Simon, God

Chapter one. Farewell?
"You are a miserable prisoner of your own desire, you say it is an aspiration to immediate on your craving, but it is always for more. I've tried to see through it, to help you. It seems you've become blind to recognize between resource and responsibility. I am neither. It's becoming ever so difficult to recognize you, Nemo. Marge is right, I should reef the cause."
"You knew what I meant, Simon. You two are just pot and kettle," Marjory interrupted. Neither had noticed her presence. "I'm sorry", she continued, "I'll just leave". This was not the moment to collect reprimands, she knew.
"Indeed. Look in the mirror." Nemo's raspy voice filled the, besides the princes, empty room, forming a cloudy suffocating carpet together with the smoke and stench of liquour. Simon knew Nemo made anything look acceptable, no matter how degrading Simon found Nemos behaviour around ancestral heritage such as this place, the throne room. "I can just as easily blame you for the betray and dishonesty to the world. Are you loyal? I've continuously inspired with my grand plans, but I can't have a little fun? Luckily we're brothers, we have no time for each other's business." Nemo was quiet for a second and looked piqued at his shunned little brother. "Just admitting you're jealous is easier, then we'll work on meeting those demands, hm?" he hissed between his teeth and added "leave me alone if you don't want or can't indulge in..."
"... In what? I'm not just anyone like the rest of them! There's no virtue in depleting your personal sense of pleasure, to trade it for numbness and apathic mindless binging. Your proposal is a dead end." Simon tried to not sound as much like Marjory as he spotted Nemo's mocking look, who didn't seriously try to offend or blame him. He wouldn't even reject Simon should Simon ever share how he felt, but pity the indignant air monger.
"At least I'm not bothering anyone cluelessly, ranting about ethics. Nobody likes a sanctimonious know it all no-good. Please spend your time usefully by what you think is right in your design, besides, I already have Marge to worry."
Thus Simon realized Nemo was right. The people were united unanimously for Nemosia, not Simoria. He replied: "There should be no rule about it. You're an example and people recognize you for who they are, what they do and aim for unlike me".
Nemo nodded, and said, slightly keeping his head bowed: "These aren't the hypocritic classical times where a life and position that suits somebody as questionlessly conservative as you is adulated and predicted, prescribed - in a way, you will always be a leader, one to envy and look up to because you are truely sovereign to your self and sanity. I always believed in you, but should I have raised you? Impossible, you always know best and people know. You are an example too but it gets old, enough is enough, we know it already."
"My path is unpredictable, what I stand for isn't. You are my complete opposite, nothing but an empty shell. Seeing the destruction accompanied by your reckless pollution doesn't dissapoint: Nemosia asks for it. Your path isn't for me." Simon left. Having set enough of and example, he wasn't needed around, he even felt barely responsible to look after his life he left behind. Nobody had to miss him. The journey he set out on made him catch up with what he's been missing out on. When prince Simon would return, he would be grown up for sure. But would he be more grown up then his brother King Nemo? Thus, will there be a rerun for who's more suitable for the throne?
Chapter Two: Ah, look who's back.
King Nemo's grip to his regiment was a tight fit, but subtly there, like as if his crown was a glove on the hand of a body. The body of a junky with perfectionist, germopgobic tendencies. Simon's unsurprised return came as an itch; a rash with his prominent entourage.
"Let's talk, brother Simon, back after so long. So bright! You've changed for the better. So did I! Well, nothing changed particularly, and things couldn't have been any better, but it feels good to say. We're just older. Do you want to sit on the throne? Try it, it's mine, so I allow you to."
"Nemo, your leadership couldn't have been more accurate to his municipality as yours is. Yes, the streets are paved with gold, but beneath this cloak of make belief sanity resides a diseased system barely managing to conceal the desperation that alternates lust driven deprivation. I returned to restore morality in the land, and I'm not alone. The lazy and arrogant intellecual in society need to understand why machines have no more prominence then is allowed. As if only sentient beings are entitled to assume roles in which lies meaning - disregarding the actual irrelevance such erratic fascism heralds: "suffer to endure" has become your working class' slogan. I'm here to prove there can be no pride in such policy, let alone joy." Simon knew the contrast between he and his brother has sharpened, as their inharmonious debate carried on.
