The Folded X: Volume 3

The Folded X

by

G.R. Redland

Copyright 2014 Bryan Hsuan

Cover Art Copyright 2014 Bryan Hsuan

Smashwords Edition

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Copyright 2014 Bryan Hsuan

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

BOOK THREE

PART FOUR

CHAPTER 37-51

PART FIVE

CHAPTER 52-57

EPILOGUE

Afterword

PART FOUR

CHAPTER 37

Sorky revived us as always, Sorky lifted us…Sorky delivered us…Sorky! Sorky was his name! exclaimed Z-Merckarius, our honest and captivating specimen subject.

At this time, in the hermetically-sealed cubby panelist room, Sorky’s name was generously received by the rest of us with something akin to hats off relief. It suddenly occurred to me, he was being recognized for what had eluded him, and this is what made us feel reconciled. We had grown with his triumph to respect him for an identity that exceeded the initial gigantic phallus that had brought him attention in the first place. We were not his compatriots, but our session and the respect that Z-Merckarius had afforded to him did the job! Sorky! What an enviable man of tremendous appeal! We were curious about his story, as if we gained weight and volume with the permanent settling of the narrative in our guts. This was true especially after the build up of his physical attributes—so are a key he was—that no one could think the less of him for his powers of being able to attract and to dominate. The way that he had garnered the devotion of the female soldiers of the network corp force could become fully understood; the unrivaled importance of his phallus became literal in its most incomparable nakedness, lurking its head even in our presence, denuded as it would seem, an apparition of epic proportions.

As mentioned already, earlier by our celebrated specimen subject, the sobriquet of the truncated conflation ‘Sorky’ was a clever variation to the awkward and dallying pronouncement of all three names that he possessed in sequence. In foreshortening his name to the brevity of a murmur that sounded like a shortcoming, the strength and stamina that he projected was cleverly disguised. It was the artistry of our specimen subject that provided such consequential respect.

The utterance of the simplicity of ‘Sorky’ began to assume a great importance and rang out beyond the hollow sound of an empty moniker. So are a key the name spoke to me, over and over again, which was just enough to properly and immodestly hint to highlight the cornerstone troopers most powerful asset, conjuring up the fleeting thought of an unparalleled virility of a man in uniform, whose sexual prowess could likely remain dominant and yet lingering in its sense of impending tragedy. Such a back and forth effect was more presentable as a vote for recognition of the undiscovered truth, rather than crippling with a rivaling temerity.

After all, Sorky’s virility was viewed strongly as an indicator and symbol of his unmatched ability for defending and protecting our troops. This made him a tolerable nuisance to the Leiterungi, who remained devoid of pride, rather than an affront to eradicate. It was my sense that no matter how many valuable conflicts they won, the benefit of their participation would remain the same, based on the assessment that I made of the entire sequence of events.

In fact, with the proper cultivation and usage of Sorky’s natural disposition as a regal scepter, schemers could strengthen their positions, provoking challenge from the very authority that was part of the hierarchical system of the network command corp. In this way, he was not only satisfying his own lust for power and also attention, but there were other favored puppeteers in the mix who could also gain substantively from Sorky’s reputation and his actions. In this way, without losing his ardor to others, he was able to spread some of his good fortune due to the tremendous appeal of the staff of ill repute that chugged and vibrated so alluringly.

It was my interpretation of the discussion that Z-Merckarius was validating a long held belief in our Warped City. The influencers handled him, if they led him in directions and motivated him to do things that were also natural to his disposition. There had to be a consistency, where thoughts filed into his brain dictated his habitual activity, or where his personal impulses also determined where fate befell him, in terms of the factors lending to the greater manifestation of his life with regards to the facile nature of his general and definitive modus operandi. I could imagine that he was a smooth operator, since based on Z-Merckarius’s description, our heroic lead—the cornerstone trooper by the familiar appellation of Sorky—assured us of nothing other than this possibility.

