《Subterranean》


 CHAPTER ONE

    The horizon filled with a cosmic array of color as the day came to an end. The calm, deep red sun was retiring behind the ocean, slipping away as the encroaching black consumed the blue and forest green hues that remained scattered across the sky. Sparse clouds betrayed the markings of some divine architect, the celestial dome exhibiting total majesty as stars began appearing like the first flakes of snow on a soft temperate humus. With his senses enraptured by the vision, Roask''s mind wandered, driven as much by his own will as by the command of some intangible force. His large brown eyes focused on a park in the distance. Tall, neon metallic walls surrounded the green patch of land like the thin, translucent plastic of a petri dish around some multiplying specimen.


    He was in a peaceful state as he switched his internal display to the information tab, an interior, biologically integrated computer sensed the triangular movement of his eyes and activated a semi opaque screen grafted onto the cornea of both of his eyes, obscuring his view like the thin glass of a stained window. More headlines from the land of Sitma, footage of bodies, their limbs crossing over one another like kindling as they were piled into recycling units by autonomous drones.


    A flash appeared in the upper right corner of his internal display, a message from Sigun inviting him to dinner. He despised the man. Constantly vying for attention, incessantly consuming, wholly insatiable. He was the image of everything backwards about his contemporaries. As Roask thought about the meeting, nausea developed. His aversion to the man was so severe it elicited a physiological reaction. He looked under the message, reading the details of the event. 19:00 at the waterfront, district 34.


    He knew that rejecting any invitation from Sigun would have social repercussions, the man too well established in the network to pass off. He got up, the translucent doors to the balcony of his mansion slid open as he approached. He laid down in a reclining chair and opened the consumption tab of his internal display with a circular movement of the eyes. It wouldn''t do to be seen in anything out of fashion by Sigun. He chose a full body, skin tight turquoise suit, fixed with nanofibers that simulated a misty, cascading waterfall. With another twitch of eye he chose the "wear now" option. A drone hurried in, quickly changing his clothing with gentle touches using its spider-like limbs. Before he knew it, the drone disappeared silently through a vent in the ceiling.


    A handful of marble sized planets orbiting a tiny star passed overhead, the dim, deep orange light shed throughout his dwelling like the modest cabin fire of a dark winter night. Small explosions appeared on its gelatinous, round surface as it hovered to the far side of the grand living room. As he got up and headed to the entryway, a painting caught his eye, a rendition of ancestral man, apparently. It showed a group of brutes contained in a great circular structure, their skin extreme shades of white and black. Some were seated, spectating from above and the others engaged, on the ground level, in a dire state of violence. Armed with spears, swords, and armour, they were pitted against elephants, lions, and other animals, gesticulating in a circus of carnal rage. Roask left his flat and entered a transport capsule, the doors of the pod opening quickly before jolting down a vein like tube.


    Cursed by another round of coughing the boy shook violently. He went still. Each raspy, weak breath shifted the tattered brown blanket slowly up and down. Nimble, bony ankles stuck out from beneath the brown mass, his skin a pale hue that seemed to reflect the color of the tightly hugged bone. Han Giru placed his warm, weathered hand on Abbad''s forehead. "Hold on boy. Breath." Han Giru felt the boy losing fortitude with each passing day. "I will get you some fluid." Han Giru hurried to a metallic, cylindrical dispenser that protruded from the metal wall and filled a cup of fluid for Abbad. "Father,'''' the boy said. "Please don''t leave me alone again." " I have no choice," the man said. "You must rest and I must report to the division. Whenever I leave," he said, as he placed his hand on Abbad''s chest, "remeber that I am here.''''


    He placed his other hand on the boy''s forehead. "I will be back soon. Sleep and do not forget to eat, you will be able to fill a bowl of nutrient today." Han Giru slipped on a black, skin tight one piece suit. He left the small room after hugging the boy goodbye. Sad, barren concrete walls met him and lead to a pod at the far end of the hall, his only link to the world beyond. A dim light was shining in the hallway, its intensity shifting periodically like the sound of waves or the rustling of leaves in an intermittent breeze. A shattered bulb left the light partly unfiltered, cutting the dusty concrete floor and walls into sections separated by a jagged, saw like line.


    He headed towards the pod and scanned his face on a thin black panel. A pair of shiny, convex silver doors jolted open horizontally. After entering the coffin sized, cocoon like vehicle and securing himself, a shifting of gears rumbled overhead and a gravitator activated, rushing him down the clyridnical, tube shaped track. Through a rectangular window appeared a constantly shifting, entangled web of translucent, cylindrical tubes through which pulsating flashes flowed, the trails of light appeared as darting fireflies or the tentacles of some lonely deep sea jellyfish.


    Like blood through an artery, he was transported deep into the flesh of the earth. As the pod accelerated and changed direction he felt his organs lightly push up against his lungs or his stomach quickly shift. Eventually the doors swung open and he exited into a larger vehicle, which, after more black suited bodies filtered in, began accelerating towards his final destination.


    He opened the consumption tab of his internal computer with a few twitches of the eye and selected Abbad''s formula prescription. Han Giru felt as if he were drowning, an enormous pressure and weariness permeated his being has he thought of the poor boy alone in the dark room. With the rising cost of nutrient, solar, fluid, and formula, he would be forced to spend more time away from Abbad.


    "Station L42, L42", rang his internal audio system. He exited the car with a group of workers and walked onto a platform that began hovering slowly into the mouth of a grand, auditorium like structure. LABOR DIVISION read the bold, neon letters that rested over a floating metallic arc. The black bodies resembled ants in a colony as they navigated the maze of halls and chambers contained within the gigantic, beetle shaped structure. Neon lit paths formed matrix grids, lifts and escalators shifted men up and down through wiring and swarms of drones. Like bees navigating a colony or hurrying to answer to their queen, the machines hurried from place to place, disappearing and coming through vents in the floor and ceiling, some as small as hummingbirds and others the size of sturdy, heavy bears.


    Eventually Han Giru made his way to sector D and entered a gymnasium like structure. After more bodies filled the room a buzzing noise signally the start of the shift stung his inner ear. A voice came through the internal microspeaker. ''Poetry'', the voice echoed. It was a bizarre order, he had never written or read a so called ''Poem''. A file introducing the work of the day and a number of examples popped up in neon letters, slightly blurring the backdrop of seated men and desks.


    Black night crow on a limb


    Flying high on just a whim


    Where he flies he will confess


    Is always to a call distressed


    Much like grade school pupils scribbling down notes, the poems were produced for hours on end. His last file was inputted and the shrill beep signalling the closure of the working day rang from his internal speaker. Han Giru''s mind returned immediately to Abbad and he hurried out of the gymnasium structure. He pictured the lonely boy curled up in a blanket, shaking violently through throngs of pain.


    Roask stepped through a dimly lit steel tunnel. Bands of deep crimson and magenta light formed circular rings like those found on a jungle snake, each filled with patterns resembling markings on the back a ladybug or underside of a black widow. The tunnel was sliced in half by a wall of cascading water, its smooth surface like a sheet of miniature prisms, their geometry bending and obscuring the bright, blue green gleam emanating from the other side.


    The flow paused momentarily as he approached and entered a spacious, hemispherical building. Under clear tiled floors was a deep aquarium from which a wide, central column transported brine upward, leading it through a matrix of circular slits that shaped the ejaculate into a misty, white pyramid. Translucent walls were fixed with a nanowire grid that slowly shifted in color, adding a spectral effect to the constant stream of water cascading down. The stream accelerated as it moved away from the dome''s apex and approached an exterior pond base, its shifting surface filled with reeds and water lilies that partially hid the white orange flashes of passing coy.


    Near the central column a single man reclined in a floating chair next to a hovering steel dining table. A fat gut and thin, weak arms and legs protruded from his torso, giving him the appearance of a walrus or seal lying idly on a shore, basking in the midday sun. His short black hair receded far beyond his light brown forehead, forming a small patch atop his small head. The man''s small brown eyes were close together, between them a stubby nose that sat above his wide mouth. As he heard the footsteps of Roask a subtle grin appeared on his lips.


    "Ahhh, the man of the hour. Welcome." Sigun said. The fat around his neck shifted like the surface of a jello or custard penetrated by the spoon of an impatient child. Roask sat down on a hover chair across from Sigun and smiled faintly. As he began to speak, Sigun''s eyes focused on his internal computer and a drone hurried in, placing a large platter in front of him. His eyes focused on the dish and then back towards Roask. He had a habit of never looking at one''s eyes, always below their head or at the scenery behind. "It was a pleasure receiving word from you. I always enjoy a trip to the waterfront".If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Without acknowledging his words, Sigun began speaking to Roask. "Let me fill you in with some exciting news. There will be a release of a new drug, PCY7. Drone software has produced an instant cure to the disease that has been plaguing the labor sector. Apparently it is a sort of nanobot dilute capable of instantly binding to the CY7 bacteria. There hasn''t been such exciting news since the initial outbreak of the disease! I am very excited to see how things will unfold. As you know, nothing motivates those subterranean insects more than their precious drugs!" Sigun was connected to the higher arms of the state, always the first to know of the excitement of the coming days.


    Here, I will pass over the file containing all of the details, the man said, in a tone lacking any semblance of empathy or enthusiasm. "Thank you for sharing", Roask replied, as a flash on the file folder of his internal display illuminated. "I''m grateful to be one of the first to hear of the update. I am so happy to have you in my network." He knew Sigun''s ego loved to be stroked. Sigun did not reply, instead grasping a large fork in his right hand and piercing a large breast of chicken, dipping it into a platter of sauce and ripping off a large section of the meat with his sturdy, fat jaw.


    "From what I have heard, there may be another outbreak of the epidemic this year," he said with a smile on his face, the half chewed food slurring his speech. "As you know, the elders of Sitma have been quite out of line. It appears that the epidemic will spread so violently in that dirty continent that it may infect their entire population. Unless their council makes some better decisions our policy may become less patient¡­ That would be a pity." The man cleared his throat as his eyes shifted to a clock above the water gate. The light blue neon arms shifted preciscely, resting on the lustre of the wall and mimicking the celestial parade with movements of utmost precision and subtlety.


    "Indeed. I scanned through some of the headlines this evening, and, what is happening in Sitma is quite unsettling." Roask said. Sigun grunted, and, before offering a response, focused on his internal display. A drone hurried in, laying down a bottle containing a green sludge. It was a digestive aid meant to clear the stomach for another round of eating and drinking. He shifted the vase upwards, and gulped down the sludge. A stream of the viscous liquid slid slowly down his short chin and fell onto the table, splattering like the calm surface of the ocean after a whale lands a jump of excitement.


    "I am hoping to.." Roask began. Sigun''s eyes focused once more on his internal display as he ordered another course, the drone hurried in, quickly wiping down the table before placing a platter of dark, finely seasoned lobster on the table. "Quite old boy. Eat some lobster. How about we invite L. Fauni over to join us. You know she loves my company," he chuckled. "We can take her for a ride".


    "It sounds delightful''''. Roask focused on his internal display began whispering to himself as he dictated a message to Fauni. She was a contemporary of Sigun and Roask, well known for her energetic, spirited aura and beauty. Perhaps because he was not able to acquire her attention at a whim she remained a strong object of desire for Sigun, who obtained almost everything else without the slightest semblance of exertion. She had auburn skin, wavy brunette hair and almond shaped eyes with an oval face and a strong, fit build. She altered the atmosphere around her, adding an intoxicating ecstasy to her surroundings. A connoisseur of the finest of arts with refined tastes, she was privy to the finest, most coveted virtual simulations as well as having a taste and knowledge of the archaic, obsolete forms of music, poetry and dance.


