A Tale of Two Brothers

Part I

"Do you know who Sahara was?"

"Wh-Who?" said Nakamoto.

"That tale you heard tonight. It was real."

"Bull...shit."

"No hard feelings, but congratulations on your marriage."

They both looked at each other and laughed. They were standing behind tree trunks in the jungle, girdled by ancient plants, owl 'hoots', cicadas, and lizards.

"I feel cold..." said he.

Those were Nakamoto's final words. His legs gave way and he fell with a dull thud. Frydo had passed out due to exhaustion. It was noon when he came to and hugged the corpse. He batted away the fleas and closed its grey eyes staring into thin air.

"Good bye."

In the midst of life, there stood death; patiently waiting with its jaws wide open, claws fully extended and calculating our every move with the sharpest precision. Nakamoto was over there, and he was here; light years away – drifting like a lonely piece of space junk in his own orbit immersed in absolute seclusion going exactly nowhere, biding his time before ultimately entering some unknown atmosphere and becoming burnt debris. The tears wouldn't come. Just a hollow feeling inside his bones – one which no truth, sincerity or love could wash away. Legs pumped with lead, ears tuned into a strange hum and blurry-eyed he continued to ramble. A dreary, miserable rain started to descend with zealous bursts of lightning. Only then, as if the fact just dawned on him, a piercing, monstrous scream belonging to neither man nor animal escaped Frydo's throat and penetrated the deafening silence.

Part II

In the year 23XX, two identical twin boys - Nakamoto and Frydo, were born in a village situated upon a treacherous plateau hidden deep within the --Z--- country. The village elders followed a strict policy of isolationism for the past 200 years, forbidding entry to all outsiders. This birth heralded a clichéd prophecy from the seer Gotoh, summed up as - one of the brothers would bring great destruction to the village chief, Viroppu. Gotoh was poisoned to death on his dinner table and anyone who knew of this prophecy (including the parents of the twins) was butchered on the spot. Numerous times did Viroppu's men attempt to terminate the brothers during their infancy, but none had the moral fibre to slaughter a child. And so, Nakamoto and Frydo grew up under the care of an old widower named Iscandhere. He had a long, white beard; a bald head with numerous scars; muscular arms and legs; and a well-toned torso. Yet, he suffered from some mysterious ailment which made him cough up blood so hard sometimes he'd piss or shit himself. So, it was hard for him to do much other than guide the boys from a stationary position. He taught them self-sustenance and a peculiar style of unarmed combat. They lived in a remote corner of the village almost cut off from everyone. His children had never contacted Iscandhere since their mother's death. He was a creative guy who told them of oceans, music, books, stars and the great cities of yonder with much pride. Scenes witnessed by his grandfather seemed to spark his imagination and words would just burst forth like a dam transplanting those images into the hearts of the listener. It wasn't all sunshine & rainbows, but they managed to get by just fine.

The village had five parts – four lying in the cardinal directions north, south, east, west collectively known as the Yonkai and ultimately meeting at the centre, which primarily housed Viroppu's residence. The village was encircled by a river, supplied by the rampaging rapids of a huge waterfall beyond the north Yonkai; and a huge forest extending radially outwards from the riverbank. Each Yonkai was headed by an administrator and a law-keeper along with several armed foot-soldiers. It also had about 20 common wells to draw water from, a granary and a market where one could obtain goods using the barter system. Crime did not exist. The villagers grew wheat, rice, lentils, potatoes, mangoes, jute and reared livestock such as cows & goats. They practiced endogamy establishing a line of homogenic ethnicity. The concepts of caste, creed and colour were foreign to them. Any person, who did not have heterosexual tendencies or was found to be sterile, would have their reproductive organs cut and left in the jungle to be feasted upon by birds and beasts. They wore animal skins for clothes. People neither woke up before the sun rose nor stepped out of their homes after it set. There were three main occupations – cultivation, labour and craftsmanship. Cultivation typically involved agriculture on one's piece of land and presenting the surplus to the chief as a monthly tribute. Labour was meant to be used in extracting copper from the mines or creek beds; transporting resources between places; and guarding the borders of the village. Craftsmanship was of two types – one was used to construct spear tips, knives, swords, spades, and dishes of copper, whereas, the other was to build earthen containers and pans; wooden items like ploughs and shelves; and ropes & bags from jute. Smelting of the ore was done by banking over a mud furnace with clay and leaving an opening directed towards the prevailing wind.

