Tidbits

I have a completed Sci-Fi novel among my projects. It takes place in a future where a galactic Shogunate rules all known worlds , inspired by Middle Eastern and Japanese elements.

This short story takes place before that novel- before the Shogunate, when there was only the Emperor. At the end of his life, the Emperor faces a choice: pass from this world like all his ancestors, or grasp for life eternal, even if it costs him his humanity.

Enjoy, and if you’re interested in the novel, let me know on Bluesky- @mkroghwriting.bsky.social

Arasanda

A warm breeze wafted through the wide columns of the palace and into the dreamlike, marble-floored room past elaborate friezes and paintings and through gauzy white drapes. In the center of the room, a smattering of figures in soft pale gowns and headscarves bowed their heads reverently as they crowded around an elaborate dais upon which were piled dozens of plush pillows and mattresses. And lying upon those, a man was dying.

Kojima al-Massar Halassim, the Eternal Ruler of the Empire, spiritual embodiment of Chenobi, the Grasper of Stars and Sky breathed raggedly, clutching weakly at his chest. The strained noise of his painful wheezes were the only sound that permeated the room. Everyone was staring at him with sympathy, except for his two Sacred Guards, his Shanziko, who flanked his dais and stood stiffly without expression on their faces, their ornate black armor contrasting with the white of the room and its occupants.

Though he was lying down with his face to the celing, Kojima heard the voice of his oldest son Amir, saying, “Father, your time is short. I plead with you to give yourself the mercy of the procedure the Chief Vizier has proposed. Your life is too valuable. The people need you!” He sounded so forlorn. Kojima wondered if it was an act. Amir would be Emperor after he passed. The boy would likely do well. He was kind and gentle but had a keen mind, and though Kojima wished he would have a little more belasteel in his spine, he would make the right decisions for the people. With an effort, Kojima turned on his side to look at his son and felt regretful that he had questioned his love. The tears in the man’s eyes were real. He’d spent too much time dealing with politicians trying to advance their own interests and had grown cynical. It was shameful that it affected his relationship with his family. He was supposed to embody Chenobi, to provide an example to the populace. Such suspicion was beneath him.

Kojima opened his mouth to speak but his throat was too dry, so he coughed to clear it. He tasted blood, but it was of little matter. He said, “You do me honor, my son. No child wishes to see their parent die. But it is my time. Remember, the Emperor said, ‘The measure of a life is not in its length, but in its purpose.’ I have tried to fulfill my purpose to the best of my ability.” Was it his grandmother who said that? Or his great-grandmother? Kojima had vague memories of both women, but his head felt light and he couldn’t picture them in his mind’s eye. He coughed again and said, “They have already replaced so much of my body. But my mind remains my own. You would have me relinquish that?” He waved his hand feebly and laid back down, “Better to die. Fetch me my blade and I will do it myself. I have little strength left, but enough to do that.”

How many procedures had he undergone in his long years? Piece by piece, his body had been replaced. The first had been his knees after the battle to take Sunrise Glimmers upon Placid Lakes. What had the enemy called it? Kera Prime? An inelegant name. The new one was more beautiful.

As if the memory of the battle had triggered it, his knees ached. They had been first to be replaced, but they were not the last. He blinked through artificial eyes at the painting that sprawled across the entire dome of the ceiling, a gorgeous depiction of content citizens frolicking in heavenly gardens. Here, a musician captivating an audience. There, a couple connected intimately and explicitly. At the center of the piece, a wholly generic but serene Emperor radiating warmth and love.

His eyes worked perfectly as they took in the details, but then again they had been replaced just a few years back, when he was one hundred and forty. He had never revealed the truth to anyone, but with every blink he could tell the difference in the way they felt under his eyelids, though he had grown used to them.

The Chief Vizier approached and prostrated herself, kissing the floor. Kojima waved his fingers and bid her to stand, which she did. She herself had been subject to many modifications. Her skin gleamed silver, which she claimed helped prevent injury and infection, but the Emperor suspected she liked the cosmetic effect as much as anything else. Her own green eyes peered out from behind a metallic visage, her expression pained.

