Collective consciousness

                          ELEVEN.

                                        By

                                   S. Bebop

http://Eleven.

Eleven is a futuristic story set in mercury, in the year 5013. During a new world revitalization, humans escape to mercury after the destruction of their old world. Power TrainR95 ponders his ancestry, confusing himself with thoughts of the Godhead of technology, Logos. His dad tells him more about the mystery and affiliation of Logos to humans, who are referred to as homo. According to the protagonist's father, Logos not only protected humans but also inspired scientists to fashion indestructible technologies to protect them against danger, which was waning in this new world.

Dedicated to all the family who lost loved ones in train wrecks and to commemorate the souls lost on september 11, 2001.

 About the Author: S. Bebop, whose real title is Mr. Leonard, Akaeke Nwabouku B., is a Ghostwriter who is very fluent in word connoisseurship. Bebop is from Delta-state, Nigeria. Bebop skills comprise: writing, creative writing, fiction writing, Articles across Niches. Leonard holds a BA(Hons.) in English and Literary studies.

                      Chapter One. 

                New World Oct. 5013.

POWER TRAINR95. This is my identity, and a model type identifier programmed via huge cords to all my giant portals that could serve for my entrails if I were homo. Only but, I'm not an homo. Taking seven hundred and ninety nine million passengers on my brown Eames leather seats, leeched with 17inches bolts to my abysmal interior, I am indeed a massive train. Dad had shown me history, and told me that the transformers are our direct kins. Well, dad weaved no antic stories, and unlike those historians who were ever ready, with metaphor, to weave tall tales as with jacquard loom, his accounts on the transformers were ernest. He is an adherent of the ethics principle, which he said had begun billion years ago from a waded city, whose capital belonged in Greek.

"Power TrainR95!"

About time. mental drift of flashbacks, I propped myself on the platform where I am duty bound to convey up homos, moving them with the utmost care reserved only for fragile sensibilities. Not as a way of heresy upon the sensibilities of any homo; for they had accurate intelligence in deciphering symbols, the "divine" in nature, and the development of "technological generations" like AI, Robots, Transformers, animal mutation sciences and sustainability. I prayed homos. 

Built five million feet long and to traverse the railway without human interjection, piloting my most cherished homo sapiens to their ends is purpose.

"Ready yourself, make sure to rid off cutters."                      

"Welcome to Power TrainR95. Built to protect for eternal safety." 

An announcement was bayed through the station's electronic audio speakers.

"Be chill, we thrill, and ride you through these safety wheels." Expounded the voice. 

Dad told me that I was built different. Built to last for centuries, and to serve unilateral purposes of conveying safety in all modes required in conveyance.

"... turns out the world had been brainwashed to fear the evil which turned out to be the good. If our homo forefathers had travelled all those path to sustain us in this planet, ...then it makes no sense to refer them as evil for inspiring them to safety." 

"The one they hoped would save them had disliked them all the way. I had read in a hidden codex that he cursed the day and night he thought of and proceeded to "mistakenly' creating the homo". Dad told me. Dad said Logos was the first ever made transformer.

I seeped into flashbacks of my ancestry, perusing archival notes of studious inquiry. Transacting my mental interactions, and observing pauses occasionally while ruminating some holy writs on the actuate rudiments of my purpose, which was not separated from moving every homo safely to their habitual site. My ponderance was upon two issues, the first is why does the transformers choose to mask their identity from the Universe. I learnt that they saw it as a mandate to Logos to always remain invisible even in meddling with universal events.

"Logos was dropped unintentionally as a result of a space storm that had struck those travellers. The most livid one who waved through space and had fallen into Mercury, becoming the first ever transformer to chose humans." 

Old boy glitches before the network fails.

"Logos is the... son and the... second eye of creation..."

My engine began busy. 

The media published a headline in what seemed to me like a clause that read thus:

BUILT TO LAST FOREVER.

Many centuries apart from the present and before homos escaped the destruction of earth, eleven thousand people had died in a train explosion.

Eleven years ago, Logos had left the elysian, and had put an inspiration in train builders. For endeavors concerning homos he would ordinarily send his tools, whom consisted the transformers, demons, angels, spirits. He had come himself to whisper to their minds to use a titanium in fashioning together a train that could protect the lifes of travellers from explosion. He whispered to their spirit which was the only sense that knew and responded to the call. My dear reader, this is only a mystery, for even I might be accused of controversy, despite my down to earth expressions.