Iscandhere passed away when the twins were 12. There was no funeral; the boys buried him in the backyard. But his death actually meant one less stomach to fill, and finally Iscandhere's suffering was over. Life went on. Hardship wasn't the order of the day, ignorance was. Nakamoto had the 'brains', while Frydo had the 'brawn'. They started to get revenge on those who had abused them during their childhood; and word spread of their ruthless attitude. Viroppu invited them to his 'humble abode', a phrase for the grandest piece of real estate around, for a royal dinner. He gave them positions as his trusted aides to enforce his law upon the people. The councillors baffled at their chief's actions put forward their earnest pleas with frivolous arguments.

"Better to have the head of a snake in your palm. It's easier to crush it" said Viroppu.

All opinion was silenced since they finally understood his intention.

"There could be none wiser than our chief, of course. What a fool am I, to doubt thee for but a moment! All hail, Chief Viroppu!" said his personal advisor.

"All hail Chief Viroppu!" chanted the men.

A smug smile with all 32 teeth on display was Viroppu's reaction. Despicable and sadistic, this sorry excuse of a pathetic human being overflowed with greed, lust, fat and sloth.

Nakamoto was given a job as a bodyguard to chief Viroppu, while Frydo was posted as the personal advisor to the southern Yonkai's administrator. The brothers didn't meet for about a year. Nakamoto was entranced by the striking features of a married woman named Ubi. Her husband, Qaishen had introduced Ubi to him while she was teaching children pottery in a small yard. It was as if lightning had struck Nakamoto and ripped apart his very body to shreds, but strangely, he felt exhilarated in being torn to nothingness. He started wooing her privately. One night she met his advances with her own gentle embrace. He had never experienced the warmth of a woman before, so it was a funny affair to see him standing dumb in front of Ubi's naked self. She taught him very delicately to peel off his foreskin and expose the glans, how to please a woman and eventually how to last longer in various positions. It was all possible because Qaishen had night duty and his children had already left home.

Frydo, however, abstained from having any relationships, always keeping himself engaged with work. One night, when he was fast asleep, a loud explosion made Frydo jump out of his house. Something seemed to have crashed from the sky into his land. It was giving off black smoke and its 'eyes' were frantically searching for something. When it spotted Frydo, it leapt towards him.

Part III

Qaishen was growing suspicious of his wife. Due to some reason, Ubi'd ended up getting pregnant. And he knew, it was not his child. She conveyed her fears to Nakamoto. One day he led Qaishen to a desolate area of the village on the pretext that his wife's lover lived there. Nakamoto slit his throat and watched Qaishen's desperate struggle. Crimson squirted from his carotid artery; lack of oxygen shut his brain down. Qaishen took gasping breaths - gargling blood and coughing on vomit. Urine and faeces ran down his legs. All suffering ended within two gruesome minutes. Nakamoto took a jute bag and stuffed his corpse inside along with some heavy stones. He hauled it into the river and washed himself. The couple married a few months later when the matter of Qaishen's disappearance had piped down. They were cuddling in each other's arms on their wedding night, when suddenly, Nakamoto asked to no one in particular with a sigh,

"Is there really a world out there?"

"Why, you don't think it's true?" said Ubi.

"Well, maybe for a long while I haven't."

"But I still wonder who are 'we'?"

"You really, really, really want to know the answer to that?" said Ubi.

"Yes."

"Let me tell you a story from about 200 years ago. Don't interrupt me. Okay?"