"What faction, as far as it exists, have you been manipulated by on your excursion? Is your betrayal official? Are you going to save me with reason?" Nemo argued with his hands sarcastically trembling mid air, making his voice jump. "I'm perfectly in control. Live and let live. There shall be no right hand to aid me and my reign. Enjoy your stay, and don't worry too much..." he concluded with a sigh.
"You have no enemies, that is corect, Nemo", Simon lied to reassure the head of state. The world remembers Nemosia's relentless history better then any Nemosian would admit things happened. The nameless kingdom now knows peace thanks to it's infamous foreign policy before the Prophetic King took his throne and it was Nemo. And there was no need for warfare anymore. "But I infiltrated abroad. I remained incognito but only a select group of enlightened intellectuals knew my identity; that's why they called me Trinity. They were my collegues in study, my apostles if you will. Except I wasn't the teacher, but the illeterate."
The king's head turned red of shame. "Abroad? You are a daredevil, I know you had it in you. We're not alone after all! And you were crowned?" He laughed briefly, puncturing the moment of sarcasm, becoming tense again, apart from his relieved, stuck in disbelief face.
Simon looked at his creased facial expression, sweat glistening on his brother's forehead. "Sometimes it's hard to believe..." Simon didn't finish his sentence. Mentioning the wealth and welfare of all the enemies of his royal domain and home, the world economy if you will, would annoy Nemo, as he believes every territory outside Nemosia is infertile, barbaric, in ruins, or left to bleed after failed conquer attempts or succesful sabotage attempts. The increasingly globalized community, obliquely not displeasing the rotten apple that is Nemosia, celebrates advancement in serenity. Officiously.
"I don't try to understand religion. How can it be a pastime activity? Or a cause? The weak need strength from outside influences," Nemo paused to look at Simon by implication to make sure he listened, "that's where poor lifestyle and grief come into play. So they make up stories of spirituality, to discriminate between pleasure being bad and defiance and faith being good, people like me get cursed at." Shyness marred the brothers. "Who invented religion? A griefer, who needed to bow his head over the masses who seek demanding activities for fun, because he couldn't take it anymore and went sober. The erratic age has left the world ignorant fillers, people who just haven't turned yet because of faith. These innocent and honest bobbleheads think it is virtuous to put strength in honesty and innocence. How ridiculous, because we're all like that by nature. Name one person who isn't innocent and honest in their own way. Anyway, modern times are scientific. Welcome back to society, my little brother Simon", he smiled.
"I'm happy to see Nemosia being so loyal to their king, and a king so loyal to his following. Could I wish any better?" complimented Simon.
"We grow old. We don't change. Neither do you. That's all good. But where are your traditions? Where have you been? Did you receive funds by my government?"
"No, king Nemo." Anyone as powerful as Nemo would be at least slightly suspicious, so Simon acknowledged him with glee.
"King? Hail the king! All hail! Me!" His pale green-blue-gray eyes sparkled, wherein a golden opioid glimmer disappeared as quickly as it arised. "So you made friends?" he remembered, "is your little role-playing party ready for the times of their lives? Their dull background means nothing once inside Nemosia", his voice sounded strong.
"Our guests are here for cultural exchange. I was a guests in their home one time, where I studied. We'll carry on here, and our virtuous results will help the economy..." Simon said to calm Nemo.
"Suit yourselves... But remember you're in my palace, besides, what gives? Itsn't like your hatred for commercialism has any place here- any installment other then those in favor of the celebratory nature of our kind will be further inspected. Go free. It's paradise."
Chapter Three. Nonsense?
