Emperor rory, p.12
Emperor Rory, page 12
I strolled through the grand halls, accompanied by Jax’ul, my steps echoing off the opulent marble flooring. The resounding footsteps seemed to amplify the turmoil within me.
“I can’t do this,” I murmured, my voice faltering. “I can’t be the emperor. I’m not equipped for this. I’m not made for this.”
Jax’ul turned to face me, his multifaceted eyes searching mine. “Rory, the events we experienced were… harrowing, to say the least. But you cannot let a single ordeal dictate your worthiness.”
I shook my head, the weight of the crown becoming unbearably heavy. “This isn’t about just one ordeal, Jax’ul. This is about the countless decisions and responsibilities I’m expected to shoulder. Decisions that put lives at stake. I wasn’t prepared for this. I was taken from Earth without a say, thrust into a role I never asked for. Every moment as emperor has felt like a cruel joke.”
Silence lingered between us before I continued, “Take me back to Earth, Jax’ul. Find someone else to sit on this throne. Someone more deserving, more capable.”
Jax’ul’s gaze intensified, and he placed a hand on my shoulder. “Rory, I understand your fears and reservations. Believe me, I do. But the empire stands on a precipice. The situation with the Dissent isn’t just a minor rebellion anymore.”
He paused, taking a deep breath. “They’ve gained significant traction. Their message resonates with many, and their supporters have multiplied tenfold. If you step down now, it won’t just mean the empire gets a new emperor. There may be no emperor at all. The Stellar Dissent won’t stop until they’ve dismantled everything we’ve built.”
Jax’ul’s voice grew more earnest, “Rory, when you accepted the throne, you accepted the responsibility that came with it. You can’t just abandon it now when things get tough.”
“Responsibility?” I snapped, suddenly feeling cornered and frustrated. “You tricked me into this, Jax’ul! You made me believe that this was some great honor, some incredible opportunity. But it’s just… it’s just a trap.”
Jax’ul looked taken aback, but his resolve didn’t waver. “Rory, I never intended to deceive you. I genuinely believed, and still believe, that you can be the change this empire so desperately needs. And yes, I’ll admit that I might’ve painted a rosier picture than reality presented. But it was never with malicious intent. I saw potential in you, a glimmer of hope.”
I shook my head, feeling a whirlwind of emotions. “I’m just a human. A simple guy from Earth. This… all of this is beyond me. I never asked for it.”
Jax’ul sighed, “I know you didn’t, Rory. But sometimes, the universe chooses us for reasons we may never understand. You might feel ill-equipped or out of place, but I’ve seen you grow, adapt, and learn. I’ve seen you inspire others. And yes, things are tough right now, but that’s precisely why we need you.”
I glared at him, “You don’t get it, do you? I never wanted any of this. You saw ‘potential,’ you saw ‘hope,’ but you never saw me, Jax’ul. You never saw the person who wanted a simple life back on his home planet.”
I took a deep breath, trying to find the right words, the right tone. “Jax’ul,” I began, “I respect you. Truly, I do. And I understand the weight of what you’re trying to convey. But my decision stands. I need to go home.”
Jax’ul looked pained, his three amber eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and frustration. He took a step closer, his voice softer. “Rory, I’ve seen emperors come and go. I’ve watched them struggle, triumph, and sometimes falter. But never before have I believed in someone as much as I believe in you. You have a heart that many in your position lack. Please, reconsider.”
I shook my head, struggling to hold back my own emotions. “Jax’ul, you don’t understand. It’s not about whether I can do it or not. It’s about what I want for my life. Every day, every moment since I’ve been here, I’ve felt like I’m drowning, like I’m losing a part of myself. I need to find that again.”
Jax’ul’s eyes darkened, and I noticed, for the first time, ridges along his forehead beginning to pulse with an intense, fiery red.
“You want to talk about feeling like you’re drowning, Rory?” Jax’ul’s voice grew stern, a hint of anger creeping in. “You’ve been given the opportunity of a lifetime, the chance to make a real difference. Yet, every turn, every challenge, you’ve pushed away responsibility, choosing to drown in self-pity instead.”
