The Philosopher & The Futurist (Closed RPG)

The Moon, Outer Space

He was an arrogant god. And perhaps nothing better showcased his malignant narcissism than his hovering high in the moon's thin atmosphere. Arms folded behind his back, the starry background of the cosmos outshone by the twinkling glow of his body, his chin hung high, Valhala lowered his gaze, literally and figuratively looking down on the distant Earth. Though there was a silence all about him, his smugness echoed loud in the cold reaches of space, his face wearing his uninhibited vanity well. Gliding over the moon's cratered surface, a trail of sparkling particles in his wake, Valhala now hovered beyond the moon's edge.

His stare cast his superiority complex well, and his presence and the regality of his body language telling of a being whose intolerance to the notion of equality among humans and those like gods was as great as the power he wielded. An nGod born from the dawn of the Space Race, he was a deity of the stars, of the final frontier that man had dreamed of reaching for millennia. He was the New God of the Space Age, the nGod of Discovery, of the Unknown. And as he gazed upon the Earth, his features calm and methodical, his power humming a divine tune in his every cell, Valhala furiously questioned the worth of mankind, of the ordinary mortal to the universe. "Man's tendency to wage war in repeated cycles is his greatest trait. What can such a lesser creature offer the universe?", he wondered.

It was a belief held by the Man of Marvels that mankind's moral systems arose from a dissatisfaction with their lack of true power. That being so unremarkable, they created these social constructs, these morals by which the general public abide. In Valhala's mind, it was how the upper class of humanity awarded themselves the illusion of power. By using a social construct to control and manipulate the lesser men of their inferior species. "Perhaps they need guidance. From a true superior being willing to assume the role of master over the lesser stock", he thought, contemplating the role as he felt that he, an nGod, a member of a true superior species, should rule and determine their future, and of their world.

"Or not...", he paused, a light scowl on his face, one hand resting upon his hip, his other arm extending forward, his index finger aimed at the Earth. Arcs of energy crackled silently round his finger, it's tip ready to conjure enough antimatter to reduce the human homeworld to superheated dust. "They are biologically unworthy", Valhala thought, his expression and resolve permeating the gestures of a biological and philosophical fascist. "Humans suffer from their humanity, a socially-inculcated sense of personal inferiority propagated by their concepts like morality and religion. Things that subsume their individual will which along with their biological limitations, eradicates any potential they may have had".

"They are a doomed species. But clever enough to dupe even one of my own into shackling himself, into willingly abiding by their laws and limiting himself to their crippled perspective. What an abhorrent existence he lives", he frowned, certain in what he had to now do. It was then however, that he felt a presence, one of awesome power, enough to warrant his attention and see him draw back his finger. The judgement of the doomed species would soon come. But now his curiosity rested on the source of the spike of energy he felt permeate through space.

@supra-man

@valhala:

The Moon

The serenity afforded to John Nemo by his ability to effortlessly leave the planet was one he often took for granted. His flowing red cape blew about behind his straight back as he soared out of Earth's atmosphere, human woes and fears falling away as he did so. The Moon was a regular destination for the Idea What Flies, perhaps as a result of mankind's cultural preoccupation with the otherwise-boring ball of rock. It was surreal, to place one's boots on the celestial body which so many had dreamed of visiting.

Accepting the differences between himself and the humans which shaped him had been a core element of his life thus far. What conclusions he'd come to had yet to be shared, his lack of interaction with the media and even other superheroes puzzling the populace he protected. Neglecting social interaction in favor of prolonged periods of introspection, the one the media had dubbed the Supra-Man was once more active, buzzing between crashing cars to rescue their passengers, or occasionally snuffing out an otherwise-devastating forest fire mere minutes before it could reach a concentrated population zone.

