Y12-003
Virtually Re-Generated
Word count: 966 (not including title page)
I slipped off the goggles, now dazed and confused. I had been using the ZX-MEM,
a device which can send any person who may be curious about their ancestors into
the past. My favourite ancestor out of the hundreds I had seen so far had been
Aeliana Thorpe. She was a woman in the army during the late eighteenth century.
She died in 1789 when the Bastille was stormed, killing her, other soldiers and
many revolutionaries. Among the mess of bodies, they found a soldier in uniform.
While disrobing the body, they discovered that a woman had crept her way into
the army by posing as a man. That was Aeliana. Her entire twenty years in service
had been spent being known as her brother, Clémence Thorpe, and no-one knew
her true gender.
My blurred vision cleared slowly, revealing two people in front of me. The woman,
Emily, had her hair pinned tightly on the top of her head. A pen stuck out from her
hair tie and she tapped away furiously on her tablet. She squinted her piercing blue
eyes at the small text, having always had trouble with her eyesight but refusing to
get glasses because ' the optician's smells funny'. The man next to her was already
checking my vitals, turning off the equipment and fussing about how Emily was
slacking and was not paid to drink a thousand cups of coffee a day. His blonde hair
obstructed his view through his thin-framed glasses and he had to keep blowing it
out of his face. His hazel eyes flitted from the heart rate monitor to the blood
pressure one. His name, Darren, was scribbled wildly across a name-tag.
“Vitals are normal. Her heart rate is a little high, but that's to be expected. Emily
saved some good footage, if you want to watch it back. Aeliana's story is almost
done so do you want to quickly get back in to watch the last day?” Darren was
already rebooting the equipment.
“How long do you think it will take us to get through it?” Emily puffed, pouring
even more coffee into her stained mug.
“One to three hours if it goes well, but it could take a maximum of twelve hours.”
“You better make me a coffee if I have to be in there that long.” I pushed my head
back into the seat. Darren slipped an energy drink into my hand.
“Hold your nose, these taste awful.” I grimaced and set the drink down, accepting
the goggles and transferring myself back into the past.
~~~~
The gentle streets of Paris grew in front of my eyes. Cobblestone paths covered in
rain water greeted me with shimmering glints. Children rushed around with
parents. In the near distance, a small mob was gathered, armed to the teeth and
yelling complaints across roads. The group grew the more distance they covered,
building to at least four hundred of them. Further along, the Bastille stood in all its
glory. Inside, a large supply of gunpowder was stacked and soldiers guarded the
barrels. One soldier in particular – the commander's most trusted lieutenant –
stood with a straight back in front of him.
“Commandant, nous avons un probléme. [Commander, we have a problem]”
Aeliana or 'Clémence' spoke with her arms folded. Commander of the Bastille,
Bernard-René de Launay, looked around and began muttering to her in English, so
that the others wouldn't understand.
“What are you talking about, Clémece?” His eyes swivelled crazily.
“Ils vont prendre d'assaut la Bastille! Prêts vos armes! [They will storm the
Bastille! Ready your weapons!]” De Launay grabbed her arm and dragged her away
from the stampede of soldiers gathering firearms. “Commander, we have to ready
them. Without preparation, we will all be killed!”
“Now is not the time!” He glared angrily at the mess of weapons. “This is your
fault. Any and all deaths fall on your shoulders. You had better arm yourself, avant
que je te tue… [Before I kill you...]” He pulled his sword from its sheathe, secretly
admiring the glistening metal.
Pounding feet and yells of disapproval could be heard from miles away. De Launay
spoke with two of their leaders to negotiate, but no compromise could be reached.
Aeliana added a few extra words, to no avail. She took a place on the firing line,
ready to injure any who entered. The revolutionaries wanted the entire supply of
gunpowder, which would completely empty the Bastille. However, they became
restless and impatient, so pushed into the main yard. One guard outside of the
drawbridge was killed, which quickly resulted in eighty-three deaths in the crowd.
De Launay saw the drawbridge beginning to fall, and hysterically cried out for a
surrender. In the midst of the attempt, the chains fell the rest of the way, a sea of
blood-crazed revolutionaries bursting into the courtyard.
“Ils sont ici! Ne laissez pas votre baisser la garde – nous allons sortir
victorieux! [They are here! Do not let your guard down – we will emerge
victorious!]” De Launay announced, earning cheers and also encouraging the loud
popping of muskets toward the invaders. The soldiers watched as their
commander was dragged out. Furious Frenchmen punched, clawed and smacked
at the man, who was now left defenceless. Aeliana heard the yell of her 'name' and
sprinted through the crowd. She had training, but the crowd did not. She thought
that would be an advantage. However, she hadn't seen the people hiding behind
pillars, who shot at her arm, leg and finally, her chest. Her mouth hung open,
blood spouting from it like a fountain. The sounds of yelling and guns slowing
faded. How fitting it would be that her commander was struck down at the same
time as the last puff of air was stolen from Aeliana Thorpe's lungs.