"Since when did you become a regular Scheherazade?" She laughed and began narrating with much enthusiasm:

"'Back then, due to a sudden change in the world's climate, the skies had become scorched, the rivers ran dry, the earth became barren and cracked, while a severe disease ravaged the entire globe. A fight for resources such as food and water soon ensued; man sought for survival against Nature, machine, beast, and ultimately, his fellow man; leading to an event called "The Final World War". A decade later, out of this quagmire of despair, agony and hatred emerged a doctor. A self-proclaimed healer who had an ability to forever imprint in the minds of every human being on the planet – the entire life of any person whom she touched, from the moment of their birth right up to their death. It was termed "Thou Shall Not Be Forgotten". People called her "Sahara" – a name given to her by an old patient. Her husband had been killed in the war, her parents had died from the disease, and her 17 year old daughter was murdered after being raped by unknown men – hung from a tree branch near to her house. But, she never stopped providing medical healthcare to any person.

One day, she left home and never returned. On her journey, she had almost starved and dehydrated to death once in a jungle after losing her way. An old monk had resuscitated Sahara and taught her 'spiritual arts'. She could now summon the Devil from hell and obtain anything she desired at the cost of a human life. It was at this point, where she half-killed the monk and offered his soul. Few years later, she had become a distant reminder of her former self. She used her ability only on those who begged her that they wanted 'to be remembered'. A side-effect also became evident with the passage of time. Her heart grew colder, and soon she had become devoid of all emotions. Nothing under the heavens could faze her. She decided to gather a hundred orphans and train them in various skills – architecture of mud houses, martial arts, agriculture, hunting & fishing, English and basic first-aid from natural sources. But she chose to omit science, having seen firsthand how it held the potential to corrupt an individual. When she had finished her course of teaching, on a full moon night she jumped from a cliff and died. Her corpse was never found. These orphans, forlorn and distraught migrated to the place where our village stands. They gathered seeds from various sources and started the cultivation of grains and lentils. They were the ones who brought the rains back, built this haven from the scratch and laid the foundation for the coming generations. They forbade any of their successors from leaving the village and passing on the tale of Sahara.'"

"I was wrong" said Nakamoto.

"About what?" said Ubi.

"You call that fucking joke, a story?"

"Well, you wanted an answer to 'who we are'. I promised you just that. Even I don't like it much."

"Why?"

"Suffice it to say, we shouldn't have been born."

"Hmm, and now I have more questions..." said Nakamoto.

"Such as?" said Ubi.

"Well, if it is 'forbidden', how do you know it? And somebody must have gone outside and seen the world."

"My great-grandpa Roja told my father, who told me. And frankly, since Viroppu came to power none has even thought of leaving."

"And when was that?"

"I can't recall."

Ubi exhaled a mouthful of turbid air, and gulped down water from a deer skin flask. Nakamoto had trouble just looking at her skin in the candle's filtered light. It was as if half her body had melted into the night's darkness, and the other half had somehow materialized from the very earth on which they were sitting. Her eyes seemed to gaze out from an abysmal pool whose surface is calm enough to produce a crystal – clear reflection yet peer into the very depths of your soul. Nakamoto felt a certain dull ache in the pit of his stomach. With each heartbeat, it seemed this throbbing sensation was consuming every inch of his body. His clothes felt wet and his mouth filled up with black bile and a certain copper like taste. He didn't even realize he'd been stabbed and a knife was protruding from his abdomen. By the time his brain had even registered the event, Ubi sprung from the ground and attempted to strangulate his neck with both hands as if gripped by a manic frenzy. Eyes bloodshot, lips curled into a wicked smile and Nakamoto didn't have the will to stop her. Maybe, deep down he felt he deserved it. Suddenly, a silhouette jumped from the only window in the house and bashed Ubi's head with a stone. It didn't halt and Nakamoto couldn't help but stare. Emotions he'd never known welled up inside, and soon his face was full of tears and snot, only he wasn't sad. A fit of rage had ravaged his soul, poured gasoline and set it on fire.

