- The secret of happiness is freedom. The secret of freedom is courage.
- The strong do what they have to do and the weak accept what they have to accept.
- Be convinced that to be happy means to be free and that to be free means to be brave. Therefore do not take lightly the perils of war.

~Thucydides (born ca. 460-455 B.C.) Greek Historian~

- Mankind is poised midway between the gods and the beasts.
Knowledge, if it does not determine action, is dead to us.
Knowledge has three degrees-opinion, science, illumination. The means or instrument of the first is sense; of the second, dialectic; of the third, intuition.

~Plotinus 204 or 205 C.E., Egyptian Philosopher~


I am Gedeyon, the first of the blood drinkers of Ethiopia. My name means “Destroyer”, which has always led me to wonder if the mortal man who named me had the power to foresee the future. Though he was no kin to me, he violently snatched me from the very womb of the woman who had borne me. Already wounded, and barely having taken my first breath, my blood was spilled upon the warm, sunny landscape that I would never know. The parched sands greedily dragged the crimson liquid inward, until the final droplets came to rest upon a precious stone. My captor flung my infant body carelessly over his shoulder, and hastily absconded into the treacherous mountains where a hidden passageway led us into the depths of a cavern deep within the earth. There, he gave me over to a female slave who crudely stitched my wound and was ordered to suckle me, as her own child had been stillborn. By the time I was no more than 6, I was given a pick and told to dig. The unknown woman who had nurtured me was long since dead. It was my fate to be nothing more than a slave in the Mine of the Golden Crystals.

I grew to manhood without the light of the sun. Save for occasional mumbled rumors that I could scarcely comprehend, I had little inkling that the world above me could be warm and inviting, or that other living creatures of multiple species abounded. The concepts of family, love, philosophy, the arts, or the realization that beings like myself had choices available to them that resulted in histories that could vary dramatically, but that generations to come might learn from, were alien to me. My only motivation for enduring was the hope that I might gain the further strength that appeared to come with manhood. I clung to the hope that perhaps once I grew to full size and had the muscle and brawn of a man to sustain me, I might find my way out of that dark environment and learn what purpose there was to living.

Those few who know of the incredible transformation that took place in me later, sometimes claim that I am the result of a bona fide miracle. This event occurred only a few years after I reached the manhood I had yearned for. I find an ironic amusement in the idea of being associated with miracles myself. I never prayed to anyone for release from my plight, having no knowledge of Gods or Goddesses, much less what prayer was. Nor am I unaware that those who do claim to be God's children generally think that creatures like myself are cursed. Therefore, I see no reason to thank any deities now, however incredible the events of that particular night may have been.

On the night that I finally gained my freedom from the slavery of the mines, I learned that I was originally born to become part of a unique line of creatures known as "Royalty". These glorified ones were so powerful that legends were often created regarding their deeds. Sometimes, they were considered to be especially wise and beloved, but even the most wicked of them often found their own unique form of immortality, long after their flesh had rotted and been turned to dust. Such immortality was not achieved simply due to the number of years these exalted ones had existed as living mortals. It was inherited because of the tales of their own deeds, which would be passed from one generation to another by living men in the world above me. The world above was where a human being might have some meaning. I had been given no chance to show my skills at anything other than a menial and repetitive labor of the sort that gained me nothing in the way of reward no matter how well I performed, and within in a place where the sun never shined to offer the slightest sense of comfort.

After my suspicion that there had to be something more to life was finally confirmed, and that I had been sorely cheated, I was enraged so much that I suppose it is possible that I did inadvertently set something powerful in motion. Be that as it may, I had absolutely no concept of the monstrous impact of what was about to happen, or how it would change everything I had ever known, not just for myself, but generations not yet born.

When I gaze upon the limitless skies, I am still awe-stricken. What would it have been like to die as normal men do? To have had a soul that could take flight once the body grew weary? To soar to some whole new level of experience even while the memory of the person who once inhabited the fragile shell they had left behind continued to be recalled in the hearts and minds of mankind for generations to come? What would it mean to such a soul, to be admired and revered by those who never knew it when it was encased within a being of flesh and blood?

That is the gift that I left to the child who grew up in my place. This was a brother I had never known existed, who went on to become a heroic Biblical King. Would I have been as worthy of reverence had I been given the chance he had? Would my name be in the prayers of men now, rather than a part of their deepest, darkest fears--if they had a name for me at all? Here is a quote from the King known as Solomon, who was my true father, though I never set eyes on him. “Train up a child in the way that he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” What of the child who has been given no such guidance?

I am no saint. I did extract an exceptionally steep price to compensate for an act of generosity. I would never have been able to succumb to an act of mercy without some form of retribution to justify my own pain. Love is an interesting concept. Sensuality is more than slightly intriguing as well. I have still not determined whether or not love is a biological function or one of those mysteries that come from this thing that is so often called, the soul, but love her, I do.

Do I actually have a soul myself? I am capable of strong emotions at times that vary surprisingly as to their nature. I am also aware that if, in fact, I am “damned”, then a soul is essentially superfluous. I have not taken pains to develop a religious inclination so that I can avoid brooding over these facts more than is necessary. I am well aware that mysteries abound even in this modern world of dazzling technology, and that science alone does not have all of the answers. I am pleased to note that it does provide some welcome alternatives to dwelling on emotions like guilt or regret more than is wise.

In recent times, I find myself spending many evenings alone in the space observatory I have built for myself in a remote desert. I search the celestial regions above for signs of further life with the hope of understanding why I still so often feel alone, even when walking amid the throngs of mortals who inhabit the larger cities of this world. I do not know if my inherent brand of loneliness can ever be assuaged, but if I remain strong and do not give way to bitterness, might I become a legend of a whole new kind? That would not entirely displease me.