Legionaries

Rama Lazuardi's

10 October 2018

At 16:34

"Solar spray is slowly weakening

The western sky gradually flushed

The evening sky, the sky that man craves by day

When the hot sting is no longer hot

When my smile comes out, Dad sows the yard

As the wolf descended from the northern cloud,

pouncing without growling, preying without thirst,

Father stood like a martyr, undaunted even though his blood rippled"

DADDY'S? What the fuck? Why am I writing silly poems? I should have used this piece of HVS paper to compile a resume recording of an interview I've completed all day. But, what exactly did I do? Wolves coming down from the northern clouds? Whatdoes thatmean? You stand like a martyr? Where can I find such strange words? Then, ⁇ Daddy's? Who's Dad? I never even felt like I had a father. So, what does this writing mean? Ah, goddamn. Again, I spent time daydreaming in vain.

Apparently, my daydreaming habits have had a negative impact, especially affecting my performance which has recently become less effective. I don't know what the trigger is. Either a psychological condition or just a factor of fatigue. What is clear, if this situation continues, my daily life will be much disturbed. I began to think about spending time visiting a psychiatrist. At least to ascertain whether this disorder that I experienced can have a bad effect on my psychic condition in the future.

While exhaling a long breath, I rubbed my dull skin affected by the pollution. A few minutes ago, I didn't even realize where I was. Apparently I've been sitting half an hour stuck in the hallway of a coffee shop. Meanwhile, my cup of coffee on the table was almost cold, waiting for a long time to be stamped. So, while looking around, I grabbed the cup of creamy latte coffee. Cold indeed, but a mouthful is enough to refresh the mind. Damn, that mouthful of coffee was also able to recover my memories that had been blocked by the damn daydream just a moment ago. Damnit. I just remembered that this afternoon I still left one more interview agenda to complete.

Spontaneously and anxiously, I hit my own forehead. Fortunately, the appointment schedule with the last speaker is still about an hour away. This busy schedule that has become my daily life should make me accustomed to thinking efficiently. However, with the amount of time seized by the daydream, now I have to reset the remaining time so as not to fall asleep when preparing a report report later tonight.

In haste, the HVS curly sheet contains a silly daydream rhyme to form a small ball. I threw the ball into the mouth of the trash can that happened to be near my seat. Three points! Instead, I directly snatched a new piece of HVS paper from the pile of maps inside my backpack. Then, from inside my shirt pocket, I pulled a cable connected to a set of music players, then slipped the end of the challenger in both of my ears. Some of the interview files, which I've been collecting all day, I'm trying to relearn. I have to devise a scheme based on the order of time.

"Blood balanced?"

Just now that I was intending to draw the schema boxes on the HVS sheet, suddenly a voice slipped from behind. Surprised, my head that was bowed on the HVS paper was lifted. In a short time, the mood and concentration that I had difficulty building was in a mess. Spontaneously, I looked back, the direction where the sound was coming from. The form of a young man knew already appeared there.

Maybe that man's age is still my age. The difference is, he looks taller and muscular. The foreign man stood up while carrying a black backpack. The appearance is quite neat with a single-pocketed shirt suit. In his shirt pocket, he tucked an object that resembled a voice recorder. Although only a glance, I can immediately reflect the field of profession he pursued.

"You're making a balanced vessel?" The man repeated his question.

"Right," My eyebrows shot up. "Can I help you?"

"I'm The Clouds of the Universe, journalist of the daily Voice of the Masses," the man continued, offering a handshake.

"I'm Rama. Rama Lazuardi of Metropolis." I felt a bit awkward as I clasped his muscular hand. As a result, my wrist was somewhat jolted by his considerable strength.

"Criminal specialist newspaper?" I nodded in agreement. "I mean I'm talking to the right person."

"You mean?"

"Sorry before, it has disturbed and surprised you, Rama. I just need a minute to..."

"Sorry, Dude. I don't dare to be sure if I have time to take care of anything else or not..." While saying, I directed a glance towards my HVS paper as an affirmation that I was busy working.

"It won't be long. Just a few minutes. How's it?"

I did not rush to respond even though I finally agreed. "Please" I said, pointing at the chair in front of me with my palm to ask him to sit down.

"good. Nngg... Rama?" The face of the man who claimed to be named Cloud looked at me enthusiastically. "I just want to ask your opinion on the results of my investigation."

"Journalistic investigation." Cloud's words did sound slow, but straightforward, to the point that I was not given a chance to respond. "And because of this investigation I have been working on, I must swallow the bitter pill, which is to be dismissed from the Voice of the Masses."

Without me realizing it, this man's words just now seemed able to make me melt. I have to admit, this guy is really able to read my weak point, which is too easy to empathize with someone. "alright. What can I help you with?"

