Chapter 65 15:
Silence made itself present in Nouwl-an's private chamber after Vexa's farewell, but that did not make him any less worried. The diary was now with her, and those ridiculous thoughts began to buzz in his mind as if those vastrof flies, (those tiny humanoids with insect wings on their backs) were bothering his ears.
"Annoying." He thought to himself.
He moved away from his small table in a single light movement, where his feet detached from the ground and very slightly he ended up beside his bed.
Nowl-an remained there, sitting on the edge of his bunk, with his arms resting on his knees.
His gaze was fixed on the white and immaculate floor.
After that conversation with Vexa, he felt that something did not fit.
Vexa was going too far with those thoughts, those thoughts that now seemed to be present in his own, and which worked against him.
He felt that strong resistance deep inside himself, it bothered and frightened him in equal parts.
After that conversation with Vexa, he felt that something did not fit. Something about what she said bothered him, however, that self-denial did not seem to be working entirely well and that irritated him.
now, alone with his own inner self, her words seemed to want to overlap his own thinking, in such a way that his own understanding would no longer be his own.
And that was dangerous.
To begin with, how was it possible that a nato could see a problem much more clearly with the same rulers?
More importantly, this was his normality, his reality. What was the true problem with that?
Except for the birth rate, since when had the system been in decline?
Were they truly in decline?
Who decided whether they were or not?
Something does not fit.
Nouwl-an clenched his jaw. He remembered fragments of Korr's diary, those pages where the nato described the Empire as a functional ideological construction.
As if it were a machine designed to perpetuate itself instead of serving its people, which made no sense to him. To begin with, the empire was not a machine, it was the empire.
And second, the empire watched over the yearning of its people, and the yearning of its people was to serve the empire.
There were no nuances or clauses or exceptions in between.
Things were simply as such, but those manuscripts seemed to attack the very Viltrumite existence, his own existence and only purpose in life for which he was conceived.
There was no other option for a vitrumite other than serving the empire, it was the purpose of life and the greatest pride and happiness that a viltrumite could experience throughout their centuries of existence.
But he barely had two orbits of life, so that feeling was not entirely rooted within him and he knew it.
That was why that manifesto bewildered him and touched something deep within him.
It did so in a way that simply made nowl-an unable to stop thinking that there was an infinitesimal possibility that it might be right.
And then that poisonous thought returned to his mind once more.
Was the empire perhaps a titan that devours its own children?
The genetic purges, the elimination of the weak, the suppression of every doctrinal deviation.
All under the sacred mantle of "the will of Argal" was being criticized in a way that anyone could consider heresy.
The empire was perfect because it did not allow imperfections, but those words now seemed so empty and imperfect themselves.
Because the empire did have its defects, hidden, but present.
And by the simple fact of that imperfection, that manifest argument gained strength and, consequently, nowl-an had reached the conclusion that he was confused.
"The current system, although stable in appearance, little by little seems to be presenting contradictions that could lead to future crises."
What crisis was that? Where was it? Its demography?
That defect was evident, but he felt that there was still time to save it.
Nouwlan clenched his jaw.
He was a nato, a simple class 15 nato. What could he know about the functioning of the empire? What perspective could someone have who had barely completed half an orbit of life?
And yet...
His thoughts were interrupted by a dull vibration that he felt through the floor.
It was faint at first, almost imperceptible, but Nouwlan frowned, not allowing himself to ignore it.
Viltrumites possessed sharpened senses, far more than any other species.
Their sense of orientation was such that they could detect changes in air pressure or vibrations, so he was able to instinctively intuit that that vibration was not normal.
He jumped to his feet, his muscles tensing by reflex.
His right hand closed into a fist while his eyes scanned the door, waiting for some alert, but there was nothing.
The white lights seemed stable and everything else, in general, remained in order within that solitary silence.
But then the second vibration came, and he then knew that something bad was happening.
The silent rumble had been stronger to the point that everything visibly shook.
"In the name of Argall, what is happening in this place," he spat with annoyance, without waiting for anything else to happen.
His body rose into the air in a fraction of a second and shot out of his resting chamber.