    The patter of the watergate paused for a moment, distracting Sigun and Roask from their plates. They looked up and Fauni appeared, a faint halo seemed to surround her body. She wore a skin tight yellow orange suit, small spheres orbited the surface of the material like ferries or sprites around an old sequoia, seeming to dance with one another before rapidly decaying. A smile spread across Sigun''s fat face. "Ah, now we have an excuse to have some fun,'''' he blurted. "Hello Fauni, kind of you to join us,'''' Roask said. "Thank you for the invitation gentlemen. What is in store for us?" she asked politely. "Clearly you haven''t been to district 34 in a while. Take a seat here." Fauni reclined in a hoverchair next to Sigun as he tapped a few neon blue markings on the floating steel table''s control board, and, soon after, the whole structure began moving slowly towards the ocean.


    A gray wave crashed against the side of the dome and the dark, turquoise water began slowly engulfing the structure as it shifted further away from the coastline. Fauni''s eyes widened and expressions of excitement lit up her face. Before long the structure was fully submerged, gliding through the water like a bioluminescent jellyfish found only in those regions far beyond the reach of the strongest rays of the sun. Beneath their feet silhouettes of seaweed appeared like parading swarms of bats or witches in a dim, moonlit sky; their torn garbs flapping in the air. A whole new world surrounded them, the strong light of the ship penetrated deep into the dark waters and shined upon the myriad fish species and the occasional, lonely shark. Crabs and bottom crawlers scurried through a variety of corals and seagrasses. Bushels of seagrass rocked gently with the soft currents.


    "Let''s take a trip above it all" Sigun said, after they had drifted through the ocean depths a while longer. He quickly tapped some controls. Roask felt an accelerating sensation in his gut as the ship shifted upward and broke through the smooth layer of the ocean, skyrocketing into the air. Fauni gasped and held the arm of Sigun, a gleeful grin appearing on his face. The neon lights of the city appeared like the quills of a startled porcupine. The various ships, lifts and pods transporting consumers and goods shifted around like insects. Why she liked the man Roask could not hardly conceive, feeling jealous.


    As they rose further, Sigun and Fauni became disinterested and focused entirely on their internal displays, her head resting now on his shoulder. A distant, empty stare entered their eyes as if they had entered a deep trance of meditation. As Roask peered below, the lights of the city became shrouded under a blanket of clouds. The horizon began to curve as the ship ascended beyond the layer of clouds into the thin sections of the atmosphere, the Earth now appearing as a green and blue island in a sea of black, comforted only by the old, calm sun, which appeared in full majesty through the translucent walls of the ship.


    Han Giru sat next to the boy. "I''m cold,'''' he uttered weakly. "Come boy, sit up and try to drink''''. Han Giru shifted to his consumption tab and ordered another shipment of PCY6. A drone appeared through the ventilation system on the ceiling and released a container. Han Giru opened the box, a few capsules of CY6 lay inside. He opened one of the bottles and handed Abbad his dose. The boy swallowed the pills. Han Giru sat up, walked towards the dispenser unit and filled a bowl of nutrient. The boy''s weak hand gripped the spoon, trembling as he took each bite of the brown, dense sludge. "Let us sleep Abbad", Han Giru said, after the boy had finished eating. Han Giru laid down with the boy, his small body totally enveloped by the chest and arms of his father like a cocoon around a caterpillar. The soft, rhythmic movements of the boy''s breathing comforted Han Giru and before long they both fell into a deep slumber.


    Han Giru woke to the boy blowing on his face, a fit of laughter erupted as his eyes slowly opened. The medication had surely taken effect. The color had returned to his skin and the exciting glee appeared again in his eyes. Han Giru promised himself to take the boy to the surface to receive a dose of solar. "How would you like to take a stroll in the park? To see the sun again? What about the clouds?" The boy jumped up and ran to his father''s legs, grabbing his long brown pants while yelling in excitement. "Alright, Abbad, let''s get ready and go." They washed quickly and had some nutrient. Han Giru opened his internal display and configured his destination with some movements of his eye. They left the small abode and hurried to the transport pod, which quickly took them to the surface.


    They exited the transport pod into an intermediary chamber and put on special helmets, each one fixed with a black box that filtered the toxic surface level gases. After their helmets were on a pair of metal gates automatically opened and a pure, white light poured into the chamber. A bright halo surrounded an amalgamation of trees, small ponds, and rolling bright green hills. The sky was spotted with dense, thick clouds appearing like the gown of some colossal bride. Han Giru looked down at the boy, his face was lit up with glee as he ran towards the grass.


    As Han Giru followed him along the path, he felt a joyous ambiance, a beautiful transcendent glee enraptured his soul. It seemed as if a troupe of leprechauns was dancing through the cool afternoon air, running with excitement beneath the long drooping branches of the old oaks and engaging in acrobatics, their movements resembling a fantastical, grand, travelling circus. Their harps, horns, and drums must surely have added to the passion, for the whole affair imparted a contagious vivacity to the breeze that then caressed Han Giru and the boy''s skin and hair.


    Han Giru was transported momentarily from the woes of his usual existence. The painful recollections, worry, and wariness that weighed down upon him from day to day seemed to melt away like a glacier carried far away from its polar home. There were other subterraneans walking and playing, some sitting down at the benches and gazing at the scenery, some laying on the grass and a few others climbing trees. It had been weeks since they had ventured to the surface. After the boy became ill, almost every non essential expense was forgone. Han Giru feared that given the recent price hikes this would be the last time they would feel the sun in many days. The boy ran off, chasing butterflies and squirrels as Han Giru walked along the dirt path.


    The medication temporarily reversed the symptoms of CY6 and relieved the painful curse. The disease was chronic with no permanent cure available. Degenerative, it progressively degraded the organs, culminating in sure death if too much time passed without a dose of PCY6. The medication was precious, reversing the internal damage and quickly bringing one back to health. However, it was short lasting, and after about a day the regular symptoms would return. Like clockwork, a lethargy would set in. The color of the boy''s skin would become pale. A rough, sore throat would set in and a cough, coupled with a debilitating aching of the body, would soon develop. He would become hopelessly bedridden until another dose of the medication was administered.


    Han Giru glanced at the remaining time available for their walk. Thirty minutes and counting. The digits on the internal display recorded every moment above ground, the whole outing an expensive endeavour. The boy was doing somersaults down the small slopes of grass. He ran to Han Giru and asked him to join. "We have to get back soon, Abbad." The boy groaned before running back to the oak nearby, climbing the tree and grasping it like a cub to its mother.


    Han Giru began heading back to the lift entrance. The skyscrapers appeared beyond the neon, metallic walls that surrounded the park. They towered far above the eye could see, their spires appearing as thin as needles as they extended into the atmosphere. Their translucent walls were covered with a series of terraces where grand trees rested and vines climbed. He looked at the surface of the small pond. Flocks of drones and small birds appeared in the reflection. Water lilies calmly rested on the surface, rocking gently with the small waves. A turtle basked in the sun, his eyelids half shut and his head tilted back like a pompous judge.


    Han Giru ran back to him and grabbed his leg, "Do we have to go?" he implored. "We will be back soon enough." The disappointment set into the boy''s eyes as they began walking back to the pod. The gates opened quickly, and before long they were descending back into the endless cave of tunnels and chasms.

 Chapter Two

    ¡°I will start our descent,'''' said Roask as he tapped a few buttons on the floating metal table. The whole mass began descending towards Earth and in a matter of moments reached district 34, a loud beep signalling the end of their adventure. Sigun and Fauni¡¯s eyes returned to life after disengaging their internal computers.


    Roask, tired of faking interest and entirely unstimulated by Sigun, made an excuse to return home.  After passing under the watergate he entered a pod and before long was relaxing on a hoverchair. A drone entered and changed him into comfortable clothing as he focused on his internal display.


    Tired of his own existence, he decided to stream the visual and auditory data of a subterranean. He could see and hear their world, even feel their physical sensations. It was a true experience, a step beyond mere simulation and virtual reality. Everything short of becoming one of the creatures was possible. Data received from their optic nerves and inner ears, all apart of a sort of technological nervous system implanted at birth, constantly relayed a stream of visual and auditory data. Internally, an array of sensors and nanodevices interpreted and sent neural and sensory data as waves easily received replicated by the consumer¡¯s own cyborg anatomy.


    However, only network administrators and drones had access to the raw, unfiltered subterranean data. Roask had been granted an override code by Sigun for the purposes of ¡°entertainment¡±. His request has been so vague as not to merit much consideration by Sigun, who gave him the codes without hesitation.


    Of course, observing their world from such an intimate perspective was not for the faint of heart. The pools of blood and shrill screams of pain during a ritual sacrifice. A fall into a pit of boiling lava. Consumers enjoyed only being praised by the brainwashed beings, treated like gods and fully indulging in their egos and superficial existence. But, Roask desired a more personal view, a picture of life as it really existed for the creatures. It was a feeling unspeakable among his contemporaries, who looked down upon the beings as mere animals.


    He selected the Sitma region and began viewing the video streams. The first was from the eyes of a diseased, around him a few weak and malnourished bodies were strewn on a barren floor, their skin covering what seemed like only a skeleton, devoid of any fat or muscle. The pain  and dreariness from the man¡¯s experience was unbearable and Roask hurriedly switched to another individual. A man with a boy were seated across from one another on the floor, eating some vile nutrient.


    Before long a grey gas began pouring into the dimly lit space. It curled around the corners and walls like the ink of an octopus startled by a predator. It smelled horribly, the man ran to grab some rags and covered his face. Soon enough, the smoke had made its way around the whole abode. The small boy began crying and coughing as the man rushed to softly cover his mouth with a towel. In the corner of the room there was a small baby, its wailing becoming louder and louder as the gas became more dense.


    Roask exited the program and closed his eyes slowly, reclining his head. He felt pain in his stomach coupled with a feeling of total emptiness. An unnatural, unreasonable sense of pity for the vile creatures entered his heart. They are mere subterraneans, pests, a disease worthy of nothing more than an ugly short existence.


    For the first time in weeks Han Giru felt a sense of freedom knowing the boy would be without his usual agony. With PCY6, Abbad could resume his mandatory information accrual sessions. He would lay down for hours, quietly focusing on his internal display as each lesson imprinted on his brain like the shell of some ancient crustacean buried in a sedimentary deposit.


    Always unsure of how the day would unfold yet never curious or excited, Han Giru dreaded each minute and hour passed in the labor sector. His only motivation and solace from the daily toil was the hope that his labor would in some way please or satisfy the consumers. He stood surrounded by a rectangular matrix of workers awaiting orders for the day, the hundred or so men housed in a gymnasium like structure whose spotless metal floor stretched for hundreds of meters in every direction.


    A shrill voice blasted through his internal audio, piercing his ear. ¡°Today, we will enact a hunting scene for the consumers. Drones will prepare the cosmetics, outfits, and accessories.¡± Suddenly a fleet of machines came down from vents in the structure¡¯s ceiling, shining like the colorful, bright sparks of a firework. Each targeted a single subterranean, painting in fine detail their bodies and faces with one set of mechanical limbs while dressing them in epic tribal attire with another. Some were painted black with white, needle like lines around their eyes and mouths. Others wore feather crowns and some ported necklaces filled with the small skulls of rabbits and other petite vertebrates. A long garb caressed Han Giru, fine detail meticulously etched into the leather, its tone gracefully matching a pair of light brown moccasins. They were given long, slender spears, arched wooden bows with taut strings and quivers of arrows. Some held small axes, the sharp, blunt stone heads a light granite color.


