The Claim of Place

I scrambled this out for a class a year or two ago. Originally, it was supposed to be a character exploration of Lex Luthor by another name.

The atmosphere in the bar was more still than not. Many of the patrons were quite comfortable, sipping their drinks and eating their slop. Such exotic refreshments had come from all across the galaxy, from the most barren rock to the most sprawling metropolis, and were each tailored to the digestive tracts of whichever new patron walked into the bar, with imitation ingredients on hand ready to perfectly mimic any flavor a patron could not digest. All were intoxicating, of course, and therefore all patrons were intoxicated. Several used this newfound opportunity to see who could break the sound barrier with the provided projectiles, or which of their physiologies could regenerate from ash faster.

Most others, though, always kept one terrified eye on the whole half of the bar that was nearly empty. That is, except for one other patron. Normally, this action would be warranted by some intergalactic outlaw of legendary proportions, or a notorious mobster everyone had heard of who liked his drinks to himself. But they knew nothing about this patron.

Nothing, except that he was a normal human.

A hundred years ago, this would have been unheard of. Absurd. It was a human. Granted, no one knew what a human was at that time, but if they had known they would have thought it ridiculous A powerless, dumb animal surrounded by beings that could lift buildings, or revive the dead, or obliterate mountains. How does a race even evolve to not have any special capabilities that would let them bend the universe to their will? What would this mean for them? How have they not been enslaved by a single corvette of pirates, or carelessly overlooked by some nomadic people until it was too late for them? The very concept seemed like nothing more than an intelligent animal.

The concept of an intelligent animal was considered to be a fictional trope, used mostly by hard sci-fi writers looking to make readers uneasy regarding their place in the universe. In the common perception, there was an impression of an impenetrable barrier between the sapient and the animal due to the amazing differences in physical capability between the two. This perception inevitably culminated in a flabby, bizarre form of Kantian animal theory based almost entirely on strength, a theory that treated sapience not only as the presence of abstract thought, but also the raw strength of applied will. The possible contradictions were joyously explored by whichever author used the trope.

But long ago, when the humans had made themselves known, the question previously relegated to philosophical fiction had entered the mainstream of public consciousness: Were they just animals that, while intelligent, were still only there to be put to use by the real sapients?

They know us now as greater than that. The man thought as he drank. And I am so, so happy.

He lifted his head as the hum of an engine could be heard from a landing pad outside. His new friend had arrived.

-----

Tamon rocked ever so slightly back and forth as he sat in his idle craft. As a historian, he knew that he had to do a fair bit of research, but an interview with a human was, to put it gently, more than required. Nevertheless, he would definitely make waves with his documentation. Imagine how well, say, a book would sell about this huge reservoir of untapped history! While whatever other historians were still out there bickered and squabbled over the minutiae of well-documented events, he was tapping into something completely new! He could even revive his profession, and teach-

He snapped himself out of his fantasies. There was no way to tell how this would work out, but it would definitely be worse than his expectations if he kept this up. There was business.

Still, this was quite exciting. Not many people took historians seriously anymore. Their work was “done,” after all.

As a hand that did itself look rather like a human’s extended towards the release to the hatch, he found himself examining it. This particular release was created to be superheated beyond measure, as only his species had the capability to endure such temperatures and not let go, and to lock itself every other hundredth of a second, as few species had the speed and coordination to do this. The same was true for the release on the outside, and the steering wheel, and the ignition. A kind of lock that served well to keep out thieves, but of course wasn’t the only locking mechanism. He had grown up surrounded by technology like this. Every species had it. Whether it was a piece of metal to crush with breath or a light beam to outrace with the handle, there was always a secondary lock that made sure only the target species could use whatever device it was on.

Tamon had to wonder. Did the humans, in their isolation, have such devices? Obviously not to be operated by their whole species but, perhaps, whatever subspecies they had? Or skills? He scribbled that down onto his list of questions, and entered the bar.

-----

What he saw was exactly what he expected. The patrons on one side, the human on the other. It’s not as if this was something that happened often, but it was the terror-ridden choreography of the thing that truly sticks with a person. Nobody knew what to do, so they avoided the human on the rare occasions it would come out. It was almost a formal ritual at this point. He could picture exactly the shuffle with which each creature moved when the man had entered, especially with the good view he had from standing in the door.

