End The LightCatcher

By Cheng D.A

The City of Lions in the year 3013 is a beautiful but treacherous city for children deemed silly, lazy or useless by society.

Having been deemed useless by society for not achieving “Destiny” (which basically means not finding a job) by the age of 13, End Cloud is stripped of citizenship and subjected to the “Sphere of Influence”, a cruel device which will erase his memories, delete his ability to make decisions and force him into mechanical labor. But just as his mind was about to be completely erased, he suddenly receives a special invitation to join a prestigious military school for children gifted in LightCatching, which was a mysterious ability to channel power into military weapons by means of emotions. Possessing no such ability, though also possessing an abundance of volatile emotions, End fights to stay in the school whatever way he can, so that he may one day earn his right to return to society and see his parents once more. But as he journeys deeper, he begins to unravel the true mystery behind the school, and the real purpose and destiny of End Cloud.

Welcome to the World of “End the LightCatcher”.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cheng D.A
• Release date: Apr 2, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301361984

Cheng D.A

I'm just a simple guy who loves writing.Life has been not so simple of late, and when the dust settles, all we ever want to do is just find that little piece of heaven that we all love to live in, and live in it. I love writing, if i can write something and survive doing it, well, that would be niceSo i hope you love reading my stories. They're a bit crazy but its all good fun, and i've always believed that stories should do some good in this universe.sincerelyDA

Book preview

End

the

LightCatcher

by

D. A Cheng

D.A. CHENG

Copyright 2013 by D.A. CHENG

Smashwords Edition

"To every kid in the universe,

Never give up on your dreams"

---D A Cheng

Contents

Chapter 1: End of End

Chapter 2: The ILC

Chapter 3: R & R

Chapter 4: The Viewfinder

Chapter 5: ?

Chapter 6: Mahatma

Chapter 7: The Range

Chapter 8: Quentin

Chapter 9: The Teacher

Chapter 10: Vocations

Chapter 11: Cane of Lions

Chapter 12: ?’s Kindness

Chapter 13: Light & Field Craft

Chapter 14: Operation Mouse Trap

Chapter 15: Operation Lights Out

Chapter 16: The Mentor

Chapter 17: The Istanu

Chapter 18: The Beginning

Appendix C: City of Lions

Appendix E: End

About the Author

Chapter 1

End of End

In a lonely part of the City of Lions, in the last cell, of the last prison-like hallway of the Institute of Salvation, (a holding house for kids deemed useless by society economically or otherwise), a young boy, aged thirteen, writhes in his bed and felt the suffocating embrace of loneliness. He had the curly hair of the adventurous cupid, the face of an angel and the sparkling eyes of a thousand moonlit nights. Those innocent blue eyes were meant to inspire purity and goodness, to preach to others to have fun and that life was to be enjoyed. But there he was, twisting in pain, struggling in agony, unable to sleep. Little lines of moonlight crept in through the tiny cell window smaller than a rat hole, and gently scarred his face. The little light made his nervous sweat sparkle, hinting that not on this night, nor on any other night in his life, had he ever experienced the concept of a good night’s rest.

An old Indian janitor snored just outside his cell. He was mostly bald but had short white-grey hair at his sideburns and a large round-rimmed pair of glasses. A distinctive moustache and a walking stick just next to him was his trademark.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps drew near. A young guard with a face of a natural born nitwit came down the spiral staircase. He had one of those faces that you could immediately laugh at or mistake for a silly looking villain who thought too highly of himself. He came down and shook the snoozing old janitor with some degree of rudeness. But the old janitor with his kind face did not mind. It’s about how you look at the things that life threw at you, as he saw it as a sign that it was time for him to go home for dinner. The old janitor picked himself up and began to pack his things.

Is that the boy who is completely useless? whispered the young guard. Talking behind someone’s back had a way of not coming off as a whisper. The poor boy heard everything with crystal clear clarity. The janitor smiled. He did not answer, but simply went about packing up his things to be on his way. The young guard went on rambling.

How can anyone fail the Systematic affiliation Destiny, (S.A.Ds) test? I tell you what, it is probably written in his destiny that he will never amount to anything in life, laughed the young guard.