“My Emperor, you will still be yourself. Your mind will be intact, though you will be freed from the constraints of your physical form.”

“You mean I will be relieved of my humanity, Esine.” His words had the intended effect. The Vizier recoiled as if struck and the collective silence after he spoke was leaden. It was almost unheard of for anyone in the court to use another’s name, even the Emperor. Of course, if she had responded in kind, she would have been executed by his Shanziko on the spot. Kojima noticed the guards didn’t move, but they sensed the tension and gripped the handles of their long axes more tightly.

The Vizier looked taken aback, but regained her composure and said, “It need not be so. The android bodies we’ve developed can be placed across the Empire, and your consciousness transferred to them. You can travel to one on the other side of the galaxy without needing a starship and then return on the same day. But it is not necessary to abandon your own body, if that is your choice. The artificial brain we’ve developed will allow you to endure and give us your wisdom and guidance indefinitely. You will be the Immortal Emperor in more than just title. You can live forever. Think of all that you can accomplish across the eons.”

Kojima took a long, rattling breath and held it, feeling the air expand in lungs that were not his own. There was a part of what she said that grasped at a feverish, clawing part of his brain that told him that he must survive. His natural will to live, he supposed. That part of him that feared the end of everything. The end of existence. Even now that voice shrieked at him to take the offer.

He closed his eyes and calmed himself, pushing himself to remember back to the beginning of his life, long ago. He recalled being a child and watching his great-great-grandfather, the fifth Emperor, lie on this very dais and pass into eternity.

The man’s dying words echoed in his mind, and Kojima repeated them aloud, his eyes still closed, his mind still lingering on that day, “I have endured storms and sunshine. I have witnessed darkness. I have tried to bring light to the galaxy. I have lived and now I pass on. My legacy is my life, but it is given meaning by my death.”

Then his great-great-grandfather had gone silent, and when the old Vizier had confirmed the Emperor had passed, his Shanziko cried out and brandished their axes, driving everyone from the room for a fortnight. Kojima’s memory flashed forward and he saw his great-Grandmother and his father die in the same way. He had never witnessed his Grandmother’s death. She had perished in battle and he had found out only when the capitol rang with bells declaring his father Emperor.

No, Kojima would face his own death with grace, just as they had. Above all, he was tired. And he felt himself fading away, like he was stretching along the length of the universe. His mind hurt, his body hurt, but he still chuckled in spite of himself. He wanted to speak, but found he could not. It was already too late, and with one last breath his consciousness slipped away into the stream of time, like grains of sand being scattered in the flow of a river.

* * *

Kojima gasped and woke, bolting upright in his own bed. He was in his own bedchambers. But why? He looked at his own hands. They were his own, and when he rushed to the mirror he saw his own face, unshaven but still his own. He had the same tired eyes, the same thin, iron grey hair bunched into a topknot on his head.

He had died. He was sure of it.

A soft knock on the door alarmed him and he shrugged on a luxurious black kimono, just finishing tying the obi as the Chief Vizier entered with his son right behind her.

The Vizier saw he was awake and they both went to their knees before him, their faces pressed into the ground.

“Rise,” he said gruffly, “What happened? Why am I here? Why have I been denied my death?”

The Vizier glanced at Kojima’s son and with an apologetic look said, “We have performed the procedure, my Emperor. Your life was saved. It was a complete success.”

Kojima’s eyes blazed. He had been defied in his final moments. He opened his mouth to call out to the Shanziko to end the Vizier, but his son stepped forward and spoke before he could say anything.

“Please, Father,” his son had been weeping. His eyes were dark, haunted, exhausted, “We could not lose you. Not when we had the chance to save you. You are beloved, not just by me, but by all. By all measures, you have been the greatest Emperor of all time. We cannot lose you.”

