The Radiant Source: Part 1

Raymond woke again, his thoughts bursting from the darkness with a sudden clarity. Once hazy and disjointed, the memories of the day before now contrasted sharply. He could see the icy sparkle in the scientist's eyes as he told him the truth about Raymond's condition, and he could hear every nuance in Calvin's voice from their most recent conversation—truths that had completely shocked him. Raymond's identity was called into question by Calvin's final remarks, which remained like a bitter aftertaste.

But he was repulsed by the thought of adopting Calvin's brutal practicality. It felt like a betrayal of whatever humanity he still had to think like Calvin, to regard himself as only a tool to achieve a goal. He didn't want to resemble the man who had permanently changed him. However, he was plagued by Calvin's charge that Raymond was a hypocrite for rejecting that way of thinking while living as its byproduct. Did that have any truth to it? The query tightened with each breath as it twisted around his mind.

In spite of this internal conflict, he felt a natural desire to flee, which compelled him to act. He got up gradually, moving carefully to prevent the vertigo that had been bothering him ever since he woke up. His eyes strayed to the little table next to his bed, where some of his possessions were strewn about—a battered watch, a frayed notebook, a pen with a scratched barrel. He collected them with a silent respect, stuffing them into his pockets as though they would serve as a reminder of his former self. They appeared to be artifacts from a previous existence. The cool air brushed over his skin like a whisper of liberation as he took a reassuring breath and entered the corridor.

The same boy from yesterday saw him barely a few paces into the hallway. A mixture of comfort and appreciation lit up the child's face. The youngster said, "It's good to see you back on your feet, Mr. Raymond," in a tone that was oddly serious and touched Raymond's protective heart. Although there was a brief touch of kindness in those words, Raymond was unable to allow it to weaken his determination. He continued without turning to look back at the boy's optimistic face, his gaze focused on the future.

Even yet, he was unable to ignore the increasing cacophony of voices in front of him as he braced himself against such gestures. As the gathering drew closer, their faces lit up with recognition and delight. Even though the majority were strangers to him, their radiant eyes and kind grins gave the impression that they knew him well—possibly as a savior. He wasn't sure he deserved the strange load of their appreciation pressing at his chest.

"Hi Raymond! Please wait up! The voice, recognizable but just out of reach, cut through the murmur. He turned to see a man racing toward him, his face sparkling with contagious joy despite being flushed from exertion. Raymond took a time to locate him, one of the chopper pilots from his jumbled history. The man's vitality stood in stark contrast to Raymond's inner gloom. Breathless, the pilot paused to regain his breath before smiled at Raymond as he caught up. His voice was full of sincere joy as he remarked, "I'm so happy you're awake again, sir."

After his life was turned upside down by the revelations, Raymond was uncertain of how to react to such optimism. The pilot laughed, as if sensing his uncertainty. “How impolite of me!” he cried. "How long have you been asleep? Eight days? I'd like to introduce myself. Along with you and a few other survivors, I'm Martin Edmond, the helicopter pilot and one of the few people with military training present. We have made every effort to keep this building a respectable place to live since you passed out.

Raymond glanced around the corridor. Although small stains remained as mute reminders of the bloodshed, the walls, which had been covered in blood from the struggle days prior, had been thoroughly cleaned. As evidence of their efforts, there was a slight tang of disinfectant in the air. "Pardon me." Martin responded, apologizing in a softer tone. "I apologize if it's not immaculate. But since friendly fire caused the majority of the damage, we did what we could.

Raymond felt uneasy at the deference in Martin's voice. "Pardon me," he said, his voice harsher than he meant to be, "why are you treating me so nicely?" Self-doubt, bewilderment, and a growing sense of alienation were among the maelstrom of emotions raging beneath his surface, but Martin didn't seem to notice.

"Because you're our hero," Martin answered with unflinching assurance. Raymond was rooted to the spot as the word struck him like a physical blow. "You're a good person who saved us, even though I know some people here are still afraid of the HHD experiments."

Raymond was unable to reconcile the paradox of the declaration that hovered between them. A hero? He didn't have that feeling. He was no longer human, but he was also not a beast; he was merely a sentient being trapped in a transitional state, distorted by alterations he had not chosen. Yes, he had aided his fellows, but at what personal expense? His sense of reality was shattered and unsteady.

He asked suddenly, holding on to the one concrete link in his disintegrating thoughts, "Where's Calvin?"

Unexpectedly, Martin blinked. "Oh? He's checking on our volunteers and soldiers around the quarters, but wouldn't you want to take a little nap? You just awoke.

"Martin, there's a huge difference between us," Raymond stated in a chilly, aloof tone. "I am a weapon; you are a soldier. I have to react appropriately if there is a mission. In the midst of the confusion around his identity, the words served as a shield, a means of self-definition.

He came to terms with the harsh reality that he was a weapon created by society to serve a purpose that was out of their grasp. He was a tool, whether he was a human or a beast. He walked resolutely in the direction of the quarters, his mind a maze of uncertainty and resolve, motivated by a desire for clarification.

"What if things were different?" Martin stopped in the middle of his stride when his voice shouted out. Raymond's query gained meaning as he noticed the pilot's eyes were filled with compassion. Imagine being just another soldier. What if you have more options to pick from?

He was stung by the words, which gave him a glimpse of a reality beyond his comprehension. The stillness between them stretched tense as he stood motionless, unable to respond. He turned away after a beat, going back to his previous course and abandoning Martin's hope.

Raymond took in the life around him as he strolled. Men's brows furrowed in concentration as they pounded and repaired the shattered framework. He instinctively understood that women took care of chores or soothed children—orphans, saved by fate or chance from the ruins of their world. The adults toiled diligently to construct a new home in spite of their obvious suffering. Raymond felt a twinge of sadness at their tenacity. When they struggled so hard to survive, why should he drown in his own troubles? He might not be able to change who he was, but he might be able to influence what it meant.

"Hey, you! Re-enter the line! He was startled out of his thoughts by a shout. As he approached a hallway, he turned to see a man jogging in his direction, but they collided and he collapsed from tiredness. Behind him, a line of equally exhausted men dropped like dominoes.

"What is the matter with you over there?" Once more, the voice screamed. Raymond was confronted by a large, unaccustomed, and brazen soldier. "Who are you in the hell?"

"May I ask you the same question?" The tone infuriated Raymond, who retaliated.

"You idiot, what rock have you been living under? I am the one in command of our troops, so please be respectful. Raymond favored peace over strife as the fallen soldiers observed warily. "I apologize for any inconvenience, but I was trying to find Calvin."

“Ha!” sneered the soldier. "Recruit, you're so self-centered today. Why should I tell you where he is, you ask?

Raymond lost his rage, but a different voice cut him off before he could respond. "Raymond! I've heard that you awoke. With his scientist's coat immaculate and his assistants following him like shadows, Calvin walked closer.

"Leopold, is there something wrong here?" Calmly, Calvin asked.

With a tone of deference, Leopold answered, "Well, I caught this guy disrupting my troop training, and he had the nerve to talk back to me, sir."

Calvin gave a small smile. "Oh well, Leopold, you'd better respect him." The Tanker was vanquished by him.