A tear rolled down the cheek of the boy. Of course he had heard that one before. Teachers and adults repeated it like a nursery rhyme to him. But just like wasabi in the eye, no matter how many times you have experienced it before, it still stung the next time.

Poor kid. So sad to see him die tomorrow at such a young age.

He is not dying tomorrow, murmured the janitor

Yeah? But after the reformatting of his brain by the Sphere, he will just be a muscular brain-dead person doing manual labor for the rest of his life. Isn’t that a fate worst than dying?

The young guard looked around. The janitor had disappeared. The young guard shrugged his shoulders and noticed a cup of coffee that sat on the table. It was still warm and seemed to be untouched. The young guard devoured the coffee. The caffeine relaxed him, as he began to cross his legs and lean back in his chair with an arrogant smile. He gave the boy a know it all, British-spy suave look and continued his ramblings.

I just can’t imagine myself failing all my academics and ending up like a mindless freak like you, he said, while enjoying his coffee, I mean unlike you, some of us actually work hard to keep this society going. The young guard put his hands behind his head and fell asleep seconds after he said those lines.

I’m sorry I forgot my teeth, said the janitor, who had appeared out of nowhere. The young guard jumped. He looked on in disgust as the janitor reached his hand into the coffee cup and took out his false teeth. The janitor apologized with a slight bow, and went up the stairs again. The young guard dashed to the nearby basin and rinsed his mouth like he was trying to wash the white off his teeth. The boy could feel him leave from the distancing sound of his boots. At least the guard’s rambling kept him company. Now that the scorn was gone, so was the company.

Although sometimes it may seem that people are without talent, it is often in their quieter or more desperate times that they show who they really are. Left completely alone, the boy made two little cute shadowy men with his fingers for company. One might think at first glance that the light from the candles and his fingers were responsible for these two shadow men appearing. That is until the shadow men came alive of course, pulling away from the shadow of his fingers.

Good evening Bob and Rob. Said the boy.

The two shadow men did a little polite bow on their own. They were identical and completely black, complete with round heads and no expression. One of them, assumedly Bob, seemed so happy to be alive that he began dancing on his own.

What shall we do today? Shall we do Shakespeare?

Bob and Rob shook their heads in fierce protest.

Macbeth maybe?

Bob and Rob slumped to the ground, and held their heads with both hands in disinterest.

Alright, then what would you like to do?

Bob and Rob began fighting.

You want to do a Kungfu movie?

Bob and Rob jumped up and down in glee. Yes! They exclaimed! Yes!

This is what I get when I let the two of you watch too much kungfu movies. No. Too much kungfu!

The boy saw the enthusiasm of his actors and sighed.

I don’t know what is it with actors and kungfu! Why do you guys get so childish when you hear that word? Alright, you play the Shaolin monk and you play the modern day Kungfu master.

Rob was unhappy. Using only body gestures, he hinted Why do I always have to be the shaolin monk?

Because your head is rounder, replied the boy.

Rob looked at Bob. Bob looked back. They examined each other’s head for roundness. They looked identical, so they didn’t have the slightest clue of what the boy was implying.

Hey, I had you guys since I…first cried. I know whose head is rounder!

After some deliberation, rehearsals started.

No, no, no! When Rob kicks you, dodge that way, then you repel him with both fists! Bob, remember to duck, I don’t want anyone hurt during this rehearsal you hear me? commanded the boy.

Rob and Bob nodded, and they enjoyed their sessions with the boy. The boy should be happy in this moment, but it didn’t show. His face still featured the same frowning expression that had become his face. But he treated this little activity with such passion and professionalism that you would have thought he was working. One of the cute shadowy men accidentally slipped and smacked the other in the face while doing a complicated dance routine.

Now what did I just say? said the boy.

The one that fell down placed both hands on his hips in anger. The second one put his hand to his own head in a gesture of apology. The boy wanted to laugh, but his emotions won’t let him. His heart was still frozen.