Such interventions were kept to but a fraction of what he could accomplish, and knowingly so. He was not the sovereign of all mankind, nor was he their babysitter. Though he did not want it, he was aware of the political models of morality and how they were applied to figures of authority; the strict parent model, which emphasized personal responsibility and obedience, and the nurturing parent model of morality, which emphasized respect and compassion through example. Historically, neither had been proven more or less effective, and while he gravitated more towards the latter, he understood that openly endorsing any single philosophy would, in essence, overtly coerce people to follow it.

It was his isolation from even the super-powered community which lent him his unique status, a status that he had the choice to abandon by speaking out. While his actions may reveal elements of his moral code more subtly, it was in openly stating opinion that one of his stature might harm human development.

When everyone takes your word as gospel, you're a preacher, no matter what you intend, he thought, closing his eyes as he passed around the Earth once again. Doing laps in space was a mind-numbing experience, relaxing the Universal Man. His eyes opened, wandering to the lunar surface.

He decelerated, approaching the moon, and touching down gently. Up ahead hovered a statuesque man, whose colorful uniform mirrored Nemo's own. He had short blond hair, and he stared rather severely down at the planet. Locked in deep thought just as he was, perhaps? Another soul in whom he could confide?

He smiled, doing a soft "moon-hop" over to where the other man hovered. As he landed, he stood, straight-backed, and gave a small wave at waist-level. Communication in the vacuum aside from sign language would be impossible, but he hoped his demeanor and smile would be enough to indicate his intentions. He held back, at first, from scanning the other man with his atomic vision, unwilling to violate what he perceived to be the privacy of another's integrity of being. Perhaps it was unwise to neglect to search him for any sign of danger, but then, what harm could he truly do?

@supra-man:

On the moon, the propagation of sound was almost impossible. Though it's atmosphere existed and was unusual, consisting of sodium and potassium, it was too thin. Were an astronaut or cosmonaut to follow in the footsteps of the Apollo 11 crew and set foot on the moon, their strides would be silent. Were they to scream till their lungs burned from exhaustion, they'd go unheard. In the moon, in space, nothing was heard. And thus, Valhala did not hear the ultra-human's arrival. Indeed there was no sonic boom to quake through the atmosphere, no burning trail of flattened air.. nothing. The caped stranger had simply arrived, sensed only by the spike in energy that the nGod felt permeate through the fabric of the quantum foam.

It was what had drawn his attention from the backwater planet, from the planet whose humans had managed the only great thing in their story; trigger his physical birth by reaching for the cosmos. Valhala turned round, still hovering several meters above the lunar surface as he gazed upon the caped figure below him. Whereas he was slimmer, sculpted to the lean proportions of an Apollo, the caped stranger was different. His hair was raven, not gold. He was taller and muscled in the same vein as Heracles. His chest was wide and thick, his shoulders large and round, and his posture as great as the strength he seemed to embody. His physical stature would do an ancient god of war proud. Slowly, the Prophet of Perfection descended, his face and body language wearing a calm and refined civility. Surely this stranger was greater than a mere or mutant.

He'd managed to leaped into the domain of stars, quasars and gamma ray bursts with the ease with which an ordinary man breathed. Valhala's sapphire eyes seemed to glow at the caped figure's wave. He issued a subtle inclination of the head, polite and regal, but his posture and presence always great, always hinting at something superior. Here they could not speak, not in these conditions. And so, Valhala commanded the power that was always at the tip of his fingers, the power over the quantum foam, the foundation of the fabric of the universe. He tapped into the writhing and active population of virtual particles in the quantum foam, seized the bubbles popping in and out of existence with wild abandon, and temporarily cast their stuff across the moon's atmosphere, thickening it, and unconsciously replacing every virtual particle that disappeared with a new one.

The atmosphere was thick enough now, enough for sound to echo. And so as his descent was complete, his feet never touching the lunar surface but hovering a meter above it, the Prophet of Perfection spoke. "Is that your world, traveler? You live amongst a species that is inferior to you?", he asked, glancing at the Earth, his low opinion of mankind subtly clear from his tone. "Do you follow their preexisting codex? The moral codes of mankind?".

