthy' of a test.
They put me in a room and made me solve different puzzles, which shape goes where, and if Sally had five apples and you took away three, how much would she have? On this test, I scored high enough to be put into a private academy known as Rylu Academy for the Spiritually Gifted.
Flash forward to freshman year of secondary school, my temple migrates from the Hu'fou continent to the Ase'nir continent under the mandate of the Galactic Federation.
They told us to migrate since they were using the Hu'fou continent as a testing ground for large-scale military operations.
Any individual who didn't migrate was arrested. Since we migrated, I was the subject of ridicule at school, teachers told me to remove my turban, and I had to tell them I can't for religious purposes. They call the principal, and he consults High Priest Awe.
Instead of explaining, he takes out all the tithes given to the temple between 29,974 and 29,978 to pay for me to go to this expensive boarding school.
I walk into my first period class, which is my only class, and there are delinquents all over. From all over the Federation, a Siciste boy throws paper airplanes at the teacher, who quits the next day.
The only other Potenes in my class is a boy named A'roll. He's a gray-skinned Potenes with extremely bushy eyebrows, a long, narrow nose, and a defined left cheekbone with a birthmark on the right one. We have nothing in common except that we're both from Awburg, and we both played in the school's 'Three Musketeers' play interpretation.
"Co'ol, wasn't it? How about you sit with the other Jenti at lunch?" A'roll says to me.
Jenti was a completely new word to me at the time; I had never heard someone say it to describe me up until that point.
Later on at lunch, I get in trouble for sneaking off with A'roll to make the principal's 3000 credit computer implode on itself.
That wasn't the last of our boisterous behavior, not at all. We sold ammunition to hunters without a license to do so and got a slap on the wrist. We blew up the statue of the high priest in the city's park, I claimed it's because it's an idol, I had to do it!
We do goofy shit all of our time in high school until A'roll gets his driver's license in 29,979. This opened so many new opportunities.
Me and his sister began dating until that summer, when I found out she was actually 23.
Fast forward to the start of our senior year at the boarding school, and we're given two options: attend Federation-approved Colleges for students at our academic level, or pursue manual blue-collar work.
"Fuck that shit! We're gonna be the greatest drone operators this side of the galaxy. I already got the blueprints right here!"
He slides a form over the countertop of the table.
I look at the form and investigate the lettering closely.
"You get paid more for being an arc-swapper."
"Yeah, but the drone stocks are up five thousand percent!"
"That bubble's gonna pop! And that includes the ones on warships, not the ones you're making." I say to him, A'roll's hard-headed, and that's why he's in the boarding school.
"The girls going into Drone engineering are hot, though, you gotta account for that."
"Aheian theology says that lust can be a deceiver; you are the dumbest once you are intoxicated by love."
"That religion is 120,000 years old; it's 29,980. You don't need it to conduct day-to-day activities."
"Yes, A'roll, I do. I didn't have a choice." I lift my turban and point to the star on my forehead.
He rubs the corner of his eye and places another form on the table.
"We can be socialites, it's 24 credits an hour, we only work on events. We make them look more populated. We'll do that until you can get a hovercar. Then we can–"
"Is there alcohol at these events?"
"How would I know that, Co'ol? It's literally a free ticket to the Pollibowl."
"Sounds like circus and bread to me," I say, taking bread out of my bowl and dipping it into marinara sauce.
We're inside of A'roll's house; his mother, Mrs. E'leon, is the most forgiving woman I've ever met. For such a 'poor' family, they sure do have a large house. It's a 2-story complex on their block, A'roll's section of the building is a loft completely different from the brutalist architecture of the rest of the home, skateboards, records, cds and cameras scattered all over his shelf. The grayscale and marble floors of the rest of the home, excluding his sister's room, which is pink. Everything is pink, her wardrobe purple with fur boots. She has plushies and fur toys and a pink fungi dog-like creature called a 'Cansi.'It has a mushroom on the top of its head, and it looks like a regular dog. Its name is Neveah, heaven backwards. There are blue and lavender flowers on her wall and a mirror with lights along the top.