Just then, one of the shadow man tugged at the boy’s shirt and pointed at someone behind him. Rob and Bob disappeared. The boy turned his head. In the cell across his, was a man with disheveled wild hair. He was a remarkably small man, very thin and pale. He had large intense eyes, but his face was otherwise rather plain, and spelt no hint of his true hidden talents. He was trying to sit upright, but was sick. Without turning his neck, his eyes moved the same way the eyes of Leonardo Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa would have moved, if the painting were alive. People always said that the eyes of the Mona Lisa followed you no matter the angle with which you glanced the painting from, and the look of this man was no different. The man observed the boy. Then quickly, his eyes shifted back to their comfortable position for staring into empty space. The boy thought that he really looked like a painting.

Hi. Said the boy.

Are you not afraid of talking to a traitor to your city? asked the man. When he spoke, his voice was tenor, and rather soft and delicate.

Who are you?

Just because other people do not know our talents doesn’t mean we are useless to the world. Said the man. The boy paused for a moment.

I have no talent, said the boy.

Everyone has talent.

Not me.

I saw what you did with the shadow men.

That’s not talent.

It is. Anything is a talent and everyone has one. And you know what’s the funny thing about talent?

What?

No matter how hard you try to hide them, like bubbles, they will always come to the surface.

What is your talent then? asked the boy. In that very moment, when that question was asked, it was as if a surge of electricity penetrated the man’s spine and brought him to life. As he began to speak again, it was as if his voice changed into something so powerful and moving, like he was a person who was enthusiastic about everything in life. He plucked out a violin from underneath his bed, and steadied his chin on it, ready to play.

Where did that come from? asked the boy.

The springs and wood from my bed. Would you like me to play you a song?

That would be lovely, said the boy with a moody voice.

The man with the wild hair raised his bow. He looked at the boy like he was a proud king.

Music is the key to soothing my emotions.

He steadied his proud chin on the violin, and froze like the Thinker Statue for a second. It was as if a minute passed by, or maybe an hour. Maybe the man wanted his audience to experience the silence before the commencement of his supposed award-winning performance. The boy waited. Even the wind in the room was still. A fly, which had been moon-bathing in the moon, froze and paid attention.

Suddenly, the man began jerking his head around with break-neck speed like he was playing a hundred year old classical masterpiece. The only trouble is, no sound came out. The boy stared at him for the longest time. It was always terrible when you had to tell someone who seemed so enthusiastic that he was no good in the very thing that he thought he was good at. It was that same feeling that the judges on the panel of reality singing shows sometimes felt when they saw someone making a fool of themselves. I take that back, it was actually easy for some judges, and even easier sometimes for the contestants because attention was what they wanted.

The man continued on and on as if he was enjoying every second of it. His hands and fingers were moving way faster than any musician on the planet. But still, that one major unresolved problem remained. No sound came out. It was a long and strange concert for the boy, and finally after what seemed to be a finale, the man stopped, and took a breath. The way he took his breath was as if he was very proud of what he had done, and a million people had applauded him. The fly that had been moon-bathing in moon-light, left, rather disappointed. The boy thought that if the man were attempting to be a mime playing a violin, he would have been the greatest show on earth.

Did you like it?

Erm, yes.

Did you understand it?

The boy paused for the longest time. To lie or not to lie, that was the question.

Not really, but it was enjoyable.

It was my latest piece. Well, a portion of it. To be more precise, my favorite portion from a longer piece. It is called Dies Irae. Don’t be modest. Unleash your sharp knives of criticism and bleed me. That is the only way art can grow. Tell me, did you enjoy it?

The boy was speechless. See. You should never drag a lie. You would then need another lie to cover that first one, and another to cover the one you used to cover the first one.

What did it mean? The boy opted for a straightforward truth. Good choice. The man squinted his eyes. He didn’t like it that the boy didn’t know a thing about his music. But at least he was honest.

Perhaps one day, you can tell me. Said the man with a smile.

What is your name? asked the boy.

If you know not of my music, what good is my name?

I just want to make a new friend before I die. Said the boy.

The man smiled.

I am Amadeus. And you are?

End, replied End, Nice to meet the last of you.

