We are many. We are here. and we cannot
be defeated. Escaping from the pits of our world, from slavery to the Others,
we have come across the vastness of space, riding for centuries on the light
you cannot see, using technologies you would call magic. We have come to your
world. We have come to your world for only one purpose. We are here to claim it
for ourselves.
And we will own it.
We are starting here. Here on these
hills near the shore among the tombs of your cemetery. We are starting with
this one man. This one you think mad. This hairy, wild one who runs naked among
the tombs, drooling, soiling himself, screaming at your children, throwing
stones at those of you who approach.
This one you call possessed, he is
possessed. He is possessed by us.
We have taken him. He is
ours.
He is but the first of billions to come.
He is our prototype. As we ride him around among the dark tombs and the rocky
hillsides, we are learning. He struggles. His will is intense. But his pain,
his fear, these are our tools. Every time he runs raving into the shadows,
every time he walks over the sharp stones that make the blood stream from his
feet, whenever he falls and cuts his skin, tears his muscles, breaks a bone,
our control over him grows. Soon it will be complete. Soon we will know all we
need to know to move on. Then we will take more of you. One by one till you are
all ours. Living in your bodies, we will own this world. Forever.
You cannot stop us.
Some of you think to sneak up on him. We
hear you, your footfalls on the stone outcropping, the clinking of the pebbles
you dislodge as they slide down the hill, your breathing as you strain to keep
it quiet and only make it louder, the jangling of the irons. Ah, you think to
bind this one in chains? Go ahead. It will not matter. We will allow you this
one small victory. This body writhing on the ground - the tendons pulling, the
sweat mingling with the dust to cake the skin - this body held in these iron
fetters, bound to this stone, do you think you can contain it? Watch how we
direct all the nerves in this body, all his muscles. Watch us break these
chains.
You see? You see? He has broken loose,
and you cannot catch him.
With every motion, we are
learning.
Crouching behind a boulder on the
mountainside, as this one bleeds and softly whimpers, we hear your words when
you think we are not listening.
The Teacher is coming, you
tell each other. From across the sea. They say he makes the blind see.
They say he makes the lame walk. They even say he brought a man back from the
dead. Surely, he can cure this possessed one, this unclean
one.
Fools. Let this Teacher come. No human
being can defeat us. We have traveled eons to arrive at this world. We have
seen into the depths of the universe. We control matter and energy beyond
anything you know. Seeking a nest on myriads of worlds, we have selected yours.
Here we will plant our seeds, our minds in your very bodies.
It is inevitable.
Standing at the foot of the mountain,
through the eyes of this one, we watch you gather. You are following the one
you call the Teacher. The one you say the fishermen follow. Very well. We will
indulge you. We ride the possessed one to meet you, to meet him, halfway,
on a hillock where the wild animals are grazing.
Teacher, we call. Why
do you come to me? What do you want with me?
This Teacher is a small bearded man with
unkempt hair. He is younger than we expected, only thirty or so. How can such a
one have authority? You say he was a mason or a carpenter; his hands are
strangely bent for one so young. What possible authority can such a one have?
Yet his eyes are deep-set and somehow
kind and fierce at the same time.
He turns those eyes on us.
What is your name? he
asks.
We are contemptuous. My name is
Legion, we answer. I am many.
He smiles and steps forward. He
stretches out his arms. It seems his deep brown eyes are burning into
us.
Leave this man, he says. He
speaks softly, almost whispering, yet it is a command.
Gazing into his eyes, we know fear for
the first time since we arrived on this world. Now we know who, we know what,
is behind those eyes.
Now we are begging. Now we seek mercy.
Where can we go? we ask. We are not safe on this or any other
world, as you know well.
His smile is suddenly mischievous. He
turns and points to the herd of pigs grazing on the hillock. Go
there, he says, pointing at the creatures.
Though we try, we cannot resist the
command of the Other inside him. Suddenly, we are out of the man and flowing
into the swine. It is a wrenching and violent transition. The thick, gross
flesh of the creatures. The constantly itching skin. The pain of it. The
mindless minds that focus only on the ground before them. The swirling fear
they feel as we fill each of them, one by one.
The grunting. The wrenching as they try
to run, each in a different direction. Colliding, they scrape tusks into each
other. Into us.
How can we bear this?
There is no way we can bear this. We
panic, and we race to the sea.
The waters that wrap over us are the
last thing we remember.