You wake to the sounds of knocking. You jump out of bed, shouting out a "COMING!" to let whoever's outside know of your presence. You hastily put on your suit before opening the door.
"Ah, Mr. Reuben, sir, my apologies, am I interrupting?"
"No, no, it's fine, I've just slept in it seems. Lieutenant… Hammersmith, was it?"
"Yes, sir, I've come to give this month's report from our new checkpoint in Baghdad."
"That was today? Well then, go ahead. I'm glad we finally set up there."
"Indeed, sir, it was quite the achievement. The ORIA has been rather helpful with our settlement projects."
He takes out a document from his pocket, handing it to you.
"Well, here's the full report, sir. I will see myself off."
"Very well, have a nice day, Lieutenant."
You get back inside your quarters, making a cup of black coffee before sitting down on the couch to read the report.
You hastily walk through the pristine, decorated halls of Chapterhouse-1, you're angry demeanor breaches through the slim exterior of a forced smile. You can't believe it, they all act like nothing happened, content to rot in obscurity until these clean walls crash in on themselves, as the heretics get bolder & your resources run thinner.
You were there for all of it, so why can't they understand?
You were there, standing beside the others on that sun-kissed hill, gathered to usher in a new dawn.
You were there when the holy city sided with the unholy prisonmasters.
You were there when Ifrit reigned hellfire upon the Middle East.
You were there when the clockwork almost consumed the world.
You were there when the great famine took the will of the people.
You sacrificed so much and yet they stand still, calling you "hot-headed," "radical," "insane" as your efforts crumbled before you.
You will not let this go to waste.
You swipe a keycard on the door as small hands attempt to pull away, and you pull forward to enter the gargantuan construction site in front of you.
It was a beautiful thing, the Golem. Refined in its machinery, its frame so large its head pierced the clouds, its four arms shadowed those same clouds, so many wires and tubes ran through it that you didn't know where they started or ended. Symbols & sigils from a million tongues and practices shone while soothing horns & the sharp rings of church bells emanated from the…. thing? You didn't even know how much of it was machine or mineral. All you handled was the basic rites associated with its functionality, reminiscing of the stories you knew of the golem kind as you prayed. Moving on from the sight above you, you gripped the child's hand harder as you dragged it around.
You both walked through the construction site, where engineers, coders, thaumoturgists, clerics, electricians, even djinns, cyborgs, and androids provided data and materials with single-minded efficiency.
You continue to tread through the chaos, confused, until you see a familiar face talking with a clearly somber man & woman. The child next to you begins screaming as you head towards them.
"Hello Bernard, have we completed the safety checks?"
The man turns away from the couple as they look at the child.
"Ah, yes, Samuel, we're almost done. Why don't you let the kid have some downtime while we wait?"
You let go of the child's hand as it rushes towards the man & woman. The family embraces as Bernard motions you to a quieter part of the site, sitting you down on a plastic chair.
"You seem nervous, something gone bad on your end?"
"No, I'm just nervous in general. I'm not sure if we can even launch this thing; it feels too big to succeed."
"You know the saying usually states that something will succeed if it's too big."
You look down at the floor.
"We aren't big enough for that kind of success. Not yet."
"Is that so?"
"I have something to ask you, Bernard."
"Oh, go ahead?"
"What do we do when this is over? Do we forget? Scrap all the data and let our sins be lost to time?
"Forget what exactly?"
"Forget that we're sacrificing a child!" You bark at the man.
"I'm not doing this again, Samuel. You know why this needs to be done. I won't let all this effort go to waste."
"Do we really have no alternative?" You plead.
"This is for the greater good. We try to find another way, and that damn demon kills us all. We voted, we decided. That's final."
Bernard looks at his wristwatch and sighs.
"We should be starting now, get to it."
A terrible sound resounds throughout the site as the golem is lowered below the site, latches come off, smoke bursts out of tubes, and everyone present is silent as if to admire the ritual. You walk towards the center of the golem, the child skipping ahead. You take a vial from your pocket as you come near the giant orb in the golem's middle, the rites have already been conducted, the metal & mineral have been bound. Giant runes cover its feet as the padding turns the surrounding launch platform into a non-Newtonian fluid, the metal making it up cracks & waves.
All that is left is the power source.
The orb opens up to reveal thin, clear, needle-like spines spread across its structure. Everything is ready. Everyone is ready. You have to be ready.
