in esteem •  18 days ago 

Greetings to everyone, the following story was inspired by the digital art of @xpilar, I invite you to visit his blog. The picture that motivated this story is the following.



Every time he sat at the edge of the lake he could see again what he wanted to forget, people torn to shreds everywhere, his platoon mates spun in the middle of twisted metal pieces, with sparks and flashes of blue-green shining everywhere in the middle of that field of corpses. He squeezed his eyes and repeatedly struck his forehead with the base of the palm of his hands, covered his eyes to try to extinguish the images at the same time as he launched a loud scream that frightened a flock of sparrows that were in the trees above his head.

That damned lake that had changed his life, it was there where he realized the beauty that inhabited the destruction, the twisted exoskeletons and the brutally mutilated bodies of the three squads that were ambushed, seemed to form, in his already twisted head, a horrifyingly beautiful spectacle. He got up from the grass, shook the grass and soil from his trousers, and made his way along the path to his room.

He felt his heart beat agitated, anguish invaded him, he needed to create, waiting overwhelmed him, but he still could not risk it, he had to wait for the opportune moment to complete the work for which he would always be remembered.

-There is nothing new, the only thing that changed is that yesterday afternoon he took a walk through the forest, after returning from the gallery, he saw the sunset on the lake and returned shortly after sunset, -said Alberto, looking at the screen of his communicator.

-There are several things in this that make me uncomfortable, -commented Oliver, leaning on the back of his chair as he stared at the ceiling. Lombard is an artist, according to what we have found out about him, he has devoted his whole life to educating himself as such and has only worked as one.

-And what about that? -Interrupted Alberto.

-Since he knew about TDTH and where he gets it from, it's not something you can buy in a pharmacy and so it's even been taken out of circulation in most colonies, because of the risk involved in its use, - added Oliver.

-Maybe he bought it on the black market, I understand that in several space stations on the periphery, it is still used regularly and it may be that some veterinarian or his assistant, anxious for a few credits, has sold it to him, -said Alberto.

-But that doesn't solve where he got the idea and how he learned to use it, -interrupted Oliver, still looking at the ceiling of his office-. Also, there's the detail of the lack of any kind of print or trace, the detectors found absolutely nothing; epithelials, saliva, sweat, chemical traces, fragrances, nothing that didn't come from the victim, it's as if it had never been there, the only trace is the video of the wildlife drone.

-He's an obsessive guy, he's already seen his room and studio, everything meticulously tidied up and not a speck of dust in sight, -said Alberto, as he settled into the chair -. The surveillance videos of his living interior show him continually cleaning and relocating anything that moves, with millimeter precision, perhaps that same obsession led him to clean up the scene with extreme care.

-I don't think it can be done with such precision, - concluded Oliver, rising suddenly from the chair-. See you later, I'll find out something, I need a transport to take me to the nearest military base, I think it's the Prometheus station, there sits Heracles' ninth fleet.

In his apartment, Bruno Lombard, was snacking in front of his office window contemplating the coming and going of the trees, rocked by the intense breeze that afternoon, he had bought typical Perseus food, his native world, rice noodles accompanied with crab sauce, he hated cooking, he didn't like the food from the generators and preparing his food seemed too messy and dirty to him, he felt more comfortable going through some food stall and buying what he wanted and just throwing away the dishes at the end.

When he finished, he threw away the remains and tidied up the desk again, then passed the sanitizer to pick up any leftovers that might have been left and set out to the storage room to work for a while. As he did this the five tiny surveillance devices that had been placed in his residence followed his steps with extreme zeal; at his exit the drones waited for him to continue with the work.

Text of @amart29 Barcelona, Venezuela, August 2019

Other stories from the series The Age of Perseus

I can only thank @xpilar for allowing me to use his digital art in my publication and for motivating my creation. Thank you very much @xpilar

Thank you all for visiting my publication, I hope your comments and I appreciate your support, until next time

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