"I need an arm extension."

"You mean?"

"I need people who have access to the media to take a relay on my research. I hope you can be patient for a moment. I guarantee you will be interested in this later. As a journalist, you have a strong intuition."

While glancing at the watch, "Good. You have five minutes. Please, Cloud Man."

The clouds took a moment to sigh. "Good, Rama. As a criminal journalist, you must have heard of the mysterious death phenomenon that afflicts a number of important figures? There is the name of top businessman Albert Riyadi who died in hospital two years ago. The results of my investigation gave rise to allegations of intentional malpractice indications by the hospital."

"A little while," my sergeant, interjected. "On what basis do you suspect...?"

"Attent. I'm not done yet." The mood was silent for a moment. "Can I continue?" Again, I chose to give up to avoid long debates. "Then Lukas Tambunan, an idealistic politician, found his body a year ago in his office with a bullet hole in his head. For this one, I don't need to explain at length. You can definitely conclude that the event was purely murder. That's right, isn't it?"

I nodded again, this time to save time. To be honest I just want this guy to finish his bullshit so I can get back to work.

"Then, most recently, there was the name of businessman Erwin Hartanto and a member of the legislature, Adjie Cahyadi, whose body was found mutilated. But I'm sure there's something wrong with investigating their deaths."

Enough, I can no longer bear to hear the rambling explanation of the Clouds. "Flame Cloud, sorry in advance. If you intend to draw your own conclusions, I also have the right to have conclusions about the cases you mean. And my conclusion is the same as the police report. After all, the investigation into those cases has been officially closed. The murder suspect Erwin Hartanto himself has been determined, namely the security officer in his office. The motive is revenge. Case closed!"

"So shallow is your thinking, Rama?" Hearing that cynical remark, I immediately reacted. My empathy is faded. But for some reason, my mouth was locked. "Then what about the silly issues that are breathed in a number of media, such as the appearance of strange creatures that are described as very creepy? You've heard of it, haven't you?"

"What is your purpose in asking me about these senseless news stories? You want to demean me?" I tried to rebuke with a high tone.

However, like not caring about my emotions that began to be provoked, Cloud was actually engrossed in continuing his chatter. "Media is not entirely wrong, Rama. They only drew conclusions based on CCTV footage at the home of Djanus Riyadi. The creature was clearly caught on camera the night Djanus was killed. As you know, the younger brother and successor Albert Riyadi in the board of directors Riyadi Group was finally to fate like his brother, killed in a terrible condition. His body even had to be identified by matching fingerprints because the pieces of his head were never found. What are your comments about the media data?"

I realized this guy was testing me. Apparently he was quite adept at playing situations to trap and influence my thinking. Fortunately, I don't want to just follow the game. "I have my own conclusions about it. And what is clear is that my conclusions have absolutely nothing to do with mystical things. I'm not a journalist of a metaphysical magazine who often overrides logic."

"I'm not accusing you of that. I'm just suing your competence in analyzing a criminal case."

"So, you think, as a journalist I'm not competent, is that it?"

A smile on half the lips of the clouds. "You're wrong, Rama. I expect a lot from you. With the predicate of journalists you look up to, you should not devour mainstream media opinions raw."

Suddenly, the Cloud's facial muscles loosened. The cynical look he had been indulging in from the start, slowly faded away. However, it actually made my empaths appear again. It is possible, this man is in a depressed psychic condition after becoming a victim of PHK. People who are depressed usually talk too much. The proof, we have been chatting for quite a long time, I still do not understand the direction of the conversation.

"Cloud, I'm sorry about what happened to you. I understand how you feel right now." From inside the wallet, I pulled out the business card and gave it to her. "You don't have to call me. I'm ready to help when needed."

However, with a face that returned cynical, Cloud actually brushed off my hand. "That's it later. I have something more important."

Upset, I threw away the business card I was holding and made the little thing move away in the wind. The clouds have not given up. Now he is busy hacking into the contents of his backpack. Moments later, his hand appeared along with a piece of jumbo cardboard that was already dull in color.

"Can I borrow a pencil case?" With the contents of my enigmatic head, I took my pencil box from inside the bag and gave it to Cloud. The man put my pencil case as a sticker on the end of the carton so as not to fold back.

"Here we go!" closed, enthusiastically.

Several pieces of newspaper news clippings seemed attached to the cardboard sheet. In certain corners, there are photos of a number of important figures, some of which are the names of murder victims. Straight lines appear to intersect and form very complex syllogistic relationships. The complexity depicted on the surface of the cardboard actually makes my forehead wrinkled.

"What do you think?"