"Hey, Naka wake up."

The silhouette was kicking his left leg. Only one person in the entire world called him by that idiotic pet-name.

"F-Fr-Frydo?"

"Yeah, it's me. Let's go. Stand up."

"I can't move. My body feels cold..." said Nakamoto.

"Cut the crappy drama. You have gotten soft, motherfucker" said Frydo.

Frydo pulled him up and put Nakamoto's left hand on his shoulder. They trotted down the eerily silent village roads under the hazy shroud of cloud-filtered moonlight and obscure darkness. How strange – at the end of the day, the person he trusted the most and devoted his life to ended up trying to kill him whereas a brother whom he hadn't contacted in over a year ended up saving him. He wanted to laugh, but no sound came out of his mouth. For his eyes had resolutely fixed upon something in the distance – a man carrying a fire torch. They paused in their path.

"You damned murderers who have stained the sanctity of our village! The chief shall feast on your heads tonight!!" roared he.

The brothers ran for their lives with reckless abandon when one by one fire torches seemed to spring out of every crevice, alley and house. The quarry sprinted across the village and the hunter razed the ground to ashes trying to catch it. Each inhaled breath seemed to leave behind a razor-thin cut on their lungs, each step a grim reminder of their physical limits. But none stopped to think or fight back. With wide gashes on their feet, continuous thrashing from twigs and branches, they stumbled and rolled; yet the sound of approaching steps renewed their spirits with fresh fear. When the roar of gushing water flashed past their ears, they dived into the river. The soldiers had already caught up to them but didn't dare to jump. Some threw their spears but only struck the river bank. Nakamoto & Frydo swam across against the tide and climbed onto the bank with chattering teeth, heaving chests and flared nostrils. The jungle lay before them, and so they started to crawl inch by inch.

Part IV

"Are you Frydo?" said 'it'.

He stood perplexed like a statue in deep thought.

"Yes."

"Sorry" said 'it', and with tremendous force lodged an arm into Frydo's rib cage. It pulled out and threw his heart away. Denial is the most common of all responses. He staggered a bit and fell clutching his wound. Despair clouded his mind.

"Drop the act. You're a robot, not a human", said it.

"I am Landstreicher, of the United Nations Automata Forces. The top brass have authorized the annihilation of Viroppu and his council."

He took a battery canister and held it in front of Frydo's forehead. Suddenly, flesh-hued wires extended from his skin and pulsed with the influx of charge.

"Officer, do you copy?" said Landstreicher.

Frydo pushed himself off the ground and stood at attention.

"Sergeant Omega here, I copy" said he.

"Update me."

"Sir, I have confirmed with several tests on the soil texture, climate pattern, and vegetation that Viroppu is indeed the rogue, environment altering robot Enma. The real Viroppu expired long back."

"Give me your memory chip, Sergeant."

Landstreicher modified and overwrote new data into it.

"After I depart, insert it. You'll be able to retain both identities simultaneously and function in top gear. Peace."

He retracted his 'feet' into his legs and blew exhaust out to achieve jet-powered flight. Omega's hand shuddered. He still remembered, how on the night of Iscandhere's death, Frydo had wandered into the jungle alone. He'd discovered Omega's campfire and thus, had to be silenced. After killing him, Omega morphed his body in the shape of his victim and attached its heart. Using his advanced software, he transferred the information from Frydo's blood into his AI. And since then, Omega became Frydo.

Part V

Frydo lay before Viroppu's disemboweled body. The entire path from the courtyard to his room was a bloodbath with waves of fire engulfing all. Suddenly, his dormant radio network buzzed with static.

"Mission accomplished, Sir" he said.

"We are here" replied an unfamiliar, husky voice.

A female in military uniform waltzed into the room and touched his scalp with her palm.

"Thou shall not be forgotten, Frydo" said the woman with a smile on her face.

"Tell me it was all just a bad dream."

She removed the pin of a grenade and tossed it over to him. "Hold on" she said and trotted away.

BOOM.