Zeroth Directive

Archive III

In Shalem's memories, aside from the great flood that submerged the village, clinging miserably to the rooftops to survive, all recollection of his home has long gone. There is only the troupe, and only the troupe remains. After the flood receded, some sumptuously graceful guests entered the village. Yes, they handed people money to seek local aid; yes, they carefully selected, adopted many children who were without claim, now their parents had vanished or been lost. Numbering one of them was the young Shalem. When Shalem and the great huddle of children first saw the troupe's tent, and were taken to their quarters in familiar manner by the butler, given bread from the old man's hands, listened to his cordial questions, their hearts were filled with a hope for the future. 'You are children of the arts. Now, you may rest well.' So the old butler promised, and so Shalem believed. Soon after, his life became a play. Modest and gentle was the label the troupe gave to Shalem, and ever since then, it has become his 'true personality.' We shan't dwell on the daily physical training and rehearsal of lines. Understudies as excellent as Phantom would be led upon stage, given verbal motivation and material reward in front of them all. And of course, those children not fit for the troupe's demands would be correspondingly denounced. Everyone wanted to be the lead on stage with the support of all, and not the failures rebuked before them. And so, on all of their shoulders sat an incorporeal burden. Not every child could bear this burden, and though no worries of nourishment nor sleep were had, some still had not the physical power to last upon the stage. Or, perhaps, they were encaged in a role, unable to recover themselves. The children who entered the troupe together one by one disappeared, and those left were completely changed in temperament, not a speck of the innocence of their years left visible. As they grew in years, Shalem had convinced himself to accept one fact: We were only brought into this troupe to offer our lives to the arts. If we are unable to perform... Then we have no right to live within the troupe. Whether voluntary or not, so long as you joined the troupe, the script you were given would be written long in advance. To run until your life's end. ...... In his dreams, Shalem watches the traveling troupe's performances with his parents, and their performance is of a one-of-a-kind vast flood, submerging everything. Only a few survivors remain, pulling through atop the mountains. Survival drives all to the brink, and they who ought to have worked together past these difficulties began to slaughter each other. In the end, no one escapes. Only a few uneaten slices of meat remain, scooped away by fowlbeasts, flapping their wings across the endless waters.

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