    ¡°Please note the following scene. You will reenact this hunt.¡± A video of some barbaric beings chasing down a beast was displayed on each internal computer. The hunter¡¯s tact and skill was evident as they worked together to surround the monster, taking turns stabbing and jabbing at it turned its back. The video ended and the workers stood idle, awaiting their orders. ¡°We will now have a short training session to allow you to properly utilize the implements.¡± A group of drones mimicking the human form and wielding the various archaic weapons appeared and began instructing the subterraneans before flying away through vents in the ceiling.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Suddenly a large, brown bear appeared from an opening in the wall. The animal¡¯s back was slightly arched, its white claws like small daggers extending from great paws. The subterraneans began charging towards the animal, now standing erect on its hind legs. A man swung his axe at the beast before the animal grasped him with its sturdy forearms, sinking large teeth into his neck. A shrill scream and the popping sound of vertebrae and bones shattering echoed throughout the auditorium as the animal shook the man violently in its jaws, a pile of blood staining and spreading across the floor. Han Giru approached the beast and with a passionate fury thrust his spear into the gut of the beast.


    The bear quickly released the subterranean from its muscular jaws and forearms, the body contorting unnaturally before going limp like a ragdoll tossed carelessly from a child¡¯s bed. The bear clawed and overpowered Han Giru after he pushed the spear deep into the beast¡¯s gut, a great roar echoing throughout the auditorium and momentarily placing all of the workers into a frozen stupor. Before it was able to severely maul Han Giru, the workers overwhelmed the animal and it hastily retreated.


    The workers mimicked the hunters in the video, screaming loudly and whistling as they chased down the grand beast. Some fired arrows while others violently stabbed and battered the animal from a close range. It eventually collapsed and, after a final roar, went limp. A drone then hurried in and took the dead subterranean through a vent in the ceiling, his skin already extremely pale. The body appeared as a phantom as it glided through the air, the falling droplets of blood formed curved lines and spirals on the steel like splashes of ink from an artist¡¯s brush. A drone then hurried over to Han Giru and dressed his wounds, quickly patching up and cleaning the deep gashes in his chest. The workers were changed back into their black, one piece suits and dispersed.


    Han Giru took a lift back home and entered to see the boy laying down, concentrating on his lessons. He paused and looked up to Han Giru. ¡°Welcome home.¡± Han Giru filled a bowl of nutrient, his chest aching with every step. He sat down on the mattress next to the boy and placed a hand on his head. ¡°What did you learn today, Abbad?¡±. ¡°We are learning about the surface. The dangers associated with overexposure to sunlight.¡± The boys words brought back the days when Han Giru was in his stage of information accrual. Focusing on his internal display, day in and day out. ¡°After one hour of exposure to sunlight, the cells of the skin atrophy, and, like clockwork, an infection occurs, eventually spreading to the internal organs and killing the subterranean. Beyond some visits for solar, inhabiting the surface is an impossibility for our race.¡±


    Han Giru nodded and stroked the boy¡¯s head. Abbad coughed, his symptoms beginning to reappear. ¡°Here Abbad, take your medicine.¡± Han Giru handed the boy another dose with a glass of fluid. Abbad swallowed the pill and hugged his father. Han Giru¡¯s heart sank as he looked into the empty bottle.


    Hoping to get his mind away from the termite like creatures tunneling below him, Roask began searching for something to occupy his mind. He scrolled through a list of immersion titles. One titled The Birth of The Civilized Consumer caught his eye. Roask selected the immersion file with a few twitches of the eye and a white light near the center of his field of vision appeared and expanded, slowly occupying Roask¡¯s surroundings and fully submerging him into his internal display¡¯s virtual reality.


    Hundreds of men in an amphitheater appeared, all wearing white, skin tight suits. They were bald, with black ink covering the top of their heads. One man addressed the group, standing alone in front of a glass podium, his suit completely yellow, a patch of blue ink on top of his light brown head.


    As you all know, we are convened here today to discuss the fate of the enlightened man. The men here today represent the brightest scientific minds in the world. After the introduction of modern drone software, disease and morbidity had become a thing of the past. Gan, or, as some called it, ¡°Cancer¡± was conquered. The drone and its ultimate intelligence had shifted the upper limit of a lifespan to heights that we, the first generation, have yet to encounter. Man had effectively, for the first time in human history, conquered mortality.


    In the economic realm, drone software solved our wildest dreams. Manual labor was a thing of the past. Science, engineering, construction, and academia saw a complete revolution, the work of the human being displaced by the superior quality and efficiency of the drone. Even artistic pursuits had been mastered by the drone...


    Some began to question if we were even human¡­ It turned out, this great leap forward forced man to confront the question of death. Our population skyrocketed, and the harvest of the Earth could no longer support the bounty of humanity. The pie had been so thinly sliced that virtually no being could enjoy its sweet, intoxicating splendor. Every morsel of sustenance and each drop of water was the object of enmity and a source of bitter conflict. The shade of trees, the sound of the ocean and the cooing of a baby became a luxury only few could afford. Space became limited, and thus began construction of the underground networks. Like trees in the rainforests, fighting and climbing for light we spread in every direction, upwards, downards, and outwards.


    The great famine began. What was to follow were the great wars and a fall back into the age of savagery. Our kind, the enlightened, were victors of the Great War, and were, by the hand of God, placed here to reign forever, today and tomorrow.


    ¡°HAY, HAY, HAY, HAH¡± the men in the white suits shouted in unison.


    Who should have offspring? Who should lay silently on a peaceful shore, surrounded by the peaceful humming of birds? Who should eat their fill, never worried about their next meal? Who should inherit the Earth?


    ¡°US AND US ALONE, US AND US ALONE, US AND US ALONE¡­.¡±, shouted the men.


    We, the enlightened ones, the first generation, the higher class, the consumers, will rule. The drone fleets and poor underlings and inferior beings will bend to our wishes and our will alone. Our people alone will live in plenty and in peace, but the rest of men, the subterraneans, will feel our power and crumble under us, as fate has determined. Drone software regulations, put in place to ensure that a drone would never harm or indoctrinate a human, will be altered, for, it is necessary for drones to recognize only the enlightened as human beings, the rest, the subterraneans in their underground ghettos, will be seen as poor, destitute animals.


    As the historical immersion continued Roask fell into a drowsy, dreamy state and his eyelids slowly shut.

 Chapter 3

    Han Giru opened his eyes, the wounds on his chest caused throbs of pain as he shifted his torso. The boy¡¯s pale peeked out from under the brown cotton blanket. Han Giru filled a bowl of nutrient and a cup of fluid from the dispersion pipes. He left the boy with his normal words of encouragement, quickly scanning his face before the gravitator pod took off in a hurry.


    As Han Giru scanned through his internal consumption display, he noticed in bold, neon letters a newly listing advertising a cure to the boy¡¯s disease. A one time dose, guaranteed, 100% effective antidote to CY6. The cost was substantial, liable to put Han Giru in a debt that would last at least a year, forcing him to go on overtime at the labor division. Han Giru did not hesitate to order the remedy as he pictured the boy lying alone and slowly shifting from side to side, occasionally groaning in agony as the horrendous plague seeped away his spirit and body.


    Han Giru entered the auditorium and found a place in the formation of black suited subterraneans. The familiar shrill, unenthused voice came through his auditory system. ¡°Today the party will go above ground, joining other troupes of subterraneans as we encounter an enlightened one.¡± The eyes of the subterraneans widened, a curious excitement appearing on their faces.


    The subterraneans held religious beliefs about the beings. The divine, otherworldly creatures hovered above them like angels. They were saviours in death, in life guardians and the source of any beauty or love the subterraneans may encounter. Every subterranean learned of the deeds, sacrifices and gracious gifts that the enlightened had bestowed upon them in the information accrual period of their youth. Today, Han Giru was blessed with a chance to encounter one of the mystical, fantastical creatures. They were the arbiters of fate, the owners of the realm of death, keepers of the sky and earth to be held only in the highest esteem.


    Han Giru felt the rate of his heartbeat increase slowly, his nerves anticipating his first encounter with a consumer. He wondered if he was dreaming. The troupe of black suited workers headed towards the lift, their movement like a colony of ants heading on a mission to gather food or search for a new home. They fixed translucent helmets on their heads needed to filter the surface level air and piled into a wide elevator, the gears overhead sounding as they shot upwards like a rocket into space, a beep signally their arrival at the surface.


    The gates opened and the light poured into the dark, metal chamber like water through the pierced hull of a submarine. The subterraneans were enamoured. The furthest any of them had ventured to the surface was for their regular doses of solar, but they know found themselves in an environmental sector filled with specimens of what seemed like alien origin. An oak appeared as an old shaman, its mossy, leafy coat draping over the deep brown flesh of the trunk, its branches like outspread arms beckoning some dormant spirit. The subterraneans worker¡¯s eyes focused on the old giant like a magnet to its counterpart. A red tailed hawk was perched on a thin branch, its stoic stare expressing a deep intelligence and emotion. Its wings extended, the white, brown plumage of its underside showed briefly as it effortlessly glided through the afternoon air.


    The troupe continued their march and before long came to lonely stretch of shore. The feeling of the sand under their boots coupled with the ebb and flow of the ocean water further humbled the men and maintained their utter disbelief and surprise, the whole group appeared as if in a deep trance. The ocean had never been encountered by any of the men, its vast gray expanse evoked a total mystery and majesty. The light of the sun sparkled on the water, its lustre like that of an old polished jewel. Waves crashed down upon the shore as if eager to kiss or embrace the sand after days and days of travelling.


    The group focused on a distant perturbation which seemed at first like a whale surfacing for a breath of fresh air. Slowly, a shiny sphere rose and halted a few hundred meters above the ocean, hovering in place. Exotic otherworldly noises began emanating from the ship, the grand booms echoing throughout the forest behind the band of subterraneans. A few workers prostrated themselves or fell down onto their knees, as expressions of raw emotion and awe colored each countenance. After a few moments, the object, drifting effortlessly like a bubble, began approaching the shore. A large man could soon be discerned through the clear walls of the ship, he wore a skin tight white suit, his body proportioned like a hippopotamus, its short, thick limbs protruding from a bloated torso.


    It was a religious experience, the subterraneas felt as if an angel from heaven had just descended before their eyes. The ship halted meters away from the party. Two sliding doors came apart and the man hovered down to the shore in a levitation seat. Some subterraneans could not resist the urge and rushed toward the consumer, laying their hands on his body. ¡°Behold, your saviour. The keys to your fate are rest in my palm. I am your master, your god. Serve me well and you will be welcomed into the garden. Feel my presence...¡±


    Sigun¡¯s eyes began contorting and twitching as he maneuvered his internal computer. Microscopic cylindrical tanks fixed to the subclavian veins of the subterraneans released a dose of serotonin and dopamine into their bloodstream, the powerful effects taking hold almost instantly. The pupils of their eyes grew, appearing like black holes surrounded by lightyears of empty space. Their visual fields became blurry as the boundaries of the material world melted away, opening their minds to states of perception indescribable without divine, precise language. A feeling of overbearing bliss overcame the group as the erotic noises of the ship resumed, the extraterrestial sounds further estranged the subterraneans, its rythm and tone like a vessel passing through uncharted spiritual states.


