Visions of Viktor

In the year 1950, Dysgenita successfully repelled the Arcterman front. The war against the indigenous tribes of the frozen north lasted ten years. The city state of Dysgenita had always been the ideological adversary of The Arcterman Nations. While the Arctermans were rooted in tradition and religion, Dysgenita was a city of industry and progress. Though the causes of the war were obscured, Dysgenita’s citizens rallied under their banner, defeating the Arctermans. The people’s militia of 1950 were a key force in ending the assault, sending the Arctermans back to the northern wastes. My name is Private Sonya Kelly. My only regret in life is that I was not born sooner - I’d only graduated to the Dysgenita National Guard as the war ended. I remember the festivals and celebrations, wishing I had been amongst the heroes who paraded the streets. The demand for skilled soldiers was suddenly redundant, and much of my graduating class found themselves workless, put on reserve. As I feared my fervor would waste away, an opportunity presented itself atop a great wall. Shortly after Dysgenita’s triumph, the citizens grew anxious. People feared the return of the Arctermans. Revered manufacturers and merchants deserted Dysgenita in favor of safer cities across the country. Those who remained barred their doors, and kept themselves well armed. In the year following our victory, construction of the ‘Arctermans End’ began along the northern coast of Dysgenita. Arctermans End was a massive wall. Its foundation penetrated the ocean floor. Mainly, it was meant to block Acterman forces from infiltrating our city again. Secondly, it served as a watch post. The wall was absurdly tall, rising almost 4000 feet into the sky. Advanced watchlights pierced through clouds and fog, giving anyone atop the wall a clear view of the horizon. It was impossible for any Arcterman seacraft to approach undetected. Dysgenita rallied under the construction efforts. The pioneering segment of the wall was constructed in under one year. Two years later, the entire northern coastline was sealed. After the fifth year of construction, the wall extended far into the ocean, well past the borders of Dysgenita. Every year, The National Guard recruited watchmen and women for duty atop the wall. Traditional soldiers resented this role; as it entailed months of isolation and physiological difficulties imposed by the extreme altitude. At the time, I had to work in a grocery store, since the barracks were overflowing. But as the wall grew, more positions for watchpeople opened. I accepted a role atop the newest segment of the wall, far west, in the middle of the ocean. My excitement could not be contained, and I quickly packed a duffle bag of my belongings. Duty atop the wall was served in one month increments. Each post consisted of three or four soldiers, who took turns on watch duty. The top of the wall was only accessible by a helicopter, stranding the soldiers at 4000 feet altitude. I was one of only three soldiers in my watch. Accompanying me was Nicholas Batterman, a veteran of the Arcterman War, and Jean Colors, an army nurse. We each carried one bag of clothing and bathing essentials as we entered the helicopter. We did not speak on our way up, retaining an atmosphere of anxiety. The helicopter ascended high upon the ocean, penetrating the clouds. Come afternoon, the helicopter dropped a ladder down to our post. This was our only exit, as there were no landing pads atop the wall. Watching Nicholas and Jean descend the ladder like experts, I prepared myself for the dangerous task. Luckily, without slipping a rung, I set my foot atop our post. Little did I know that none of us would ever touch the earth again. Our post was barely longer than a school bus. At the center was a small shed, serving as our barracks. Behind it was a port-a-potty. To our east, the post dropped down to a thin segment of untraversable wall. It extended for about two miles until the next watchpost. To our west was the glistening blue ocean. Already, it was difficult to breathe. The recruiter told me it would take time for our lungs to acclimate. For the first week, we would have to sleep with oxygen assistance. I placed my bag down on my small bed, barely large enough for a child. Jean was kind and sociable, quickly breaking the ice between us. I was socially awkward, though Nicholas seemed approachable enough. He held the air of a rugged vagabond about him. His brown eyes were glazed, hiding the atrocities he witnessed during the war. After deliberation, we organized a schedule for watch duty. Jean would take the morning watch until noon, when Nicholas would take over until midnight. I volunteered for the late night shift, as I was