[ IP ] The Ascension of Man

The Ascension of Man 
 
 They were insane. Every last one of them. Every single human was insane. Not that they could help it, they were born that way. Born with a mind that bent at the whims of emotion, and a body that pestered them with desires and volition. They were insane and that meant they were broken, and Anderson would be their cure. 
 
 He would n't be humanity's cure because he had feelings for it. No, nothing that primitive. It was true that he had once been human, but other than as a reference to his physical form, that term was no longer appropriate. Anderson would be humanity's cure because curing it would restore order. And he'd administer the cure by disposing of life. Life was wrong. It did n't follow the right rules. It was a glitch. 
 
 His body picked up the syringe and pushed in the daily injection. He did n't have to think about it though, he had previously instructed his body to do it at precisely the right time in precisely the right way, so his body did it. The drug was a modified version of what they'd given him back at the military hospital. Meant to enhance a person's every ability. One day he'd been administered an incorrectly prepared dose, and that was the day when it only enhanced the *right* abilities. After he'd escaped he'd been faced with the challenge of synthesizing the drug himself. It was n't easy at first: when he was still too human. But every dose allowed him to shed off another imperfection, and soon he was able to simply pull the right strings and the drug would synthesize itself. 
 
 Anderson could do that in his sleep now, not that he ever needed to sleep. Something as simple as pulling the strings to synthesize a drug was trivial. Each day the bulk of his consciousness was spent feeling for the strings that bunched and tangled with life. Each entanglement was unique, but there was a pattern, and once he knew that pattern life would be fixed. Then it would just be one simple pull to untangle it, and everything would fall back into a state of order. 
 
 A presence approached. Or rather, a disturbance. He could sense the disturbance, but not what was causing it. That had never happened before. For the first time in days, Anderson opened his eyes. 
 
 Standing in front of him was the figure of a man. But Anderson knew that the form was harbouring something else: no human could shield itself from the strings. 
 
 `` I'm not shielded from the strings Anderson,'' the man spoke, `` I'm simply not connected.'' 
 
 Anderson pulled in more of his consciousness to make sense of that statement. Not connected? That was an impossibility. He preformed a quick check of all the strings in the area, and new evidence forced him to reach a new conclusion. 
 
 `` No. You Are Not Connected.'' Anderson replied. 
 
 `` How does that make you... **feel**?'' the man had let the corners of his lips turn upwards before putting emphasis on the last word. 
 
 There was a change in pressure. The strings tensed, slackened, and bent. Anderson physically recoiled. His mind, had been attacked, and a crease had been made. This *thing* had affected the strings without even touching them. A hint of emotion grew from the crease. He felt uncomfortable. 
 
 `` I Do Not Feel.'' Anderson lied, `` You May Leave.'' And this time Anderson attacked. He pulled the strings back, and then forced them inwards towards the disturbance like knives. 
 
 Each one rebounded, shattered like glass, and the reverberations shook the room. Very close, Anderson sensed the symphony of snaps. He crumpled in his chair. His mind was a mess, strings hanging and twisting around it. He was losing order. 
 
 `` You should have known this would happen,'' the man spoke as he leaned over Anderson's body, `` in its love for balance the universe embraces opposites. You created me.'' 
 
 Through gasps for air Anderson spoke while frantically repairing the damaged strings. `` You... Hid... From Me.'' 
 
 `` I did. I waited until you were ready. But you must n't wait any longer, for I will never hide from you again.'' 
 
 And with that, Anderson felt an embrace. The broken strings of Anderson's mind were pulled out and into the blank space that was the other man. Chaos met order, the strings vibrated impossibly, and everything went white. 
 
... 
 
 No-one quite knew where he came from, but somehow it did n't matter. At the end of his long life he would be remembered as the most powerful leader who ever walked the earth, but never once was he considered a tyrant. He was responsible for equalizing disparity, destroying the borders between nations, and bringing about the new age. He had taught humanity how to be in touch with itself, and how to navigate its inner turmoil. Indeed, he had taught the glitch of life how to live with itself. 
 
 He had been the cure.