I took a step back, taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor. “Jax’ul…”
“No, let me finish,” he interrupted, the pulsing on his forehead intensifying. “From the moment I brought you here, I saw potential in you. But instead of seizing that potential, you’ve been running away from it. The real reason you’ve struggled as emperor isn’t because you were thrust into this world or tricked into this role; it’s because you haven’t truly embraced it. You’ve refused to accept the responsibility that comes with it. That’s why you feel like you’re losing yourself. Because you haven’t truly found yourself in this role.”
I clenched my fists, feeling the heat rise in my face. “So it’s my fault now? You pluck me out of my world, my life, and drop me into this mess, and now you blame me for not ‘embracing it’? Jax’ul, I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t choose this path; you chose it for me.”
Jax’ul’s pulsing forehead continued its dance of anger and frustration. “That’s the point, Rory. Every one of us gets thrown into situations we don’t ask for. How we respond to them defines us.”
“I was happy on Earth!” I shouted back, voice trembling with anger. “I had friends, family, a life! Here, I’ve faced betrayal, war, plots to kill me at every turn. And you expect me to just accept it, embrace it?”
“Yes, because that’s what leaders do!” Jax’ul shot back. “They step up. They make the hard choices. They accept their duties and responsibilities. Even when it’s painful. Especially when it’s painful. You can blame me all you want for bringing you here, but at the end of the day, the choice to lead is yours.”
I stared at him, chest heaving, searching for a rebuttal. But the anger, the frustration, the sheer exhaustion of it all left me momentarily speechless. All I felt was the crushing weight of the crown I hadn’t chosen, and the alien in front of me challenging me to wear it with pride or cast it aside forever.
My head was a whirlwind of emotions, and I suddenly felt drained. The weight of the crown, the responsibilities, the countless lives depending on me, and the ferocity of Jax’ul’s words hit me all at once. I took a shaky breath, trying to find the right words, but they seemed to elude me.
“I’m done, Jax’ul,” I finally whispered, my voice barely audible, even to my own ears. I avoided his gaze, feeling a mixture of shame and determination. “All I’ve ever wanted since I got here was to go back home, to the life I knew. To the life where decisions didn’t hold the fate of an entire empire.”
Jax’ul looked at me, his pulsing forehead now calming down, replaced with a deep sadness. “You really mean it, don’t you?”
I nodded slowly, the heaviness in my heart evident. “I do. I just… I need to find myself again. And I can’t do that here.”
Jax’ul sighed deeply. “Alright, Rory. If that’s what you truly want, I won’t stop you. But remember, the universe has a funny way of leading us to where we are needed the most. Sometimes, we just have to see it for ourselves.”
Those cryptic words hung in the air between us, leaving me with a sense of unease as I tried to decipher their true meaning. But all I wanted was the familiarity of Earth, the comfort of my old life, and the chance to be Rory again, without the weight of a galaxy on my shoulders.
32
Chapter 32
A cool breeze rustled the leaves as I made my way through the familiar streets of Newcastle. There was an innate comfort in these surroundings, the rhythmic pattern of daily life in a bustling city that remained unaltered, no matter what changes rocked the wider universe. I’d taken a trip to the local shop and my bag was a testament to all the cravings I’d had while away: Walker’s crisps, Jaffa Cakes, a Cadbury’s Dairy Milk, and of course, a bottle of Irn-Bru to wash it all down. I chuckled to myself; it was the kind of haul you’d get after a heartbreak or a tough week. Given the rollercoaster of emotions and responsibilities I’d just extricated myself from, it felt justified.
As I approached my apartment door, the familiar aroma of cheap skunk from Mrs Dodgson’s apartment ticked my nostrils, and I was met by the ever-worsening collection of chipped paint on the door that my landlord had been promising to fix for years. Unlocking the door, I headed straight for the kitchen, dumping my bags on the counter.
The plan for the next few days was simple. I would lay low, maybe indulge in a few binge-watching sessions, and definitely head down to the King’s Head later for a pint. It’d been too long since I enjoyed a simple, uncomplicated evening with mates, laughing over shared memories and making plans we’d probably never follow through with.
