January 20, A.C. 101
To Dream is to be Human. To believe is lost. Where did we go wrong?
By Jared D
It's been going on for as long as remember.
The War, I mean, the war between the Earthen Alliance and the Wizen Federation of the space bound colonies, a War between the 'Originals' of earth and the 'Magi' of the space colonies.
Ironically enough it started as a gesture of peace.
It was B.C. 10; the world had just entered into a new era, it was thirty years before the war, the Fourth Great War, the most awesome of all of them. We had come closer to a new goal that we, the human race, had strived to accomplish, advanced space flight. It was the representation of the freedom that our race has been trying to accomplish, the freedom for any man or woman, in any country, for any race, to be able to go beyond our world almost reaching the beyond, the first step into the new future.
But, it is strange isn't it? All of it started with dreams, progress started with dreams, for more years than man could remember we have looked to the sky in fascination. We observed it, studied it, and looked at it in fascination, thinking of it as an untouchable world, that is, until we learned how to fly.
Fly.
We became closer to the sky that we dreamed of touching, that our ancestor had dreamed of holding. We thought ourselves invincible.
From there we thought that nothing was impossible.
From there we determined that we could do anything that we wished.
From there we proclaimed everything to be in our grasp.
And so we came to the sky, going past it, going into the beyond, the darkness
The darkness of space
The New Frontier
Indeed it was.
At first the steps were tentative, going into orbit, touching the moon. No expense was too much. No imagined idea impossible, a lack of resources improbable. The only thing that would have stopped us we didn't lack. Dreams, Will, Courage and Skill.
We started with the moon, Terra-formed it, made parts livable, we made into the first colony. It was a symbol of the next step, the next step that eventually brought the emergence of the colonies. Dozens of small worlds encased in steel from the metal of the resource rich moon of the earth. Small colonies that were named as representations of the future, housing millions of people, scientists, engineers, politicians and entertainers, people seeking a new life in the frontier like so many people in the history of the human race.
But it was time again of a new development.
It was 30 years before the creation of the colonies that first mobile suit was built. Powered by the new discovered fusion core technology which was, strangely and humorously, discovered by two scientists, an American scientist by the name of Christopher Maxwell and his French wife Marie DuPont-Maxwell, a couple who released the technology to the world unpatented, even after being visited personally by the president of the United States of America. Combine this with the amazing feats of strength that the new industrial mobile suit could achieve, though slow and still quite lacking in agility, and you will get a machine with limitless potential.
Five years into appearance of what was said to be the fiftieth colony in space, aptly named C50, did the first major hurdle of the colonies arise in the form of some 'nature-loving' people of earth. A group of individuals who were said to be from a united group of nature activists, responsible for deaths and bombings in the forests of the Amazon and Asia, who believe that the engineering of the colonies was a representation of the world's breakage from their responsibility to 'mother nature'.
At first their strikes were relatively small, bombing a few Space-erected shipyards and the destruction of colonial property, but then their strikes grew in number and scale with one of them resulting in the near-destruction of C20 and deaths of its inhabitance at the hands of a few Industrial mobile suits outfitted with rail-guns and rocket launchers that came from fighter planes that were used in space combat. It was the near loss of the United Nation's army at the hands of the terrorists that spawned the new development into the use of mobile suits in war.
Now don't you think it amazing? Horrifying? ...Maybe Ironic? That the work of terrorists actually urged on the human race into the further development of one of man's greatest achievements?
I do.
Though it didn't stop there, man was too ambitious for the perceived simplicity of re-designing the mobile suits for war. Why would it be a challenge? They created tanks that could withstand a rocket propelled grenade to armor that could survive a nuclear blast and exit the atmosphere while rarely getting a scratch. By then the remodeling of the mobile suits into the 'Avian' and the 'Leo' prototypes was simplistic in its developments.
It was then that the Gundam was created, or at least the forerunner to the Gundam that we know, by the Doctor-Engineer team of Adrian and Elizabeth Dumbledore. Made from the strongest metallic alloy man has ever created, a metal that can only be forged in space, and the most advanced technology that man could offer. The project was highly successful, though it had a major flaw. By the time that the Gundam-Alpha, as it was called, was finished it was already known that as the mobile suits advanced the ability for a pilot to use the machine effectively diminished. Response times were too low; the now rapid movements of the Gundam were too much for any of the best, or new, pilots.
It was then the time for the neural-interface systems to be recognized, developed once again by the creators of Gundam-Alpha, a system that literally 'Jack in' to the minds of the users of the Gundams.