A'roll tells me to come with him to go to a party, it's the middle of the night on a school day. We both know there's no party, but this is an excuse for him to get high off of Kouzl, an illicit schedule II herb-based substance that gives one the effects of a psychedelic for around 3 or so hours. When A'roll is on it, it's like he's smarter, a genius, and the same as I am. He doesn't show his intelligence because then people will expect more and more out of him. Kouzl is bright green and leaves a blue residue when smeared on one's hands and clothes; it has to be ingested via the nasal cavity.
We get in the hovercar, which is a lowrider with a very complex hydraulic system designed for high-speed interstellar combat. It costs between 120,000 and 170,000 credits. It's the '59 Orbitron model, I call it the Vega. He steps on the gas and begins driving slowly, heading towards the corner store up the street in a run-down part of Awburg.
"Welcome to the store, Co'ol and A'roll." The clerk says to prepare to put the Kouzl in the bag.
I walk to the back of the store and grab a 64-ounce drink slushie for both A'roll and me.
"Wait, the Feds have to make me ask for your ID before I give you that Kouzl, recent studies show–"
"We'll just take the slushies then," A'roll says, handing him his Pondle-pad. A pondle-pad is like a debit card, except it's in the shape of a phone, and you can play games on it.
We walk outside and head towards the car. A'roll kicks his tire, instantly shifting the vehicle into a hovercar.
"How did they catch on!"
"Catch on to what?" I ask him before getting inside the car.
"Don't worry about that, we're going to Chicville to buy some records."
A'roll is obsessed with songs with the word purple in them, Purple Rain, Purple Haze. If they have the word Purple, he'll listen to it. This is important for a reason I'll explain right now.
We started this 'band' turned gang called the Purple Hearts. We wear lavender bomber jackets with the letters P and a hexagon on them. The Feds classify us as a class B threat to security, meaning we could take over a city. There are 300 members from all over Awburg and the Chicville area.
My grandest endeavor as a member of this gang was to call for a revolt of Mayor Chimeny, since he was stealing funds from the school and handing them to the Federation's greatest enemy. The Commune.
The Commune is so threatening that any speaking of their 'Communist' ideology is the utmost taboo, up there with being drunk in public and public urination.
Now, the Purple Hearts are a 'protected gang,' not one Federation officer dares to mess with us. Or so we thought, until they shot Yahfay, a minor member of the gang, but the ripple sent outwards proves that we aren't immune, especially considering I was the only one to help his parents with the fact that their only son had died.
We mourned his death and disbanded the gang entirely, but every member gives us a discount on any item or store they sell/work at.
A'roll plays Purple Haze, his subwoofer costs 3x more than his car, the surround sound speaker makes it feel like we're living in the song, and the built-in mood lights create a psychedelic feel to the drive.
We make it to Chicville just narrowly before the Curfew bill enacts itself. But we can't get into town; the barriers block us off. A'roll begins raging before running up to an older man and throwing his slushie at his face.
"Fuck you, old man!" He exclaims, flipping him off. The older man looks at him and growls under his breath.
"My office. Tomorrow. Both of you."
Flash forward to that morning, and we're expelled from the boarding school, charged with grand poxy (whatever the hell that means), and forced to do 300 extra community service hours.
Our entire life was ruined over a slushie. Three and a half weeks go by until the temple kicks me out of their homeless shelter, referring to Chi 1:49, "A man with no LORD in his heart has no place inside a building of the LORD." On the way out, I grab syringes filled with a substance named 'Syreline,' mistaking it for the blue liquid we use for rituals.
And just like that, I was on the street, no formal education, no point of living. But I didn't care, I still followed Aheia to the best one can. I had to rely on eating rodents like a cat for food for a while, butchering them properly. I prayed every day, facing the North star, then to the Sun.
Living like this for three months caused my weight to drop drastically. I weighed 97kg, 190cm, and now I'm 50kg, 190cm. Several health professionals observed me, and I was on the cover of the 'Determination' net magazine.
The interview I had for the magazine was being posted; here's a rough copy of the manuscript they put inside the magazine. The photoshoot hurt my eyes. They launched a close-up shot of my face, which was a reaction image on the internet for a while, especially in the Awburg area. Mrs. E'leon organized plenty of protests and funding for me, but I declined.
"Co'ol, wasn't it? How did it feel losing your job?" The interviewer asked, the bright bioluminescent lights and hardcore techno music playing in the background created an uneasy feel to the whole situation. His hair was long, wavy, unnaturally blonde, and not healthy. His beard was greasy, and the tone of his voice was uncaring, as if he had no interest in my own well-being, and instead, the paycheck.
