The Drug of Fear

Verandis was changing human culture, layering it with fear, and opening the human heart to new kinds of darkness.

The world now depended on fear to exist.

Like those sorry souls in the fields, Adam’s life too was lost in these fields, in administration, in distribution; in both curing and destroying other lives.

He thought again of the artistry of the Sekotian colony, of the blue and white marble buildings and the tall magnificent temples, of their sculptures and their art, of their peaceful ways. The Baku Sekotians lived free, lived to create beauty because verandis protected their way of life. It made it all worth it, if it kept them free. Didn’t it? Did it make Adam feel any closer to his gods knowing at the same time, elsewhere, a child was dying because of what they had created? No, but it was how they survived, and with that thought he too, like those others, loved and hated these fields of fear as he loved and hated himself.

Often he would imagine walking through the verandis fields and setting them alight, burning all the plants to be rid of them forever. He dreamt he would stand there, watching as the flames devoured the plantations, reaching into the night sky.

He dreamt of their being truly free.

Inisde he knew he could never do that, for it would destroy their lives also in the flames, all the Sekotians had created. Their culture would die. It was something Adam could never bring himself to do. He could only ever live on to testify to the lives lost because of them, to see their faces whenever he closed his eyes. To find a way to live with it, for in this instance there was no right way, no right path to follow. It was how they survived and they had no choice, even though it brought so much pain. It was all they could do.

But the dream lived on for him and he could not let it go. He could never let it go. It was how Adam remained sane.

As he walked through the fields of fear he dreamt once again of flames destroying them, dreamt of heavy burdens finally being lifted from his shoulders. Dreamt of a world forever free.

Walking away Adam Garcia knew it was only a dream, an illusion in his mind, but for him, and for the world also, this was how the balance of life was kept.

Around him the fields of fear danced with the wind once more.

Christopher J. Levinson is nineteen and has been writing for three years. His novella Too Much of Heaven resulted in his being named one of sciencefiction.com’s first featured young writers (Spring 2001). With positive feedback from many including Greg Bear, people like Mike Moorcock, Zoran Zivkovik and Luis Rodrigues say he’s "got what it takes". He lives in Sydney.