Written By: Alexander Green
Graphic By: Ariadne Danae Chavez Salinas
Chapter 1: Imperial Decree
The Pale Moon above bears witness to the crimes of its most
devoted follower, a God forced to punish man: A God, fallen from all
grace.
Alone shuffles a hunched creature, shifting along the steps to a
great monument. Humans pass by him, quickly making their way up
the steps, anticipation filling their eyes and hearts. Before them sits
the National Archives Museum, a testament to the peace and unity of
the U.S. ‘Inside sits the founding documents of this country:
documents that have sat for nearly three hundred years. It serves to
guide the inhabitants of this country”, the being writes. In their hand,
an ornate journal now resides. Markings of scarabs and scales on the
edges and a large tome on the center. Inside the journal, the being
continues to narrate, ” Each person now walking towards this most
sacred place has but one purpose: to gaze upon the writings of the
founders. The men who created this place, WHO DECREED WHAT
IS RIGH-” They exhale a great sigh, muttering to themselves about
getting carried away. They close the journal with reverence, ensuring
that it is handled with care. The journal is then carefully tucked away
in their clothing, along with the pen. They resume their path up the
steps, taking ample time with each one.
There are moments when tourists begin to approach the slower
being, yet upon getting close to them, a sudden chill grasps them. It
reaches deep into their heart, freezing their blood and trapping their
tongues. It’s as if death has finally found them. There is no helping
gesture offered, no one dares step close, and not even the wind blows
in their direction. Each step fills the broken being with anguish, their
feet crack and bleed, and their knees snap and shatter. Each moment
is a fight against them, the very Earth now slows them down. “Why fight against me? You have already lost as I. Please, I am commanded.” They beg to themselves, tears dotting their cheeks. It is a mournful sob, pained for the actions they must do.
An eternity seems to pass before they reach the top of the marble steps and gaze upon the entrance. Dozens of people stream in and out of the museum, creating two separate rivers. The being stumbles forward, cutting down the middle, furthering the divide between them. They slow their already agonizing walk and turn toward the Moon. It is a cold light, one filled with malice and trickery. Yet, at this moment, the Moon feels sorry, forced to watch the languished deeds of a fellow God. A being stripped of holiness and sanctity, now only filled with a gnashing hunger and a desire for death. Thoth turns around and sets their sights on the piece of script in front of them. A document that has soiled the minds and actions of a most sacred people. Now, Thoth would take that from them, they were promised an end if they did this, and it isn’t their fault.
Chapter 2: Revised Text
Thoth, the God of Knowledge and Script stalked towards the
display case devoid of his own will. Drawn to knowledge like carrion to
a corpse, Thoth was entranced. They could sense the parchment and passion that was poured into this document. Once, it meant something, a path towards freedom and security. Now, a relic of the past, still pulling the strings, as if it understands the current world as if anyone did. It was a beautiful sight though. It made it incredibly difficult to feel anything but reverence for the founders of the document. Thoth crept forward, never truly leaving that stupor they fell into upon entering. They were burdened with a great purpose: a purpose that trumped will, a purpose that eclipsed their desires. Their hands moved toward their journal as their legs pulled them close to the script. Each movement happening with the same delicacy, yet plagued by the same unending sorrow.
Walking forward, people adjusted to God like the changing tide. There was no opposition, merely acceptance. Thoth could now make out the display cases for all the documents, looking towards the Bill of Rights and the Declaration of Independence: two other most revered texts. Yet, his eyes lay upon the one that dictates the actions of everyone in the room. Except for them, this fallen God. There was only a faint hesitation before that all-consuming will subsumed whatever was left of Thoth.
Slowly, the now overtaken God focused on the document, forcing their
might unto the words on the page. The room grew silent. A quiet
whirring sound began to pick up. A small buzz slowly evolved into a
much larger grinding. All eyes turned towards the document as tiny
golden hieroglyphs began encircling the case. It started playfully, the
symbols prancing around in the air, illuminating the eyes of all who
beheld them, yet as quickly as it started, the markings began buzzing
with a searing heat. They fumed and boiled like angry sprites, yet they
were not alone. The Constitution, inside its protective case, began to
light ablaze. In an instant, the document burst into a fiery golden light,
enveloping the room and, with an intensity unbeknownst to the crowd,
a shattering echo as the glass of the case was expelled outward. The
entranced crowd, now broken from their hypnotic state, realized what
just happened. Panic rapidly set in, and absolute chaos erupted.
Some were struck by the shards of glass, crying out in pain as
the searing shrapnel pierced their flesh. Most dashed to the exit,
hoping to escape whatever hell they had just encountered. Yet, in this
panic, most did not realize what had happened in the case. Now,
where the Constitution once sat, protected by all manner of security,
lies a human.
Chapter 3: Consequences
Thoth was nowhere to be seen, replaced now by the rushing
bodies of hundreds of panicked tourists.
As more and more people began exiting, a great gust of wind
blew through the doors and entrance of the museum. A razor wind
forced most to shy away from the biting cold and inadvertently gaze
upon the horrifying sight behind them.
Now, lying in a pool of broken glass, an androgynous human
now sits. Their brown hair was shoulder length, and their physique
was well-sculpted: a being of athletics and aesthetics. Yet, most
striking of all were the dozens of scrawlings emblazoned on their skin.
Markings that mar their flesh, as if someone took a blade and simply
traced what their heart desired. Most of the panic settled, ruminating
into fear. Fear that whatever was before them was not human. No.
Something beyond their comprehension: paper turned to flesh, writing
transformed into muscle, and thought metamorphosed into form.
What followed next was a blur. Dozens of federal agents arrived
on the scene to handle this “mysterious visitor”, yet what they were
met with was inexplicable. Camera footage confirmed the eye-witness
accounts and calls from around the world came in, relaying that their
governing documents had suddenly taken the shape of humans. Not a
mortal soul understood what was happening. Investigations began,
attempting to figure out what had transpired, yet no person who
watched what happened could make sense of it.
Upon “questioning” the transmogrified documents, most were
easily understandable. They seemed to have a good grasp of their
mind and could relay information just as anyone could. However, they
were equally unaware of how they came to be, simply they had always
been what they were, the same but different. The consensus was,
“Like ash, burned from a piece of wood.” They were just in a different
state, not alive, but they weren’t exactly dead. They were separate from the state in which humans lived, but not absent from what they were. The only one who did not follow suit was the U.S. Constitution.
This being was not present. Attempted conversations were met
with violent yelling and crazed changes in attitude. There was no
rhyme or reason. They would hurt themselves, and then get angry that
they had done so. The being was broken. No identity left. A husk left
to live far longer than it should have been allowed, enduring untold
pain by its creators. Many researchers attempted to make peace, yet
the document would always flip against any preset notion. It was
scared and tormented.
Further questions lay unanswered: who was the strange being
that was witnessed at the National Archive Museum, what does this
mean to humanity, what could have made this happen, and, most
importantly, what do we do now? The change was intentional and
targeted, but what was the purpose of altering the nature of these
specific documents? Was there a lesson to be learned? With the U.S.
lacking its founding document of almost 300 years, most were left to
ponder how they would continue. Would new documents be created,
documents that could potentially change into humans again?
The Liberator Magazine 
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