The Shepherd - Mandela Effect Writing Contest Entry

The Shepherd

The water was too warm but he waded in anyway, wanting to wash off the sudden sense of not belonging. The sunrise was all wrong, the night’s clouds parting abruptly, turning an iridescent blue–the color of death. It scared him, but he couldn’t stop watching.

He ran so fast, he was embarrassingly breathless when he got to the Council’s chambers. The elder looked him up and down and motioned to an old creaky bench at the side of the small, dark room. Regar blew out breath, suddenly fascinated that he could see moisture in it, as if it were alive. But of course he could. It’s just how he was made. That was the whole trouble of it.

“The sunrise this morning, sir…. It was….off somehow. The colors all wrong and too warm. It frightened the sheep, I think.”

“And you, young Regar? Did it frighten you?” The elder’s too-light eyes bore into his own.

Regar swallowed a lump in his throat, blinked. “I think so…. Yes.” He looked down.

“It should have. Our world is changing, Regar. You are the first to see it, but there’ll be others. Do you think they, too, would be frightened? What color did you say the sky turned?”

Regar fought the tightness in his throat. “Blue. Very shiny blue, as if it were glowing.... The color of burial shrouds, Sir.” Not wanting to be branded a coward, he looked up at the elder finally, holding his gaze.

“Do you think Mason and the rest of the young brood would feel frightened by it as you were?”

He hadn’t considered that and felt a sliver of shame hot on his skin. But of course they would feel frightened. How could they not? The elder stood and walked over to him.

“You don’t have much time then, Regar, do you? I can help you by keeping them asleep just a little longer, but you will have to do the rest. Do you understand what is asked of you?”

He did, but he didn’t want to do it. Didn’t even want to acknowledge a thing such as that. He nodded and stood, wishing it was Marion or that old coot Adrol who’d gotten up first, and that he was still snuggled under the coarse blanket that smelled of sheep’s skin, and comfort, and soil. That was the thing of it in the end. He didn’t want to be who he was. He wanted to play in the dirt and make things grow, the way his older brothers did until the war came. The way he was told everyone in his family had done at one time or another. Growing things they could eat and trading what they could not. It seemed so much simpler than what the elder asked of him now.

“I need your word, Regar.” The elder’s eyes were on him again, peering into his face as if he could see beyond, to his discomfort, to these traitorous thoughts in his head. Regar forced himself to not blink and said the words, the oath as ancient as anything in Lethoria. As ancient as blood itself.

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“Adjust the serum to 8.2 units and initiate wakeup protocols.” Mallory pressed her thumb into the reader and rolled her shoulders back. The boy, the one they named Regar, troubled her. She had followed his slow progress to the field, read the input of his thoughts and tried to help calm him. She’d even dropped in a few extra units of endorphins directly through his patch. That should have made him feel alright about it, but it didn’t seem to. The kid kept staring at the false sky as if it were a living thing come to destroy them.

She watched as he kneeled in the circle of dreams and closed his eyes, waiting for him to start chanting. The booster she’d made earlier was lukewarm and chalky on her tongue. She gulped down a few sips and threw the can into the disposal. The boy was still silent and it unnerved her. At this rate she’d be stuck watching this damn kid all day and she needed to get out of this sector. She was sick of it. Watching these ridiculous creatures go about their daily lives, the lives they had no idea weren’t really theirs in the first place, made her wish for a drink. Not until she was done here. Stupid bloody rules. If the kid didn’t do what he needed to do, she’d flip the damn switch herself. It’s not like anyone would know the difference. Researching ants…. That’s what this was. She’d just as well torch them through a mag glass.

The kid didn’t budge, still kneeling. Mallory reached for a cigarette–the only indulgence she could afford while on task. She savored the first drag, feeling a slight buzz, a lightheadedness she usually only felt with Goren, and only when they were both naked, abuzz with the newest cocktail in their veins, him hard, sweaty. Her in control. Always in control.

She flicked the ash on the floor and watched it disappear though the autovac. “Just conjure up the bloody sunrise you have in your head, you idiot, idiot child!” The perks of working alone– nobody ever hears you, she thought wryly.

“Alright then.” Mallory threw the still burning cigarette down, not bothering to watch it this time, and reached for the toggle on her right. “Here goes a reality check, kiddo,” she whispered into the empty room and flicked the slick switch up. She watched for a few minutes as the colors changed to the pale yellow of the new day. Watched Regar shake his head, blinking at the new sky, as if he’d just woken up. The doors to the shacks opened and the other ants filed out, following the sheep. Noisy little suckers, oblivious….

“Computer, transmit to command: Sector 821XZ02 reporting. Mission complete. Requesting reallocation to sector 3589QW3. EarthGenie out."

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This is my entry to @Rhondak contest that you can find HERE

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With many thanks to The Writers Block Workshop (and @jrhughes) for all the help with this and pretty much all my other stories. If you write or want to - stop by. The best place for writers, even the wannabe ones.

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