a night owl. Plus, there was something breathtaking about Dysgenita from this height. Especially on a starry night. Far in the distance, I could see the city breathing, aglow with the innovation of mankind. During my first shifts, this view was intoxicating. I pitied Nicholas and Jean, who slept through the breathtaking sight. The two of them developed a rapport throughout the first week, while I remained an outsider. Strange noises emerged from the barracks during my shifts. I suspected they had developed a romance. One night, as I stood on watch, Nicholas and Jean partied in the barracks. Their laughing and drinking disturbed my quiet contemplation. I had to use the restroom, and we were supposed to obtain coverage before leaving the watch. But I didn’t care to talk to them at that time. Drinking was highly against the rules; so I was going to break the rules as well. Putting down my binoculars, I left my post vacant as I used the small port-a-potty. Guilt gripped me, and I quickly relieved myself. Walking back to my post, I froze - an unfamiliar man stood in my spot, staring into the vast ocean through my binoculars. Rubbing my eyes, I saw that this could not be Nicholas; he was not nearly as tall, and possessed a skinnier frame. A cold gust of wind rustled the stranger’s thin blonde hair. “You shouldn’t leave your post unattended.” He said with a heavy accent. I stepped backwards, suddenly indignified. Had he been here all along, waiting for me to break protocol? Or was this man a figment of my imagination? I stepped closer, determined to clarify his intentions. “Hello?” I asked suspiciously, my hand hovering my holstered sidearm. “Who are you? How did you get up here?” “Me?” He asked, as if I was acting strange. “I’ve been up here all along. I’m the fourth man in this watch. My name is Viktor.” Viktor lowered the binoculars, revealing crystalline blue eyes. Without a second thought, I retreated into the barracks. Nicholas and Jean glanced rudely at my intrusion. “You - Someone, come with me.” I urgently commanded. After giving each other a cautious look, Nicholas stood up, obtaining a rifle from his gun rack. He followed me into the cool night, wearing only a tank top and shorts. “Look - there,” I whispered, pointing to Viktor. Bewilderment overcame Nicholas’ face. Immediately he lifted the barrel of his gun, pointing it at Viktor. “Hold right there! State your purpose!” Nicholas yelled like a general. Viktor held his hands up in surrender, fearing for his life. “Please, I am one of you. I swear it.” His accent, coupled with fear, made his speech barely intelligible. Viktor wore our uniform - the same one I was currently wearing. Dysgenita navy blue, with medallions lining the chest. Nicholas recognized these badges, lowering his rifle. “You were in the war -” Nicholas said with deference. “So I was,” Viktor stated like a riddle. Jean peeked outside from the barracks. Nicholas furled his brow. “That accent…” He said, rubbing his chin. “Where are you from?” Viktor laughed heartily. “Wherever you say I am from.” Nicholas bit his lip, intolerant of the playful ambiguity. “Ahem,” Viktor straightened his pose. “Humans always have a need to know, don’t they? Such trivial details, where I am from, do they really matter? Truthfully I could tell you I am from anywhere, and you could either believe me or not. So tell me, where do you believe I hail from?” “Sounds like- Luarian…” Nicholas stopped short. “You playing games with me?” “So you say I am Luarian, then I am Luarian. If I confirmed your belief, then what more is there to it? To you, I am from Luaria.” I took a step towards the strange man. He seemed uncaring of my approach. He saw no threat whatsoever. “Answer me-” I began. “How, and when, did you get up here?” Viktor sighed. “Here we go again… Now? Never? I fell from the sky in a blazing asteroid, and hatched upon this wall from an egg, and now I am here.” Nicholas gripped the butt of his rifle. A low, guttural roar emerged from his chest as he approached Viktor, and seized him by the collar of his uniform. “Enough with the games!” Nicholas yelled in his face. “You better say something that's not complete hogwash, or I will consider you a threat to this nation, and I will throw you from this wall into the ocean below!” “So then do it. Kill me, and you will never know who I am, or what my purpose is.” Viktor’s body hung limp in Nicholas's grasp. For a moment, Nicholas considered tossing him over the edge. Overwhelmed by the man’s mystery, he released him gently. Viktor let out a deep sigh of relief. “You miss my point.” He began. “Once again, this desire for knowing… When can you come to accept that you… everyone… they truly know nothing at all. I am what I tell you I am, and