Wait, how long had he been standing in the door?

The human turned slightly, seeing him frozen in thought and nerves.

“Ah!” He shouted in greeting, scratching at his left shoulder. “Come come! We have much to discuss!”

Upon noticing this, the clamor in the bar died down a bit. Tamon knew that every creature of every species in the bar would get an earful of his special conversation. A flame of hatred started to burn. He ignored it.

He sat down on the seat the human provided at the small table, which was already set to his species’ sitting configuration. With how excited the human seemed, Tamon knew he had set it as such. He sat down more easily than he had approached.

“Hello, um, sir, I’d like to ask you-”

The human interrupted, clearly eager. “Yes, yes! A few questions! Please, do ask them! It’s not often Alexander sends me on missions like this!”

Tamon sensed something was off. He couldn’t put his finger on it, though. For now, he only had one lead to find out what, and it was only making him more nervous by the second.

“And, who is Alexand’r?”

The human wasted no time in responding.

“Nonono, Alexander. He’s our ruler. The greatest human who ever lived, though he’s not much of a human anymore. Can’t afford to let him die, after all.”

Tamon froze. “You were sent here on behalf of your highest executive? I have the attention of the ruler of your race?”

He would have to take some time to think about the implications of this human not being a regular civilian. On one hand, he would have a connection with the human government, and they would likely grant him access to official records. This alone would normally multiply his fortune of knowledge a thousandfold, but if he had the attention of a government anything he published would be monitored. He didn’t know how they would react to what things he might say. And to a historian, that was the greatest curse of all.

“Of course!” the human said just before taking a sip of the brown liquid in his cup. “You came into our home system very quickly with a very small ship and beamed a strong signal in all directions asking for a meeting! We had never seen that before, and we’re certainly glad to get our story out. It’s nice to meet you, Tamon.”

“Yes, and it’s quite nice to meet you too. Say, this segways into my first question. Who are you, and what is your place in human society?”

This question was the most important. To a historian, it is always good to know whose words or records you are examining. The diary of a young girl raised by rebels will have a different outlook than, say, a zealot who spends his days killing for the sake of order. One perspective can only depict the perceptions of one being, and that being will be biased. The more important or unbiased the being is, the more the perspective is valued. And there are some things some beings cannot see.

The human spoke.

“On paper, I am a regular soldier in service of Alexander and the Claim of Place. In practice, I go on whatever special missions he tells me to and generally help replace the superheroes. We’ll talk about them in the history part.”

Tamon didn’t really like such a short, vague answer. “Please, elaborate.”

The human suddenly relaxed, and leaned back in his chair. “Very well. I am a descendant of one of Alexander’s first few thousand warriors. My bloodline greatly honors me, and that honor has granted me a position close to Alexander himself. I am not wealthy, but I am authorized to purchase or access anything that might otherwise be prohibited to the public. Too fast?”

It was easy to see the reason for this last question. With every word the human said, Tamon had been vigorously scratching at his exotic parchment, trying to write and discuss every possible meaning for posterity.

“I… my apologies, sir. I’ll simply record this on my earpad.”

“Good good.” the human said, wasting no time in getting back on track. “In the end, I maintain order in the ways Alexander sets out for me, just as I had been raised to do from birth in his institutions. And that will be my life for as long as I live.”

“Alright. So, would it be fair to call you a special operative for the higher echelons of your government?”

Tamon asked this question, not because that was what he was thinking of saying in an official statement, but because he wanted more details. By repackaging the answer in a different context and giving it back to the human, he would be able to see how he reacted to the change in terming, or if there were any semantics which might not have been communicated correctly. Translation between such different languages tended to get lost and garbled, and that was the last thing either of them wanted right now.

“Well, yes. Yes, I think that’s fair. What was your next question?”

“Umm, actually, going a bit off track here, you mentioned the general public as a single entity. What’s life like for them?”

The human paused, and a look came over his face that could only signal confusion. He took a sip of his drink as he thought amidst another scratch at his shoulder.

“I… can’t quantify that. I have nothing to compare it to, and... I apologize for that. I really do hope it’s enough to just say that they have food, they have shelter, and they have time for leisure and play. The government makes sure of all that. We don’t want unhappy people, after all.”