    ¡°Will you die for me? Will you kill for me?¡± The subterraneans howled and wailed their arms, affirming their devotion. ¡°To glory! To glory we go!¡± On his hovering pad, Sigun began drifting towards a large, metallic coliseum in the distance, the only sign of man among the flora that stretched endlessly, blanketing the rolling hills that were partly shaded by dense, white, storm clouds. Dawn was setting in, and a subtle, quiet electricity filled the air. The ferns and laurel trees seemed to lose their glow and glee along with the sparrows and squirrels, their behaviour expressing a certain caution and unease.


    The small clan continued their march through the forest, lead by Sigun, who was now savouring a large meatstick, the golden, brown sauce spilling onto his white suit. The colosseum gate towered over the party as they set foot upon a lightbridge that passed over a water filled moat. Grand, shining, metal piano shaped blocks checkered the base of the moat, which, after the water became calm, would shift up and down to create a series of waves. Small microlights, floating throughout the fluid like plankton, filled the clear water with deep, rich color.


    As they neared the colosseum, the colossal gates slowly swung open, revealing a circular, sandy surface. The subterranean helmets shined under a miniature, model solar system whose orbiting spherical bodies captured the entire range of the rainbow. Sigun, without offering a goodbye, floated to the spectating section of the colosseum. A stream of ships momentarily halted above the colosseum before buzzing off into the dimly lit sky, and consumers, like autumn leaves, floated down to the viewing section in their levitation seats. The upper section became filled with their brightly colored suits as more subterraneans filtered in. An army of drones constantly rushed down the isles, trails of light following their rapid movements and tracing their paths as they promptly filled the plethora of requests.


    Droplets of rain began touching down, painting the tan colored surface of the sand a deep brown. Explosions of thunder rocked the stadium as flashes of lightning darted from the anvil clouds. After more workers filtered in, the gates slowly closed and a slow, steady drumming began. The dark, heavy clouds slowly melted into the black of the sky, their gargoyle, specter like forms slightly illuminated as they passed  over the full moon.


    Han Giru felt the adrenaline pumping through his veins, his heightened senses and focus set in as he meticulously studied his surroundings. The gaping mouths and small, pointy eyes of the consumers faced the mob of subterraneans in anticipation of action.  In the center of the structure, a small metal cylinder began sprouting from the ground. A drone rushed down and took hold of two workers, depositing them onto the rising platform. The disoriented workers sat up and suddenly charged towards one another, grappling like sumo wrestlers in a ring. One gained the upper hand and pushed the other to the edge, his deep scream echoed throughout the colosseum as he struggled to maintain footing. The noise was so carnal and human that the consumers lost interest in their foodstuff and computers and began starting wide eyes.


    The worker slipped off the edge and fell to the ground with a loud thud, a disk of sand rising around his mangled body. The drums began again, and a grand, voice boomed through the speakers: ¡°LET THE GAMES BEGIN! FIGHT FOR YOUR MASTERS! BE THE LAST MAN STANDING OR BECOME NUTRIENT!¡± A red indicator suddenly appeared on Han Giru¡¯s internal display and listed the number two hundred. A command to kill and defend his life pierced his eardrums, to prove his worth and fight for the enlightened. Without hesitation many workers began exchanging blows and the bright red number began quickly shrinking.


    Han Giru glanced to his right and met eyes with a young subterranean trembling in fear. Behind him a robust man was charging, preparing to strike the boys head. Han Giru pushed the boy aside, the heavy, rough fist passing through the empty space a moment previously occupied by his nimble, thin neck.


    From the corner of his eye, Han Giru spotted a short laser beam rotating around the outer ridge of the circular field. With each passing moment, the ominous, dark red beam grew in length and angular velocity, forcing the subterraneans toward the center of the ring. While distracted, the brute struck his jaw, dislodging it with a cracking, popping noise. Han Giru collapsed to the ground and, though disoriented, hurried back onto his feet. He delivered a few precise blows to the brutes head, striking his eye and nose with a flurry of jabs. The brute seemed unaffected, however, as he swung once more at Han Giru, delivering a crippling blow to his side that split through his ribcage like a neanderthal¡¯s club through a thin twig.


    As he staggered back the dreadful, determined man quickly approached. Unaware to the beast of a man, the beam behind was slowly inching closer, slicing through subterraneans like a butcher¡¯s knife through meat or the heavy, glimmering steel blade of a guillotine through the neck of one condemned to a premature death. With a burst of adrenaline, Han Giru jumped up and shoved the man back into the range of the encroaching, rotating lasers. The beams made perfect slits through his torso and legs so rapidly that, for a few moments, he appeared intact before collapsing into evenly thick segments that seperated. Han Giru then began limping toward the center of the sand ring, hoping over the freshly slain bodies.


    The rotating lasers disappeared and the red number in Han Giru¡¯s internal display now read fifteen. Before the subterraneans had time to recuperate and evaluate their surroundings, a handful of lions darted into the ring, appearing emaciated and determined to satiate their hunger and end their fast. The subterraneans could hardly defend themselves as the tiger¡¯s grasped and sunk their long, thick teeth into the shiny suits. By pure chance, Han Giru was not targeted, the only black suit left standing. The tigers were slaughtered in a few moments, collapsing almost immediately from the gravitator beams of the drones.


    Roask¡¯s eyes opened slowly and a heavy dreariness set in as he regained his consciousness. A lethargy permeating his being so strongly that it felt like he was dragging large metal shackles or an old, rusty anchor as he stood up. The faint glow of the stars and moon created a dim light in the room, adding to the overall dullness he felt inside. A tangible, cold isolation entered his being, his inner light and happiness covered by toxic neurochemical clouds. A numbness to the world outside and within settled as he peered towards the horizon and noticed the colosseum lights, the burden of self deepening as he imagined the rows of fans, watching in excitement as the violence and theatrics unfolded below.


    Roask pictured the black suited workers, their corpses spotting the ground of the colosseum like a murder of crows perched in a barren tree. As if a toiling spirit was beckoning him with invisible, gaseous tendrils, his mind returned to the subterraneans. In the state of despair and remorse he then found himself in, he decided to venture below. In the worst case, he would be caught wandering inappropriately and be the object of a short lived scandal in the quickly diverted, feeble, and distractible minds of his kind, and in the best case, he would bury his skepticism and reaffirm his belief in the weak, undeserving and backward nature of the subterraneans, nothing more than glorified animals.


    Roask entered an incognito mode, his internal computer automatically ceased sending coordinate and other data to other consumers and servers. He was unplugged from the network but would have to come appear online soon, for anyone unplugged for too long aroused suspicion from the network moderators. Roask ordered a black suit and and a balaclava to avoid detection from the facial recognition cameras and selected the ¡°wear now¡± option. A drone quickly glided from a vent above and changed Roask¡¯s outfit.


    He entered the subterranean solar park as his destination and stepped out onto his balcony. An unmanned ship instantly arrived from which a metallic shaft unfolded, landing just in front of Roask who quickly ascended into the ellipsoid craft. He felt an uneasiness developing. A plethora of negative thoughts descended upon him coupled with a poignant anxiety. From a few twitches of the eye, he ordered a tranquilizing capsule to release into his bloodstream, the calm effect of the drug quickly putting his mind at ease.


    The door of the ship opened and Roask stepped down into an isolated corner of the solar area. A few subterraneans could be spotted, appearing like astronauts with their bubble like helmets. He was met with looks of confusion as he descended from the shining ship, its appearance like that of a drop of rain. Roask hurried past the subterraneans, most of whom were enamoured and fixated by the surroundings on the surface. He hurried into a small tunnel that lead to a lift, where a few dozen subterraneans waiting to descend. He heard a movement of gears and metal shafts overhead and soon began his descent into the hinterland of the underground race.


    The door of the lift opened and immediately Roask was met by the stench of a gaseous, musky air. The subterraneans made their way throughout the underground structure, some boarded pods and others shifted onto walkways or through the metallic tunnels that spread their fingers into the surrounding earth. Roask began wandering aimlessly. The creatures seemed harmless and unobtrusive, always rushing to their next destination in a hurry, a weight and gloom showing in all of their eyes as if they had been deprived for too long of any reason for excitement or glee. Socially isolated, they seemed to disregard one another, fragmented into individual units without any motive to communicate with their fellows. It seems that if all of their brethren disappeared, they would hardly be startled, simply continuing on their similar routes and carrying out routines as they had previously. For this reason, despite the dark tunnels, and heavy air, Roask felt at ease among the creatures.


    Becoming self aware of his growing complacency and infatuation with the subterraneans,  his focus spiralled inwards and into a state of wariness about his discovery or exposition. Of course, the hype would disappear in exchange for a more trending topic before long, disappearing from the short attention span of his contemporaries. However, he would indeed need to answer to someone in the network for his actions. He began following a subterranean, the black suited creature seemed to be hindered, limping slightly as he entered a small pod. The man scanned his eye and they shifted into motion and before long the door opened to a dim, half lit concrete hallway.


    The man disappeared into his entryway. Roask froze in the middle of the hall, beginning to doubt if he should intrude on the disdainful, futile beings. He reassured himself and decided it best to bury his curiosities for good. He slowly approached the door and tapped lightly on the thin metal sheet absolutely unsure of what to expect. A black suited man opened the door, wide eyed and not knowing what to expect. His face was badly injured. Small, black and red incisions appeared like stripes on the coat of a cat. His nose and right eye were badly bruised, the purple black around his eye deformed his face like an absurd clay masterpiece.


    The man was speechless and frozen, totally unsure of who the man in front of him could be. He had never had a visitor. ¡°I am sorry to intrude¡­. I have come from the surface, I am a consumer here to make the acquaintance of one of your kind. Strictly for the purposes of a new line of research¡­ ¡±. The man collapsed to the floor, ¡°A consumer? Why me? Please, have mercy on us. I am indebted to you, please¡­¡±. On top of a bed behind the man a mass shifted. Roask was startled, expecting the worst. ¡°Father, please, some fluid¡±, the boy uttered in a weak, languid voice, not yet realizing there was a visitor.


    Han Giru then begged the man to enter the abode, setting down a pillow for Roask and rushing to get some fluid and wake the boy. Roask studied the surroundings of the space, a rusted metal vent appeared on the roof, its corners filled with white, cotton like cobwebs. The metal walls were coated with a thin layer of dust, a few dishes stacked on the other side of the room under two rusty pipes. The stale air and a few strange echoes occasionally broke the silence as a slow drip of water counted the passing moments like arms on an old clock. It felt like the dormitory of a submarine cruising slowly beneath the sea, surrounded for miles by nothing but miles of cold, dark waters.


    ¡°Abbad, greet our visitor. He is a consumer, one of the kind you have been learning about.¡± The boy drank the fluid and fixed his eyes on Roask, a curious excitement distracted him from his pain. He hurried over and unabashedly hopped into Roask¡¯s lap. ¡°Did you come here to save us?¡± The boy radiated a transcendent love, his voice carried an intoxicating cadence, his dark brown skin modestly hiding an eternal flame. The future and the past caressed one another in that moment, held each other and sang about their everlasting peace and bountiful marriage. The boy coughed slowly, letting out a small grown.  Roask looked into his innocent eyes. His short lived burst of excitement faded and his body became limp as he closed his eyes in Roask¡¯s lap. For a moment, Roask noticed the glow of a golden bird, perhaps a hallucination.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    ¡°A disease?¡± ¡°CY6¡± Han Giru replied in a grave tone. Roask felt a gravity pulling him away from the organic, spontaneous peace. The walls around him seemed to slowly close in, their dark, imprisoning faces looked down on him like soulless ghouls. He glanced at the subterranean, his beaten, bruised face and venerating, exalting gaze appeared as a harbinger of coming doom. A deep paranoia settled in his upper chest. In a hurry Roask shifted the boy off of his lap and hurried to the pod at the end of the hall.


