Author: Embarrassed PM
When I awoke, I had nothing. My memories and my identity were gone. I have nothing now, nothing but the word of a few scientists and a group of survivors who tell me we are all that is left of our world. Something is amiss, and I am going to find out what it is, I swear it.Rated: Fiction M - English - Sci-Fi/Romance - Words: 471 - Published: 06-03-12 - id: 3028835
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A/n: Hey there, it's me! Sorry it's been a while, but summer has been busier than I'd initially surmised. Anyway I've sort of been sitting on this idea for a while, so thought I'd give it a whirl. Not sure how far it'll go, but tell me what you think. Technically speaking, this is the prologue, however, I am as you probably know if you've read anything of mine, lazy, and as such I don't want to go through the hassle of changing the chapter titles each time I upload a new chapter. So this shall remain "chapter one" but know in your hearts...it is the prologue. To give you an idea, this is going to be sort of a suspensy-sci-fi-romance type of story. New genre for me! Whee!
What makes us who we are? Is it, as my researchers tell me, a marvel of science? Can we truly sum up ones identity in the confines of a double helix? Despite what the best minds of our time tell me I cannot succumb to this manner of thinking. There must be something more, something beyond the physical, which defines us. Many have saddled this entity with the title of Soul.
But surely the soul can be touched by our physical world, that much can be seen from the corruption of the innocent. So what is it that shapes it, that can sculpt a child into a prodigy or twist them into a plague upon society? Again the scientists claim nature, that such an inclination is in our genes, but once more I cannot subscribe to such a theory. If we are truly constructed this way, slaves to our genes, then what purpose can our actions have? Why devote time to the parenting of a child? No, there must be more.
It is my assertion that it is experiences which shape and twist a soul, for better or worse. I believe the world corroborates this theory. Psychopaths and murderers alike are shown to have something, some mark upon their childhood, upon their mind, which corrupts. This something twists the innocence of childhood into the sickness we lament as a society.
But what if we could change this, remove the scars from the subconscious of the ill? Would they revert? Can the soul be manipulated in this way? Can subjecting an individual to certain experiences, or perhaps, removing their memory of the experience, shape the soul in the same way that life does? I wonder...By taking the pain of the tormented, by erasing it from their minds, what would the possibilities be? I could take the malice from the heart of the evil, lust from the minds of the unfaithful.
I could become God.
November 14, 2075