Haha. Deadpan humor I see. Nice to meet the last of you too. I am sorry to have to say this, and this may come off as a little crude, but, has anyone told you that with a name like that, it’s going to be rather difficult for you to make it through life?

End laughed with sarcasm directed at him.

I won’t have to worry about that very soon would I?

Oh, but maybe you do. You were born to do great things.

Oh, not again. Said End.

What’s wrong?

That’s what I have been hearing all my life.

Then you must indeed be very talented.

No! It is from people who expect too much from me. This entire city expects too much of me. In fact that is the most over-used phrase I have ever heard in my life, and any attempt by me to do anything is immediately met with the instantaneous comment that ‘Not bad, ninety-nine upon hundred is good, but you were born to do greater things. I am tired of that phrase. Why can’t people ever be satisfied?

Amadeus seemed to understand every word the boy was saying. End took his time to study the face of Amadeus. The wrinkles of this man Amadeus, spelt that perhaps he had been through much more than End had. Amadeus closed his eyes in some sort of meditation and took a deep breath. He began to listen. What was he listening to? End didn’t understand this. It was a good minute before Amadeus said something again. As he ended his meditation, he did so with a giggle.

What’s so funny? asked End.

That I am absolutely right about you. You were born to do great things. End shook his head. Another adult that didn’t understand him, he thought. But he looked back at Amadeus. He noticed that as Amadeus said those words, he was grooving his neck to an imaginary song as if it was the greatest tune ever played. This crazy man must be full of imaginary sounds, thought End.

Look, I told you… asked End.

I’ll let you in on a secret! interjected Amadeus with a whispering voice, Our souls are actually symphonies. I can hear them! And sometimes I can see them! Your emotions are the notes and scales. Your character is the style of the piece, but the most interesting of course is your destiny. A person’s destiny will always be his or her unfinished piece of music that is begging the author to make meaning of, begging the person to construct and finish. That, my friend, is actually the beauty of life.

End didn’t understand a word he said.

In time you will understand. But just remember one thing. Beware the poison.

What Poison? asked End.

For instance, I have been poisoned, said Amadeus with a sudden strange and sad expression on his face.

By what?

Amadeus pointed to his own head, and then he looked at End with understanding eyes. He touched his own chest.

I know that all you are feeling right now is pain and anguish at everyone, because you don't yet know how your symphony fits into to this world. But every difficulty you face, are but trials that help guide you as you write your own symphony. They are but opening overtures of the beautiful melody that is your destiny. And my oh my, your adventure will be one of the greatest symphonies ever written.

End was really sick of hearing people say that to him. Thankfully for him, before Amadeus could say any more, some guards led by the young guard who drank false-teeth brewed coffee came down the stairs. They were looking at Amadeus. Amadeus saw them and felt uneasy. End knew that Amadeus’s time was up.

Beware the poison. Said Amadeus as he prepared himself for his departure.

What poison? asked End.

The guards unlocked the doors of Amadeus’s cell. Amadeus actually struggled a little, but he stopped. Like a man who knew he was dying, he decided to look at End with a face filled with hope instead of fear.

I like your symphony. Unlike mine, yours will not end tomorrow, said Amadeus, as the guards came to escort him. Amadeus seemed ready. Amadeus came past the bars of End’s cell.

Tomorrow, your symphony begins. But only if you want to. Learn to nurture your talents before it is too late. continued Amadeus in a hurried tone. He seemed to be squeezing out every last bit of advice he could give to aid End.

Do you know your name? asked Amadeus.

My name is End.

No, your name is End, the LightCatcher.

The guards led him out and escorted him away. Amadeus took one last look at End before he was escorted out of the long hallway of the cell. End did not know what the confusing man was rambling about. He couldn’t care about nurturing any talent at this point of time because all he felt was fear. As Amadeus disappeared into the dark alleys, End knew that it would be his own turn tomorrow. He tried to get some sleep, but it was impossible.

