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Sum Ego Humanus
Posted By: ReleasetheMonk<brandoni76k@hotmail.com>
Date: 13 October 2008, 5:31 am
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Foreward
Hello. As you can tell from the title, this short story contains a lot of Latin references. Take them to any translator to discover their menaing. But if you understand the first few sentences, you grasp most of the Latin.
This story is introspective into the life and psyche of an invincible soldier, who is trapped in both body and mind. He delves into what it is to exist, but to question if he has a soul. It's very psychological, and could represent one man's search for soul. Read it, and come to your own conclusion.
ReleasetheMonk
Sum Ego Humanus
I should be dead. But death comes not.
I should be destroyed. But destruction comes not.
If I cannot be destroyed or killed, do I exist?
If I do not exist, do I have a soul?
Lying under the rubble, on the verge of oblivion, the lone marine clung to life, but hoped for death. The pain in his left side from the plasma burn was agonizing, and he knew the chances of recovery were minimal. Breathing was constrained, as his chest was crushed underneath a pylon of steel.
But the pain was the least of his problems.
He was not like the other marines. There was a difference that made him special. All of his brothers-in-arms called him Iron Man, for he was apparently invincible. No wound had ever seriously debilitated him, and no battle or challenge was insurmountable.
But he hoped silently that this was the challenge to end him.
For he had questioned his very existence from the first moment they called him "invincible". He was loathed to hear the term, as it conjured images of a war hero, a brave and undying soldier to lead others to glorious victory. In his heart, he knew he was no hero, but simply lucky. The secret that had kept him alive would immortalize him forever if they knew.
If only they knew.
Quickly, his instincts took hold. He looked around in a daze, assessing the situation. Lifting the pylon yielded little success. As he did so, he felt the blood stream from his mouth, nose, and forehead. Inside his mind, he felt odd emotions: fear, anger, frustration, and most surprising of all....serenity. If he was to die, this was the time to do so.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he lifted the steel pylon off of him. Setting it to on side, he rolled onto his chest. He began to cough rather viciously, and blood came up with his phlegm. Looking around, he found his Assault Rifle. This weapon had been with him since the beginnings of the war, and he was not about to lose it now. Taking it in his hands, he smiled.
At least I have this left.
At last his surroundings were beginning to be defined. He was that there was a cavern of rubble around him. Smoke and dust danced in what little light was in the room, and water trickled in from the ceiling. The marine looked for an exit, but to no avail. He felt as though he were trapped, not only in the present, but in his mind.
Ego sum Mortuus. Tamen Nex adveho non.
Despair was coming in. His whole life had been a metaphorical trap to him. And now, with him trapped literally, his psyche corroded.
Ego sum pessum ire. Tamen ruina adveho non.
What was he thinking?! He had to escape. The world needed him. The world need a hero. The world needed....
A Spartan.
Si ego cannot pereo vel iuguolo , operor ego futurus? Si ego operor nusquam esse , operor ego have a animus?
He had lived a lie his whole life. The Spartan-II Project had used him as an experiment: integration into the normal ranks of the UNSC, to increase belief that Marines could fight as well has Spartans. They had destroyed his life, and then "attempted" to hand it back to him. What they handed him were lies.
Vir eram non vilis vivo non verum.
Finally, he threw down his rifle, and began to scream. The invincible man of iron had a defect in his armor. He was human all the same. He did not wish to live. He did not wish to die.
He wished to linger, on forever in the darkness that surrounded him.
Alius nunquam reperio pyus pyxidis.
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