It was flattery, but Kojima knew his son was earnest in his praise. Kojima did feel pride in his accomplishments. He had expanded the Empire in both war and peace and had made important philosophical contributions to Chenobi. Perhaps most importantly, he had introduced the concept of the Unowned to bring equity of justice to the population. No longer could the powerful avoid punishment because of their connections or wealth. And those who had fallen between the cracks could gain the skills and education to serve them in their future lives.

And strangely enough, Kojima no longer felt weary. Perhaps this had been the correct course of action. He could not tell the difference between his own mind and this artificial one as he had feared. If he could truly live forever, he would amass wisdom and knowledge beyond his imagination.

He regarded the Vizier and his son, who were looking at him with worried and expectant faces. By disobeying him, they knew they both faced punishment. Execution. One did not defy the Emperor, not even his own blood.

“Very well.” Both the Vizier and his son looked visibly relieved, ”What of those who were in attendance and heard me deny you?” he asked.

A smile played on the Vizier’s lips and she said, “All who were in attendance clearly heard you say you wished for the procedure. They all swore in your name it was so.” She looked over at Kojima’s son and asked, “Isn’t that right?”

His son had the grace to blush, but said, “Ah yes, all who were present understood that you were able and willing to proceed.”

Kojima nodded. There was little chance that anyone would reveal the truth, but if they tried to expose it, they would incur great dishonor after swearing in his name. It would never be revealed. The expeditious path was sometimes the correct one.

He blinked and shook his head. Why had he thought that? No, one must always act within the bounds of Chenobi. Was it more honorable for him to try and continue his good work? Kojima had to believe it was so. He could do so much more with this extra time he’d been given.

“My Emperor,” the Vizier said, bowing smoothly, “May I show you the android body we have built for you to use?”

Kojima stepped back warily. He had forgotten about that function. He didn’t want to lose himself completely into the machinery. He touched his fingertips together, comforting himself with the feel of his own flesh. He was still himself, mostly.

The Vizier walked to the other side of the room and stood next to a covered figure that was there. Kojima hadn’t noticed it before, but when she pulled the cover off, he gasped. The android was him, but not at his current age. It looked like him in his prime, albeit staring straight ahead without expression. He walked around the android, touching the thickly muscled arms which felt like real flesh and sinew. He wondered at the touch of grey at the man’s temples. No, not a man, he reminded himself. It was a lifeless android.

“How?” he asked, his voice quavering, betraying his astonishment. His eyes flicked between the android and the Vizier, who was smiling widely, her teeth white against her silvery skin.

“The finest artisans have constructed them. It was at great expense, but of course completely worth it for you, my Emperor. As we speak, they are being sent all across the Empire. In time, you will be able to effortlessly transfer yourself between them, but it will require practice and time. For now, you can train with this one. The phrase to transfer yourself to the android is, ‘On the wings of’ dreams,’ and to return is, ‘Fly home, my heart.’ Would you like to try it?”

The Emperor faced himself, or at least the facsimile of himself. It was a flawless copy of his body and face, and he remembered being the age it depicted him as. How much more could he do if he were that young again? He touched the android’s face and felt its skin, smooth and…like skin. It was his skin.

In a whisper, Kojima said, “On the wings of dreams.” As he exhaled, his consciousness flew away from him and he felt his son grab his body as it fell, and then, for a moment, nothing at all.

* * *

Kojima heard the whispers as he walked through the court. His enhanced hearing could pick up the minutest sounds. “Arasanda,” they would whisper to each other, thinking themselves safe from detection. It was meant as an epithet. It meant someone in a state between life and death, but that was ludicrous. He was gloriously alive. More than he had ever been.

He already made a mental note to have the malcontents disappear, unconsciously transferring the order through the ether to the security forces. Dissent was against Chenobi. He was the Emperor. He was Kojima al-…the rest didn’t matter. He was the Emperor. The Immortal Emperor. These others were transitory, temporary. He was eternal. They did not have the history and vision that he did. He seated himself in the throne he had built upon the dais.

Someone approached, pressing their face to the floor. He wordlessly gestured for them to rise. The Chief Vizier. Didn’t she have metallic skin? Ah, no, he reminded himself. She had died years ago. This one had dark skin and features, and looked very fearful. He switched his vision to a different spectrum and saw the tension in her neck and shoulders. She was very frightened. This would be amusing.

