“People of Metru Nui!” she exclaimed. “The final brick of this city has been laid!”
The crowd erupted. What Nokama meant was dubious, but nobody denied a reason to celebrate. Buildings were still being torn down and built up, but over the last few centuries, the boundaries that had been laid out by the Matoran according to the original city’s foundations had been slowly filled up. And now that there was a central chute system connecting everything, it was safe to say the city was back to its former glory. All the work that needed to be done was done.
Everyone was rejoicing. Except for one soul, once a great leader, now aged and beginning to deteriorate in all the areas of the mind that had not been destroyed by trauma; no longer a presence in the city, all but forgotten as he spent his years in the deep crystal caverns outside the city with the Ko-Matoran monks. He knew of the celebrations, but he had no need to rejoice; instead, he retired to his cell and wrote four copies of the same letter. One went to Turaga Nui Nokama; one went to the Chronicler; one stayed at the monastery; one he kept for himself.
I should hope that by now everyone on Spherus Magna will have forgotten their life before, but I remember very well the great spirit named Mata Nui. Once he was merely mythology; now we can safely say that he not only exists but is still alive and thriving. Where he is only the Toa team assigned long ago to hide him and the body in which he continued to thrive knows for sure. And his name lives on in the works of the Chronicler. Yet with the knowledge of his existence also comes the knowledge that we are no longer dependent on him. Our instincts as Matoran, whether Toa, Turaga, or common Metruan or Koronan, tell us we must work ceaselessly to keep the Spirit alive. And now that spirit no longer needs us. So what are we to do? What is the point of staying alive if the tasks our minds are wired to perform no longer has any purpose beyond the superficial? I have given this much thought, and only one answer crosses my mind: nothing. It is time for us to free ourselves.
And shortly after Turaga Vakama wrote those words, he took a boat out into Aqua Magna, never to return.
Edited by Moo!, May 29 2012 - 02:35 AM.