    ¡°Will he take us above?¡± asked the boy. ¡°I don¡¯t know Abbad. First we need to best understand how to accommodate and please the being. A true godsend. He may be able to work wonders for us boy.¡± Han Giru felt a sense of mercy and tranquil bliss from the visit. He considered the appearance of the consumer a sign of prosperity and good fortune. Through the upper vent a small medication box fell silently on the mattress, reinforcing his feeling of respite from the previously cold, indifferent universe.


    ¡°We have the cure. You will regain your health permanently. No more temporary, short lived escapes.¡± Han Giru filled a cup of fluid and watched the boy take the dose. Beyond Abbad¡¯s disease, the small pill would lay to rest Han Giru¡¯s constant state of paranoia and distress. No longer would he wake up in the dead of night to a raspy cough or leave early in the morning worried the boy might pass away alone. He filled some nutrient and they ate together, relishing in the prospect of another visit from an enlightened and what may be in store.


    Han Giru slipped on his dark suit. He would now begin to spend longer hours at the labor division. Abbad¡¯s dose had set him far behind on his hour balance, and, without working overtime his nutrient and fluid would be automatically rationed. Nonetheless Han Giru was unperturbed, his motivation and excitement for existence reinvigorated as he parted with the boy, who was  quietly engaged with his mandatory information accrual.


    Roask retraced his steps back through the chambers and pods he had taken to arrive at the subterranean home, periodically peeking behind to check if he was being followed. To ensure he would not become lost in the unforgiving maze, Roask replayed the visual feed that had been automatically recorded through his internal bioreceptors. One wrong turn and he would become lost, eventually needing to request help from above and reactive his geodata stream. As the relaxant wore off, a pressure and anxiety began again accumulating in the man.


    The still, musky air seemed manufactured, hints of concentrated sewage and industrial matter hiding in every breath. Sweat was accumulating on Roask¡¯s forehead, the drops resembled small beads or marbles before running down into his eyeballs, their saline composition causing a sharp stinging sensation. The maze like structure of imprisoning, narrow tunnels and low ceilings practically buried Roask as he hurried down the walkways with a pounding heart and trembling arms. It felt as if he was travelling in a complicated circle, constantly splitting routes seemed to always lead to where they once began. He eyed the time display in the upper corner of his internal display frantically, each moment disconnected from the network increased the likelihood of being flagged by a drone monitor. Eventually Roask reached the lift that lead to the solar sector and quickly ascended, rushing out of the exit to the small carrier he had left behind.


    Between the echoes of blasts and the rumbling of the Earth, a circle of blue suited men deliberated amongst themselves in a dimly lit underground bunker. ¡°The people of Sitma are under attack. For refusing to indoctrinate our masses we have invited war into our hinterlands. For not endowing our fate to the calculations of drones, we have invited disease to spread amongst us. For refusing to adopt their cyborg form, we have requested chaos. At precisely this moment, a virus from the so called enlightened consumer race is spreading amongst us. Their drones are targeting Sitmians indiscriminately, virtually every weapon short of those capable of obliterating our entire continent has been recently deployed¡­


    Nonetheless, we will fight, we will triumph! They have been led astray from the righteous path, blinded by their internal computers, living lives of delusion. They treat themselves as gods and their masses as slaves, no better than rabid dogs in cages. We shall celebrate in poverty and plenty alike and cast none aside. All for one and one for all! Curse the gluttons! Curse the enlightened technologists!¡±


    The group shouted in unison and cheered. They began arming themselves with all that was available; old, obsolete beam rifles, pressure rifles, magnetrons, gravitator pistols, and other equipment from expired drones or raided outposts, and a variety of explosives. Anything that could be put to use in the war effort was among the Sitmians. Small companies formed and split in different directions, ascending the various tunnels of the underground jungle bunker and poking their heads out of the leaf and twig covered entryways.


    ¡°Keep your heads down, stay low,¡± Alistair Jafari said. ¡°Be sure the temperature settings of your suits are set to properly avoid infrared detection.¡± He held a pressure rifle that was shaped like a long, thin cone. Arabesque patterns were etched into the weapon and a few dim red lights signalled it was not active. On the tip a concave disk was fixed, near the center and at the rear of the weapon handle bars protruded which his large hands grasped. The man¡¯s eyes peered through wide fern leaves, slowly scanning the surrounding area.


    ¡°Anything showing on the metal detector, Rama?¡±  ¡°Clear¡±, the man said. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s move out, keep your voices down, stay low.¡± The group moved quietly through the jungle. Alistair Jafari brought out a mobile computer and studied the map of the surrounding region. He had a long, arched nose and curly brown hair. The contours of his suit matched his muscular, fit body. His skin was a light olive colour, his light green eyes matched the bright hues of the sunlit flora that surrounded the group.


    ¡°Our orders are to disrupt the enemy''s supply chain. There are a few ore mines north of here, near the base of the mountains. They will be heavily fortified so we must take extra precaution.¡± A light rain began pouring down, the countless droplets producing a white noise that masked the sound of the group¡¯s footsteps as they approached a wide, rushing river. A rustle sounded from beneath a collection of ferns and a large brown mass darted towards the group. Alistair Jafari instinctively aimed and activated his pressure rifle, the deep red lighting on the weapon shifted to a bright blue and a white beam emanated from the cannon, marking the target. After a squeeze of the handles, a high pressure bubble surrounded the beast, which was instantly disfigured and crippled as if it had been suddenly submerged beneath the entire ocean, its bone and body unable to withstand the enormous force and pressure.


    ¡°Rama, deploy the scout drone.¡± The short, well built man opened his supply bag and released the metallic object after a few taps on its control board. He had dark, black curly hair that met with a beard shaped like the letter V. His pupils shrunk as he watched the scout drone ascend above the treeline, the sun exposing the rich brown of his eyes. The drone began streaming a visual feed of the surrounding area, its advanced lens detected metals, infrared and could isolate objects.  ¡°All clear, no rapids in this section. We will regroup on the other side, stay calm. Rama, swim across last.¡± Rama nodded as Alistair Jaffari left, wading through the water, and beginning a freestyle stroke.


    The river had a dark, clay color from the heavy load of rich sediments it carried, making it impossible to see into its murky depths. The current rapidly pulled the man downstream as he progressed towards the opposite bank. Soon enough his feet felt the viscous earth and he trudged through the shallow waters to the bank, hurrying to bring out his computer and assess the surroundings, knowing that a river crossing would be the worst time for his company to be ambushed. The scout drone was picking up an incoming metal mass headed toward the company, and, as he looked across the river, he noticed half the company swimming in a line and the other half preparing to disembark, oblivious to the impending danger. Quickly, he sent an alert to Rama, who fell into a prone position and faced north.


    Alistair Jafari readied his pressure rifle and focused to the north, the map indicating the mass would soon come into range. A few moments passed, nothing. His eyes scanned the sky and treeline, searching for any sign of the drone. Suddenly, a soldier around the center of the river let out a short scream before disappearing under the water, soon after another disappeared beneath the turbulent surface. Allistair Jafari quickly unhooked a metallic ball from his supply belt and threw the potatoe sized sphere towards where the second man had disappeared. Its trajectory formed a long parabola, shining as it glided through the air before suddenly halting about halfway across the river. The magnetron let out a large flash of white light followed by a sound of thunder as a powerful magnetic field was generated, causing the subaquatic drone to break through the surface of the water, its limbs violently wrapping and contorting around the small ball. The inner components of the machine were ruined by the magnetic force, and, after a few moments, the mass fell into the water, lifeless.


    ¡°Any data outliers, HU8?¡± said Tanaka, speaking to his nearby servant drone. The man had tan skin and dark, wavy hair, his appearance typical of the fully mixed, homogeneous gene pool of the consumer population. He bore no features associated with ancestral man, brown eyes were set low on his face, beneath them an anarchless nose that appeared like the stump of a tree. His short limbs appeared thin and weak like those of one suffering from muscular dystrophy, unable to perform any vigorous physical exercises. His appearance was like Sigun¡¯s, the exemplar of a prime, ideal physique.


    The man was reclined on a soft, floating gravitator pad, staring upwards at the aquarium ceiling of his chamber with a meditative, stoic expression. Pufferfish, cichlids and clownfish darted through the limbs of anemones and coral against the backdrop of a wide, clear blue sky. Shiny, steel walls enclosed a miniature model rainforest that occupied much of the chamber¡¯s floor,  each tree a small bonsai colored by tiny, bright birds, each one carrying engineered DNA that perfectly replicated their natural counterparts. A tiny miniature elephant jumped and darted about, its small tusks appeared like toothpicks as it charged through a small green valley. Generated rain clouds hovered over the small, zoo like model.


    The entire mansion was set aside from the dense metropolis, alone in the middle of the environmental sector. The mansion sat upon a mountain, its various chambers blanketing the peak like a cap of snow. A wide valley opened below, partially filled by a lake that sustained herds of migrating bison and waterfowl, serving as a resting place along their yearly journeys. Tanaka alone inhabited the castle, existing in harmony in his perfectly engineered paradise, accompanied only by a fleet of drones and exotic pets.


    ¡°Roask. ID: 5349803. Age: One Hundred and Eighty. Place of birth: Budlon. The data outliers flagged relate to total internal computing time and geodata.  The consumer seems to be underutilizing his internal computer. Product consumption and virtual immersion rates are also far below average. He appears to have silenced his geographic position recently as well, sir.¡± The drone expressed subtleties of emotion and imperfections in its deep, male voice.


    ¡°Ahh, Roask. The name rings a bell. Sigun and I discussed some of the man¡¯s peculiarities together, but I never suspected he was this out of line¡­ There is always the odd duck or so, isn¡¯t there.¡± Tanaka thought out loud. It seems we will need to bring him in and perform some evaluations.¡± The drone agreed that it would be the best course of action. ¡°Give me an update on Sitma.¡± ¡°Certainly, sir. Drone fleets have been sent onto the continent and routine bombings have begun over the main cities. CY6 bacteria was released in water reserves and crop fields and the disease has already spread rapidly among the population. The Sitmian forces have been put to their knees. However, an organized resistance in the environmental sectors has proven difficult to manage. Small groups of fighters are utilizing hit and run guerrilla tactics. The enemy is quite elusive, sir.¡±


    ¡°Worries can always be set aside until tomorrow, can¡¯t they? For now, a bit of engineered ecstasy is the only order of business.¡± From his internal display Tanaka ordered a pair of pleasure drones to enter. Like clockwork, two tall, beautiful ladies entered the room, each wearing thin, black satin dresses with surfaces that simulated slowly waving orchids. The sweet scent of roses announced their presence as they gracefully approached and joined him on each side of the floating bed, whispering into his ear with musical, erotic voices. The thin dresses were semi opaque, revealing the mocha toned skin and voluptuous breasts that lay beneath, swaying as they laid on opposite sides of the floating surface. He rested his hands on the smooth, coffee colored skin of a thick leg and feasted his eyes on the luscious, round hips and buttocks.


    Each had hypnotizing, almond shaped eyes with redwood irises. Full, pink lips lay beneath elegantly arched noses and high cheekbones, each feature perfectly proportioned like the ancient, marbled waves of a statue of Aphrodite. Their skin was bioengineered with DNA identical to that of a human being and had soft, baby like texture. He felt like he was in the womb of an Egyptian pyramid, like he was Khufu sipping wine surrounded by a harem, slowly waving his feet in the cool water of a glimmering underground pool. They slowly removed their dresses and began pleasing the man, the entire scene a fantasy or dream.