I sank into my old couch, grabbing a Jaffa Cake and relishing the familiar taste. It felt good to be back, to have a moment where the most significant decision I had to make was which show to watch next.
I grabbed the remote controller for the Fire TV and hit the Netflix button. The familiar Netflix jingle rang out from the television, and I began to scroll through my recommendations. I was in the mood for something light, something that would make me laugh or tug at my heartstrings, anything that would help me forget about galaxies and empires for a bit.
But as I scrolled, I couldn’t help but frown. There, plastered across the screen, were recommendations for shows like ‘Star Trek: The Next Generation’, ‘The Expanse’, and movies like ‘Interstellar’ and ‘Guardians of the Galaxy’. Even the documentaries section wasn’t safe, with titles like ‘Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey’ and ‘The Universe: Exploring the Unknown’.
“What the…” I muttered, clicking on my profile to ensure I was on the right account. Sure enough, my avatar was there, smiling back at me. But everything on the screen seemed to mock me, reminding me of the vast universe I had tried to escape.
With an exasperated groan, I quickly switched off the TV. “Alright, no telly then,” I mumbled to myself, grabbing my phone from the coffee table. Music. Music was safe, right? It always had the power to distract and transport me. I connected to my Bluetooth speakers, tapped on the Spotify icon and went straight to my ‘Discover Weekly’ playlist. A mix of new tunes and familiar favorites, it was a surefire way to get my mind off things.
I hit play, and almost immediately, the distinct guitar intro of ‘Starman’ by David Bowie filled the room. I froze, the weight of the coincidence pressing down on me. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I grumbled, hastily hitting the skip button.
But as the next song began, the theme persisted. ‘Space Oddity’, another one of Bowie’s hits, replaced ‘Starman’. “Really?” I exclaimed, pressing skip again. But this time, it was ‘Rocket Man’ by Elton John that echoed in the room. I stared at my phone, disbelief painting my features.
“Come on, Spotify! Give me a break,” I muttered, skipping yet again. But instead of a change in theme, ‘Walking on the Moon’ by The Police started to play. It was as if the universe, in all its vastness, was conspiring against me, reminding me over and over of my place and responsibilities.
I quickly tapped the pause button on my phone and set it aside. Music, apparently, was betraying me today. “Fine,” I mumbled, feeling a growing unease, “The internet it is, then.” Picking up my iPad, I launched the Reddit app, hoping for a distraction, maybe even a chuckle or two.
As the app loaded and displayed my feed, I froze.
The top post from r/funny showed an alien wearing sunglasses, lounging on a deck chair with a caption: ‘When you invade Earth but they have the best beaches.’ I blinked. “Just a coincidence,” I whispered to myself. Scrolling down, there was a post from r/videos showcasing a compilation of the most iconic space scenes in movie history.
It didn’t end there. On r/news, the top story was about a new telescope that could potentially detect life on faraway planets. Then there was an AMA session on r/IAmA titled, ‘I’m an astrophysicist studying black holes. Ask me anything about the mysteries of our universe!’
Every post, every meme, every video - they all revolved around the cosmos, aliens, or the mysteries of space.
I stared at the screen, my thoughts a mess of confusion and anxiety. “Every bloody post,” I murmured in disbelief. Shaking my head, I took a deep breath, attempting to clear the haze of surrealness from my mind. “The universe is big. Really big. And right now, it can sod off.”
Pushing the iPad away, I decided I had to get out of here. Away from technology. Away from the reminders. There was one place I knew that could offer a bit of solace and normality. “The pub,” I whispered to myself, my eyes drifting to the window. The weather was slightly overcast, but I hardly cared. I needed the gentle hum of chatter, the bitter taste of a good pint, and the pleasant company of the local deadbeats and booze hounds.
With renewed determination, I stood up, stretching my legs. “Yeah,” I mumbled, nodding to myself, “The pub will fix everything.” Heading to the coat rack, I grabbed my favorite jacket, feeling its familiar weight in my hands.
