The Year 2400 – Episode 1- Revelations of 13931
It was a typical day for me, but this thought never crossed my mind at the time. My surroundings were notable. They were all I had ever known. Rippling above. the sky was a constant aurora of black and gold. Or at least, that’s what I had heard; I had never truly seen it. No one had. Into the distance, a purple wave of energy rippled above, casting a large dome atop the Rotundra and the slaves below. The domes—supposedly they protected us from the wrath of the gods outside. It was said that this was the fault of the humans, and that we were to serve the victims of such a calamity. I had no name, I had no home. I was #13931 and I was a digger.
Inside the domes, large temples—constructed by the Rotundra—were erected in the five kings honor. Everyone, including me, was to bow in their presence with every passing. They protected us. They granted us life.
The Rotundra were a reptilian styled race who suppressed the world with an iron fist. Humans were not the only race used as slaves. The smaller, weaker reptilians were used for various types of work. However, they were never eaten. We had no idea where we came from- the humans that is. All we knew, is that the Rotundra were responsible for our being, and it had been so, since the beginning of time.
My scars told a story. One of compliance and submission. In my dreams, in the halls where we slept, I heard screams of the beaten. I heard screams of the accountable and screams of the innocent. Most importantly, I heard screams of myself. But I dare not defy them—for defiance… that turned us into fodder.
Every morning, I woke from my slumber and did what I was created to do. To dig. I dug into the dirt of the planet to find something. Our masters, they hadn’t a clue what we were looking for, and honestly; neither did we. The dirt was loose and golden brown. Master Kilja stood behind me. I would look into his eyes- its eyes- and I would shudder. Master Kilja was the most unpleasant being I had ever seen, and no matter how many times I turned to look to his foul presence, I still became weary and sick.
His eyes were bright yellow, so bright they would light the path in front of him as he walked through the tunnels of Catsora—tunnels connecting the various domes throughout the area. He had a bright blue mane that stood upright from the top of his head and continued down the spine of his back. His torso was covered in a wave of muscles that rippled across his pecks and abs and his skin had a blue, ghostly hue. His torso was uncovered, but his lower half was draped in a costly material.
It wasn’t the six inch claws from the tips of his fingers that disturbed me. Nor was it his murderous gaze and expression. No… it was the fresh coat of human blood that stained his lips, teeth and finger tips that kept my eyes away from him.
“Identify yourself,” he said to me in a low snarl. I didn’t have time to answer before a large whip cracked across my shirtless back. It was to be expected. I hadn’t been caught off guard for as long as I could remember. I grit my teeth and dropped my shovel to the ground. However, I did not scream. Life as a slave meant one thing. If you scream, you get hit again, if you continue to scream, you are eaten—alive and without remorse.
I gathered my thoughts for a second and began to turn towards him. Kilja quickly drew back to whip me again, and I saw him from the corner of my eye. I quickly responded.
“Digger—13931!” I said in defeat. He snarled, low and raspy, and he stepped towards me. Inches from my face, he stopped. My stomach turned in several different ways as he purposefully cast breath after breath into my nostrils. With ever breath, he growled, deep in his chest. Rotted corpse seeped from his bowls and into my senses. I wanted to cry, but they feed on the weak.
“Yah Know, you tasty ingrate. You could smell like this in a few weeks. Do you find me… disturbing?”
“13931–No” I replied with a slight whimper.
“No? Does the decimation of your kind not burn your soul?”
“13931—we are humans—feed for the Rotundra.”
He was amused. He sniggered and turned away from me. The strong, apparently, make good workers.
I drew in a deep breath, but the repulsive stench of decaying remains still lingered in the air. I quickly turned to continue my digging. Only a few minutes passed until a series of violent screams shrieked from the other side of the mound. It was unmistakable. There’s a difference between the screams of a man in fear and the screams of a man who knows his life is going to end. They only lasted a few moments, and throughout the air, relentless gnarling of spit and grinding reached our ears. We continued our digging. The slaves around me had tears in their eyes, as did I. However, we were relieved. Master Kilja—he was no longer hungry.