The Redpills

By Michael Weyer

Part four: Skull's Lament.

My name is Chuang Tzu.

My path in life is unimportant. I was born, I grew, I learned, I lived. It is a simple tale, perhaps more…elegant than others but it is not the reason you are listening to my story. It is something else that you wish to hear.

I was once like you. I once followed a strict path to life. I believed that I could find my way through natural means. It is what led me into the ways of martial arts, to learn how to fuse both my body and my mind into one and thus be able to understand the world around me.

Without ego, I state that I learned my lessons quite well. My teachers said I was a natural for the arts and I learned the skills quickly. I have used them since, with a small dojo where I teach others, hoping I can show them the same skills.

However, it was on a trip back to my home country that I discovered the means to learning what the world is truly like.

In my travels, I found a skull, lying on a small stone. There was no body, just the skull itself. It was odd, I could tell but I have seen some things in my life I cannot fully explain. As I lifted the skull up, I was filled with sorrow, questioning things in life and how fragile existence can be.

I took the skull with me, heading back to my small camp. I used the skull as a pillow and lay down upon it to sleep. As I slept, the skull appeared in my dream. I have had such dreams before, visions that have guided me on my path. But I have never had a vision as vivid as this.

"You are a fool," the skull stated.

"How so?" I asked, curious as to what he meant.

"You rejoice in the entanglements of life. You feel happy and confident simply being alive as if that is a great accomplishment. You believe life is of such great value and should be enjoyed so well. You truly believe this world is worth living in."

I was surprised at his words, I must admit. But I kept my rejoinder cool and calm. "If I could return you to the life you left, surely you would want that."

I believe I made an excellent point and yet the skull stared back at me, as if stunned by my foolishness. Then he asked one simple question.

"How do you know it is so bad to be dead?"

His words carried with me when I awoke and when I came back to America. They still carry in my dreams as I mull them over and balance them with my view of the world. The skull's words have made me realize this life is not as I think it is.

I am in my open-aired loft, working on a painting. That has been my other passion, art. I do my best to put what I feel onto a canvas. Lately, they have been filled with images, images that come to me without my even realizing it. Images of men in suits and the skies filled with odd symbols.

I am working on such a painting when the door opens and I feel an odd ripple of energy in the air. I turn to face the man entering. He is tall, in a dark suit and glasses. He appears to be a man to some. But I see something else. I see his aura, an aura that is not of a man but….something else. Something that wishes me harm.

He steps forward, his face impassive as he reaches for me. "You will come with me," he says as he comes up to me.

I turn back to my painting, not speaking, simply stroking the canvas with my brush. I can feel, if not see, the glower on his face at this insult as he reaches his hand and places it on my shoulder. "I said-----"

I spin around, my face lashing out to smash the man in the jaw. He drops back and seems more stunned by the fact of the blow than its force. I follow it up by punching him twice across the face and then lash a kick into his stomach. He tries to fight back but I catch his fist, bend his arm back and leap up. I extend both feet into his stomach and send him flying back to the door.

He smashes through it and lands into the hallway. For the first time, I notice the sound of gunfire and the screams of men. I back away from the door, puzzled yet oddly not surprised by these events.

The gunfire stops and a man steps through the doorway. He is dressed in a black trenchcoat and glasses. He seems to be gazing at the man I threw out and then to me. He nods slowly. "My name is Neo," he says.

I simply stare back, my body at the ready. I do not think he is a threat and yet I do not know what he truly is. He steps closer and speaks again. "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here because you're targeted for death. If you want to live, you'll have to come with me."

I take in his words, I judge them and then I reply. "I follow no man until I know him." I move myself into a fighting stance. He seems confused but then nods in understanding. He bows and moves into his own.

I strike first with a kick, which he blocks. He then throws a punch that I dodge around and return with a blow of my own. We trade blows, moving around my loft. I leap over a low kick he makes and race up a pillar to the small landing above. I run to the end and leap down to continue the assault.

He meets me with a kick that sends him sailing into a table. I land on it and balance myself. He rushes to meet me and I kick at his face. He bounces back, his feet rising to knock the table over. I lose my footing and he is there, catching me and leveling me with blows to the chest. He finally hurls me to the wall.

I land on my feet and face him. I realize that whoever this man truly is, he is worthy of respect. I move into a neutral stance and bow. He returns it, his face showing the same respect towards me as I towards him.

Before either of us can speak once more, the windows to my apartment shatter inward and a pair of men in police uniforms enter. Without asking, I know they are not what they appear to be and move to intercept them. One has his rifle out but I roll on the ground to avoid his burst and kick out, first knocking away the rifle. Then I rise to my feet and punch up in one fluid maneuver to send him flying back.

I turn to see that Neo has defeated the other trooper. There's a shadow of motion and two men in suits drop into the room. They appear to be the same as the man who was here earlier, down to the dark glasses. They do not appear pleased to see Neo, which speaks more of the man's character.

He and I share a long look that communicates better than words. Then we move. He kicks one of the agents back as I go at the other. He blocks my first blow and my second and grabs me, prepared to attack. However, Neo is on him, striking him with a flying kick. The agent stumbles back and we both go on the attack, smashing him with dual strikes, the man gasping and crumbling, unable to form a defense. A double kick sends him flying against the wall, smashing through it and outside.

The other agent rises and moved but again we move as one against the invader. This one manages to defend himself better, even knocking Neo back. But I am able to strike at him from behind, a kick to his head that obviously rattles him. This sets him up for Neo's kick that sends him flying back. With a blur of a move, Neo pulls a pistol from his jacket, snap-aims and fires a full round of bullets into the man. He lands in a heap, his body twitching and changing until a man in a police uniform lies on my floor.

As the man replaces his gun, the phone on my desk rings. I stare at it then at Neo. "I assume that is for you?"

"For us, actually," he replies. "If you're willing to see what your real life is like."

I do not pause but simply follow him to the phone. As I do, I believe I finally realize what the skull was attempting to tell me. That perhaps you must let one thing you call life to die…in order to learn what real life truly is.

Next: The Key