“My Immortal Emperor, we must inspect your…” she began, looking around at the assembled court as if trying to gather strength from them. She was a worm. They were all worms, and he cut her off with a gesture and said, “I am fine. Do not bring up the need to probe and poke at me. I am a man, not a machine,” He flexed the belasteel muscles in his arms. They were strong, taut. He was fine. Lucid. Well. He continued, “If you bring it up again, you will be removed.” He purposefully did not say how. Let her squirm, worrying about her already-brief life.

A voice rose from behind the Vizier that said, “I suggest you change your mind.” Kojima stood in shock and looked at the woman who stood there in a mocking pose. She was his own spitting image, down to the self-assured smile he often used. For a moment, Kojima felt disoriented. He had a son, not a daughter, but then he remembered this was his granddaughter. She wore a light belasteel tunic and she hefted a long axe in her hands.

“Imi, my little girl, what do you mean by this impertinence? And to brandish a weapon before me? Granddaughter or not, you must be punished.” He looked for his Shanziko guards, but then remembered he had dismissed them. After all, why guard someone who could not be killed? He was more than a match for any human, and if he was somehow defeated, he could simply transfer to another of his android bodies.

The woman had noticed his disorientation and said mockingly, “My name is Asha, great-grandfather. How much time do you think has passed? The Shanziko have long since been dissolved by your edict. Did you even know your own son has passed on into eternity? You are not well. Worse, you are not human.”

“I am better than human!” Kojima spit, “And why do you come? You cannot defeat me. Kill this body and I will inhabit another. I am eternal! The Immortal Emperor! I will outlive you. I will outlive everyone.”

Asha rested the axe handle on the ground, then looked at him seriously and said, “The measure of a life is not in its length, but in its purpose. Do you recall those words, or are you confused again?”

Kojima sneered and said, “The old Emperors were fools. I have done more for the Empire than the rest of them combined. They were limited, but I am not. You are like them, blind and foolish.”

Asha said nothing, but in a smooth move she spun and threw the axe directly at Kojima’s chest. Fast as he was, he could not dodge it, and it passed through his shoulder and embedded itself in the throne. Kojima could not feel pain, but with the circuitry severed, his body stopped responding on that side. He was pinned. He grasped at the axe with his other arm, but the angle was too awkward for him to get leverage.

“You have accomplished nothing, Asha.” Without even a thought, he tried to cast himself to another of his bodies. But there was nowhere to go. Kojima had been blocked from transferring his consciousness somehow. They had all conspired against him, everyone here. And his body was growing weaker. He coughed, and felt blood. He knew with certainty that there was no escape. He could not run, and he could not transfer his consciousness somewhere else. He was going to die here. For some reason, the thought didn’t distress him as much as he expected.

For her part, Asha approached the throne with a regretful look. She did look like him, back when he was young. He couldn’t remember how long ago that had been. He tried lifting his arms, but all the strength had left his body. Asha must have been able to sense that, because she pulled the axe free and set it down on the ground. Kojima slumped down and Asha helped him down to the dais. His breath was growing ragged and his eyes were growing blurry.

“Remember me favorably,” he pleaded. Asha looked at him piteously.

In a measured tone, she said, “You have endured storms and sunshine. You have witnessed darkness. You have tried to bring light to the galaxy. You have lived and now you pass on.”

He smiled thinly, nodded weakly and said in a whisper, “My legacy is my life, but it is given meaning by my death.”

Asha looked at the assembled crowd and said, “You died long ago. This…this was never you.”

Kojima closed his eyes. He was so tired.

He heard Asha’s voice call to the assembled crowd, “The Emperor, Kojima al-Massar Halassim, is dead.” There was no cheer, but silence.

Then a voice called out, “The blood of the Emperor stills. The blood of the Emperor lives on! All hail, Emperor Asha!” But Kojima did not hear it. He had already slipped away into the streams of time, the grains and granules of his being lost into eternity.