“So, your people definitely aren’t slaves, but there is a lot of government intervention?”

“Yes, the government is everywhere. It has to be. With such a large number of planets, it has to make sure the culture of one part doesn’t come into conflict with another part’s culture, or discourage its children from essential professions, or other such things. Really just everything a government should do. That’s scaling back, though, as we switch away from the wartime economy. What questions are left?”

Tamon decided to skip the questions about traditions and religion. This next one might take too long.

“Well, I’d like you to summarize some important historical events that I could write about, preferably dealing with your kind’s sudden expansionism that seemed to start and stop without rhyme or reason. I’d also like to know how your unique physiology affects your outlook on the universe, and more about Alexander.”

The human smiled, and leaned closer in.

“This is the part that we all wanted to tell you about.” he said, regaining some of the excitement he had at the beginning. “There is one answer that can explain all three of those questions, but it might take a while. Get comfortable, and for God’s sake order a drink! This is a bar, you just gonna sit there talking?”

Tamon beckoned an attendant, and ordered a cell culture he was fond of. He quickly received it, and the human took that as an invitation to begin.

“A hundred years ago, we were known as a backwater race, still developing without so much as a hello from whatever of the universe was outside our happy little home. Nobody cared about us, runts of the litter we were. You’ve heard yourself we have nothing about us that gives us power.”

Tamon had heard the opposite of this, except in biological capabilities. He had to assume that was what the human was referring to.

“Well, over the course of a few years, all of that changed. We encountered several creatures who were, let us say, physically very powerful. When many of them came to us, they revealed that they had been living among us, in many cases even having been us, for most of their lives. As such, they individually, independently vowed that they would use their strength, speed, or what have you to… help us, in their own way.”

“They decided, you see, to help capture criminals. An odd choice, to be sure, but they were fast and strong enough to back it up. For the first few months, at least. You see, power like that never goes unchallenged for long, and some of the criminals they used to catch without incident started to adapt.”

Suddenly, the human whispered some sort of swear, clawing at his left shoulder as if intending to rip off his own skin through the thick cloth of his suit.

“Eventually, a name was developed for these criminals. Supervillains, they were called, and they certainly lived up to the title. At first, they would rob banks. Then, they would kill people in gruesome ways. Then they would kill people in stupid and campy ways. Some would threaten to take over the world, some would try to destroy a tri-state area. Sometimes, even any invaders that came in from the rest of the universe were grouped in with the supervillains.”

Tamon paused to think about that last sentence for a moment. He decided that it answered the question of how this race survived up until at least this point in their history.

“Immediately, the supervillains began fighting the crime stoppers with superpowers, who we came to call superheroes. Let it never be said that our naming conventions are confusing. Their battles could rage on for weeks at a time, and destroy a great deal of infrastructure along with the people within. The superheroes always won, though, and so we had nothing to fear. Even when the villains did take over the world, or turn humanity to stone, it would only last a few hours, and we’d just keep going on our merry way while telling our children all about the fantastical battles. This is where Alexander comes in.”

“You see, Alexander lived in one of our greatest cities, and was already nearly a king in his own right. He had spent his life up to that point completely in pursuit of a single goal: self improvement in every category in every way. He exercised for years and became fit and muscular. He built up his businesses and became wealthy. He established connections with the old money to make himself powerful. He even practiced as many things as he could simply to become the best he could be in them. Then one of the superheroes starting working in his city.”

Tamon wondered just what place in society Alexander had, but didn’t have the time to ask.

“This particular hero was one of the first to arrive, and certainly the most powerful out of all of them. He could fly and run faster than anything ever recorded, he could lift skyscrapers with minimum effort, he could do a whole host of other things that by all accounts didn’t make sense. And he was an alien. Alexander was the only one who understood the implications of this.”

“It was no stretch of the imagination to imagine that the aliens out in the cosmos were at least halfway between us and this interloper in terms of power. And as our race progressed along the road to advancement, Alexander wondered, what place would we have among these races? We could not fight any off, or aid them any more than a superpowered child could. We would be fodder for the next conqueror who happened across us.”