@valhala:

John was met with a slight nod from the stranger, the first of many connections undoubtedly about to be made. A simple charter of their interaction thus far: a friendly wave met with an inclined head, one slimmer being hovering upon the dusty ground, the other standing upon it. One had a posture that was inviting, warm; the other, aloof, though not all too distant, in John's eyes. He smiled as he watched the man work his power so that they might talk.

As the thin layer of gases that existed on the lunar surface thickened, John breathed in through his nose. He couldn't quite tell what it was, this mixture, though his body accepted it all the same. Breathing was more natural to him than simply remaining still as a statue, and though he had no need for air, it was simply the norm for him to feel his chest rising and falling as his indestructible lungs worked in his chest. Why he even had them, he could not say.

At the man's first words, John blinked. There was no visible change in his demeanor whatsoever, no look of surprise that played across his strong-jawed face. Why? Because his advanced senses and hyper-active brain enabled him to process the words the moment they were spoken, all within the fraction of a second. Ordinarily, in a conversation, one had no time to ponder the deeper meaning of another's vocabulary, tone, and even syntax...but John had all the time he needed. Within the span of a second, he ran through the queries in his head, his former optimism now clouded by a mixture of surprise and concern.

Mankind, an inferior species. A question about moral codes. Nietzschean? he thought, entirely still, between the span of seconds. There would be no awkward beat in the conversation, no silence to speak of. Instead, he responded with a practiced confidence that suggested he'd had ample time to answer the question. To the outside world, it would be as though no time had passed, though to John, he may as well have had entire minutes to construct his response.

"Earth's my home, and I don't evaluate mankind as a species. I make judgments about people as individuals," he said, face neutral. It was no good burning bridges, especially when someone could be talked to. Perhaps the man was simply lonely, and bitter for it. John had been in a similar place, once.

"As for a pre-existing codex? No. I make my own principles," he said, responding truthfully. He'd spent a great deal of time, after all, choosing between ethical theories. Every man's principles, he reasoned, were an amalgamation of his own experiences along with the teachings of others. John didn't embrace any sort of objective truth about the universe, or wholeheartedly support any philosophy. He didn't mention that his principles largely aligned with those of Western civilization, his birthplace.

"After all, is that not our great freedom in this rudderless life? To make our own destinies?" he said, offering a small smile as he looked up at the hovering man. He flew up to "stand" alongside him, cape fluttering slightly in the artificial breeze. Or was it a natural one, given its source? Who could say.

"What about you?"

Cautious, though still warm. He had to try.

@supra-man:

Gliding above the lunar surface, one hand resting upon his hip, and another rubbing his chin, the Prophet of Perfection was puzzled, to say the least. His sapphire eyes studied the caped figure's face, as if searching for any facial tics that'd point to the wanderer's remarks about humanity being no more than a joke, and spoken in jest. Of course! That was the only logical reasoning. And yet.. as Valhala's gaze held, his features scrutinous, he found the ultra-human to be entirely serious in his assertion. Casting his eyes the Earth's way, Valhala's gaze and features wore an expression of haughty disdain, one that relentlessly questioned the worth of mankind, and held little moral concern for their well-being.

The same gaze and expression man wore when looking upon an ant. "Do you make judgments about ants as individuals as well?", Valhala asked, his tone and expression sincere as he faced the caped stranger once more. "I do not. And I do not judge humans as individuals either". To judge humans as individuals was to shackle his mind and way of thinking to the ideas of man, to the notion that the human being as an individual had an innate capacity for greatness, an ability to dream, conceptualize and make real his ambitions by harnessing that innate greatness. This was an idea bred by the philosophies of man, the ideas of man. And the Prophet of Perfection discarded what man's philosophies sought to instill. He was neither interested nor believed himself subject to any kind of philosophical order espoused by an inferior species.

