TOSKA
Prologue
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TO FIND CONFIDENCE
ONE MUST STRIKE A BALANCE BETWEEN COURAGE AND WISDOM
-ARISTOTLE
Reinhart slowly regained his consciousness.
He eventually opened his eyes and let out an alarmed cry: “What is this?!”
The scene he was witnessing bewildered him. He was in the middle of a desolate, moonlit desert.
A uncanny flurry of clouds danced above him as he questioned himself: Why does it seem like the starry sky is laughing at me?
Out of the blue, he began remembering everything that had transpired.
He began gasping for breath.
The memory hit him like oceanic tides hitting the shores.
Panickedly, he glanced at his right wrist. To his dismay, Reinhart discovered that his watch was broken.
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The X-199G was a special space ship. Not only was it capable of interstellar travel but it also possessed an inordinately advanced ion-propulsion engine that was vastly different from its counterpart seven hundred years ago. Although warp-drive--travelling faster than light--was concluded to be a fantasy, the X-199G could, for all intents and purposes, travel at the speed of light.
Onboard this ship was a stalwart middle-aged man in white-robes. The embroidery on the robes was so meticulously delicate that even the wearer seemed to exude an opulent aura.
‘’So, son, tell me. Do you know why it is that I asked you to accompany me?” The man austerely inquired.
“Yes, father.” A handsome young man, seemingly about 17 years of age, respectfully replied.“ It’s to educate me--to educate me on the paramount importance of social interactions and cordiality in conducting diplomacy.”
After a slight pause, the youth continued: “But, father, I have been traveling with you for three years already. Wouldn’t it be all right for me to cease traveling and begin learning from books instead?”
“No. no. It is not possible to learn the nuances of a trade without experience. In order to master dancing, you have to be observe sensational dancers. Thus, you need to be exposed to others who are stupendous at conducting diplomacy.” The middle-aged man--who was also the Secretary of the Planetary Discipline Commission--replied sternly as he thought:
Reinhart, my son, I am proud of you. You’ve always--
Suddenly, a hurried voice sounded over the intercom: “Sir! We are getting a heat signature from an object which is approaching us rapidly! It seems to be man-made!”
The Secretary brought his right wrist close to his face and tapped his arm a few times. Suddenly, a holographic display of a very intricate radar appeared to be projecting from the paraphernalia on his wrist. Then, the middle-aged man exclaimed: “It seems to be a missile misfire from an IDR military ship. We are doomed!”
In a flash, the panic in the man’s eyes disappeared as he looked at his son. “Take him to the evacuation pod.”
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The man commanded one of his bodyguards.
“But sir--” The bodyguard attempted a retort.
“I am aware that there is only one evacuation pod that we can reach before the missile hits us! My son’s life is incomparably more valuable than mine! Save him! This is a command!”
The Secretary’s eyes displayed a doting longing towards his son as he hurriedly said: “I am proud of you.”
Then, Reinhart was dragged by the bodyguard and everything afterward seemed illusory. He vaguely recalled the appearance a dimensional crack caused by a nuclear fission.
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Realizing what had happened, Reinhart felt toska.
Vladimir Nabokov defines toska as such: “At its deepest and most painful, it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause. At less morbid levels, it is a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases, it may be a desire of somebody for something specific, nostalgia, love-sickness. At the lowest level, it grades into ennui, boredom. ”
Reinhart felt toska to its completion--from its deepest and most painful stage to its lowest level.
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From the moment he regained his consciousness until the sun came up, Reinhart was furrowing his brows. Having given into despair, he seemed not to care about life. The person most precious to him had died, and he was in a barren desert in a forsaken place.
No other living organism could be spotted in the immediate vicinity, yet there was oxygen in this planet.
Although Reinhart’s mind registered this, he gave the data no further thought because he began cycling through his memories over and over again. He recalled his father’s stubborn refusal to allow him to enroll in the Intergalactic Democratic Republic(IDR) Military Academy; he recalled the exuberance on his father’s face when he heard that Reinhart had been awarded honorary doctorates in Planetary Engineering and Diplomacy for his outstanding research and incomparable contribution to the two fields.
Tears dripping down his face, Reinhart closed himself to reality; indeed, this was an action that was quite uncharacteristic of prodigies. Reinhart’s impassioned wailing seemed unceasing.
Only when the sun reached its zenith did Reinhart retain some of his usual composure.
Because he felt toska, Reinhart cyclically repeated his father’s last words: “I am proud of you, son. You must live on!”
At some point, he began yelling this towards the sky.
After his throat dried, Reinhart launched deep in contemplation of his father again. He recalled the last look on his father’s face. It was not one of fear, but sadness--he was upset that he would not be able to spend more time with his precious and lonely son; the son whose mother had an untimely demise when in labor; the son who had prodigal talent; and, the son who had ---------
Thinking to this point, Reinhart suddenly flashed an empty smile onto his grieved face.
He had decided to live for his father.
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