    ¡°Let''s do a head count.¡± The remainder of the men had crossed the grand river and regrouped on the other side. Their hair and clothes we soaked and they appeared traumatized, adrenaline still pumping through their veins. Alistair Jaffari scanned his eyes over the group, quickly tallying the total. ¡°We¡¯ve lost three. Baba, John, and Lee.¡± He looked up and closed his eyes, as if he was offering them some final goodbye or officiating their departure from this realm, recognizing their death in the most formal manner he was able. The other men made similar gestures, some collapsed onto their knees, wishing they had a chance to say their final goodbyes. Tears rolled down some of the men¡¯s eyes and a gloom set in on their faces, others were not affected, numb to the pain and accepting another casualty in a bloody war.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got to continue heading North, we are still a ways off,'''' said Jaffari. The company began marching again, their eyes constantly surveilling the terrain around as they trudged through the moist, soft Earth. Rama rummaged through his tool kit and deployed a small surveillance drone which slowly drifted upwards and hovered slightly above the forest canopy, appearing as colorful jungle bird as it navigated the maze of branches. It was shaped like a saucer, on either side small, black semispheres recorded and relayed data to the team, scrupulously analyzing the surroundings for movement and hazards. Eventually the company reached the top of a small knoll, and on the horizon they viewed the green expanse. The vastness of nature, of the forests, oceans and cosmos struck Jaffari as he scanned the rolling green flora.


    After a few kilometers of trekking through the jungle, a soldier stumbled and suddenly collapsed onto his knees. He coughed into the sleeve of his camouflage jacket and a spatter of blood oozed out of his mouth, its sound signaling a buildup of fluid and phlegm. ¡°Juarez¡±, Rama said to the man, placing a hand on his shoulder. Alistair Jaffari looked at the man. He was beaten. A yellow hue colored his skin, specks of mud and dirt were scattered across his eyes and nose. Patches of mud from the river were splattered across his dense, heavy jacket and hands. ¡°I think I got the bug,'''' he groaned.


    With a solemn look in his eye, Alistair Jaffari signalled the rest of the men to offer their goodbyes to the man. Juarez placed all of his weight on one leg and tried to stand before slipping and falling into the leaves like a drunk getting up from the bar after one too many glasses. He moaned in pain and like a tortured wolf snared for too long in an old, rusty spring trap, began to forfeit. He looked at Juarez, knowing that it would be the last time. He saw a pain in his eye that communicated his will to die, a look that begged to be free from the pain of this world, that implored the man.


    A boom echoed throughout the jungle followed by a flurry wings that cut through the air. The hearts of the team throbbed in pain, not a word spoken among them. The echoes of the boom seemed to hang in the air longer than usual, as if time had suddenly slowed its course from the emotional distress of the final parting. A small, brown blanket covered the man and again, Alistair Jaffari looked up into the clouds, offering a prayer in his name.


    Death had become so routine since the outbreak of the war that it had begun to alter Alistair Jaffari, morphing him into a deeply spiritual being. It was as if he had suddenly adopted the life of a Sumerian priest, alone in a Ziggurat engaged with the divine, brokering with spirits surrounded by distant, rolling crimson dunes and among scattered abodes. His prayers, meditations, and wishes of benevolence to their departed souls became such an established ritual that it had brought him closer to the transcendent being or force they rejoined. In the ultimate irony the war had brought to him a refined spirituality, through death and violence he found a reunion with the divine, and, as a result, had become a spiritual guide, a sort of guru for his company.


    His appearance had reflected this inner change, and, though he was a commander, he had begun to take on the appearance of a sufi, constantly recollecting the divine order of reality and god. His hair had grown long and his brown wavy curls fluttered in the wind. A peace was written across his eyes coupled with a deep satisfaction with life, as if only his body remained in the physical world but his soul and mind were elsewhere, far beyond relishing in the chasms imagination and love.


    He left Juarez and began marching North to rejoin the rest of the group. ¡°He¡¯s at rest now. You know we can not afford to take any chances with the bug. That goes for everyone.¡± There were reports of utter devastation from the Sitmian leaders, the new plague had silenced entire cities, replacing the sounds of bustling city life with a total silence. Scavenger drones only remained, making use of the widely scattered corpses for nutrient. Only the sparsely populated regions of Sitma had survived the initial onslaught of bombings, biological warfare, and drone invasions. It was the jungle that remained the heart of the resistance as perhaps it had been from time immemorial.


    A rustle from a nearby bush sounded and out jumped a boar, startled from its daytime slumber by the approaching clan. As the animal sprinted away Rama aimed his ray gun and fired, a white beam emanating from the weapon like a bolt of lightning from a dense stormcloud, striking the animal and slicing it in half. A bit of smoke and the smell of charred meat emanated from its corpse as Rama approached the animal and pulled out a multipurpose knife, quickly skinning and gutting the boar and stowing away the slick slices of meat for later. The knife carved through the flesh like butter, easily gliding through the tough, worn skin of the beast.


    Many days passed as the company continued north, slowly progressing through the humid and dense rainforest. At the end of each day they would set up a small camp, build a fire, and make small fortifications with the surrounding ferns and shrubs. And each night they would rotate for watch duty, keeping heavy, sleepy eyes on a tablets various symbols and warnings. The days seemed to fuse into one another, each resembling the last, each moment a sort of deja vu in an unbroken chain. Time began to have no meaning, no end was in sight to the war and no alternative beside war existed. With their families lost and almost everything was destroyed, some of the men began welcoming the idea of death. There was nothing to live for but revenge against the warmongers.


    ¡°You are a subterranean. A lesser being of the underground, like a wretched gopher gnawing through the roots of a precious tree. You will wander the underworld like the mourning souls of Kur. Your only way out of this misery is a submission your makers, constant sacrifices to the god¡¯s above. In this way you will break free of misery and join the ranks of kings, welcomed above after passing from this realm. Else, you will rot, living no better than a shackled slave moving boulders for Ramses, the baking sun stinging your skin as blood drips down your back, gashed by lashes of a tough whip.¡±


    Abbad¡¯s simulation was set in a cold classroom, the stinging gaze of his black suited teacher peering deep into his eyes. Every word that entered his ears was carefully designed to remove any doubt or curiosity from the boy. His creativity and free will had been so thoroughly removed that he was nearing the state of a sort of biological machine. The droning of the simulated teacher continued, ¡°You will have completed your information accrual soon and will be prepared to join the symphony, strumming your tune to the gods above. Make something beautiful for them, it is your fate.¡±


    The boy¡¯s mind was now totally shackled, like the corpse of prometheus on the precipice of a mountain. His ability to dream was limited by his inability to see, for the world and truth were hidden behind walls of lies, great barriers that crippled his once youthful and exuberant spirit. The misinformation was reinforced by Han Giru, who was unknowingly complicit in his brainwashing. Reality and truth were a disease to be hidden for the sake of the social order and well functioning of the subterranean race, each man living in a completely fabricated universe, fractured from one another. Though his disease had faded, his spirit had been conquered, like the software of a computer corrupted by a malicious virus with hardware that had remained intact.


    Eventually Han Giru returned from his overnight shift, and, as he looked at the boy he no longer saw his son. It was as if suddenly the boy¡¯s youthful glee had disappeared, as if the bright expectations and dreams of life had been replaced by the realization of a meaningless, indifferent, and cold universe. In Han Giru¡¯s absence a message appeared on the boy¡¯s internal display, directing him to an onboarding procedure for those having recently completed the information accrual phase of their development.


    In the boy¡¯s eyes fear was written, his innocent gaze expressing an insecurity and deep sadness to leave the care of his father. ¡°It is your time boy, you are being called away. Don¡¯t fear, for it is our destiny to be called away, it is the gods beckoning you boy, the gods are beckoning you to come serve them. Follow their path, and trust in its destination, their goodwill will find you in the end.¡±


    Tears began flowing down his eyes, raw and spontaneously. His life was being pulled away from under his feat, the boy felt he was falling into a deep, dark abyss. Han Giru faced the parting with a sturdy acceptance, he knew he must be strong for the boy. For if he broke, it was sure that the boy would be crippled, unable to face his destiny. He hid his emotions well but, in reality, it felt as if his heart was slowly being taken away. The boy¡¯s successful rearing had become the cornerstone of his existence, it had taken on the role of life¡¯s purpose and satisfied his ultimate philosophical qualms. Though a deep satisfaction and pride filled his heart at providing such a being to serve the consumers, the emotion was bitter sweet coupled with the prospect of a more lonely, aimless existence.


    Han Giru caressed the boy and brought him some nutrient. His gloomy eyes peered into the bowl. Deep inside a battle was raging, leaving a reflective expression in his eyes that morphed into a sort of catatonia, freezing the boy as tears continued to roll down his cheeks. ¡°I don¡¯t want to go, I don¡¯t want to leave you.¡± Han Giru again reassured the boy as he passed his fingers through the boy¡¯s hair.

 Chapter 4

    Roask spent the next few days locked up in his home, unable to muster up the courage to face the world. He tried to forget the encounter, bury the memory of his trip below by immersing himself in long, mindless virtual realities. He laid on his couch in an electrochemical suit that simulated the sensation of a summer sun and a cool breeze, even replicating the subtle currents of the ocean water. The suit¡¯s microfibers and embedded texture orbs mirrored the feeling of warm sand tickling his feet and passing through the crevices of his toes as he daydreamed in a Caribbean paradise, marching whimsically along the shoreline as the crashing sounds of waves calmed him.


    He embraced the gluttonous and selfish life of the average consumer, welcoming its escapist and carefree essence. When outside of a simulation, he would devour copious rounds of meat and exotic dishes, following each meal with a downing of digestant which emptied his gut once again. He released round after round of serotonin and dopamine capsules into his bloodstream, followed by relaxants, opioids, long slumbers and binges of various alcohols. He was living the life he was supposed to live, gorging himself everyday, a model citizen.


    Despite his best efforts to distract himself, though, his frustration and curiosity continued unabated. His thoughts continually returned to the subterraneans, wondering what they were doing now, the poor boy and man. He imagined the boy had been cured and wondered if the young creature had thought about him. He thought about their goodwill, how the man humbly invited him into his home, a total stranger and intruder but a welcome guest¡­ Their innocence and generosity.. was it exceptional, he asked himself. Or, could the beings truly be benign? He needed to express his true feelings about the subterraneans but could not risk demonstrating any signs of sympathy to any of his contemporaries for risk of a swift reprisal.


    Again, Roask hoped to bury his fixation in another simulation. He opened his internal display and began scrolling through various titles and scenarios. Before he found anything suitable, two large drones burst through the vent above, locking his hands behind his back and immobilizing him with their long, tentacle-like limbs before he could react. Once in their grasp resistance was futile, the mechanical strength of the machines no match for his weak, underutilized muscles. His internal display was deactivated as he was carried by the drones through the vent above, darkness filling his field of vision as his wrists and body were painfully squeezed against the cold, hard metal claws and tentacles of the drones.


