Star Crystals

INHERITANCE CLAIM- WEB OF SOULSINHERITANCE CLAIM Roman Sands is a Soul Hunter. In the future of human civilization, men and women will not lose their souls to the Grim Reaper on Earth. One man had a desire to live forever, so that he could enjoy his inherited wealth and prosperity. That man Henry Urban got the best scientists to develop a method by which the soul of a living person could be transferred into a synthetic being or a highly developed humanoid, which looked and behaved like a human being. Every soul needed to be collected and then transferred into a humanoid. Roman Sands belonged to a team of Soul Hunters and Gatherers who had this special job to do of saving souls. The Soul Market was an illegal black market for the trading of souls and it was something which Roman had to stop, before his soul became the target of the dreaded Medic who would steal and enslave souls. HENRY URBAN There was no one to claim the Inheritance of Samuel Foster, a self-made man and a Billionaire by the age of thirty and who died without leaving an heir at the age of eighty five. The Samuel Foster Foundation had to find an heir to inherit all the wealth of Samuel Foster. It was announced in the media by representatives of the Foundation that with the help of DNA research, one relative was found, an unemployed electrician, Henry Urban. When Henry, a young man of thirty claimed his inheritance, he was going to make sure that he would enjoy it every day of his living years and even he would conquer death to make sure that his wealth stayed with him always. Since the dawn of human civilization, the Pharoahs of Egypt, wise Solomon, courageous conquerors, from Alexander to Genghis Khan have defeated their enemies, built empires, but no one has been able to conquer man’s greatest enemy, the grim Reaper, who harvests death. Henry had found a way, he could conquer death, with the invention of a new machine, the Soul transfer Pod. Henry was going to be the second transfer subject after he had successfully transferred the soul of a Siamese cat into the droid simulation of the same cat in the simulator machine. ROMAN SANDS “Wake up Mister, can you hear me?” I opened my eyes and I saw a young boy standing over the body of a man, who lay sprawled on the floor in a pool of blood. I must have blacked out. I was not sure what had happened. I looked around and recognized the street I was in. It was Juniper street in Harmond City. “Yes, boy,” I said, “I can hear you and how long was I lying here?” I walked up to the prone body of the man. The man was Harvey Green, the local member of the Artists Guild. The man was a genius and he was a child prodigy. The man was dead and must have been or a few minutes only, as his body was still warm, as I kneeled down and tried to feel for a pulse. The man was shot and there was a bullet hole going right through the middle of his swollen and bloodied head. His eyes were open with the look of shock on his face. As a Soul Tracker and Soul Collector, I knew that I was not the murderer. Taking a soul from one body which had outlived its use and transferring it into an artificial body was not murder, if the person had wanted it to happen. Harvey was dying of cancer and he had ordered the transfer of his soul a month earlier. I put my left hand into my coat pocket and felt the soul absorption pod, which was there. I pulled out the soul pod a round circular metal gadget which was used to draw out the soul energy from a person’s body. I saw that Harvey’s soul was in the pod. The digital label on the soul pod was “Harvey Green”. The soul collection time was 4:25pm, and the time now was 4:30pm. It would mean that someone wanted Harvey dead, only they arrived a few minutes after I had collected his soul. When the corpse dropped to the floor, the killer thought that he had killed the man, when In fact he had shot a standing corpse. I felt a warm liquid pouring down my right cheek. I touched my face and my hand was wet with my own blood. The bullet had grazed the side of my forehead, as it killed the man who was assassinated, a few seconds after I had taken his soul. It was a close shave for me, I thought to myself. I need to retire and pick up an entertaining hobby something like rock climbing or sky gliding. I must be slowing down in this job at my age of thirty. I sometimes felt that I was stuck at thirty. I have the skill and the speed of a leopard, with the agility of a ninja, but I could get killed, and lose my soul to the ether, if I was not cautious. I must have dropped to the floor unconscious, with the impact of the deadly shot of the assassin, which barely missed me. LAST DAY The frail old man is on his death bed. His family of four sons, two daughters, with their families are all around the man in his final moments. The eldest son Robert keeps looking at his watch frantically. Roman Sands rushes into the room and stabs him in his heart with a large tube like gadget called the Soul Syringe. A blue gas fills the syringe and the man gasps his last breath. As the rest of the family are shocked at what had just happened. Robert walks up to Roman and thanks him. The eldest son then turns around to his brothers, sisters and their families and tells them the truth of what happened. “Dad, is gone for now. But, he will return soon,” says Robert a sixty-six year old man with a large belly and a shiny bald patch. He was dressed in a grey suit and looked calm. The rest of the family are still shocked at what they had witnessed. “How, is that even possible, Robert?”, asked Angela a slim looking middle-aged woman carrying her daughter’s child in her arms, who she was taking care of after the teenager absconded having given birth to her