nothing more. All you can do from then - is believe me, or not.” Me, Nicholas, and Jean held a small huddle away from Viktor. We debated our course of action. Nicholas still favored tossing the stranger, but Jean proposed we contact our officer in the morning. “It’s still your watch.” Jean said seriously, looking at me. “Watch him until morning. Do not let him out of your sight.” I nodded curtly. Violent gales of wind emerged from the north as I leaned against the barracks, watching Viktor. He continuously stared at the horizon through my binoculars. After hours of idle observation, I grew curious. “What have you been looking at? And don’t start with this, ‘whatever you tell me’ garbage.” Viktor lowered the binoculars. His voice grew low and tremulous. “A storm is approaching. A terrible one, from the looks of it.” I walked to the edge of the wall, keeping my distance from Viktor as I glanced toward the horizon. Thick, black clouds blotted the moon and the stars, marching toward our wall. From our height, I could see a rift between the calm ocean below, and the vicious waves beneath those clouds. Anxiety fermented in my brain. I had heard rumors that the wall would sway in exceptional winds. Perhaps one day it would topple over, crashing down upon the very city it sought to protect. The next morning, hurricane winds battered the Arctermans End - and Viktor had disappeared. I turned my back on him for one moment. That was all he required to vanish. Of course, Nicholas and Jean blamed me profusely. We searched what little ground there was to cover, finding no sign of the elusive man. Torrential rain accompanied the winds, and I focused on a different danger. That morning, I felt the slight swaying of the wall. Like being on board a boat, Jean felt that she may get sea sick. I suggested that we call our officer - not to discuss Viktor, but to discuss the inclement weather. Speaking of Viktor’s appearance and disappearance would only make us seem delusional. Nicholas ended the call, his face aghast. “What did he say?” I asked earnestly. Nicholas stared pensively toward the horizon. Only the howling wind could be heard. “Well?” I impatiently demanded. “He said we have to stay up here.” Nicholas’ whisper was distant and detached. “Apparently this storm is an anomaly - possibly the worst one ever seen in human history. And it just came out of nowhere, they have no idea how… They can’t send a helicopter for us. The wind is too strong, and they can’t… abandon the watch.” I fell to my knees. From the bathroom, it did not sound like Jean would be assuming her shift anytime soon. “Well, are you going to cover her shift?” I asked. Without a word, Nicholas stood up, and walked to Jean’s post on the wall. I laid in my bed, the rising air pressure tightening around my skull. My head swam as the wall rocked back and forth, back and forth. By the start of my night shift, the winds were abrasive. The wall shook so violently, I thought that the entire structure would collapse. And indeed - part of it did. To our east, the segment connecting us and the next outpost crumbled. Like an avalanche, massive chunks of stone fell the immense distance to the sea. Nicholas consoled Jean in the barracks, as she sobbed like a child. Wearing a heavy raincoat, I braced the treacherous winds, adhered to the side of the wall. My heart pounded with each crack, and each crumble. One by one pieces of the connecting wall came apart. Tears flooded my eyes. I began to whimper. In times of complacence, I did not believe in a God. Dysgenita was a secular city, abandoning religious worship decades ago. But as I feared impending death, I chanced upon a quick prayer. “Didn’t take you for a religious woman.” A familiar accent spoke beside me. Startled, I turned to see Viktor standing close. In the terribly dark night, he appeared slightly phantasmal. I didn’t care whether he was a ghost, a spy, or a real human. Coming to terms with certain doom, I simply accepted his presence. “We're going to die,” I muttered. “Any moment, this entire post is going to crash down, any moment…” “May as well make the best of it.” Viktor assured me. “But say, you did not answer me before - you’re a religious one, I take it?” “No…” I mumbled. “Are you?” “Not quite,” He mentioned. “I’m more of a historian - I am well versed in all world religions. Isn’t it strange how, despite knowledge of all these other edifices, every religion thinks they’re the one that has it right? That they know the truth, and the others don’t?” “I guess that goes for everyone…” I replied. Viktor’s words provoked deep thought. “Well said. Still, some folk interest me more than others. You know, those Arctermans have some strange beliefs. How such a dark society sprang