The island is about a thousand dushes away from the mainland. Hence, the originals were fleeing from the forces of the mainland, and they had to come onto the island at night. And, as their only wish was to be as far away from the mainland as possible, they hid there, on the impossible island of horrible, terrible flora, burying themselves in death wishes.
- Killing someone is equal to killing oneself.
- Bearing one’s fangs at another is unworldly animalistic.
- Against the grain makes a bundle messy.
- Pose as if everything is alright.
- Praise God for allowing us to prosper.
With a gentle push from the design, the originals were safely escorted onto the island, avoiding those who were chasing them, and allowed to live and rebuild civilization on the Lone Island.
And the people, the Dzo Shuple, appreciate him for that.
“15 seconds.”
“Quite slow, isn’t it? A bit incompetent, even.”
“Of course it is. I didn’t have the damn thing for 2 days—I didn’t exist in this world for 2 days… Okay, listen: The named ones are given what’s most familiar to them as their equalizers. I don’t have any familiarity prior to my creation, or my award from the design, so this is all new to me in every possible way.”
“So, is Isha alive?”
“Yes? He is alive; don’t know for how long, though. The stab wound’s healed, but the fact that he shrank 10-20 times in 15 seconds is concerning.”
“He’ll be fine, he’ll be fine. Lest we prod him again, he should live… Hey, appraise something for me: Is his equalizer active? If so, I’d like to split it.”
“Why? Why split it? I can literally neutralize it entirely.”
“You know what I mean to do. He wasn’t into human meat when I met him back on Earth—more so bloodthirsty, but not cannibalistic. I think, for all intents and purposes, the equalizer is the will of the design or directly connected to the code. And! And, if I were to ask you for its roots to be dug out, Isha would just die because there wouldn’t be an ‘anchor’ that holds his soul in his Angel’s body.”
The “Hell Hospitaller”, the medic willing to go to hell and back for even a single soul to live just a little longer, shall not kill. He has killed, he will kill, but as a medic, as someone whose purpose is to save lives, he would not, and could not, leave someone to die; how lunatic, how unhinged, how influenced he may be, he will not take a life of his own volition.
“Besides, I want Isha to live or, at least, die at the hands of others because of what he did as a conscious human being.”
“So, you’re saying we should show mercy to someone who has eaten at least one human being, even tried to eat you, and was a war criminal in his past life. Sure, the last part can be omitted because they’ve already served their death sentence, but still.”
“It’s not our job to be the judge, jury, or the executioner, is what I’m saying. I don’t like death, you see.”
“Jul would kill him.”
“You take her out of this. She’s a child. Someone who can see others’ future, sure, but she doesn’t have a developed moral compass, or even any idea why Isha does these things—even I don’t know.”
“But she will kill him the moment she wakes up.”
“Then we leave before she does.”
“And how’d ya figure that?”
“Isha. He can get us a boat quickly, right? He’s popular enough among the good people, he knows the language, and he should have money, right?”
It takes great pain or courage to take your own life. The same can be said for snakes; they lie because something has hurt them deeply, or they do it to benefit others. After all, no snake has eaten itself before, has it?
Jul was swallowing her own tail. She was crying, shedding tiny tears from the hundreds of little eyes that covered her slithering body; she was in pain.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“Sleep pills. Now.”
“What’s the opposite of sleep? Wakefulness? Adrenaline. I’ll just cut her adrenaline to the extreme.”
Keep your head high and look forward. As the moment of great sorrow passes you by, wave at it—at its arrival, at its departure; a saying told to someone who has seen a loved one pass away, a saying Lish has told too many times, a saying Lish has heard even more. He keeps his head high and straight, looking forward to a future brighter than yesterday.
Placing the dormant, relaxed Jul on his head—the safest place to store the serpent—as a sort of crown, Lish crouches down to Isha and touches his mean center once again.
…
“A fisherman’s rig should be able to pass the reef, no?”