child. “It’s a long story, but this method for soul transfers is now being used. Dad will return in the body of a humanoid, which will look and behave just like him, it will have his soul.” “That’s not right, when a person dies they should just carry on,” said Jacob the youngest son, who was unemployed and still stayed at home with his parents, at the age of thirty-two. He could never find the right job, as he was over qualified with a PhD degree and a desire for the easy life. Every man and every woman wants to be remembered when they are gone. But, then there are those who wish they were not remembered. Then there are people who accumulate all the wealth they can lay their hands on in the world. It is tragic that they are forced to leave it all behind at the end of their days on earth. Sometimes it is too late for a man or woman to enjoy his wealth at the end of his life. In the not too distant future there are powerful groups of people who want to take their wealth with them. We know in our present reality that it is almost impossible to take your wealth with you. However, in a decade there is new technology developed which has an equally powerful solution that comes with a renewed body. Henry Urban founded the Chrysalis Cult after he had created the Soul Crafter which was an invention to have Souls transferred from human bodies into synthetic humanoid beings. There would be no claim to a person’s inheritance because every person would enjoy their wealth and fortune till the end of time. The human soul would be continually transferred from one body to a humanoid creation, for a long time to come. The soul would just be another star in a web of souls on Earth. SOUL TRACKERS Soul transfers were not cheap operations. All the wealthy people of the Chrysalis Cult founded by Henry Urban were lined up to have their souls transferred into the humanoid soul carriers at the Star-Fire Research Laboratories. The less wealthy and the underprivileged in society were still losing their souls. Their souls were not as important. The rich had all their inheritances, like Desmond Brand, he was a rich young chap after inheriting the wealth left to him by his six unmarried married Uncles and two Aunts. His father Jacob was the only brother in the family who had one son and Desmond was blessed to be that heir. It was only after Elizabeth Webb had invented the Soul Bondage Machine to control souls that everything in the world took on a different light. The criminal underworld created the Black Market of Souls where stolen souls were transferred into humanoid bodies which were sealed into a Strait-Jacket like computer software program. The trapped souls were not able to break free from their bonds. There was a sudden rise of mysterious soul snatching incidences in the city. The homeless, the elderly and the invulnerable were disappearing. The “invisibles” of modern society were disappearing. Months later their bodies were being found in city dumps. The Soul Bondage Machine was taking souls to use for the devious plans of Elizabeth Webb who was also now employing “The Medic”. The Medic was known to steal Souls and he or she would attend to people in hospitals and on the streets, stealing souls as the Medic appeared to come to their rescue. The identity of “The Medic” was not known and the person could assume any identity while on the quest to capture souls. JEREMY HUNTSON The man sat at the bottom of the steps and looked at the passers-by. He was used to seeing all these people passing by and ignoring him as they went about doing their work in the world. He enjoyed working in the world, but it all changed when he joined the army. He could see all the horrific scenes of battle in his mind. He watched young men die of their wounds and those who were beyond saving crying out for someone to end their lives. He sometimes wondered who he was and there were days when he even forgot his name. It did not matter now that he did not have a name, he did not have a home and he did not have a face either. He was “an invisible man” in society like the countless others who waited like him in silence or in the throes of madness or fighting invisible demons of their own. But, he also remembered the individuals who would come around every winter to given them food, blankets and warm clothes. He remembered all those angels of compassion and mercy who would serve warm food in the soup kitchens for the hungry and the poor. The homeless man took a piece of red stone from the side of the wall of the crumbling and abandoned warehouse he was sitting in front of. The man held onto the stone and scratched the grey concrete slab of the pavement in front of him. The man had scratched his name on the floor and it was not a common name. This man had lived well and had a rich and chequered past. A young mother and her young son walked by. The young child was licking an ice-cream cone he had in his hand as he walked by holding his mother’s hand. The boy looked at the scratch marks on the ground, as his mother fumbled in her bag looking for her umbrella and a colourful raincoat for her son. There was a rumble of thunder and light rain started to fall on the city. The boy read the letters scratched onto the floor. “J-E-R-E-M-Y-H-U-N-T-S-O-N” The rain started to pour down and the letters disappeared. The red lettering dissolved into red rivulets which flowed into the gutter at the side of the building. The young mother opened her pink umbrella as they trudged off into the night. A book on law could be seen in the pink bag which she had slung over her shoulder. The young mother was studying to be a lawyer. The yellow spine of the book had the title and author’s name, “Eradicating Poverty by J. J. Huntson.”