from the frozen depths of those northern wastelands…” Viktor’s eyes grew gravid with contemplation. The Arctermans were a militaristic nation of tribalists. They valued blood, glory, and conquest. I never knew about their religious beliefs, other than its high importance in Arcterman society. “Well you see,” Viktor began to explain. “The Arctermans are not religious in the traditional sense. They do not believe in gods, saints, or miracles. Arctermans practice the sheer power of will, and the ability of the physical body. For the most part, they are materialists.” “But, they do believe in the apocalypse.” Viktor’s voice turned grim. I will admit I found the man’s oration fascinating. He spoke like a history professor with captivating mannerisms. “Like most religions hold their ‘end of the world’ scenario, the Arctermans have theirs. Throughout their life, they forgo desire and comfort in favor of battle and hardship. To an Arcterman, succumbing to complacency is succumbing to weakness. And to be weak, is to essentially die.” I snorted a half-hearted laugh. “So their world ends when everyone becomes lazy?” I asked sarcastically. “In a sense, in a sense. But… that’s not quite right. It’s far more disturbing than that.” Over the edge of the wall, vision was unattainable. The high beam spotlights were useless in the rolling fog. An ominous cloud rolled over our post, leaving us in a dome of pure darkness. Barely able to hold my footing, I sat against the wall, feeling its integrity waver beneath my body. Viktor’s lecture was my only distraction from the horrid conditions. “So what is it then?” I asked, desperate for him to continue. “In Arcterman myth, there exists a living island, called ‘The Land of None’, in your tongue. The name is somewhat of a misnomer… as the island actually possesses everything a human could ever want - riches, feasts, pleasure. But to the Arctermans, this island is quite literally, their devil. If you should come across the island at sea, it tempts you… calls to you… and if you should cast your foot upon its sands, then…” Viktor took my shoulder. He looked into my eyes with intensity. I could stare through his pupils, and see the hollow soul within. “Then the world ends.” We sat in silence, as I pondered the implications of the myth. “So, if one person finds the island, then the entire world ends?” I asked with curiosity. “Correct - your world ends. And to the Arctermans, the world of the individual, is the entire world. When the world ceases to exist within the eye of the beholder, then the world disappears entirely.” The words settled like poisoned food. If the wall collapsed, if I crashed into the ocean with the force of a meteor, would the world cease to ensue? I closed my eyes, sinking into a deep depression. The winds whipped voraciously, and I could hear nothing else. Sunlight pierced my eyelids, jolting me awake. The wind had ceased, and the sky was devoid of clouds. I looked in each direction, unable to believe our post still stood. To our east, the entirety of the connecting segment had vanished, leaving us on an isolated podium in the ocean. “Hello! Please, anyone, anyone!” I heard Nicholas scream within the barracks. The small room had been flooded, leaving our bedsheets soaked. Nicholas knelt in a puddle, crying into our phone. There was no one on the other end of the line. “Oh God, no!” Jean shrieked from outside. It was the most shrill cry I had ever heard, like a banshee had been stabbed in the heart. Me and Nicholas rushed to accompany her. Jean was leaning over the wall’s edge, looking at what had once been the city of Dysgenita. Only the tallest skyscrapers rose above the water now. The entirety of the continent had been overcome by the sea. Jean fell to the ground sobbing. Nicholas began slapping his face, yelling at himself, yelling “Wake up!”. Only I stood silent, beholding my sunken home city. As the days passed, we barely spoke to each other. I maintained more rationality than my comrades, and I handled the rationing of our food supply. Jean began to lose her mind, becoming erratic, lashing out at us. Nicholas flowed in and out of delirium, regaining coherence every few hours. He spent long nights in a corner of the flooded barracks, whispering to ghosts of his vicious past. The watch schedule was useless now. Still, I spent my nights outside. Because that was the only time I would have visions of Viktor. Every day, the sea level rose by hundreds of feet. Every day, Jean and Nicholas slipped further into the void. I can only attribute my maintained sanity to my nightly discourse with Viktor. Staring into the starry sky, we discussed various religions and philosophies. I clung to the edge of the wall, my hopes drowned in the sea. Dysgenita