Morning came, and the rays of sun peered through the church like structure that was the Destiny Rewriting Chamber. For a building in the year 3013, the Chamber was rather out of fashion. It was made with nineteenth century Victorian architecture and felt like one of those old English courtrooms where lawyers still wore white wigs and long dark overcoats. The rest of its interior design was revolting and unimaginative, as if its designer had been told by accident that he was to design a factory, and midway through his designing, had his instructions changed for him to be designing a prison instead.

Inside the chamber, sat men and women in the five sides of the pentagon shaped interior as they bore witness to this session. They were dressed grim and proper, in the colors black, white and grey. They were merely spectators who had a little too much free time on this boring Friday evening, and who decided that local television was just not spicy enough. They were not actually part of the proceedings because the City of Lions did not use a Jury system for their trials. Anyway, this was not even a trial to begin with, but the expressions on these peoples’ faces looked as if they were the jury. Every face casted a judgment on End, and judgment was unanimous. They had heard, and thus believed, that the boy was completely useless and should be condemned for eternity in this very chamber. Citizens of the City of Lions fought hard to earn their keep and thus had that small tendency to be rather elitist and unforgiving.

As End entered the chamber, whispers of scorn began to resonate. The people began saying things they would never say about their own children.

Is he the boy who is useless?

I think so. But how can anyone fail the S.A.D.s test?

Yeah! That’s impossible. Every kid can at least do one thing, right?

My kid answered ten questions in the S.A.Ds correctly.

Hah, mine answered eleven.

Fellas, come on, my kid did one hundred questions correctly.

That’s impossible. Where is he now?

He migrated.

Oh.

So this kid here, he has to be lazy.

Who are his parents? I wonder…

I heard his parents disowned him for how useless he is. Where are they now?

Maybe they are too ashamed to be here today.

That last line was the most painful one for the ever-sensitive End. The pain derived from hearing such harsh words was even more painful than the straps that were bounding him to the chair. End was strapped down and facing the huge menacing sphere. The sphere had an eerie green glow to it that would have frightened anyone. But End did not struggle or show any hint of the emotions he might be feeling. He simply did not care anymore about life. His biggest fear wasn’t death or the Sphere. The biggest fear for any child was the fear of being thought of as someone completely useless, especially by his or her own parents. In front of the sphere was a panel of debating scientist who seemed like they haven’t quite got their calculations right yet. But a common nodding motion amongst them signaled their intention to go ahead anyway because of a very critical reason.

Gentlemen, we have to start so that we can be back on time for dinner. Said an officer who had just arrived. The Scientists greeted him as Officer Yum. Officer Yum was a Chinese man with nicely combed hair and a robot like face. He stepped up to the podium and behind a lectern to begin proceedings. As he spoke, he spoke completely like a well-oiled cyborg, and with a voice that sounded like he had too much spicy food and insufficient herbal tea to chase it down.

Date, January 1st 3013. Sphere of Influence, session 3013, year 3013. Candidate for Sphere of Influence session, End Cloud. S.A.Ds score, zero. The S.A.Ds test score of End is conclusive of the result. Candidate End has failed to achieve ‘Destiny’ by the age of 13. Under Nation Earth’s approved Leakipedia definition of ‘Destiny’, applied in the context of citizenship, ‘Destiny’ is defined as the ability to contribute to society in a manner in which the governing body, ‘The Garment’, of the city, ‘The City of Lions’, deemed fit. Result of processing, End will achieve greater physical strength in exchange for a loss of memory and the loss of the ability for decision-making. Before the proceedings, End, you are required to watch the video entitled, ‘Words from our mentor’.

A video played on a huge wall, facing End, and also on all the walls of the chamber. It is a video of a handsome middle-aged Asian man who was also the leader of the City of the Lions, known as The Mentor. Someone in the crowd whispered, It’s Mr Tomorrow, he is so handsome. The video began. The man had slit eyes and a high and famous forehead full of lines. Though his voice was raspy, he spoke with the clear diction of someone who studied in the most prestigious of universities in the City of Three Lions. His aura was most befitting of a lawyer, and every bit of his muscle and bones echoed the words Leader.

The video was full of glitches and possibly old and overused.