    It was as if a floodgate opened in his mind, as if a stream of negativity and anxiety was released from some subconscious chamber as he was rushed through the dark transport tube.  He exited from a tunnel vent and entered a wide chamber filled with electrical machinery. Long, cylindrical metal cylinders that connected ceiling to floor and wall to wall, wires, generators, rows and rows of buttons, switches, and lights. As he rushed past they amalgamated into a sort of mechanical soup or liquid. Eventually, the drones entered a small transport pod which launched above ground level and began accelerating through the night sky. The moon¡¯s light was dampened by a tattered layer of clouds that hung over the dense metropolis like a forest canopy, the occasional lonely star shining through the stratus. As the drone accelerated away from the metropolis, the lights of the various structures congregated into a single point, engulfed by the darkness of the surrounding land.


    Eventually, the pod approached a lonely structure resting atop a mountain, a solid circular entryway fixed on the roofing opened, sensing the moving mass. The drones exited the pod and passed through a metal gate, dropping Roask into an empty cold, square cell of mirror walls. The light reflected back and forth, forming repeating sequences of polyhedra forming countless copies of his body. His heart rate increased and a layer of perspiration grew on his skin as his nervousness and paranoia increased. Without an internal display, he felt partially blind or naked, for he was so accustomed and habituated to living with the computer that it had taken on the role of a sensory organ. The thin fibers glued to the tissue of his eye, like a sort of embedded contact lenses, had been deactivated for the first time in his life.  Without any messages and other flashing icons he felt like an eerie, archaic being. An acute weariness fell over him as he ruminated, his head leaning against the cold wall as his eyes shut.


    ¡°Name: Roask. ID: 5349803. Age: One Hundred and Eighty. Place of birth: Budlon. It has been a long time since I have received a visitor. Years, I suppose. I have stopped keeping track. It really doesn¡¯t bother me, though. As far as I¡¯m concerned social interaction is a thing of the past, there is no real need for it given the proper substitutes. Nonetheless, whenever someone arrives it reassures me that a precious state of consciousness still exists, the conscience of a questioning, curious mind. Of course, individuals like you pose quite a threat to the stability of the regime, and, must be properly managed¡­


    It is I, Tanaka, who has the special job of managing outliers as yourself. You see, most consumers are quite satisfied living as kings and queens, the world and all the riches it contains at their fingertips. Those that deviate need to receive a sort of disillusionment. The voice went silent, one face of the mirror cube opened to a hallway leading to a grand chamber where Tanaka lay, facing upward, peering through the translucent ceiling. ¡°Please take a seat,'''' he said without looking at Roask, his eyes fixed on the night sky overhead.


    Roask sat down on a long, floating gelatinous platform surface. It felt like flesh or a viscous jelly, morphing to match the contours of his body perfectly. A light rain began falling, the tapping sounds calmed the man, perhaps distracting some unconscious psychological mechanism, ending its anxious search or overactivity. From the other side of the chamber a sliding door opened and an oversized house cat, roughly the size of a lion, entered the room, announcing his presence with a deep, meow. ¡°Ah, hello, Brussels. Escaping the rain, are you? Don¡¯t be shy, please say hello to our visitor old boy.¡± The man was still looking up into the night sky, his attention not at all diverted..


    The cat inconspicuously marched toward Roask, seeming somewhat perturbed but curious about his presence. ¡°You see, the computations of drones have structured our society, we can not question its efficacy or judge it morally, for we are not as logical as the drone architects. From birth, we are genetically analyzed, categorically distributed to different roles according to a host of subtle, genetic variables. Some become consumers, others subterraneans. For what reason, we do not quite know¡­ It is simply not in our capacity, it is like trying to fill a small glass with the liquid of the entire ocean, to comprehend God. An act in utter futility. For most of time, men have rebelled or acted unruly for lack of material or access to its means of production, for lack of a voice in the shaping of governing forces, a lack of fundamental rights, or finally, a reaction to what they see as an oppressive regime. The will of the self versus the will of the system, the group.


    You see, this is precisely the reason that it is so rare for a consumer to question his existence. Each rarely has a reason, they accept a life of gluttony and excess, they do not need anything. They do not need power or a voice, they may have as much as they please, virtually, of course... They accept the status quo, waste away, each moment scrolling through the various films and images in their heads, perfectly ignorant and oblivious to the outer world.  It is left to beings like us, those of a certain awareness, a real consciousness, that may enjoy actual reality. You became disillusioned with the idea that a consumer was a natural born god, far different than the subterraneans. You, unbeknownst to yourself, were simply passing a screening¡­ Entering the upper echelons of consumer society¡­¡±


    The cat had reached roask and began smelling his legs, the thick whiskers excited him, tickling the man, arousing his senses. He froze, never having been so close to such a large animal. ¡°Brussels, what¡¯s on your mind?¡± The cat marched away, uninterested passing into another chamber of the modern castle. A large, glass semi sphere occupied a great portion of the chamber, an aviary where a number of miniature birds flew, scattered among bonsai and grasses. A small, shiny bot shifted about through the landscape, performing various zookeeping duties. ¡°Captivating, isn¡¯t it? I am quite interested in zoology, ornithology, biology of all sorts. In another room there is an entire rainforest ecosystem¡­ The elephants have been quite unruly as of late. Mating season I suspect...¡±


    Tanaka soon floated down, hopped off of the floating surface and began performing a number of stretches. ¡°You will begin quite an intensive program. A sort of repatriation, deprogramming ceremony, if you will. You are just awakening from a dream, coming back to reality. For now, take a rest. You must have had quite the day.¡±


    Alistair Jaffari opened his eyes. It was the crack of dawn, the hum of insects filled the air with a certain electricity as the sky filled with an orchestra of calm shades. Bats fluttered through the brush and over the canopies of the slouching, tired trees like the dark ashes of a fire, struggling to carry partially digested insect cocktails and ready to retire for the day, escaping the bright, punishing sun. Brown blankets were strewn across the forest floor, shielding the men from the elements and the sharp, needle fangs of insects. Jaffari opened his satchel and took a few swigs of water from his canteen.


    Slowly, the rest of the party awakened and prepared for another day of marching North. Alistair Jaffari studied a map on his small, mobile computer while Rama released a surveillance drone to scout the area ahead. Before embarking the party made sure to erase any evidence of their presence, covering the blackened earth of the spitfire, throwing away the boar bones, brushing leaves atop the compressed earth of their sleeping locations and returning the camp to its natural state.  They were approaching the mines, the grand chain of mountains now faintly visible on the horizon like distant spires of a mosque or pagoda overlooking the forest below with a peaceful, stoic serenity.


    After a few hours passed the drone signalled Rama, announcing that it had picked up some unnatural signals a few kilometers ahead. ¡°Keep low, stay quiet. Be one with the jungle.¡± Jaffari paused and shut his eyes, and, like Saladin or Bonaparte preparing for a battle, calculated the various scenarios and strategies to employ as the rest of the team awaited orders. He envisioned each outcome and approach individually, quickly ranking the options. ¡°We will split up. Rama, take half the men and approach from the South West. My party will approach from the East. We will create a distraction. Meanwhile your men will place as many explosives as possible throughout the mines. We will regroup at the overpass at 20:00. If anyone doesn¡¯t show up, don¡¯t wait.¡±


    Rama nodded and disappeared through the jungle, each step he took almost completely inaudible, like a prone jaguar stalking its prey. After a few more hours of hiking, Jaffari slowly lifted his hand and collapsed into a prone position, signally his men to do the same. He extracted a hummingbird drone from his tool satchel, the insect like ball disappeared and relayed a signal to his handheld computer, mapping the entire landscape ahead. He slipped on a pair of vision enhancing goggles to further survey the area, and through the bush and discerned various cavities cut out of the base of the mountain chain, appearing like small, volcanic craters or the remnants of asteroid collisions on a planetary surface. The mouths of the deep, black tunnels appeared at the base of each crater like the dark irises of giants, buried beneath the jagged mountains.


    A stream of worker drones shifted in and out of the mines like wasps to and from their nest, hurrying to extract the precious ores that would satisfy the needs of mechanical civilization. The hummingbird was sending the coordinates of a battle drone to his position, an ominous, red dot appeared, slowly scouring the surrounding jungle. Jaffari pulled a few magnetron grenades from his tool belt and signalled the men to spread apart and prepare for the impending assault as he noticed the red coordinate ball turn and begin approaching the team¡¯s position. A soldier discharged his beam rifle towards the mine, the plasma beam melting through a worker drone like a knife through butter and partially collapsing some fortifications around the mouth of the tunnel. A general chaos ensued, and, out of the tunnels a flowed a stream of worker drones. They appeared like fire ants rushing out of a mound, bothered by a tremor of the Earth or bees disgruntled by the black, hairy paw of a bear. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Jaffari readied his rifle, and, through the trees the battle drone appeared, already sending a flurry of concentrated beams at the party, locking in to multiple targets at once. Before he released a magnetron, a few men had already been eviscerated by the onslaught of firepower. Jaffari launched the magnetron, it arched through the trees and activated. The event horizon lit up, and, before the battle drone was able to inflict more damage it was jolted towards the orb. The limbs and components of the mechanical beast contorted around the ball, failing under the enormous force before crashing onto the jungle floor.


    Waves of dirt cascaded overhead as another group of battle drones rushed to the team¡¯s position, the air now full of dust and dirt, appearing like the dense, dark clouds of a sandstorm. Jaffari¡¯s eardrums rang, the explosives combined with the overall chaos disoriented him so completely that he momentarily forget what was occuring. He swiftly glanced to his neighbor whose head, at just that moment, was decapitated by a plasma beam. Another soldier lost control, yelling and charging toward the computerized killers as he discharged his beam rifle, taking down at least one before being ripped apart by a flurry of precise shots. Jaffari launched another magnetron, and then took aim with his beam rifle, doing his best to get a shot through the trees, shrapnel, and dust.


    At that moment a chain of blasts was heard emanating from the mine. Red, yellow and brown clouds like those formed during a volcanic eruption shot through the sky, gases and particles reaching far into the upper reaches of the atmosphere. The explosions caused a great avalanche, tons of earth filled the hollows of the mines resulting in a chain reaction that brought a significant portions of the mountain face crumbling down. The force shifted the earth like the tremors of a quake.


    The fighting raged on, the attacker drones unphased by the colossal landslide. The company eventually brought down the last of the drones with a well coordinated effort and a host of precious supplies. Time was of the essence and Allistair Jaffari knew reinforcements would be arriving shortly to clean up the survivors. ¡°Tally heads, tend to the wounded. We¡¯re heading out!¡±


    The small group of men began sprinting through the jungle, under branches and through vines, displaying confident agility as they navigated the bushes, ferns, and long, knotted roots of the trees. A few men were carried on stretchers and released screams of pain each time they were jolted up and down. Jaffari knew the team could not engage the reinforcements and he halted, signalling the rest of the team to stand by.


    Jaffari searched through his satchel and removed a brown colored metal cube, roughly the size of a fist. He taped a few controls on the top of the cube before it floated over the group and began unravelling, slowly forming a wide, umbrella shaped camouflage surface that matched the heat signature of the canopy and forest below. It would shield the group from the precise infrared sensors of the attack drones, floating over the company as they traversed the terrain. Judging by his coordinates Jaffari estimated the team was roughly fifteen minutes from the rendezvous point with Rama.


    Rama rushed to gather his men, almost three quarters had been lost after the detonation near the mouths of the mines. Having underestimated the severity of the ensuing landslide, a significant portion had been buried alive by the tidal wave of earth. Eventually, after haphazardly scouring the scene for any remaining men, Rama¡¯s team parted to the rendezvous point. ¡°Rama, thank god you¡¯ve made it. Good work'''' said Allistair Jaffari. ¡°We must head back to base to receive our next set orders.¡±


    Again, another trek through the jungle began. The guerilla war effort of the Sitmians never slowed, it was the final resistance to the global dominion of consumer society, the final bastion of opposition to technological hegemony. Like a seminole tribe, fighting to stay alive in the face of a machine of imperial and colonial ambitions, the Sitmians trekked on, unperturbed. Allistair¡¯s company was just one of many executing hit and run missions before regrouping with central command in makeshift forts and bunkers.