“The heroes handled this, of course. There were dozens of would-be conquerors or gods trying to establish their dominion over earth. First came the God of Judgement with his armadas, who I’m sure is known to the wider galaxy for doing the same on other planets. The superheroes stopped his fleets in space, and beat him back to his planet. Then came a great demon to reap the souls of our race, one I’m sure you know. The superheroes prevented him from opening a portal to our world, and he was stopped. After that came the Dread Lord of Anti-Space, who wished to taint and control our reality. I don’t know how he was stopped, but it was at the foot of his very throne, and it was certainly not a negotiation. The Great Balance between life and death itself was disrupted when its enforcers came to cull us. They were repelled, the same as all the others. So on and so forth, every wrathful god which other races lived in fear of was matched and overcome at our little blue marble, the graveyard of their empires.”

“But the superheroes caused their own problems. As they continued to clean up criminals and disasters, people fell in behind them. People began following in their beliefs and mission, both of which were centered around preserving the status quo. They and their followers grew in power and numbers, pushing the narrative that the ‘Super’ was fundamentally different from the ‘normal.’ They taught that anything handled by a superhero or supervillain was ‘Super’ by nature, and so could not be allowed to affect the everyday lives of the public. I’m sure you can guess what that means already, but I should explain it for clarity. I mentioned earlier that human philosophy believed that civilizations needed to advance because it made them better? They took everything they had, and everything the supervillains had, and hoarded it to themselves. They stole our betterment from us. They took our hopes of a better tomorrow and dashed them against the metal of their fortresses for no other reason than they wanted to keep policing our world themselves. Because they had all the authority, didn’t they? Everything would stay the same until the heroes finally fell.”

“Alexander caught onto this immediately. He started periodic battles with the hero who landed in his domain, and they were worse than any battles that had come before them. Every month or so, he would invent something new, and fight the hero with it, but neither of them ever truly won. Unbelievably, or perhaps believably, he was actually considered to be one of the supervillains. This was a grave insult to him, but it only drove him forward. He would defeat the superheroes the same way they defeated the conquerors.”

“And one day, he could. You see, on that day, the Dread Lord of Anti-Space had discovered a new way to access our universe. Specifically, he discovered a city of monks that long ago untethered themselves from our plane of reality. This, even after the destruction of his long-range interplanar transports by the superheroes, could be used as a stepping stone. He still had enough resources, after all.”

Part of Tamon wanted to find this city. It’s history would surely be another untapped reservoir. Another part reminded him what he might find.

“Of course, the superheroes got wind of this, if only through a stroke of luck. To this day, we say a lot of bad things about them, but they could mobilize quite fast. Shorter than this conversation, even. So they did. And the city that once fled a dreadful siege through the machinations of its dark gods received what it fled a hundredfold.”

“We’ll never know too much about the fighting there. It was fierce, though, to be sure. Later in our history, a captured aide of the Dread Lord would admit that a whole world’s worth of military might was sent to that one small city drifting in the void, though we don’t know how many creatures even made it to their destination before the battle ended.”

“When the battle did end, it was because the range of the Dread Lord was no longer enough. You see, the city was held there by a series of dimensional tethers, which the heroes sought to break. And one by one, they did just that. From that point, the city began returning to its rightful place on Earth.”

“When it did reappear, it was near the center of a land whose name had changed in the city’s absence. It was now called Nevada, a land which didn’t appreciate invaders.”

“The arrival of the Void City, as it was now called, represented an opportunity for the governments of our planet. This was a civilization well versed in magic, who mastered the art of feeding their people without a single acre of farmland. When it came to using their knowledge in the rest of the world, the possibilities seemed quite endless, and the future equally bright. But they just wouldn’t share.”

Tamon had already started to hypothesize why, but snapped himself back to the present. He was about to be told after the human finished his latest bout of scratching.

“The Void City did, after all, go to the Void for a reason, and that was war. War had, after all, played a large part in their people’s history. From the earliest recorded memory, these people had always had to fight to survive. Whether it was rebellion, or a territory war, or even a war of extermination, they were always fighting for their lives. But not in the Void. In the Void, they could finally be alone. They could explore their own history, meditate on the part of human nature that had scourged their people so. Of course, they didn’t blame themselves for starting any wars. Who would? But, regardless, they looked around when they got back, and eventually they saw war.”