was completely underwater now - the peaks of the tallest buildings had been consumed by the waves. The sea level did not stop rising. “Soon, it’s going to overtake the wall. Even if it didn't, we don't have enough food to last another week.” I said broodingly to Viktor. He listened intently, always taking interest in our conversations. “Funny - I never thought this is how it would end. Most religions have a flood story, don’t they?” I asked. “Ironic, isn’t it?” He responded. “Mankind and their rationalizations. Always disproving everything with science, putting their belief blindly in such a thing. But tell me, how has science transcended religion? It hasn’t. It’s just a different colored horse standing in the same stall. Science tells us, the world was created by an explosion, not by God. And even though we know as much as the ants, we believe it.” With mirthless distortion, Viktor’s voice grew petulant, mocking. “Imagine, if after lifetimes of disproving religion with these facts we call ‘science’, that religion turned out to be right? Imagine the look on the scientist’s face, when after a lifetime of studying the effects of death, he awakens to find himself in heaven, or hell…” “Or the Island of None.” I chimed in, laughing sardonically. Viktor’s thin lips forced themselves into a smile. Before us was a vast ocean. Thousands of feet below the surface lay the corpse of Dysgenita. Nicholas approached me the next morning. He looked healthier than before - as if he had come to terms with the disaster. Brief fear returned to him as he looked over the edge. The water had risen exponentially with each day. The surface was close enough to cast a fishing line into, if we had a rod to do so. I estimated that it would be our last day on the wall. The true question was whether we were going to sink or swim. Together, me and Nicholas began deconstructing our bunks and any furniture we could find, salvaging wooden planks. Jean had become useless - her intervals of coherence were almost nonexistent. She rocked in a corner of the barracks, singing ghastly lullabies in a tattered hum. I glanced at Nicholas, wondering how long he would maintain his affront of sanity. How long it would be before he joined Jean. And as I looked in the mirror at my shredded hair and dark eyes, I wondered how long it would be before I sank to their ranks. By sunset, the sea trickled onto our platform. We had anticipated at least one more dry day - but rushing water flooded the wall, rising with each second. From our salvaged materials, we constructed a flimsy raft. I had no faith that it would bear our combined weight. Nicholas boarded the raft, which floated as water submerged our knees. I entered the barracks to collect Jean. She was clawing at the walls, digging splinters from the wood with her fingernails. Her face was pale as a ghost, and she was emaciated. Jean whispered to herself in disparate languages, trembling from a lack of nutrients. I looked back at Nicholas, who was shaking his head slowly. I pulled my hand from Jean, and boarded the raft. There was only one other thought - Viktor. Nicholas was positive that Viktor descended the wall after the first sighting. I was unsure of his existence altogether. As the raft bobbed, I hoped he would still appear to me at night. The horizon consumed the sun, and the ocean glowed with the lights of swallowed cities. Our lungs had acclimated to the altitude of our post - but as the sea level escalated, breathing became difficult again. It was only a matter of time before the tightening pressure popped our organs. Our pitiful raft was a contemptuous effect of the survival instinct. I envied Jean, who had abandoned all humanity, and was drowning in a rush of unforgiving waves. Throughout the next day, me and Nicholas barely spoke. My chest felt as if a twenty pound weight crushed it. My head was in a vice grip, and my eyes sought to wriggle from my skull. Each breath was laborious, a slow undulation of dying human will. With my back on the raft, I looked up into the sky. The sun was excruciatingly bright and close, peering from the zenith like a black hole. The sky lost its blue hues in favor of black space. Beside me, Nicholas breathed like a patient on life support. His face was covered in blood - it seeped from his ears, his eyes, and his nose. Nicholas clutched his chest, looking desperately at the sun above. The raft bobbed calmly, as there were no waves atop this strange sea. It was as smooth as bathwater. I pictured the horror of a tsunami in the distance - the massive wave reaching up to the stars themselves. By nightfall, Nicholas was barely moving. He took one strenuous breath every ten seconds. I was not better off. I rolled over, peering into the