Life can change quickly when you’re shown the existence of new realities. Especially when these new realities reveal that decisions need to be made and sides must be chosen. Congratulations to Kansasjack of the Architects for submitting this awesome short story and winning a customized Shadow Cities skin for iPhone 4!

"No Time to Think"
"An Architect Short Story" by Kansasjack

"I can't describe it … other than a loud … purple." Phrases like this are now more common than they should be, especially when said around a crowd of sweaty-faced strangers unified by unexplainable butt-puckering horror.

That's where it began for me, a decade or more for the others, but the novelty never dimmed for either of us - it's like repeating a Christmas morning where you are attacked by candy-filled snakes.

There were only two things to know:

1. Magic was ripped away from this world long ago.

2. Magic is back

3. Magic is pissed

That's three things, but we all only found out about the third just a moment ago.

I came across my first group of Architects by mistaking them for Freemasons. I had no time for secret handshakes or extra community service with food drives so I politely refused conversation until they all stood up in front of me. Readying myself for a beat-down, instead their eyes were focused behind me or through me – perhaps both. Without breaking the gaze, one of them put on black opaque sunglasses and took out a device that looked like a pocket watch. A rush of wind and thumping sounds came from him countered by a larger shock wave from behind me knocking toward the group.

Regaining consciousness a few minutes later, I felt my blood bubble like soda-pop. "Sorry about that," the same man said "Those types of spirits are nasty; they don't appear often so we had to act." I was on the floor of a makeshift classroom surrounded by the others. "Welcome to the Academy of Architects" the man said, followed by snickers of the remaining group. "Want to see what almost killed you?"

Inside a glass chamber was a smoky white pulp. Thrashing around, it was shaking the seams of its prison. "Increase it to 1.5 and ready the splitter."

"What is that?" I asked.
"This is a spirit … or ‘ethereal being’ if you will … although I wouldn't label is as a ‘soul’ or something wholesome like that. This is what is suppose to replace life - or that’s what it wants to think."
"Splitter is ready" another called out.
"I don't under… "
"Stand back, ok in 3… 2… 1… go!"

A large surge blared its audible bolts and the box became still. On the opposing wall, rows of canisters grew condensation.
"ok… well! This one was much stronger..."
"…and more violent!" interjected a woman who had her arms crossed the entire time. The man owned a look as if he was about to put a puzzle piece in place when …

"ANIMATORS!"

All rushed away from the experiment, grabbing bottles and different types of hardware.
"Not now, why now?"
"To the roof!"

Rush preparations were yelled, others simply vanished. "What are animators?!?" I interjected. The man quickly explained as we ran up the staircase after stair case. "Animators study the spirits too. Sort of. They have a different theory on what needs to happen to save our existence. On one hand you have … here, put this on…"
Out of the roof, a battalion of flickering green grass-like blades were moving closer. Cones of green light soared into the sky behind the advancing group.

Only through the slate black material I was holding in plastic sunglass frames could I see what was happening.
“It’s a composite of some obsidian. We found it in our archives. Keep them on.”

Large blasts erupted from the chests of some of the Architects on the ground and they fell to their knees stunned.
“What happened to them?”
“Something like this” the man took the watch device and held it up to his obsidian black lens and turned a dial one way and then a second dial countered. Through my lens I saw it glow like fire and the rush of wind and sound pierced toward its target, knocking an Animator up into the air. He didn’t fall to the ground. “He left. But so we must as well. This place is lost.” I turned around and just over the other side of the building, a 10-fold number green beacons were lit and other mages were coming down.

In one moment, orange light poured like spokes surrounding us and more people appeared with yalps of courage.

Fierce poundings of light and sound shook the very fibers of my skin. Architects from all over using devices similar to the pocket watch and long poles being staked into the ground were pouring out of the sky. Animators had no such devices or mechanics, save for black shawls that covered their eyes. They formed spikes of light and balled up energy right out of the air. As many mages came down as went up. The canisters I had seen earlier were being strewn about like discarded soup cans, dry with stains of white. Lines formed like a scrimmage match, both sides showing signs of anguish of pity and spite.

Then the tremor came.

A low resonating sound high in the clouds started berating. Both sides stopped to look up. The sound shrieked in pulses of bowel shaking punches. No one could say anything. No one dared too. At that moment, the beacons of orange and green exploded the stakes of the architects shattered. The ethereal objects of the animators were consumed. Dust then shot upward and blue beams surrounded both parties. Screams of terror were silenced as the blue beams moved over them. Stinging sparks ate at their skin. They started disappearing. Obsidian plates and wraps were shattered and torn.

I saw that the blue beams were not beacons; they made an arc toward a single body. I saw it for a brief moment; blue and bulging light. I saw the spindling boughs lead to a point where the sounds waves originated. A purple glass shaped … something. And then I felt exposed. I felt the stinging sparks, like hot metal of a welder’s workshop, cover me and I grew weak.

“Hold on.”

Just as fast as I heard the man talk, we were somewhere else. Other animators, sweating profusely, tried to make sense of what they did or didn’t see looked lost. It turns out, only I saw the what would be the head of that spidery entity.

I had many questions and they answered them all as best as they could. I didn’t remember most of what was said except when I asked the man why Animators and Architects we were fighting each other and not the Magic. “Energy” he said plainly. “It’s all about energy. Not fossil fuels or solar power. Just pure energy. The animators want to believe that the natural force of this planet will be the force to defeat this Magic that is seeping back into our realm … our ‘existence’. No. This world is … wearing out, like an old sock. Comfortable, familiar, but it has holes. Terrible holes. And that Arcane monstrosity is the latest of what I fear a portent of things yet to still come. As Architects, we build technology to fix these holes. Sew them up. We care for be steward of our aging, frail mother. We cannot ask more from her. It’s time to use what we have come to acquire.” Slinging his pocket watch into his vest, he said “…but we don’t know how much time and energy it will take.”

-Kansasjack of the Architects

Edited by Chadj (Nov. 4, 2011 22:11:56)