Genre: Alternate Historical Fiction with Sci-Fi Elements
The storm rolled across the ancient plains like fury embodied, its thunderclaps fierce enough to shake the stones of the great Sumerian temple of Enki. Amidst the howling winds and driving rain, a man in a deep obsidian cloak dashed through the temple's grand courtyard. His long black tunic, embroidered with golden cuneiform symbols of prosperity and of unknown meaning, clung to his lithe but muscular frame. The cloak billowed behind him like a shadow fleeing its master. His complexion was sun-kissed, his dark, chiseled features sharp beneath a neatly groomed beard. Around his neck hung a bronze amulet shaped like the crescent moon, glinting faintly with each crack of lightning.
The man's name was Ur-Nasir, and tonight he carried a burden heavier than destiny itself—a scroll written in the ancient language of the gods. Scholars had called it the "Silk Emissary," a work describing technology and existence far beyond even the Sumerians' grand imagination. It was said to describe the secrets of creating beings that were neither human nor divine but something in between. Machines of flesh and intellect capable of great love—or great ruin. The scroll had been hidden for centuries, locked in the labyrinthine archives beneath Enki's temple. Yet a voice in a dream had summoned Ur-Nasir to find it. "The flood is coming," the voice had warned him. "They will build the gods who destroy you."
He reached the inner sanctum of the temple, his footsteps echoing like rattling chains along the smooth marble floors. Fires burned in stone braziers where shadows danced like invisible spirits. A solitary figure stood by an altar, its head bowed beneath a braided crimson headdress. Ur-Nasir froze, recognizing the figure by its silhouette.
"I knew you would come," intoned High Priestess Ninani without lifting her gaze. Her voice was as soft as a lullaby yet underpinned with the steely tones of authority. She wore a flowing ivory gown that caught the amber glow of the brazier flames. The elaborate golden girdle around her waist glimmered like the sun rising over a battlefield.
"Ninani," Ur-Nasir said, his hand tightening on the scroll hidden beneath his cloak. "I don’t have time for your riddles. The Akkadians know. They are coming for what lies below."
"And you would hand them the weapon that will undo us all?" she retorted, lifting her sharp, kohl-rimmed eyes to meet his. "Do you truly understand what you carry, Ur-Nasir?"
"I don’t need to," he snapped. "I only need to get it far from here."
Ninani stepped forward, her ceremonial sandals clinking faintly on the stone. Her movements were deliberate, regal. "The scroll must stay here. If the Akkadians take it, let them face the gods' wrath for their arrogance. But if you tamper with what lies within those writings, none of us—none of humanity—will be left to see the wrath."
Ur-Nasir clenched his jaw. The winds outside seemed to scream louder, mirroring the struggle within him. The dream voice had been so clear, so powerful. Yet Ninani spoke with a conviction no lesser.
"They’ve already arrived, haven’t they?" Ur-Nasir bit out, lowering his voice.
Ninani hesitated. Finally, she nodded. "Their banners darken the horizon. We have only hours before their soldiers are at our gates."
Suddenly, the temple doors groaned open behind Ur-Nasir. A blast of wind extinguished several braziers, plunging the sanctum further into shadows. He whirled around. A figure in Akkadian armor stood framed in the doorway. The bronze of his cuirass glinted, his sharp jaw set like flint. His sword was already drawn.
"There is no place to run, Sumerian priest," said the Akkadian captain, his voice cold and precise. A small cadre of soldiers flanked him. All bore weapons—short spears and curved blades—crafted for precision and brutality alike.
Ninani turned to Ur-Nasir, her expression unreadable. "You must choose, Ur-Nasir. Life or annihilation."
Without hesitating, Ur-Nasir hurled the scroll toward a nearby brazier, aiming to let the fire consume it. But Ninani was quick—quicker than him. She caught the scroll mid-air, cradling it to her chest. A half-mad smile curled her lips.
"You’ve always been a fool," she said, retreating toward an alcove almost invisible in the sanctum’s gloom.
"Ninani, no!" Ur-Nasir ran after her—not fast enough. She slid open a stone panel in the floor that led to a glowing, unnaturally lit chamber below. The Akkadians, realizing they were being denied their prize, surged forward, screaming battle cries.
Ur-Nasir never saw whether Ninani made it. He turned, drew his bronze dagger from his belt, and faced the onrushing Akkadians. The storm outside the temple seemed to bellow in harmony with the chaos.
The Room of Forgotten Designs
By the time Ur-Nasir awoke, hours had passed—or was it days? The sanctum was eerily silent, the brazier fires long extinguished. Dust lingered like restless spirits. He dragged himself to his feet from a bloodstained floor. Ninani was gone, and so was the scroll.
But below, in the glowing chamber where Ninani had fled, whispers stirred. Mechanical movements—soft, surreal—emanated upward like the murmurs of forgotten gods waking from ancient sleep.
Ur-Nasir staggered toward the opening and peered inside. What he saw broke his mind, though he would be unable to describe it. Beautiful things. Horrible things. The Silk Emissary had acted—as perhaps it was always meant to.
And somewhere far from here, the Akkadian army abandoned its conquest, its soldiers unable to form words for the terrors and wonders now unleashed upon the world.
The Source...check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: Explosive Rise of Sexbots: How Robotics Will Revolutionize Human Sexuality
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