"I never lost my job, I lost my education, and home," I told the interviewer.
"How old are you, sir?"
"I am seventeen and a quarter."
The camera aims down to the ground, and the interviewer's tone changes. He's more concerned; his eyes water a little.
"Is there any anger in you towards the Federation, or any authority that put you in this position?"
"Why yes, a lot. Who doesn't feel anger from time to time? I do believe that this anger is different from rage, which is what you meant. I wouldn't harm anyone because of my situation, the Temple of Aheia up that mountain, and the Locu' boarding school for mentally superior youth is why I'm here right now."
"Are you now an atheist, Co'ol?"
I take time to pause and wonder.
"No, not at all. My faith has kept me so determined." The narrative the Federation was pushing at the time was that stay ignorant, never open your mind, follow your beliefs and whenever someone tells you to change, get mad and irrational, they plaster the 'Faith has kept me so determined' on Aheian books of worship, novels about Aheia, even Priest Awe, the piece of shit that put me in this position has it wrapped around his turban.
"Ah, so what do you think of the Commune? They promise free food and free housing to those who defect from the Federation to join them."
"Yeah, I'll join them! Sounds like an experience," I laugh for a minute before realizing how hostile the tensions between the two states are.
They killed several revolutionaries for speaking out against the Federation itself, let alone someone promoting defecting to The Commune.
"I have no quarrels with them; politics affect my life more than your average person. I couldn't defect, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't or would. It seems appealing, but they lack freedom of speech, and they're all secular anyway."
Those are the parts the magazine includes; I get a whole article and three months of Federation news dedicated to that magazine, not me. Just the fact that I didn't say how much I hate the Commune was a distraction to a horrible miscommunication where the Federation annihilated a peaceful planet of sheep people named 'Ovis.'
I'm beaten in the streets by Aheians, mothers, fathers, boys, the elderly, veterans, and the disabled alike for my beliefs; they throw rocks, slushies, and other objects at me. Others view me like a dog and leave food for me, but they don't bother to get close.
A'roll was in the penitentiary at the time; he had been arrested for burglary. Once he got out, he instantly went to find and take me to someone he calls 'The Taco.'
Taco turns out to be an arms dealer working on behalf of the Federation. He supplies Feds, Mobsters, Terrorists, Xenophobes, Radicals, Communists alike.
A'roll and I bought our first weapon from him. I buy an assault rifle with a barrel for shooting grenades, a legal attachment as long as I don't own a grenade. I call it Double Whammy, as the grenade launcher does more damage without a grenade; it propels a large gust of air pressure at Mach 3, making any target explode on impact. It's classed as a squirt gun. I attempted to detach it from the rest of the rifle, but of course, it failed. Such a shame.
"Co'ol, we'll be two celebrities. It isn't over! It's never over!"
He says, then tells me to get back in the car, and we drive five and a half hours to the casino.
"We're gonna be bounty hunters, space cowboys." He says, yelling at the top of his lungs.
The lobby of the casino looks at us. The valet takes luggage out of the backseat of the hovercar.
"So, I know your religion is big against murder. But there's this deal, an Intergalactic Janet is causing commotion in Dierward, all over the galaxy really." He says, grabbing a handful of Kouzl and ingesting it.
"You know I can't kill anyone," I state, stopping in my tracks, then pointing to my ribbox
"I know you're in no state to do anything, but I'll do it. We split the money, you just have to drive."
"How much?" I ask, contemplating if I want to throw all my morals away for a quick dollar.
"500,000 Galactic Credits Galactic with a G!" He says, waving his hands in the air for emphasis.
I think to myself, I could buy a home. I could live happily with just 25,000 credits. We'll be rich. We can do whatever, whenever.
"Then, as a backup, I have this pusher helping me scam the elderly out of Galactic credits."
By the time he says that, we're in the hotel part of the Casino, entering the elevator slowly. We picked a random floor to stay at for a week until the job was ready, that morning I drove 140 miles to the city of Dierward. The hovercar. The sheriff of the town is being held at gunpoint by a robber.
"We are definitely in the right town," A'roll says, carrying a duffel bag full of raygun cartridges.