“Surely. I feel like we came from the wrong side, though; it’s walled off by the forest, and the beaches had a bit too many shells on shore. And this island seems to be much bigger than we first imagined. The village had bread—'bread’, my guy. Agriculture. So, a river must go through somewhere.”
“We came from the tall side, so is the river’s west-south? If that’s so, we should start moving. I didn’t hear any water anywhere near here.”
“Isha first. Once he wakes up from the operation, we take him and ‘bargain’ his life for a getaway.”
“The Mad Cook… He should have something to barter on hand. Or his name could be more than enough… Say, isn’t this a bit too quiet?”
“Now that you mention it, why haven’t his neighbors checked if he was alright? That scuffle was plenty noisy, and we’ve been at it for the entire night.”
It was because the Dzo Shuple mentality demanded stagnation. Fear change; fear certain, sudden change, that it may dive as quickly as it soared. “The first one to act is the ultimate loser. Act as you may, but in due time, in relative action”—the way of all those who seek peace.
His neighbors were asleep, through it all, as if there were strays loose, making noise rather than a hydra wreaking havoc on the house next door.
“Can he really do that? Can he really split the essence of the design and restore Isha's sanity? Sure, the corruption is part of him—stemming from his undying wish to delude in a dream—but can his malice and past crimes be forgiven, and can he live as if nothing occurred?”
Spoilers…
“Let’s keep Jul in this form for now; she’s easier to carry like this. Once Isha wakes up, we take him… can’t you just switch something in him, so he wakes up?”
“Yes?”
“Then wake him up. I’d like to get out of here as soon as possible.”
“And… why are we fleeing this island, again? To protect Jul? To escape Isha? Just cause?”
“The sea route is for those who want to create their own adventure. I can sail the seas, build an empire, or even amass a fortune for my future generations, but I have to do these on my own, alone. Now, that last part is a lie; I have you and Jul, so I won’t do it alone. Which led me to wonder, was I supposed to be on this island?”
“Now that you mention it, you have the same ‘feel’ as Isha—like a sort of miasma of misfortune. The design should be perfect in its foresight and plans, but how did this happen? Was it because of Isha? Was it because of you?”
“Who knows, eh? But I really want to get off this island. Whether it was fate or not, I can’t live here, nor can Jul. Isha, sure, he can make do with whatever he has here; he even knows the language, so he’ll be fine.”
“So, you’re just leaving him be? Really? I thought you were the righteous type.”
“I want him to live, not as Isha, but as a human. His actions were most likely caused by the design's will or its corruption. Once I split the essence, his appetite for human flesh should subside, and he can do good for the people.”
“Let’s say you weren’t supposed to wash up here. Where else would you have washed up? And what would have gone on here if you hadn’t been here?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“Because fate is a kind of joke that becomes increasingly serious with each passing minute. Without you, here, Jul would’ve starved, and maybe, just maybe, this town might’ve gone down Isha’s gullet.”
“That’s why I don’t want to be here. With me here, Jul almost died, and Isha was about to die as well. I don’t want to see death anymore. This is a new life, no?”
“You’re lucky twice a day—once when you wake up, and another when you go to sleep.” You’re fortunate to have made it through the night, and you’ve survived the day without passing. Any of those moments could fail, and you would no longer be among us living.
That is why waking up to see the morning sun is the greatest luxury for the weak.
“Lisha… good morning.”
The Mad Cook had awoken.
No longer the troubled man he was before the forced metamorphosis, he now more so resembled the hopeful, and slightly maniacal, self from Panjshir.
Taking the nearest stick and leaning his weight on it, he limped over to his boy, still asleep since the house collapsed. Cradling his son in his arms, Isha looked towards the rising sun and said,
“Thank God.”
Of course, he was concerned about Jul. As to which, Lish said,
“Touch her, and I’ll turn you inside out. You may look at her.”
And he explained the reason why he was alive.
And Isha agreed. What else could he do?