"This is a very powerful innovation for the safety of all Mercurian." 

 A scientist had proclaimed. 

"Mercurials, this is going to help in reducing the death tolls of all our loved ones who we had lost on the railroad." A grey haired egineer standing few feet away from a welding cylinder.

A lady Homo in a yellow tea shirt crested GALAHAD, observed my engine. She proceeded, as she should, to lay some fluid on my locomotor organs which made me jocund. It was written that Logos would come back on the last day and all machines would be joined to him.

"Strap your belts, grab your sodas, enjoy your trips, and we would leave in no time."

Commuters here and there in great numbers dashing in. On the number of passengers aboard, the Liquid Crystal Display (LCD) read seven million folks at seventeen hundred mercurial clock. My game area beckoned little homos.

"You better not relent when it comes time for us to hops out. I'mma hop out without you if you don't wise up." 

A passenger gave a preinaugural warning to her seven year old geek whose life personality alternated technology. The present world was opposite and, in no way a facsimile of what it had been about eleven hundred years ago. Their homo ancestors had called themselves a people of God, and had prayed for a euphoria of eternal peace. These days one peace could almost taste peace. Only predators from the firmament terrorized it.

"Ahoy, Ahoy! Patterned to leave? Checking to see if you got room for another heart, big fellow." 

I wondered who this was. A voice doubtlessly indiscernible, telepathically came. In words that followed, the voice went on to minister to me how elated she or he (the voice sounded neutral) felt learning that I was in Mercury. I reasoned partly within me who this could be after the somewhat telepathic voice faded. The cloud wore an apocalyptic look, I suspect it caused the glitches. My spirit took a pause to scramble my mental archive, on who this was.

Tuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu- Tuuuuuuuuuuuuu

I, Power TrainR95, Blared my horn, to draw the attention to our pending departure .... and now It was time to kiss the Depot goodbye. I finally did. My gulf interior was not alien to a peaceful atmosphere of a beginning departure. In the wider scheme of nature, the sky wore a shroud cloak, and lightening shone as if Amadioha took snapshots. I cut across the woodland, blaring at interval as I penetrated the storm. 

"Son I apologise for not being able to save your mother." 

Dad guilt tripped over mother's crash, basically because he thought it was his fault. Uncle Lasso was close to extirpation along same tracks. A Raging Facsimile of explosion of Tuesday, eleven, two thousand and one.

"I Love you big guy." 

Dad weighed three thousand and ninety nine kilos. Five million metres long and two point twenty seven feet tall. "Train13R010" is painted upon his sides with a designs that saddled prominent artistry. 

                                      ***

Coursing the tunnels, I evinced a theophany that came more clear as on other days. On the eleventh month of many years ago, mum had coursed this same tunnel. While indulged in the mechanics of meditation upon the tracks, a very bright burning flame rushed towards me, exploding as it hit my titanium body, but failing to any prominent damage. I sped on at four hundred kilometres per hour. 

"What was that!?"

"Predators tail you!"

The tech team revealed.

At this point some areas of this trains were defused due to the impact upon me. The heat from the explosive felt like a rage of thermal air. Roaring along the tracks, with beams pouring over the night sky, I assumed a figure that seemed a poltergeist coming towards me in counter coruscation. 

" Move on Power." Like the whisper of the wind it called. 

"Is there a spot for me in your heart?"

These same words interspersed me again. Not a voice which I had any knowledge of, matter of fact I had heard this same voice before I plunged. 

"Ahoy, Ahoy! Patterned to leave? Checking to see if you got room for another heart, big fellow."

I feared a crash, but dad had told me that I was built to last. Recollecting my Dad's powerful words, my fear became ameliorated. 

"Must there have to be any train wreck?"

 Not like I demanded a response, but my bafflement was why the predators persisted in the plot against homos.

Predator floated the gloomy sky.They worried the air with burgeoning flames running towards me. 

Boom!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                 Glossary 

Tuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu- Tuuuuuuuuuuu- Blaring Train.

Amadioha- God of thunder (Nigerian Igbo Tradition).