You are about to embark on a journey, that will bring you to the next phase of your life as a citizen of the City of Lions. May I remind you, that we, The Garment, do not enjoy the undertaking of this processing. The due process is merely a necessary one to maintain the balance of hardworking people for our economy. Our small city with no natural resources requires that every citizen of the City of Lions contribute efficiently to the economy or we will parish in the face of global competition. I thank you for your contribution, however small it may be, and for the hard work that you will put in as a manual laborer for your city. I thank you for your participation in ensuring the survival of our small but prosperous city. Thank you.

There was a general energy of approval in the chamber. Every citizen of the City had great respect for The Mentor. Was it the power of his words and charisma or his deeds that determined his popularity? Maybe it was the stability of the society, and the affluence of the people that made every mind in the room stop questioning and chasing the truth about humanity and whether what we are about to witness is right or wrong. End did have a tiny nervous moment in his chair when he realized that people were clapping when his life as a normal person was about to end. End’s eyes danced around the white walls in the chamber searching randomly for something or someone to peg his humanity on. There has to be someone who thought differently from everyone else.

And there was. Amongst all the people in the chamber, there was a girl with a different look about her. He looked into her eyes and she looked back. She was a pretty nurse, and her eyes actually spoke of some form of sympathy for End. For a moment, the cold heart of End was jolted for a second, as he felt a little jealous of the lucky man who would eventually be with her. That man would never be him.

Pursuant to section 37, sub section 7, paragraph A of the Citizenship act, continued Officer Yum, I declare End now a recipient of the Sphere of Influence processing.

Are they going to shrink the boy’s brain and make him a mindless strong freak? someone sadistic whispered from the audience.

Yes.

You mean like a zombie? I love Zombies.

No, it’s not exactly like a zombie.

But still, it should be exhilarating to watch.

Why hasn’t anything happened yet? Officer Yum asked the scientists. One of them was waving his hand trying to signal to him.

What is it? asked Officer Yum.

Emotion, whispered the scientist.

Officer Yum grumbled and turned to face End.

My dear Boy, there is just one problem limiting our work. Officer Yum brought his face nearer to End’s. You have to cry.

Cry? mumbled End.

Even a man on death row is extremely afraid. Once you get afraid like every other kid, the Sphere can use the energy from your emotions to do its job.

I…

Death is a necessary fear. Any child that does not fear death is probably insane. I am just curious. Why aren’t you even the least bit afraid?

I…

You must cry, otherwise the sphere will not power up and we will not be able to erase your mind. Our efficient schedule will be pushed back, destroying the very eco-system of our economy. So please, cry.

End looked at the man with big confused eyes.

How? asked End.

How what?

How will I destroy the very eco-system of the economy?

Officer Yum had never been put in this position before. Usually his subjects would be so scared and frightened that they would be weeping.

Goodness! Of all the days! Look boy, today is my son’s birthday. I really need to get home!

That’s the eco-system of our economy?

Officer Yum thought for a while.

Remember all those times you were bullied? Or when you were told you were no good?

That’s everyday. I am used to it.

Bring that feeling back into your head. Just focus. Give it a shot. Do it for your city who loves you. Officer Yum was clearly at a loss of words but at least he was smiling. End being End still didn’t want to disappoint other people or waste their time. He was too kind a soul. His character was kind to the degree where it sometimes became irrational. He began to close his eyes so that people can hurry up with what they were doing and get home for dinner.

I will try.

End silenced his thoughts to focus his mind. He was still quite poor at meditation but he tried for the sake of others. True enough, with sufficient motivation, his old memories began to flood back into his mind. End remembered how he was possibly the worst student ever to step into a school. He was always discriminated by teachers for not scoring enough for tests. All he ever wanted to do was doodle or have fun, but all fun was always shunned upon. He remembered that he had a tuition teacher for every subject there was to study. Teachers, Parents, and relatives, everyone was the same. Too much expectation for him, and always telling him that he was meant for greatness and whenever he could not achieve something, it had to be because he was lazy. Every day in his life was a torment of not being up to standard, and he was expected to appreciate that life had been good to him, and that to complain would be criminal. End felt the frightening claustrophobia of choices that life had presented to him. He began to find it hard to breathe