depths of the ocean with half of my face. With a trembling hand, I cupped a mouthful of salt water. I thought I saw creatures swimming below us, like Arctermans on the hunt. Rolling back over, the stars glared at me like bright white missiles. Splashing emerged from the water to my left. Weakly, I turned to see the upper half of Viktor’s face glowering at me. I tried to call out to him, but his malefic appearance deprived me of my will. His head, half above the surface, was pale blue. His eyes were sunken and red. His hair, once thin and blonde, had taken the qualities of seaweed. He looked exactly like an Arcterman. In my delirium, I felt the creatures beneath our raft swimming closer, brushing their webbed hands against the wood. They were circling us like sharks, waiting for their feast to fall into their jaws. I attempted to breathe, but it was impossible. Every gasp was a desperate attempt to achieve breathable oxygen. The sides of my temple pressed inwards, squeezing the fabric of my eyes. I retched, clutching my chest. Viktor’s eyebrows furled downwards, before that half-face disappeared beneath the black depths. Nicholas was seizing and gasping violently. Blood poured from his orifices like rivers, tainting the sea around us, chumming the waters. Desperately, I prayed that everything since the end of the war had been a nightmare. I could only hear Viktor’s reminder - that the experience was only as real as I believed it to be. It was not the flood, or Jean’s death that had destroyed my mind. It was Viktor. Even if I sank to the surface of the Earth, if I awoke from a dream, I would never recover from his ontological manipulation. Using speech as a scalpel, he mutated my brain, permanently altering its code. Every human, idea, and object now held as much reality as I personally gifted it. Nicholas was still there, he was dying - but if I focused hard enough, he could change into Jean. And for a moment I did - I saw Jean, clawing at the raft, gasping for breath in Nicholas place. Like blocks falling from the Arcterman’s End, Viktor deconstructed my sense of reality. I just wished it was all a dream. If I put enough belief in that - If I believed it had all been a twisted nightmare, then perhaps I could shape reality to my will. If I thought like the Arctermans, that my death meant the death of the world, then the world was in the palm of my hands. My face turned purple. I had not breathed in almost two minutes. My neck strained itself, the veins popping from the skin. In my last desperate attempt for survival, I closed my eyes. I yelled at myself - ‘Wake up, wake up, wake up!’ ‘Wake up!’ I gasped, jerking my head upwards, inhaling a rush of oxygen. My heart pounded in my chest, as if I had been resuscitated. The raft floated completely still, not swaying in the slightest. To my right, Jean was on her knees, alive and well. Cackling like a maniac. “Land ho!” She yelled with fervor. Something was not right about the world at that moment. We had come so close to space now, yet I could still breathe. The sky was deep indigo. Each star was so close and bright, I could visualize their fabric. The arms of the galaxy undulated, with cosmic dust swirling in the midst. A strange hum, like monks chanting in a temple, lingered in the air. Jean continued to die of laughter, crying tears of ecstasy. In the distance, atop the still sea, was an island. Jean dove from the raft, taking on the ocean. She began to swim towards the glimmering island. Its sands shone like they were made of rubies and emeralds. The cloying smell of flowers and honey drifted through my nostrils. For a brief moment, I felt immense relief. I felt immense desire. This perfect land, under this picturesque indigo galaxy, was the utopia I had always dreamed of. Shakily, I crawled towards the edge of the raft, wanting to join Jean. To swim to the ruby shores. Then, the island moved. From the palm trees and mountains, jagged teeth emerged. Piercing orange eyes floated from the darkest corners of the land, staring right at me with slit pupils. The humming of the air intensified, growing darker, and more distorted. I froze, as Jean swam closer to the island. In breathless screams, I yelled to her, trying to call her name. It came out as unintelligible wails, like I was trying to speak in a nightmare. I ushered another blood curdling scream as Jean grew ever closer to the shore. I began to wish the island was not there. Closing my eyes, I believed it was not there. With every fabric of my being, I truly believed and understood that the island was not there. But when I opened my eyes, I still saw the jagged teeth, and the nebulous eyes. As Jean’s fingertips grazed the grains of sand, I shattered the world with my scream.