But once again we didn't stop there. Or at least the government, men who would eventually form the Wizen Federation, didn't. They wanted more than what they were getting, faster response times, the ability to use the full potential of the Gundams.
The scientists, for some woefully, succeeded. They used the genetic knowledge of Humanity in science to alter the child of selected individuals into soldiers of unparallel skill, often at times without the consent of the child's parents.
They were the first 'Wizards'.
A new breed of human, a mark of Humanities first steps into the Godhood that some wanted.
Now you have to ask yourself. Where did we go wrong?
I was born as the child of two 'Wizards' or Magicians, if you were muggle, though I seriously can't remember them. It is a strange name Wizards, Magicians, two names for two different kinds of the same race, names that clearly elaborated the line between us. Of course, there is another, more affectionate name, for my kind.
Freaks.
Nice isn't it? Very.
If you were of at least limited intelligence you would have realized by now that relationships are a bit of strained between our two races, Wizards and Muggles. We don't exactly like each other, a line which would have given the award of 'understatement of the year'. Merely having some 'dislike' for each other wouldn't be a proper way of explaining our situation, as of the moment. Trying to tear each other's throats out, or to be realist, trying to eradicate each other with guns would probably would the idiot's explanation of what is happening.
The conflict's been on for more than fifty years now. Being at my age I cant really tell you what started the conflict as it started before I was born. Of course this doesn't mean that I haven't read anything on what 'they' 'claim' started the whole damn war in the first place.
No.
I read them, almost all of them. But there are so many of them that in the end I don't really know what to believe. Every side has its own story in this conflict. Both sides have their own theorems on what started the war. From this we are given a few more statements. They both have their own reasons for starting it, they both have their motives, and both have something gain from it. Gains that don't outweigh the costs? It depends. It depends on what you are. An Economist, Militarist or Civilian. But one thing is certain lives are part of the loss, nothing can change that.
I follow the same routine everyday, just like everybody else, wake up, shower, feed the dog, make breakfast for my family while turning on the television and getting the paper, and everyday, without fail, the top stories or headlines are the same. They both have the same message.
Death.
Whether it be another base demolished, a building brought down, a city leveled by an insuring fight, or a colony suffering numerous losses, the message, the effect, is still the same.
Death.
It's always present. It never goes way, and eventually it becomes a part life. Our life. It becomes a current event, a facet of life. Sad to say but...you get used to it. Whenever you hear a death your first reaction would to feel sorry for a person, a little sadness kicking in, but now? Some people, people like me, rarely feel it. Its either we're too busy to care or it doesn't affect us at all, a common event that we let pass by.
'I would like to think that the war would be over in my lifetime'
I can't imagine how many have said that over the years. History repeatedly tells us of enthusiastic beginnings to conflicts, citizens wholly supporting their respective nations. People brainwashed into thinking that they side is the 'honorable' one, that the side that they belonged to was the 'light'.
Foolish...
...Though, it isn't really mine to say is it?
Everybody needs something to believe in, no matter how big or small it is. It is merely a part of the human psyche, a part attaching itself to false pretenses of hope. Or maybe I'm just being the pessimist that I have turned into like so many other people in the world, and out of it. It is not my place to condemn or ridicule those who still believe in justice and have hope in their hearts. It people who still believe and dream who makes the human race as great as it is.
However, at times like this, what can you believe in?
He saved the document there and transferred the file into his email account, the file waiting to be sent. Looking at the lower right of his computer he was that it was seven in the morning, yet he had been up for the last two hours writing his newspaper articles, articles that his uncle would call as 'Uneducated rubbish'. Not that he cared. Writing, aside from working in the shop, were the things that he enjoyed the most, not that his Uncle would know or care about any of it. In his seventeen years he learned to depend on himself, and not on the Charity of others. It was lesson of survival that his only living relatives has engraved into his mind, it was the only thing that he was thankful to received from them, it was the only thing he was grateful to get from them.
His clock annoyingly beeped again, it was seven o five in the morning. Any minute now and his uncle or aunt would call on him.
"Potter!"
'There is goes' he thought to himself, his aunt was calling him.
"I'm coming Aunt Petunia!" He hollered.
'Good Morning Harry' He thought. 'Welcome to another day'
The pointer on the screen moved and hit send.
A/N: Something I'm working on at the moment while finishing the Three chapters I have for my other story 'Souls of War'. So I probably won't have any updates for this story until about next month. Reviews are nice though, and remember, Critical reviews are nice and appreciated while Flamers are automatically sent to hell – 'don't pass go, don't collect 200 dollars' – Cheers.
J.D.
P.S. This story is a first draft, spelling mistakes should be seen.
