An Introduction To Holindrian

For me, Holindrian has existed, in one form or another, for more than twenty years. More than any other character I’ve created—or, perhaps better yet, been the mode through which that character has sought to enter our world—Holindrian, while not always the clearest image within my mind, has, nonetheless, proven to be the most potent and, I hope (with no small amount of luck), among the most enduring. He has evolved over these years in ways both overt and nuanced, but always does he retain much of that first bestowed upon him in his earliest formation.

In the beginning, there was Holindrian. From very nearly the moment I first dared to fancy myself a writer (not to be mistaken as an author) with a story to tell, this character rapidly formed, emerging out of the ether of nebulous creativity not unlike a star being birthed, around which an entire solar system might come to orbit. That nascent most Holindrian, like many of those elements at the start, was crude, ill-shapen. The world that incarnation of Holindrian inhabited was one of fantasy complete with wonderous realms carved into the sides of mountains or underground in expansive caverns; hordes of orc-ish beasts fouling up the countryside; an evil, despotic villain that needed to be vanquished. It was a world shallow and crafted from a quaint appreciation for newly discovered work, J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. In short order, Holindrian and the story (such as it was at the time) would undergo pronounced changes—courtesy of Herodotus, Xenophon, Homer, and The Killer Angels by Michael Shaar—but it began then with having seen Peter Jackson’s adaptations of that most exquisite work.

Early in the development of the character, I, for reasons not wholly clear to me (given that I profess myself an agnostic with generalized deist leanings), began, almost at once, to imbue Holindrian with decidedly religious notes in his history. Sometimes, these trappings were less than subtle. One particular manifestation of this was an idea that Holindrian possessed some connection to the Madonna (Mary the mother of Christ), he was akin (maybe) to the Trinity, and a messianic figure in his own right delivered to an alternate world of humans—for Earth has never held my imagination in the development of my stories as it has too often played a central role in other works of science fiction and the formulation of my apocalis does not need our Earth to tell stories about our Earth. There was also a time where a version of the character was destined to conclude his hero’s journey in a direct confrontation against Morning Star, the Devil himself. Thankfully, many of the details of these earlier iterations of Holindrian have been poorly preserved by me over the years, but, as you will soon read, some of these concepts do remain and seem to have become infused, essential components as to how I imagine Holindrian to be as a character and a device.

The origins of his very name are lost, even to me. I recall, vaguely, the exercise of playing with different words to create this amalgamated collection of letters. Only with the start of his name can I pretend any level of certainty—“holi” has always been derived from “holy”. This is yet another connection to Holindrian’s innate religious constitution. As for what and how the rest of his name came to be… I, embarrassingly, can offer no answer. In the years since, I have sought, with no small degree of difficulty, to fashion a more satisfactory meaning of his name—one that is in keeping with the broader work I’ve crafted. In the end, however, it may simply be that Holindrian is Holindrian.

What elements of those older iterations of Holindrian that have survived into this present, definitive compilation of the character can be found in the pages to come and in other stories still to be told. Holindrian’s metamorphosis has been a long journey from pitiful epigone to (and I once again invoke Fortune) a paragon of virtue. For whatever else the character of Holindrian is and may come to be, he shall forever be the center of this universe I’ve created. He may not necessarily be the principal character through which a story is told, the world further developed and explored, but it is by Holindrian that all is anchored and, ultimately, dependent.

In the pages that follow, I present to you, the reader, the beginning episode of my apocalis—my future myth. It is the story—a very specific story—about this man Holindrian, who can no longer run from who he is, what he is, and what he needs to become. The Human Revolution is as much his story as it is the story of the people of Eridu. But it does not begin or end with the conflict between Holindrian and Saperon, the oppressed peoples of Eridu against the theocratic tyranny of the Baltutu, or even the glorious struggle for freedom and liberty. The Human Revolution is a journey for all time. At its core, it is about the type of people—the type of civilization we ought to aspire to be, for my part. Holindrian is but the character burdened to progress along that arc—an exemplar for all who share a page with him.