You look at the decorative vial in your hand, smoke swirling inside as you hand it over to the child, who quickly shoves it down its mouth, chugging the contents with a visceral hunger. You can't bring yourself to look at the kid, your eyes locked on the orb, until you hear………..
THUD
The child collapses. You walk over to pick it up, making sure to keep your eyes shut as you walk over the orb,
You place the saint child within the spines.
There is no screaming, no objection, for you all know what must be done. All that is left is metal penetrating skin, the sounds of eyes popping in their sockets, flesh ripping apart, and undeveloped bones turning to mush as the orb closes.
One body. One soul. One servant. One golem.
For the first time in human history, man and machine truly become one. Their union was glued together with the faith of thousands. Never to be apart as they fulfill a destiny they didn't know.
The crying of a woman is heard.
You sit at a small wooden table, while two figures sit on either side. Various framed pictures & iconography line the walls of the room, with a group of guards standing at the large door. The light of dusk permeates the room through the ceiling windows as you take out a sheaf of papers and present it to the figures; their eyes narrow as they look inside.
"Is this a joke?" The figure on your left speaks.
"Not at all." You reply.
"This is unreasonable at best and worthless idealism at worst." The figure on your right chimes in.
"It's a necessity. We have an opportunity we cannot miss out on."
"This 'opportunity' is a death sentence."
"We have more than enough manpower to handle this; you should know that more than anyone, Bernard."
"I am not wasting the evangelium on this nonsensical power trip."
"What will you waste it on then? Will we wait until the initiative is reduced to dust before we act? Have you forgotten everything Demontfort told us?"
"Do not bring the dead into this, Samuel. This plan of yours is clearly ill thought out, and I must agree on not revealing our developments to the enemy this early."
"What I am saying is that they don't need to be the enemy. We have reports from Chapterhouse-5 on SAPPHIR activity in Iran, as well as a possible assault on the ORIA directly. We can make ourselves a shield for them, earning their trust. The rest is just long game negotiations."
"We cannot afford this, not now."
"We can afford to affiliate ourselves with Mana still, but can't afford something worthwhile? I call bullshit! That dammed 'charity' provides nothing but disappointment and an ACTUAL waste of resources."
"At least their existence doesn't introduce more strife into our already fickle relations. We should focus on the initiative itself, other than thinking of other religions to introduce god knows we have enough Christian denominations!"
"Oh, please, a few more shias won't break our backs! The initiative has bided its time for too long. We have every reason to do this, just look at our friends at Backdoor SoHo. They've been nothing but a boon, organizing the routes for our recent checkpoints; in fact, the checkpoints wouldn't have even existed without the knowledge of the anartists. That's not to even mention all the weaponry and designs Andersons have giv-
BANG
Wood slams into concrete as the room becomes silent.
"Calm yourself, Samuel." Adnan places down his cane next to his chair.
"Now then, first of all, the Shia are not the issue; the issue is all the new improvements you cite our allies have provided need time to adjust. Yes, the artists in SoHo have done an amazing job, but how many Shepards have you seen even utilizing them? They haven't adjusted, same with the new uniforms or the weapons, or anything else. The annexation of the ORIA into the Atibba al-Kitab would not only be unfeasible logistically, but would also drive a wedge between our operatives further."
"We can deal with that later!" You jump up from your seat.
"WE CANNOT LET THIS GO! Not when more cults rise every day, not when the foundation allies with said cults, not when I remember what we did and what we could do. Must I remind you of the golem? That cardinal sin you bastards feel so inclined to forget? This isn't about logistics, it's about optics, a show of generosity AND force. We must take initiative, no matter what."
You start to pant, catching your breath, as you slowly sit back down on your chair.
"Nobody forgot the golem Samuel." Bernard boldly exclaims, looking directly into your eyes, his gaze holding a thousand emotions you cannot parse.
You sign and hold onto your face, as you reach into a small bag next to you, slamming down the large coverless book within, on the table.
"Here."
"What is that?" Adnan questions.
"The universal texts, the first edition we ever made, back when we were the New Dawn Initiative. I have brought all of my reasons for this decision, gentlemen; all that is left is to vote, but before that, I wish to show you one last thing."
You take the book into your hands, looking inside to find a picture frame peeking out from the middle. You take it out of the book,
A picture of a child is seen.
"We promised to make the world young again. Let no saint suffer it in its decay any longer."
You put down a cup of black coffee as you get up to put on a coat. You smile, there's a long day ahead.
Now we are Amos, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.
