Voices Story
Matthew Ryan Fischer
He had become full of venom and hate. He had forgotten where his
humanity ended and the darker, more inhumane passions began. There was no line.
It had been blurred and lost. He had become a cruel and terrible person. He did
many unspeakable things.
There were too many voices – it was hard to listen to them all or
tell what they were saying. Sometimes one voice came through above the rest. Sometimes
one voice took over them all and they spoke in a unified form.
Casey did not think of himself as a terrible person. Yes, he
believed actions had consequences, but he was somehow a step removed from
judging right and wrong and what was moral and what wasn’t. Those thoughts of judgment
hardly occurred to him and when they did it was more like a slow pause, emptiness
instead of a rational debate. He could zone out and when he snapped back, the
decision had been made, and then the deed would be done.
It was theorized by the ancient philosophers that daimons were intermediaries
between the gods and man. Everything was somewhere between divine and mortal.
Actions were inspired or directly controlled. Man nor free will were nowhere in
the equation.
Casey had voices that warned him against mistakes and advised his
actions, but they hardly ever directed him to stay out of trouble. Apparently
the voices didn’t care one way or the other if his actions were just or righteous.
Apparently the gods were above and beyond that.
In his apology, Casey tried to explain just what it was that he
had become:
“The darker and more inhumane my actions became, the more I found
I needed my fellow man, for as much as I despised them, I could not function
without the sustenance their spirit provided me. In trying to separate myself
from humanity, I had made myself become that much more dependent on them. I had
always thought they were the parasites, but I made myself that addict, the
dependent. I loved and hated them at the same time.”
Casey killed a man and ate his flesh to try and gain the power of
his soul. The voices didn’t tell him to do that. The voices didn’t suggest it.
Casey had come up with that idea by himself. Casey ate the flesh and drank some
of the blood like the primitive cannibals had done. Where they were warriors
and believed the spirit had power and it could be transferred, Casey wasn’t
sure what he believed. He just wanted to experience it.
He rubbed the blood in and felt that he was absorbing the spirit
that had been the man. He believed he was stronger. He believed he was more
than he had been, and that he was a step closer to divine. He sat and waited
for the celestial to come and take him away. While he waited he had the
conversations of the bickering voices to keep him company.
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