"Freedom. The choice to make our own destinies. These are commodities enjoyed only by the superior species", Valhala asserted, cold with his words but eloquent and incredibly well-spoken. "On Earth, mankind has the luxury of being the resident superior species, stripping the freedom from lesser creatures and taking away their choice to make their own destinies. Cattle in farms and slaughterhouses, their freedom taken, their destiny chosen. Ants in ant farms, wild animals in zoos", he almost smirked. "But in this cosmic expanse, mankind is nothing. To them I am a figure who can do anything I so please. And I do", he said rather bluntly, "In every conceivable way, I am their superior, just as man is the superior of a pig being bred for slaughter. To live my life according to the idea that they are not an inferior species, physically and intellectually.. would be dishonest".

Hovering higher, his lean frame climbing higher in the lunar atmosphere, particles sparkled and twinkled around him, excited by the glowing aura that seemed permanent around his body. Once more, he cast his gaze upon the Earth, openly inviting the caped figure to drink in the sight of his home planet; a small blue oasis in the endless expanse of space. "There can be an ultimate man. A human being who has achieved all and more that a man is capable of. And yet.. he is always going to be inferior to beings like us. He will never not need air, never walk on the surface of neutron stars, never dip his fingers into the information fabric of the universe. Whereas mankind's power is an expression of their will. Mine is not, it does not have to be. Because it is my birthright".

Man was devoid of greatness. In his mind, the greatest thing man had ever done was somehow trigger the birth of the nGods, his birth. "I do wonder however", Valhala paused, his uninhibited vanity giving way to genuine curiosity. "What are you? What are you really? A god? The product of a freak experiment?", he raised his brow, "Or are you the living proof of my possible ignorance?", he almost scoffed at the notion, "A man who has unshackled himself and overcome his biological and intellectual limitations to become something truly great; the Man-God?".

Man-God. A truly fitting name for this caped stranger.

@valhala:

As the stranger spoke, explaining his callous view of mankind, Nemo watched him, masking his concern through the way he perceived the universe. While still able to understand the man's words as though he were listening to them in real-time, thanks to the brain which processed such a unique method of sensory input, John had the privilege of having the time to do whatever he needed. In this case, that included using his enhanced sight to peer into the stranger's atomic makeup as he spoke, looking briefly past the surface of the man's skin to see what lay beneath. In ordinary circumstances, this would be a breach of privacy, but the way he talked about the billions living beneath demanded a closer look. He sought to see how durable the man was, if there were perhaps a part of his brain which dictated how his powers worked...anything which could be of use later.

Simultaneously, he had the greater burden of analyzing the man's speech and deciding how to respond. To appeal to ethics was clearly a lost cause, one that would defeat the purpose of the conversation. The man appeared, frankly, to be a narcissist, or at least, to have a superiority complex. His words likened the relationship between himself and mankind to that of mankind and animals, and while John felt he could pick apart that analogy, he held his tongue at first to see what else the man would offer. To John, it was more like reading an e-mail than holding a conversation, and while he could alter the way he perceived the world so as to interact normally, it was paramount that in this case he choose his words carefully.

He closed his eyes, opening them again to look at the stranger's. They were said to be the greatest indicator of a person's emotions, something he couldn't necessarily see in the same way as he could their organs. Perhaps he could appeal to the man's sense of rationale, however diluted it was by his own ego.

"Well, consider this. While both men and animals observe the universe, for example, men appreciate it. To me, there's value in that. If you believe your own value comes from your superior agency, then so be it. But a man's ability to conceive of this agency, to react to it? That's special. Another example - while both birds and men can make music, men can both make and appreciate music. Critique it, or fall in love with it. That's a rarity in this universe."

An admittedly weighty answer, though one that was genuine.

"Besides, it's all relative. A minute ago, you said 'to them I am a figure who can do anything you so please,' but that value comes from comparison to a physically weaker being. What are you to this vast universe that is more than man? What makes man better than a microbe?"

He shrugged.