I threw it on, adjusting the collar. “No more space. No more aliens. Just a cold pint and a bit of footy.” With that thought anchoring me to the here and now, I made my way to the door, ready to escape the relentless reminders of the universe.
33
Chapter 33
“…and they just throw me in, Mick. No training, no preparation. It’s like they expected me to know everything right off the bat,” I exclaimed, taking a hefty sip from my pint.
Mick, the ever-attentive barman with graying hair and lines etched deeply into his face from years of listening to pub-goers’ woes, just nodded, wiping down a glass with a cloth. “Sounds rough, mate. This company of yours seems a right mess.”
I shook my head in agreement, setting the pint down with a heavy sigh. “It’s bonkers. One day, I’m living my life, doing my own thing, and the next, they’ve got me making these monumental decisions. I felt like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders. Or multiple worlds, if you get my drift.”
Mick raised an eyebrow but didn’t push for clarification. Instead, he poured another drink for a customer at the other end of the bar and then returned his attention to me. “Seems to me like they’ve got their priorities all mixed up if they’re putting that much pressure on someone without the right training.”
“Exactly!” I exclaimed. “And the culture, Mick. It’s like I stepped into another world. Everyone’s so… different. Their ways, their customs. I felt like an alien. And then, when I told Jax—” I corrected myself. “—Mr Jackson that I wanted out, do you know what he said? He had the cheek to tell me I never take responsibility for my decisions.”
I laughed, expecting Mick to join in, to share my disbelief at the audacity of such an assertion. Instead, Mick looked me straight in the eye, his normally jovial expression replaced by a more contemplative one.
“You know, Rory,” he began, setting a glass down on the bar, “I’ve known you for a long time, mate. And, if I’m being honest, there might be a grain of truth in what this Mr Jackson said.”
I stared at him, my smile fading, “Come on, Mick, not you too.”
Mick took a deep breath, “Remember when you worked at that betting shop down the road? You left after two weeks because you kept blaming the equipment for placing wrong bets when in reality it was just your sloppy concentration. Before that, there was that stint at the bookshop. Said the manager was too demanding because he asked you to restock the shelves. And let’s not forget the courier job. Lasted only three days, as I recall.”
I squirmed in my seat, “Those were different, Mick. It wasn’t my fault.”
He held up a hand, “I’m not saying it was. But have you ever stopped to think that maybe there’s a pattern here? That perhaps you’ve got a habit of walking away when things get tough?”
His words hit me like a ton of bricks. I had never considered the possibility that I might be the common denominator in all those situations.
I looked down into my pint, the amber liquid reflecting a reality I wasn’t quite ready to face.
Mick was about to say something else when one of the barmaids, a young woman with a fiery mane of red hair, approached him hurriedly, her face a mix of annoyance and concern.
“Mick,” she said, her voice low and urgent, “Terry’s at it again. He’s trying to climb the dartboard stand and singing ‘God Save the Queen’ at the top of his lungs. He’s already knocked over two tables.”
Mick sighed heavily, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “I swear, if he wasn’t a regular…” he muttered. Turning to me, he said, “Sorry, Rory. Duty calls. Think about what I said, yeah?”
With that, Mick left me alone, making his way towards the commotion on the other side of the pub.
I looked into my pint, the earlier conversation with Mick replaying in my head. I had always been quick to blame external factors for my problems. But maybe it was time to admit that I was, at least in part, responsible for the situation I found myself in. Every job, every relationship, every new challenge, I had a habit of walking away when things got tough, always looking for an excuse, always finding a reason to quit.
The noise from the other side of the pub seemed to fade as I delved deep into my own thoughts. The weight of the empire, the fate of countless beings, it had all rested on my shoulders. And yet, instead of stepping up, I had run away, just like I always did. I had taken the easy way out, choosing to hide rather than face my responsibilities.
A realisation dawned on me. Maybe Jax’ul was right. Maybe I hadn’t truly embraced the role of emperor. But more than that, maybe I had been running away from responsibilities all my life. It was a sobering thought, and one that I couldn’t ignore any longer.