His mouth dry, Simon thought about why he mentioned his personal folklorean description. Nemo denounced it as being fairytales. The stories weren't accurate enough to be about todays specific occurences, according to him. Simon thought the opposite; so many things he and everyone around him had in common with the transcript, it couldn't be coincidental. Nemo said this was done purposely to make ayone empathize with the content. Indeed, the story had a open end. But trying to apply the story to other people just felt otherworldly, silly. But nothing special had happened during his lifetime or his brother's, that would make him think there were altered properties to the ancient folklore, other then it being entertainment. In those days miracles were considered products of the imagination of the mad, but in many aspects if these people were alive today, they'd say "I told you so". Nemo knew Simon felt entitled and was particularly fond of it. He often played along, knowing it was just wishful thinking, madness, inferiority.
"Nemo, I've given thought of the mysterious prhase on the shrine as part of ancient heritage like the designated site of the palace, the transcrips, our ancestors left us. Remember?"
"Simon, no-one knows the meaning. Aren't you that much of a dreamer to realize it will never be solved? There's not a translator alive who can illuminate us. Except one word we know nothing..."
"Naivity", they proclaimed simultaneusly. Then Nemo continued: "Naivite is one step beyond innocence. Like stoic is one step higher then cynism. It is the inascernability to risk an innocent loose cannon knows he's in. It exists where the coin of guilt and innocence can not."
Marjory broke the following worrysome silence. "Dear Simon, we are so happy you are well. Thank you for visiting and having acquired a following with you."
"Marjory, you are the closests to what being a mother to me is. No matter where I go, I will always have you with me." They smiled.
Now Nemo broke the silence, in his turn being in awe. "How are our guests?"
"VIP treatment, when I last saw them", said Marjory relieved.
"Mi casa, they casa." Nemo replied. He clapped his hands and they interlocked, he looked up shaking his own folded hands. "Enough chit-chat. Let us rejoice!" echoed through the high ceiling halls. Much more gleeful clamour then normally present would fill the palatial parlours, soon mingled with pleasant, surprised ooh's and ah's from his 'little role playing party'... Banquet after snifter, and so on. The first night went better then anyones expectations.

Simon reached for the bed first thing when he entered his room again after so long. He didn't immediately notice his kingsize bed had been replaced with just any dusty palace bed, and was likely occupied by Marge. His worry gradually changed into sleepiness and happiness, as he hoped the project wouldn't fall in the water: sabotaged by hedonism, his fear. It is when we feel little, we try to seek causes for our hurt in order to not realize the fault in our system: essential, perfect loneliness. All the rest is escapism, illusion, confusion. There was no preparation for the new beginning. No warning, diving in the deep cold is the solution. He'd take his company on several occasions with special, once in a lifetime, unique touristic opportunities. In return, it would be arranged so that their offer includes an exchang program for universities, scientific collaboration, trafficking betweeen libraries and state databases and encouragement on both private and commercial facility cooperation. A gift wasn't quintessential for th onset of Simon's plans, his company was already convinced, but the royal family did not have guests for decades, and many believed that was a tradition of the past. Through science, research, and innnovation humanity thrives, and moral justification prevents systematic abuse and piracy. The first few days would be animated, so he made sure the tourguides limited the amount of indulgement his entourage would consume, in case they would also 'turn'.
Simon was going to reluinquish his inspiring company for this time, so they could in turn familiarize with his culture undisturbed, and he had opportunity to readress the transcripts. With his new knowledge from 'outside', he'd look into his life again with different eyes. Nemo's deranged arrogance might just become his one weakess to beat him with, now Simon's the more educated of the brethren.