Some of us believed that it was almost certain that he must have engendered both male and female characteristic attributes, since he got along well with both sexes. All in all, he was a diplomatic soul, who knew better than most the reactions of other people and also of how to charm (and also of how to carouse) in a disarming style when he wanted to impress in intimate situations or in the company of numbers. He could hold the rapt attention of so many if he wanted to, simply by appealing to their humor and also showing his instinctive good nature. No one had any qualms about him, and most kept to a consensus of speaking highly of him at all times; so, he was well-regarded in such extremes that it was understood we owed him something much more than what was granted to him. Of course, this was in addition to his possessing other obvious influential qualities, such as a sense of propriety and also dignified behavioral attributes that placed him above his strata, elevating Z-Merckarius to a status that might have provided the perfect guise for his ease amongst any one of us in all cases. If only the upper strata were so fortunate to have anyone even half so capable in their surroundings, then their lot might have been much more lucky in so many ways.

Only with such versatility inherent in their malleable personality could anyone have facilitated such effectiveness with all types. It was said that a groomed representative for elevation possessed in his bare bones the very sense of the Collectivity and could be lost amongst the many. Our man demonstrated this to the greatest excess, and it made us believe whole-heartedly that he exceeded the identity that so many of us failed to expose as our proper commitment to the words of the Dual Lawgivers; but instead, he shined and stood mightily, in a foothold of emblematic truth in regards to the purpose and embodiment of the belief of the Collectivity. He became the core for all of those who had the honor to serve with him.

My childhood dreams were suddenly summoned, conjuring up images that had eluded me for decades, if not an entire non-existence of an enduring lifetime. Awakened, these visions grasped at me, holding my embodied spirit in their clutches. I had been transported. They were the means of holding me suspended, wholly in a place that was so remote and far from my whereabouts, so distant and eerie, that I felt stranded for a full moment. I was marooned, totaled in such a delightful manner of eruption. It was intentional or the drama was retrieved from a further place than what I had actually known—I was not fully certain. Whatever the case, my Ibn Abna Syngmer organ rattled and vibrated in its place, releasing a charge in and throughout all of the arterial wonders of the maze of nervous distribution canals within the integrity of what I knew as my living and breathing body. Non-existence would not distract from the many moving parts and healthy heart palpitations.

Of course, Z-Merckarius must not have known what kind of reaction that could be provoked from me. If anything, he might have believed that his careless dropping of the words, Seeing Eye Guard, were nothing more than a comparative analogy, to better elucidate the very troubles that he faced as a member of the League of Military Police. Whatever was the case, I am certain that he never could have imagined my fanfare and the heights to which I was raised by the mere mention of these truly magnificent standard of exceptional heroism. His was a careless quip in the weariness of the room, a voice thrown, transmitted through the black speaker box, while the remainder of us rested in a different place—somewhere far beyond the misuse of whatever it was that helped us to stand our ground. We were all substantively trained. There was not a single one of us who had missed the reference, even though some of us may have been prepared and ready to go to sleep.

Amongst the panelists, I had not only perked up my ears, but, additionally, I marveled in such a way that my body language may have given away something that I would have felt more comfortable if it were disguised; it was my predisposition toward a worshipping attitude for this famed coterie of above suspicion celebrated heroes! Because no one else had showed the stun of excitement that I might have exhibited, I thought myself naked before these intensively captive listeners, isolated in my idolatry. If this was the case, I could hide my nakedness in ways that were creatively innovative. If only I possessed the dynamics and talents, I could have projected onto myself a complete outfit to robe and cloth me from losing or dribbling my thoughts away.

No telling what it was that the rest of us saw in the monolithic immensity of the immutable surface of the spectral black speaker box, so shiny and sleek in its firmness, that it was spiraling in some manner, seeming to grow and to envelope our senses for the longer time that we looked at its deceptively reflective surface. Others may have burnished what it was that they encountered, rubbing the corners of their eyes of memory. Or they may have seen their own fantastical visions, evocative of unique and atypical special meanings for them, calling forth conjurings from the past—as was true in my case—but there was no