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DÍA 21
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LA MÁQUINA M
METRÓPOLIS (PARTE 2)
CAPÍTULO 6
LUMA
There is darkness again. Luma searches for
light but finds none. She searches her memory for the last light that she
remembers and sees again the terrible battle in the depths of the city and all
the bursts of color: vaporous greens sparked by those horrific and gleeful children,
the blue jolts of electricity shuddering through the joints of the android boy
whom she vaguely recognized--a face in the crowd--the white-heat flames that
spewed from the Black Masks that defended Metropolis, and the dull ruby glow of
the bodies of their victims that lay smoldering to ashes...but the color that
lodges itself in her memory above all others is the strange glow of the
crystals wielded by the three figures who stayed by her side throughout the
ordeal, those ghostly brothers whom she felt so in tune with.
On remembering those crystals, Luma sees them
clearly in front of her, and has a brief feeling of deja vu, remembers the
philosophical chat that she’s already had with this crystal or dream or
whatever the strange entity is that glows before her again.
“It’s you again,” she says sweetly to the
crystal, as if greeting a stray cat that comes around to pay homage to her
ankle on a daily basis, and at this thought, the form of the crystal dissolves
into the shape of a cat, every hair and whisker bristling ethereally, its tail
swishing a trail of light through the darkness like a neon glow-stick. It
gathers its paws under itself, regards Luma with a high squint, and purrs with
a vibration that awakens the stars around them.
“There is no ‘me,’ Luma,” the cat purrs. “The
‘me’ that you see before you is nothing but a small fraction of energy that
powers the engine of our universe. And thanks to your sacrifice, the energy
that powers it will continue to burn well.”
“But it was so horrible, little cat,” Luma
begins to cry. “You’ve no idea! There was so much death and it was all so
terrifying, but I did my best...we found the king, me and those three ghostly
men with the crystals, and he wasn’t even human, you know, he was just this
all-consuming monster, sucking the life out of everything around him like a
black hole or something. But I did what I was supposed to do, I think. You and
so many others, those poor people in the tubes, were telling me to change
things, to be like the mouse setting off the trap, you know? And I think I did
that, I pushed back, and everything changed, but I don’t know what happened,
I--where am I now, cat? What has happened?”
Luma collapses in a heap upon herself, so eager
to tell the cat everything but lacking the breath to tell it. The cat yawns,
baring its constellation of fangs. “I can show you,” it says.
In the darkness of space that the girl and the
cat converse in there suddenly appears the lights of a giant city on an
otherwise lifeless planet. As Luma squints she can see the pops and sputters of
fireworks. She gasps, fearing this to be the signs of ongoing battle, but the
cat yawns and the city draws closer and she can see clearly now all sorts of
people and other creatures dancing jubilantly in the streets, hugging and shaking
hands or paws or tentacles with each other. Presiding over the celebration is a
gigantic M, emitting its glow over the city as if fueling the energies of each
and every reveler below.
“It’s not a battle!” Luma whispers to herself.
“It’s a party! What can this mean, cat? Did we free them? Did I really stop the
King?”
“The King’s power has been absorbed by the M
and now radiates outward along paths that he never intended to be two-way
streets. What he constructed to his own advantage now serves the people that he
exploited for so long. Look closer, Luma.”
She gasps. Underneath the tendrils of light and
energy that radiate from the M she sees herself in a terrifying form--eyes
bulging, mouth twisted, arms splayed outward and tangled into the framework of
the M. Her body, her own limbs and heart and lungs, enmeshed so horribly within
the that great machine, remind her of a mouse caught in the deadly mechanism of
a mousetrap.
“Do not be alarmed,” the cat says. It
stretches, bursts, and takes the form of a skull before continuing. “Just as
there is no ‘me,’ Luma, you must also realize that there is no longer a ‘you.’
Like a mouse being crushed by a mousetrap, you have triggered a great event
that has required great sacrifice. I have always been this way--pure energy
with no form--but you are new to this, and still must learn what this means.
Your corporeal self has been rendered quite obsolete, as you can see, but that
sacrifice brings new energy and vitality to a world that has been deprived of
life. Every action has a reaction, Luma, and your action has had effects that
resound further than you could ever imagine.”
Luma begins to cry, moves her hand to wipe her
eyes, but her hand encounters no cheek to wipe her tears from. There is only
light upon light, and as she regards herself she can see only tendrils of tiny
stars that vaguely resemble arms.
Suddenly there are several space shuttles
setting off from landing pads on the high towers of Metropolis, great
titanium-clad balloons adorned with fins and engines, slowly gaining elevation
as they push towards the stars. They grow closer and closer to Luma and her
ethereal companion, and before she can think to try and move away or wave and
shout to stop them, the ships are bearing down upon her. She is struck head-on
by one of the great vessels, and she screams at the expectant pain, but the ship
only moves through her as if cutting through air, and as it flies through her
she is subject to a tour of the its insides: the engine room with its
mechanical teeth pounding fuel into velocity, the deck with its mechanics
arching over control panels, and the cabins with their passengers, various
species nestled in each others arms. The ship passes through her on its course
and Luma is left in the darkness of desolate space once again. She continues to
cry, her tears of loss becoming tears of delight, and finds herself laughing.
“Refugees,” the skull says, “finally free to
leave the city that held them captive for so long. They are going home now,
thanks to you.”
Luma looks down at the city and smiles. “Then
it is done,” she whispers.
She can hear the thrum of music coming from the
revelry below; drums that shake the whatever buildings are left standing and
keyboards that belt out tunes like lasers. The dancers in the streets are
moving in such a frenzy that they seem on the brink of rioting. There’s a swirl
of rain clouds over one part of the city and Luma can hear thunder colliding
with the beat of the music, but the crowds do not look for cover from rain or
storm, they only dance on in glee. The M shines on brightly, a beacon of pure
energy and life amid the darkness of space.
THEN IT IS DONE
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