“After this revelation, they decided amongst themselves that the peoples of the world would always be savage. Whatever knowledge of magic, resources, or even their steam engines that were shared with them would be used for weapons in the end, and they could never forgive themselves for that.”

“But knowledge of magic is not something a normal human can resist. After all, the government already had a cassus belli over the territory stolen.”

Tamon wasn’t surprised by this. After all, wars were natural in these situations.

“Of course, the superheroes caught on to the imminent war declaration, and were having none of it. After all, many of their number were naught but humans skilled in magic. If knowledge of it was spread to the rest of the world, why, they may have to give up their hegemony! So they never left the city after the battle, choosing instead to make it look like they were simply helping rebuild after the battle.”

Tamon wondered if they were.

“The governments, however, knew they weren’t going to get a chance like this again. When the first shot was fired, the superheroes didn’t know what was happening. It wasn’t until the armies drew closer that the situation became obvious. Nevertheless, the heroes began to fight these new foes, even before they knew who they were, and the first task force was easily defeated.”

“By this point, they knew what was going on. In capitals all across the world, superheroes began to appear, whether out of portals, the sky, or the roads. Out of a need to prevent such a war for fear of advancement for the layman, they began to surgically strike every link in the chain of command necessary to follow up with the invasion. In less than a day, all these people were captured, but not killed.”

Tamon blinked as the human swore and scratched at his shoulder again. Something was wrong there.

“The rest of the world, from the poorest pauper to the highest official, were incensed at these events. In their rage, they immediately flocked to their best chance at defeating their former defenders. After all, if the non-superpowered masses of humanity couldn’t declare a war the superheroes didn’t like, what were they allowed to do? It had become clear who was really in command of the earth. And with clarity came rage. And so they flocked to Alexander. Thus began the Shadow Wars.”

There was a long pause as a flicker of doubt crossed the human’s face. Eventually, the silence was broken by Tamon.

“And… what were the Shadow Wars?”

The human answered instantly, almost cutting off his interviewer.

“The Shadow Wars were a dark time, Tamon. All you need to know is that the sun rose again, lifted over the horizon by Alexander.”

The human seemed to perk up after these words had left his mouth, giving his left shoulder another, softer scratch.

“Now, obviously, all the conquerors were still alive, and they jumped at the chance to attack Earth while it was vulnerable. Invasions take time to prepare, though, and so Alexander had time to prepare for them. He liked that, and he did, with all the weapons and… assets the superheroes had wielded or captured.”

“The first to arrive was the God of Judgement, just as he had been the first conqueror to invade. Just as they had before, the skies began to weep with the forces of his acolytes, and the dirt beneath them would be the one to soak up the tears. But Alexander knew this would happen, of course, and so he stood up from his chair.”

“He told them that the heroes weren’t there to save them anymore. That was a given. But he also told them that they were now the masters of the Earth’s destiny, that they can now fight all the things they thought could only be handled by the heroes. He spoke of humanity’s self-determination, and its resilience, of its spirit and independence. And he gave them the tools to fight back. The skin of the invulnerable heroes was cloned and grown to make armor, their tools copied and duplicated, their magic absorbed into our machines.”

Tamon held back a grimace. “And, what was this speech called?”

“Well, we call it the Declaration of War.” the human answered. “Remember, our society came up with such deeply philosophical terms as ‘superhero’ and ‘supervillain.’ Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, the Retaliation.”

“Three years. Three years, this war of ours raged around. And do you want to know what the worst part of it was? It wasn’t exactly a conventional war, with soldiers and a front. If you were living on the Earth, you would have been right in the middle of it no matter where you were. And it’s not as if  The God of Judgement retreated, even when at any other planet he would have dominated.”

“Alexander was, of course, now leading the whole of humanity. The parts of the old governments that weren’t captured by the superheroes got lazy and rolled over almost immediately afterwards, right when we needed them most. This was called the Second Betrayal, the First Betrayal being that of the superheroes. Anyway, Alexander was called to give an address at the site of the final battle. This is where he made the Claim of Place.”

“The Claim of Place was a declaration that has defined our civilization in its entirety for all the years since, and may never stop if Alexander does not wish. It was the declaration that among a galaxy full of beings who could lift skyscrapers and endure stars, that humanity would find a place, and that the only way to maintain that place was to prove that we were as mighty as they. First, we would start with the near-alien civilizations on our own planet.”