The way a raygun is simple, it pressurizes and condenses a point in its core when the trigger is pulled, setting off a chain reaction firing off plasma at near light speed, piercing a target, they are called rayguns because of their creator, Rae Noonu, the pride and joy of Awburg, the Federation has actual rayguns, as the ones you probably think off. They're called Hyperelectric Wave Disruptors, way cheaper to manufacture, and used for law enforcement because they're now mandated to be non-lethal.
Entering the town is no problem. A'roll tells me to look out for someone in a white cowboy hat and blue poncho. Hundreds meet that description in this town, all Potenes.
"There he is!" He points to a Siciste, the Siciste is a tall, dark-skinned Hogwarts brown male with curly hair that appears like wool, his beard goes down to his neck. His poncho covers a v-neck floral patterned tunic. He wears baggy bootcut jeans with a cigarette pointing out of his mouth, and he emits a glowing purple light with every step he takes. A'roll rushes towards him, leaping in the air before shooting his shotgun directly at the Cowboy's chin.
A barrier deflects this attack; it may be a velocity-deflecting barrier or something.
Regardless, the shotgun's attack scatters amongst the barrier, the barrier fades in and out for a second before blipping away.
The cowboy twirls a throwing knife before throwing it directly at A'roll's shin. A'roll takes a step back and takes out a kitchen knife he stole from the hotel.
The cowboy show's little interest in fighting A'roll, or anyone, for that matter.
"You're here to kill me, aren't ye?" He paces around the area in a circular shape.
"I'll let you in on a secret, Spindlehead, Syre is more than it leads on to be."
The circle expands and glows purple, hands begin to claw out of the ground, and the ground rumbles.
"I won't fight 'chew." He points to a golem forming itself out of the pavement, pipes, copper, and gold lining themselves all over it.
"My syreline technique is Pieces of a Man."
A'roll rolls his eyes and begins rushing towards the Cowboy; his hat flies off his head and onto the golem, who absorbs it into its biomass.
It raises its arm and slams it downwards on A'roll's head. The golem fractures a piece of itself.
I rush towards the Cowboy, his poncho lifts above his head, engraved in his tunic is his name, Dyri, father of Aedar.'
I throw a quick uppercut towards Dyri's lower half. He stumbles and grabs a 150kg manhole cover, bashing it against my knee.
I begin hopping up and down whilst holding it, he leaps three and a half meters into the air and performs a downward slash using his arms, narrowly escaping via barrel roll, my CivLink (Phones at the time) falls out.
I lift it and throw it against Dyri's head; it makes a loud bonk noise before he falls, bleeding an orange liquid, I presume to be syreline. and thus his golem vanishes.
A'roll, still damaged from being hit with 600kg of force to his head, prances over to Dyri's seemingly unconscious body.
Dyri raises his body like the undertaker.
"Before you rightfully claim my bounty, take care of my boy, Aedar. His mom died so many years ago, it was a devastating loss–" Dyri blabbles. He takes out a revolver, placing the cartridge in and quickly drawing it into the thigh-bone of A'roll.
He slides back and falls to the ground, yelling in anger.
And, in the heat of the moment, I took out my weapon, 'Double Whammy', and blew a 40cm incision through his collar bone to his shoulder blade. Dyri lets out a yelp.
I found the kitchen knife A'roll had. It was on the ground, covered in dirt, and marked by Dyri's chin. The blade was dull, barely breaking past the skin.
A'roll screams in pain before grabbing his shotgun; this time, he blows three 13cm holes in Dyri's body. Who falls back to the ground.
"He must've thought I wasn't the shit!"
I look at him, then at Dyri, taking off my jacket and cauterizing the thigh wound.
"Don't say that again."
The Cowboy was my first kill; I can't kill anyone, no matter how much I need to. Especially not the father of a co-worker, best friend even.
Auillia 5:22, the prophet Tolugan defeated the snake 'Protodok Envi' "Mother, hallowed maker of the universe, with a guilty heart I come to ye, for I have committed the crime of the most high, murder. Spoke Tolugan, the mother came down and carved a star on his forehead, labeling him 'Monari,' forgiving him, but giving him the mark of an outcast, banishing him from all social interaction."
The next event after this was a party. I'd say this is where my life would begin.