He learned his ancestors were what might be called magicians, wiccan. Occult stargazers. They wrote what people dubbed the book of doom, containing a prophecy that describes the end of god, brought down by the hands of orphan. The 'fairytales' were considered evil by origin, and in short, go as follows: One orphan discovered the transcript through prayer in "naivity", a.k.a. the runed shrine of royal heritage. The other orphan was supposed tot compete over the power of 'the law'. The winner would gain full control. It is not defined who wins, but the transcript isn't exactly impartial either. It just ends without ending it's coherent story. He and Nemo were in fact orphans, and Nemo did discover the transcripts one day by accident when he was punished to pray for the shrine for 24 hours without break as a child. He used to believe, until chruch was banned from the royal court after this incident. They found him reading in this ancient language, the nuns thought he'd written it due to the unusual language, in their furious eyes fulll of grammatical errors. He was about to be expellled since he obviously didn't learn from his mistake of yelling in stead of praying in church and playing in stead of learning, or as he declared "loudly and boundlessly answering to the word of the Father" and now began disobeying authority. There is no proof the prophecies are real, but it predicts the one who'd find the book through prayer would become the second most powerful being, but first most powerful ruler in the world, king of the namelesss land. The first most powerful being would take the seat of who knows all, and it is said, forever granting the one who is creator of all and the one everything leans on a retirement. The shrine was built in his name who would metamorphose into "everything but a shell" or "blood over god", the nameless book refers to it as 'naivity'. The book was untitled, but calls itself 'the law', until it's discoverer becomes more lawful and the meaning of the book is lost. The nature of the runes become clear, the name of the most powerful being in the world is depicted, dut it definately doesn't mean "god" like the nuns believed until The Law resurfaced into the hands of Nemo. Who's more infamous? Nemo, or the forbidden book of doom? If Simon hadn't been pampered for so long, he could've seen how naive he was earlier, and the questions wouldn't weigh on him as much, as they wouldv'e been resolved at all. The book would've been more known now: because so far the world doesn't know about its rediscovery, apart from the few non-nemosians who are in his house now, collegues from abroad. Nemo? Some know there's a king now, outside Nemosia, but there's little interest. Barely anyone would link it to the prophecies. Religion's heyday is on the same oblivious black page as the rest of history that's history for a good reason. Moreover, the prophcy would've fulfilled itself without gaining any credibilty or evidence besides "luck", or "coincidence". But books are't getting themselves into things. Simon was, because he was annoyed knowing all this, and it wasn' even a secret. A pity he did not find what he was hoping for; certainty, more clues, an explanation. There was just too little conviction to use the book as a guide. Not that he believed in it, but that was nobody's business.

During this brief time of reunion, there was not only laughter and old friends familiar faces. He realized why he left in the first place was a goood reason again, everyone so fond of their lives while at the same time loathing the conditions. It's one thing having to be in an exhibistionist society, Simon thought, but then there's the people in it, Simon knew. His fellowship's job is to team up with the aboriginal science field and connect to insurge lasting faculties. The combination of Nemosian wealth together with current knowledge, or "foreign" technology was a striking match, two parts of a whole. Nemosia's likely incapable to be ashamed for running so far behind due to barely having any agenda at all, or using science nearly for only commercial purposes, since there will be heaps of receptive curiosity to set an age of enlightenment ablaze. Foreign Affairs is back at all under a new banner to unison. The almost totally spoiled, addicted, polluted, maniac Nemosian way of life was now facing an opportunity of alternative on a silver platter. Enlightenment, spectral, health. Choice and thought; the globally accepted POV. Stupor: his country's, or, his brother Nemo's way. He had been feeling so unique and priviliged, gladsome. Would he trade his sensitive, entitled posture for the world, or would he rather refine further, ever more sophisticated, until the world acknowled him?
The privilige to see the difference has empowered him to make a diference. His egoist homeland wore a blindfold, and Simon could bridge between it and the rest of the selfless, scared off, world. To fill the gap, he took the first step in the right direction, and it was the right thing to do. Soon, the doors of the uneducated and judgemental would be knocked down and no longer need people to look down on freedom of choice, hardship transformed into understanding. Let it be known their cost weighs too heavy and the fight has been to no avail. The end is in sight and tastes like redemption.

Meanwhile....