“There were two of these, actually. Atlantis, and The Island. They were both small, isolated civilizations who looked down on the outside world as a blasted hellscape of barbarians without a brain cell between them, while scrambling like cowards to make us think they didn’t exist so as not to have to respect us. They may have sent some of their number to join the superheroes, but none of them helped in the Judgement War. None. Why would they?”

“Alexander went to war with Atlantis as soon as he could, both as judgement for their cowardly impotence and as practice for the Claim of Place. Though the Atlanteans did, each and every one of them, have what we call superpowers, and though they did send massive tides and obliterate every coastal territory we had, they fell. We took from their bodies their arms, their legs, and their gills to graft onto our soldiers, and put their magic into our machines. Their children would be raised by the flesh laboratories to keep providing these things. That is how we won, and what we got from them would win yet more.”

Tamon shifted in his chair as the human clawed furiously at his shoulder again.

“The Island was the worst offender of any to the Claim of Place. Its residents looked down upon us as savages, even more so than the Atlanteans, and their gods had given them the mission to herd and rule us like sheep. This is why they had sent some of their number to join the superheroes, to monitor and contain the “unreasonable aggressions of humans” as if we were children. But we left The Island alone. This is not to say we didn’t hate it, or that we couldn’t burn it to the ground, but we left it alone. Except, of course, we struck The Island’s actual name from every single one of our records. It was hard to spell, and we would not show them respect by going through that trouble. They would watch as our civilization rose to the stars while they were left behind in eternal stagnation. We didn’t need the limbs and skin at this point. Our labs could clone those we got from the dead superheroes they sent to babysit us.”

“And do you know what we did next, Tamon?”

Tamon may not have said anything, but the apprehension on his face was only rivalled by his sense of curiosity.

We turned our eyes to the conquerors those like you lived in fear of. We went to the domain of the great demon, and we split him open, letting his boiling blood fuel our machines. The God of Judgement was followed back to his homeworld, and we rained hellfire on his planet until nothing was left alive there before we went down there ourselves and harvested his body. The Dread Lord of Anti-Space simply had his great swarms overwhelmed by our lust for electric flesh. Even the enforcers of the Great Balance, something put into place when reality itself was gestated in fiction, were slaughtered, and their entire mission rendered forfeit. That is when we turned our attention to other civilizations.”

Tamon knew this was the important part, but he found his gaze drawn away.

“We expanded outwards with the speed and fury of the Claim itself, building great cities easily from the rubble of asteroids, destroying greater ones with cold steel and boiling blood. We did to all the peoples we encountered the same things we did to Atlantis, of course, and now the only ones left alive are in exhibits or the flesh laboratories. This is when we started to gain the attention of the galactic community. They sent whatever they could to stop us, of course, but you know what’s funny? For all the advanced technology your races have, for all your speed of travel and quickness of reflexes, no one ever found out how, when, or why we did what we did until it was too late for them to tell anyone else. And so no one heard our war cries, no one felt our weapons, no one faced our spirit and lived to tell the tale that We. Are. Mighty. And this comes back to you, Tamon.”

The human snapped his left arm up in a gesture of friendship.

“Will you help our point be made?”

Tamon took a long time to answer.

“I was told a human arm couldn’t move that fast.”

Author's Note

This story is a work in progress, though I've put it on extended hold.

I've been told that I need to add some sort of tension in the fictive present instead of sticking with The Human's story. I don't have any ideas for that, and I kind of think it would take focus away from where I need it to be anyway. What do you think?

I also don't know if I should explain more about the arm and the shoulder-scratching. If you want to know, I believe there's a mention of "flesh laboratories." Combine this with the fact that the biology of sapient aliens is superpowered and the answer should be obvious enough... I hope. It's an arm from Tamon's species, is what I'm getting at.

Please, don't consider my immense desire for feedback to be contained by these two conundrums. For example, there are another two things I want to revise, but they're so glaring that I think you'll notice them.

This originated as a character exploration of Lex Luthor. It is not any sort of political statement. Also, what do I tag this as?

Reviews

[Beccy]

Fascinating story line, excellent progression and great, great potential. I don't normally read such lengthy pieces, but I've got to tell you this held my attention start to finish.

Well done.

Beccy.