"The answer is perspective. As for what I am, I don't much know, and I don't much care," he said, smiling at the stranger. While he hoped his explanation might somehow draw the stranger closer to mankind, he was also cognizant of his previous, almost diabolical response. It was all the more likely that he'd reject Nemo's explanation in favor of his own worldview. The problem would only arise if the man decided to act on it...

@supra-man:

For a moment, the Prophet of Perfection cast his gaze elsewhere, his sapphire eyes straying to the twinkling stars spread throughout the blackness of space. He marveled at them, not as man had for centuries. No, he marveled at them, at the universe, and found the beauty, the greatness in it's ability to spawn a being of his stature, of his vision. His narcissism, his inflated ego humming as loud as the power that coursed through his veins, Valhala turned his head, returning his eyes to the Man-God with a subtle smirk, one that told of a knowing, a haughty presumption of mankind's potential and it's limits. "Play a saxophone to one and so can a cow", he smiled, countering the wanderer's claim of man's love for music.

"As can an elephant. Dolphins have names for one another, recognize another species in need, act as agents of altruism and recognize their own reflections. Creatures said by human biologists to be intelligent... and yet", once more he paused, his gaze returning to the Earth once more, his face holding a dissatisfied parent's expression, "Man is thought to be superior". He was amused, at humanity's self-evaluation. His laughter held back behind an arrogant smile, Valhala resumed, his hand caressing, stroking his chin, "Just as I am superior to them. Just as you are", he asserted. "For as much as man tries and taps into every fiber of his being, he will always be lesser. He can learn and incite the development of a technology twenty years in the making to understand the behavior of the quantum world".

"Something that I could accomplish at the moment of my birth with a simple glance at empty air", he paused, allowing his words to echo for a second longer, "Man needs tools, structures, theories to know and do a fraction of what I am capable. Whereas I can do more, far more, simply because I can". Casting his gaze upon the stars once more, he continued, "Man has always sought to paint himself as a special creature. As different. But worms, ants, humans, mortals.. they're all the same to me. Inferior creatures marveling at the basics of the universe while passing around their own dung round a campfire", he grinned, "As for what I am to this vast universe", his confidence seeming to rise, "I am it's God. Spawned from the foundation of the fabric of the universe, from the quantum foam that was all before what man calls the Big Bang".

Climbing higher into the lunar atmosphere, the unnatural air thinning as the virtual particles began to disperse, the Prophet of Perfection lowered his eyes, casting them at the caped figure, "And it is because I am what I am that I have no cognitive bias towards mankind. I do not overestimate the little positive qualities that they have and ignore their negative ones. Man and his contemporaries have far too long made man seem greater than he actually is, has fooled all around him, even those beyond him", gesturing at the caped figure, "That he is different from the wild beasts he tames. The truth however, does not elude me. It is a shame... you, Thee Champion, Lady Liberty, giving such importance to a species this forgone, this backwards.. however, we are indeed resigned to think and believe what our freedom of thought allows".

Abruptly, his body broke down, giving way to a stream of sparkling particles that seemed to glow then slowly fade into the background as did the lunar atmosphere, "Mankind's judgement has yet to be made", he claimed, his words cryptic as he seemed to vanish, relegating himself to the heart of the quantum foam.

@valhala:

Nemo watched the nameless "god" hover away, deciding there was little point in interrupting his final speech. Despite its eloquence, it clearly came down to a matter of empathy, something the Universal Man concluded that the stranger lacked. The judge of all man? Unlikely. John simply floated, ascertaining what he might about the man's body structure and the nature of his powers. He seemed to manipulate the universe's structure on a basic level, calling upon the power of something smaller than atoms to manipulate both his position and his environment. A dangerous ability indeed.

There was no retort, no "we'll see," in the silence of space. John watched him disperse, not even knowing that his name was Valhala. Though, he thought, it was likely the man knew of him. Was such a meeting fated, or simply inevitable?

He descended, alighting on the lunar surface. Finding a small rocky outcropping, the Supra-Man simply sat in quiet thought, gazing out over the planet below. Though where the stranger was scornful, Nemo simply smiled in wonderment.