They Weren’t People Anymore
Not really.
It was hard to say what they were.
They used to be men,
Before,
Before…
There was no one reason.
They’d all gone through their own personal Hells,
And come out the other side,
Stranger,
Wiser,
Colder,
Forever altered.
An impressive collection of freaks,
They weren’t people anymore.
I: Outrun Sharks and Cheetahs
The Machine,
Lusted for strength,
And speed.
Ripped apart the body given to him,
By God,
Replaced,
With steel and circuits,
Glass and gears.
His hands lined with chrome digits,
That could shatter jaw bones.
His legs,
Metallic springs,
To propel him over elephants and tanks,
Outrun sharks and cheetahs.
No stomach or intestines.
Eating slows you down,
Hunger makes you weak.
The machine preferred an electric generator,
To keep his limbs moving,
And his heart beating.
And the enzyme pack,
Manipulating the unending flow,
Of neurotransmitters,
Co-receptors,
Receptor antagonists,
Hooked up to his brain,
Making sure he was always
Angry during a fight,
Calm during a briefing,
And quiet when sneaking,
Into an enemy base.
They said he was losing his humanity,
And he agreed.
“I’m better than human,”
He said,
“I don’t bleed like you,
Feel fear like you.”
“God made me in his image.”
“He must’ve been a wimp,
Because that’s what I was.”
“That’s what I was,
Before I learned of motors,
And engines,
And the unrealized promise,
Of technology.”
“I’ve outgrown my old body,
Disposed of it like baby teeth.”
“Germs drifting in water,
Fish deciding to walk,
Rodents hiding in holes,
Pests swinging through trees,
Apes learning to think,
Men learning to conquer,
And now,
Me.”
II: Soil of Blood and Bone
The Mutant,
Enjoyed the sunlight,
On his vines,
Their thorns casting jagged shadows,
In the garden where he slept.
The bees pollinated the roses sprouting from his scalp,
They tickled him.
Skin like the stem of a flower,
Hair like grass,
Teeth like bark,
A peculiar mix,
Of flora and fauna,
His body morphed,
And altered,
Into something Earth has never seen,
A clash of two worlds.
He used to be a man,
Until he trekked into the deepest,
Darkest jungle,
A hunk of land,
Long abandoned by even the oldest,
Of indigenous tribes.
They said Mother Nature lived in that jungle,
In a pyramid of glass and gold.
The man wanted to know.
He went inside,
Alone,
And came out,
As the Mutant.
“What did you see?”
“Many beautiful things.”
“Did you see a pyramid?”
“Yes.”
“Of glass and gold?”
“I don’t know, but it was very beautiful.”
“Did you find Mother Nature?”
The Mutant pauses,
“The lady in the pyramid,
Was very old,
And very powerful,
And very sad.
I loved her,
And for my love,
She made me whole.
She made me new.”
“Can we have a tissue sample?”
He gave them a rose pedal,
From his scalp,
They put it under a microscope.
A mysterious fungus,
Engaged in a complex symbiosis,
A curious dance,
With human flesh,
Creating a medium for growth,
In a soil,
Of blood and bone.
It’d slithered into his organs,
Replaced them with chloroplasts,
And roots,
And sap.
Impervious to disease,
And strong as a tree trunk,
Neither plant,
Nor animal,
He was something else.
“Why?”
The mutant smiled,
“One day,
The woman will leave the jungle,
And then all of you will know.”
III: No Death After Death
The Corpse,
Was dead,
And yet he still walked the earth,
His eyes gazed upon the world,
And his mind still ticked on.
His gait was slow,
Shuffling,
His eyes staring out,
Listlessly,
Watching for hungry vultures,
Lusting for rotting flesh.
Hands,
Still large and strong,
Were cold and numb,
And brought death to everything they touched.
His heart no longer beat,
And his mind,
Still sharp and intelligent,
Weighed down,
By an inescapable dreariness and melancholy,
Only seen,
In the hopeless,
And the damned.
He’d seen death,
He remembered death.
In life,
The corpse had volunteered to die,
Executed in the name of science,
To see what lay,
On the other side,
And return to our world,
To report what he’d seen.
An explorer to the underworld.
A necronaut.
He was killed,
Sent on his mission,
And the technicians sent a million volts through his body,
And brought him back.
Crude,
But effective.
He awoke with no pulse,
Blank-eyed,
His body surrendered to postmortem decay,
Skin yellowed like old paper,
Hair falling like leaves in autumn,
Organs rotted like old meat.
And yet he still walked.
“Once one has died,
They cannot die again.”
The Corpse said.
“This body will corrode,
And deteriorate,
But it will never fully crumble,
Not anymore.”
“There is no death after death,
I am immortal.”
They were too scared to ask what he’d seen,
He answered anyway.
“Darkness,
Silence,
An occasional moan,
Or whimper,
Very quiet,
And damp,
Like a womb.”
“No worries,
No joys,
No sorrow,
No adventure,
No turmoil,
No warmth,
No Good,
No Evil.”
“Very peaceful,
And sad.
I almost miss it.”
Epilogue
They weren’t people anymore,
Not really.
Gone through Hell,
Trials,
Sacrifices,
Pilgrimages,
Mangled by science,
Pride,
Piety,
And Curiosity.
Altered beyond repair,
But did they want repair?
Their bodies functioned,
Surpassing those of feeble man.
Stronger,
Faster,
Deadlier,
More resilient,
Than mortal cousins.
The world watches in envy and fear,
Followings form around them,
Writers and scholars record their deeds,
Kings and Generals ask for their allegiance.
Meanwhile…
The Machine awaits glory
Befitting Hercules.
The Mutant awaits his lady,
A reckoning for the ages.
The Corpse awaits eternity,
For the long night of immortality.
They weren’t people anymore.
They are something else,
As new as the day,
As mysterious as the night.
Pray,
And be ready.
