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Mishiida Alexander

Aiszar Garrison

“Only an education hard-earned yet easy shared, or a life well lived to serve others, can claim greatness as birthright.”

And here we are!

Eulogies are written and sung in memory of the great, but greatness is not in the appraisal showered in a creative piece by another, one who himself seeks greatness. Greatness is not subject to the whims and fancies of those who judge a peer, for prejudice and jealousy often mask their conscience, more so when the one judged is indeed a better being than those judging. Greatness resides in the respect one commands in the hearts of those who look up to the great as an extension of their own kind, as someone fit to be emulated. And they are the ones who find ways to make their heroes immortal, both in folklore, and thus in history.

Accepting a great being for what they are, in itself testifies as to one’s own honesty. It is not the one being judged, but those who judge; whose reputations are at stake, for blind is not the audience, mute it might be. And reputations, that can be torn down overnight, take ages to build, and much longer to re-build. On toes should remain those who venture to gauge the greatness of others, for their own greatness is a subject of constant appraisal. They are themselves judged every time they judge someone else.

Nothing could be more satisfying than witnessing your idol being honoured for what they have achieved, for it kindles a hope, that one day such an honour might be bestowed on the one who looks up to the idol today. This hope motivates future greatness, and without it an incentive to induce such greatness might be lost. Thus, even though our hearts are really heavy today, yet there’s pride in them, as we accompany our beloveds Mishiida and Alexander, on their last journey. It’s hard to believe it’s been twenty years since this all started. Both Alishiida and Zenander suddenly seem to be all grown up today.

Seems like only yesterday, when Alex and Mishiida were ordered on a mission to save the last of the Astromycetes people from their fast flooding world, Creyapiron of Codinchyeon galaxy; flooded by their own version of global warming. Had it not been for the ambush laid by the Gazintine Empire’s forces, allied to the Tyrenes in the “War of the Worlds”, the duo would have never ended up on Xaneithyron. The kind Xaneiths, recognizing the by then universally famous couple, not only showered them with love and adulation, but also provided their expertise in converting Alex’s sperms into Penanchtian sperms, that paved the way for the birth of Zenander. They again repeated the favour when they not only helped Alexander and Mishiida conceive Alishiida, but also helped convert the fertilized egg into human egg. Alishiida was born when Robyn, Alex’s former girlfriend, happily obliged to be her surrogate mother. The two, now sixteen and thirteen, are literally growing up to be like a Penancthian version of Alexander, and a human version of Mishiida.

However, with these memories are attached the painful memories of Mishiida being forced to drink the Tarandil poison; a poison renown universe wide, to kill any being of any race, no matter how long it takes. Mishiida at that time was expecting Zenander, and had the choice of losing her son and fertility forever, but be freed of the poison, or live with the poison long enough so that her death was only a formality. The poison was known to kill some instantly, and some in years. But no one knew how long the poison would take to kill a Penanchthian. Yet Mishiida chose to die, than lose her son. And then who would blame Alex, when he was forced to drink the same poison a few years down the line. He refused to be treated as well, for he wanted to die the same way as the love of his life would die. Alas the irony of the fact is; the two would die almost simultaneously, as both were sent the invitation for their burial at the same time.

Aiszar Garrison; they say is the name of the ultimate honour any intelligent being in the universe would happily die a million times for, if they could get it finally. It’s a place where the bravest of the brave and most selfless and noble of warriors of all races rest, after they finish their lives. No it’s not a graveyard, but a museum, where people of all races are welcome to visit and re-live the glorious past of the universe, learn about the great deeds of their forefathers, and be inspired to emulate them. Not every warrior gets the honour of being buried there, with their history made into an animated holographic interactive, accessible in all languages of the universe, to those who visit the place. Alexander would be the first from the human race to be buried there, alongside the first Penanchthian, Mishiida.

Aiszar Garrison; they say the great warrior receives the invitation to be buried there exactly three months before their upcoming demise, with an honorary Kinemanize ship sent alongside to escort the warrior from anywhere in the universe, to the Garrison, unless their demise is to happen in the midst of a battle. In the latter case, the Kinemanize do not interfere in the flow of events, by adulterating the warrior’s actions by making him aware of his upcoming event. In that case their ship arrives with the invitation right at the spot, after the warrior has breathed his last. The Kinemanize, they say, can predict the future of any being in the universe with one hundred percent accuracy, using their highly complex algorithms. They say that Kinemanize technology is a million years ahead of any other race’s technology, excluding the war tech. They are never wrong. They run and manage this archipelago that is revered by all races alike.

So here we are, with the fruit of the love, pain and suffering of Mishiida-Alexander; Zenander and Alishiida, in this room aboard the Kinemanize ship that is taking the two still young but dying warriors to their final resting place. Ethereania; an interstellar region devoid of all heavenly bodies except this archipelago of massive rocks, suspended in deep space for eternity. Aiszar Garrison; they say you have to be much more than lucky to be buried here.


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