Iconoclasts:
"Why?"
That one word stirs you, breaking through the haze of malice and spite that plagues your mind.
It rings throughout your mind, awakening something within you as the sound reverberates
through the air.
Why?
That was the word you spoke so long ago, as a priest and flock tore your family apart and left
you alone. It was the same word that asked yourself as you saw countless fools through lies
away for demagogues who wouldn't lift a finger to help them in their time of need.
It was the same word which you asked yourself as astartes, spending countless hours off the
battlefield studying histories and sciences both human and xenos as you sought to find the truth
behind the cosmos. The same word left your lips as saw whole words devoured by hateful
creeds and the anodyne words of mad men and fools.
It was also the word spoken to you as you cast down the false idols and put priests to the pyre.
Finally it was the word spoken by cousins as we burned their homeworld to the ground, to set
an example that the Imperial creed cannot be tolerated.
All throughout your life, that word has made you, it has defined you in a way that you cannot
express. You were always inquisitive, unlike others could not simply just "be". No, you must
question, you must find the answers to life even if it killed you. How ironic was it that knowledge
damned you, if anyone could truly consider "damned" that is.
Even more ironic is that you are reminded of a verse from a long dead religion, but that seems
so appropriate for the moment: "The greater the knowledge, the greater the grief". What a great
grief indeed, for there were many things man was not meant to know. Which makes it all the
more cruel that so many of us are born with a desire to learn, how much more merciful it would
have been had we remained as mere beasts.
A painful cough jolts you out of your introspection and towards the one who had uttered the
word which sparked these thoughts. Rain poured down from the sky, as if the heavens were
trying to wash the sins of the earth. You pause to take in the sounds of anarchy and mayhem as
you turn to look at a downed PDF trooper, clutching his sides as his blood trickled across the
rooftop.
The man was unremarkable, little different from the countless mortals you have seen and cut
down in your life. His blue and white uniform was stained with his blood and the rest of his
squad. He was brave, you had to admit, for coming up to face you. Either that or was foolish,
sometimes it can be hard to tell the two apart, though you suppose in this circumstance that
they are one and the same.
Something compels you to speak to him, perhaps it is boredom, maybe it is pride, for what even
your lot are not immune to desire to gloat. No, it is something altogether more base, it is spite.
You want to break him, as you were broken, you want to prove that you were not weak, you
want to prove that anyone who was consistent would do as you have done. You tower over the
trooper, your shadow enveloping him. You are surprised to see resistance flare in his eyes, you
are going to enjoy this.
"Fear not the enemy, for the Emperor knows his schemes and he is most-" the trooper began
before you cut him off. "Merciful in all his ways, and he shall pay back the wicked their due" you
finished. You revile in his surprise that you know of the verse.
"That was Surah fourteen verse five. I know the book of the Prophet, I was alive when he wrote
it" you continue. A wry smile curls around your face as you see disbelief rise in the trooper. "But
traitors cannot know the words of the Prophet" he meekly replied. You laugh, a dark and cold
laughter that would send chills through even the strongest men.
"Many of us know that damned book, especially the Calphs that have turned that backs on your
corpse Emperor". You feel no small satisfaction to reveal the fact that even the Prophet's sons
can turn their backs on the Imperium. You watch him squirm under the thought and you enjoy it,
perhaps too much before you speak again.
"And speaking of the Prophet, if he were still alive he would aghast at the state of humanity.
Khalid once wept at the sight of a single child perishing in battle. Imagine what he would think of
the countless billions lost in your so-called holy wars as collateral. And all for what? So that you
can survive for just one more day? He would hate you and what you have become".
You watch as the trooper slowly digests what say, you see years of religious indoctrination fight
against logic and reason. Slowly but surely you see reason start to win out and despair set in.
"Think for yourself, do you really think that God cares for you? Do you really think there is some
sort of plan for this?" You say as you motion towards the chaos enveloping the city around you
as hundreds die by the second.
"You think that I hate you, no, I pity you. I too sought answers from above. But the reality is that
there is no God, not really. There are things claiming to be such. In reality there is no truth, no
objective rationality, there is nothing". You watch once more as the words wash over him.
Trembling, he reaches to his side arm. The pistol is of threat to you, so stand still as he pulls it
out.
"You have three choices now, the first you can lie to yourself and retreat to your anodyne cage
of false teachings before I kill you. The second is to embrace nihilism, serve Malal as we undo
the mistake of intelligent life and bring it to a merciful end. The third is to follow your subjective
logic to its ultimate conclusion"
You stand there a few moments as he makes his decision. You watch as his expression turns
dark, his side arm raises and he presses the pistol to his head and he pulls the trigger. You feel
vindication as his skull explodes from the impact of the bullet. As the blood brain matter falls to
the ground, that dreaded word echoes once more in your mind.
Why?
