Read Unholy Advent: Deception Of The Christ Page 33
Colored lights no longer flickered; they had been covered over in dust and snow. The air was still stale, however, though this time there were no noxious fumes about to assault Jennings' nose.
The incessant whir of processor cooling fans had fallen silent, their aria cut short of completion when the rhythmic taps of fingers on keyboards had disappeared so long ago.
The space was as massive as it had ever been, even more so now that the ceiling had been opened and the Siberian landscape peaked into the lab in its curiosity from above. White light shined through the great crevice onto the empty throne still standing, just where Jennings remembered it being.
He remembered Darius staring blankly at him from the metallic chair when he had first met the machine. It had seemed so void of life when it had sat there; before the switch had been thrown and the beast born unto the world.
"What a piece of work is man." Jennings said, his voice echoing through the chamber. His weary voice lacked the passion that was alive in the voice of Jim Walker when he had recited the lines in this place. He continued, however, the words now grim, his heart weighed heavy with grief and doubt of what he'd done. "How noble in reason, how infinite in faculty. In form and moving how admirable. In action how like an angel, in apprehension how -- like a god."
An ash was in the air, circling him as he walked towards the platform where the machine was born. He imagined these gray particles were the remnants of the bodies that had lined the place before.
He looked to the console where Denisa had worked, seeing a heavy door now ajar at its base. Looking inside he saw what had been her salvation; a tiny crawl-space that must've been incredibly claustrophobic for the days she spent inside. There were foil wrappers of M.R.E.'s that must've sustained her in her hibernation. The woman planned ahead, this was a promising sign in the face of the battle drawing near.
The footprints of mighty steeds were still visible on the ground; relics now that told the prologue of the horrors that befell the world.
What had they done?
How did this project meant to preserve the lives of soldiers lead to the deaths of so many thousands; so many millions around the globe?
They had opened the door to something; a world beyond their comprehension. Through the gate had come a force the likes of which they had never imagined to be.
What was it?
A demon that had dreamt of such an opportunity to lay siege to mankind? Eagerly leaping across the breach and taking hold of the circuitry that brought Darius to life?
Or could it be that this was truly the Christ; come again to rid the world of the disgrace that man became after his light had left the world?
Why would he take these steps - if this was, indeed, the Lord? What had man done to offend him so severely that he sought to destroy the children of God?
Was it the war that spread like fire across his kingdom on the Earth? The constant struggle between factions that, after all, He had created at the Tower of Babel? The countless lives lost in squabbles over his name or intentions for mankind?
Was it the moral decay that so many claimed brought his anger upon the world? The crime, the blasphemy, the discounting of his word?
Perhaps he was distraught at the abortion, adultery, divorce, prostitution, drug addiction, suicide, greed, homosexuality and other hot button issues that drew divisions among his children?
Perhaps he'd grown tired of hearing the empty prayers for material wealth, greener pastures and selfish ends that had been sent his way for eons? Maybe his patience had been worn to nothingness by the abrasive self-importance of man?
Maybe the final sand had simply flowed through his mighty hourglass; a time limit set in his wisdom that had expired, payment coming due.
Either way, it was over...
Everything was over...
No longer would the Earth be encumbered by evils of mankind. God had set it free, whatever the reasoning behind his actions.
Whether Devil or Devine, Darius was the chosen solvent in the cleansing of the world. God had reared his holy head, and nothing would ever be the same again.
Futile as his efforts might be, Jennings was determined to carry out his plan. Whatever the fate of Man on Earth, he was convinced that the name of Jesus Christ must be preserved.
He walked to the opposite end of the lab, where tattered rags were all that remained of his friend Jim Walker. The weather-worn clothes were stained with blood, holes decorating the fabric where they had been stabbed at the preacher's hand.
The key with which the man had tried to destroy his own creation was still in the console where he had stood. Cameron took it as a twisted memento of what he had done, squeezing it for a moment in reflection on the life he had left behind.
Near the console was what remained of Doctor Schlaff; the imprint of a flask showing through the wilted clothes. To Jennings' dismay the cap was loose, no booze to provide escape to be had from within.
Just a few steps from there was what had brought the forsaken preacher back to this slice of hell... he snatched it from the ground, shaking off the dust, and tucked each component under his arms as he left this place again; never to return.