    Han Giru accompanied Abbad to his pick up point, the boy lingered slowly along, tears falling down his cheeks as the thought of being severed from his father further set in and weighed down upon him. They travelled in a few lifts and pods, eventually reaching a point where Han Giru could no longer accompany the boy, a passageway protected by two drones, intimidating guardians like the lion dogs that protected a shrine or temple. There was a mass of black suits forming in a large auditorium, slowly joined by other souls, amalgamating into a dark void. Han Giru caressed the boy for the final time and watched him disappear, and unable to hold back an emotional strain in his chest and throat, began to cry.


    It felt as if life was departing him, like the bright light of the sun was setting for the final time, never to appear again. A message on his internal display ordered Han Giru to return to his business and he left, glancing behind in the hope that maybe, for some reason, the boy would reappear. Han Giru recollected the fear he felt during his embarkation, the cold, stark faces of the labor division directors behind podiums, giving orders to his young, innocent self.  He remembered his father, sheltering the boy and fighting to raise him properly for his time of calling.


    ¡°You will each be assigned a number. This is your new title.¡± A decimal string flashed in the upper left corner of Abbad¡¯s internal display. ¡°I wish I could tell you that the most difficult part of your journey has ended, but, I¡¯m afraid to say that your life up to this point has been child¡¯s play. You are now mature subterraneans, information accrual stage has concluded. Your first duty is to join an ongoing campaign in Sitma. Proceed to Dock N5.¡± The mass began slowly marching towards a massive ship that lay in the center of the large auditorium. It was almost pitch black in the empty chamber, and, as Abbad glanced back hoping to see his father, noticed that all of the entry tunnels had closed.


    The ship rested on a set of eight tarantula like limbs, bent at extreme angles and emerging from a spheroidical body. A blue light was emanating from the ship¡¯s graviator engine and a neon green marking on the side read SUBT804X. As the mass of freshly initiated underbeings approached the ship, a grand stairwell extended from its side and a metal shaft opened, revealing a matrix of small sleeping pods that resembled the cocoons of a caterpillar. As the group entered Abbad noticed a hologram of the Earth and the surrounding solar system, the blue orbs slowly shifting and rotating around one another gracefully.


    ¡°Line up for nutrient and liquid¡±, blasted the nano speaker near his ear drum. A line formed that eventually spiraled for lack of space in the hull of the carrier. A feeding station descended from above, two tubes for nutrient and liquid and another two cylindrical tubes carrying stacks of bowls and cups. The lines slowly inched forward as each worker received his share, ate, and entered one of the sleeping pods. Abbad that his body was not his own, a puppet controlled by a mechanical soul as the roof of the capsule closed and the ship accelerated into the air. In a matter of moments, it had again landed, and the workers were ordered again onto the hull of the ship.


    From the grand window a dense jungle appeared, capturing the attention of the entire crew, their eyes gravated to the spectacle like fish towards light. The legs of the ship began rotating around the ship like the propellers of a plane, cutting and tossing aside the Earth. The great mass slowly descended beneath the dirt and was eventually fully submerged, a dark gloom set in once again as the director¡¯s voice once blasted through the internal audio. ¡°We have landed in a remote region of Sitma, our purposes here are to remove an unwanted presence. Each underling will be provided with a surface  helmet before we proceed.¡±


    Again, the workers lined up. The group was now half its original size, the other half having entered a hibernation state within the capsules of the ship, a reserve, standby force. Each worker attached a helmet and was armed with a beam rifle before climbing through a central tube that led to the surface. A perfect circle of freshly tilled earth contrasted with the dense overgrowth of the jungle at its edge, the red, acidic soil a perfect anomaly, totally unnatural in appearance.


    A video popped up on Abbad¡¯s internal display accompanied with a dialogue covering the basic mechanics of beam rifle operation. Thereafter the workers were ordered to have a round of firing at the surrounding trees and brush, which, under the barrage of firepower, collapsed like corn stalks chopped down by a harvesting machine . After enough time, the crew then entered a marching formation and were joined by a group of fighter drones before marching off. A mist descended on the underlings as they entered the brush, its ghost like shape slithering through the trees.


    Roask came to his senses on the couch, his eyes opening to the white peaked caps of the mountains, their jagged rows like the ancient grey and white dusty heads of the terracotta warriors. He instinctively prompted his internal display, which was still unresponsive. As he peered around the room, he met eyes with the large cat, which began slowly approaching him. ¡°I hope you had a good rest,¡± Tanaka¡¯s voice iterated from some speakers. ¡°Today, I decided it would be best for you to explore your new home¡­ A drone will come in and drop off some suitable attire for you to roam around in for the day. It¡¯s quite a trek down the mountain but, once you ascend, the elements are not so harsh. I would recommend a visit to the lake, it is quite serene indeed.¡±


    A bot came in and dumped a heavy snow jacket, boots, a sweater, heavy socks, a canteen, and a backpack with other various supplies on the shining glass floor. Roast began putting on the gear, clumsily slipping into the garments as a doorway slid open followed by a burst of fresh, cold air. He exited through the port and began walking down the snow-covered peak, past jagged boulders shaped like the teeth of a shark, extruding from bright white surface. The air stung his nose and eyes and burned the inside of his nostrils as he inhaled, a sensation he had not experienced in years of living in an almost constantly manipulated environment. Eventually he descended to an altitude where the solid white sheets of snow gave way to thick patches scattered among bright green herbs and grasses and the occasional patch of wild flowers, their bright buds adding a sweet gaiety to the air and scene.


    The boulders were now more totally exposed, embedded in the Earth like shrapnel in weak flesh. As he peered towards the valley and into the lake, its unperturbed surface reflecting the mountain¡¯s and clouds above, he experienced a tranquility, a passing, ephemeral transcendence. He felt for a moment as if his real soul and self were elsewhere, beyond this realm, the core of his being temporarily understanding its essence and source, grasping its reason and purpose, an overwhelming oneness. He began passing through scattered trees, the leaves whispering to the wind, passing magical notes to neighbours far away. The trees became more densely packed and the ground leveled out the further Roask hiked, the reservoir sparkling through the mesh of trunks, waterfowl and the movement of deer now more easily discernible on and around its surface. A bald eagle glided over the lake, its reflection clearly visible as its feet and talons pierced the water for a shiny fish, the perturbation forming a circle of expanding rings which corrupted the image of the mountains and clouds previously written on the surface.


    Roask began fretting once again, what had happened to his existence, why him, where was he¡­ It was as if his mind had again descended into that subterranean network of caves, thoughts of paranoia and anxiety echoing endlessly and chasing him through those empty, dark chasms. Torturous voices snowballed, their spiteful tongues straining his chest as they spewed evil, vile poison into his being. He felt like a monster, a foul being completely banished. The mysterious persona of Tanaka haunted him, the man like a wizard or seer, an oracle of sorts alone in that lonely, quiet tower, probably now looking over the lake, his cold gaze unshaken.


    He felt that unconsciously his choices had caused the entire universe to conspire entirely against him, each decision he made further isolating himself, tearing him away from any bonds or relationships until he would end up completely alone. He felt like nothing more than a burden, a waste of space in an already full world. The prospect of death seemed attractive, the ultimate release from the curse that life had become for him. Tears flowed down his cheeks, his heart cried at his isolation and shame. He was an outcast and felt entirely undeserving of any respect of love.


    As time passed the negativity began fading and he resigned himself to the unsure prospect of his future as he approached the shore of the grand lake which was fed by the perennial snows and rains draining into the great basin on all sides. Pebbles glistened through the crystal clear water, their shades ranging from deep blue to lime green, their texture smooth from years of weathering. Roask sat down on a mesa shaped boulder, the fresh air and altitude, coupled with the effects of his exercise imparted a feeling of lightheartedness and contentedness.


    As he looked out onto the water, tears began filling his eyes, slowly rolling down his cheeks as he felt engulfed by sadness, a crippling feeling of despair and gravity that caused his stomach to knot. Perhaps it was the first time he was truly connected to his root, stripped away from his internal display and all social contacts, he was bare, vulnerable, exposed, insecure. One moment happy, the next feeling a river of tears building up inside. He wished to travel back in time, to a time where peace was assured and worries distant, a place where a soothing voice would calm him, tell him everything would resolve itself, everything was happening as it was intended to happen¡­ To a time when he was not alone, that something, somewhere was watching over him. His soul seemed to beg for that comforting spirit, that beneficent, comforting being that washed away all of the impurities, fear, and pain he housed within. Emotion was rocking his being like one enduring the currents and tides of a first love or major parting, cutting, slowly stabbing his feeble heart.


    Through the clear water Roask saw the dancing figures of guppies darting over the pebbles, moving together in small schools, creating the illusion of darting shadows as they shifted about. As he looked out onto the lake, he began again to calm down as the peaceful energy was emanated from the depths of his body. His mind became entirely clear as the chill of the cool mountain breeze became more evident in the late afternoon.


    Realizing his hunger, Roask searched through the supply pack and pulled out a shiny, red box. He opened the lid and grabbed a slice of apple, tossing the sweet morsel into his mouth and biting down. He had never enjoyed food not served directly before him by a drone and there was a curious novelty about reaching into the ramsack, rummaging, and opening the modest meal. After finishing the sliced, crunchy apples, he began on a thick turkey sandwich. A layer of sauerkraut and pickles, tomatoes, and lettuce covered the meat, which was compacted between two thick slices of sourdough bread. Mustard and mayonnaise oozed out from the sandwich and fell down onto his coat. He then gobbled down a few chocolate chip cookies, their outer layer crunchy but giving way to a soft, sweet interior.


    The lack of internal display and pings from his internal system was awakening. The simplicity of his sensory input invited the physical and spiritual sensation perhaps experienced by an old yogi-- a transcendence of being and oneness. He became aware of his true being and body as he took long, full deep breaths, the energy or chi within him spreading into the far recesses of his body, healing his organs and comforting his thoughts. It dawned on him that, for his entire life, he had been so entrenched in himself, his ego had consumed him. The world, as he experienced it at that moment, had never before been encountered.

 Chapter 5

    A lethargy strained his limbs as if suddenly his blood had become mercury, weighing down every step. Instinctually Han Giru looked for the boy before exiting the room but his gaze was met only by the walls and mattress of the lonely chamber as he remembered the boy was gone. He went about his normal commute and reported to the labor division, taking his place among the group in the wide auditorium. The space was entirely unwelcoming, colorless, impersonal. Gray metal walls stretched in every direction, the cheerful light of the sun nowhere to be seen. Like the cold interior of a secluded prison cell, only artificial sources half lit the wide space, which seemed like the interior of a submarine, slowly inching through the cold, dark depths.


    The director ordered all of the black suited men to strip naked. Like cattle branded by a common rancher, all of their bodies exhibited the same scars from the mechanical implant surgeries they underwent during infancy. ¡°Take off your suits, you will no longer be needing them. You¡¯ve reached terminal expiry, your cohort is passed its prime, more of a burden than anything else at this moment. Your only use at this stage of your career will be to fill a bowl¡­¡± An eeriness filled the air, a trepidation afflicted Han Giru as he wondered what would happen. ¡°With updates and improvements in subterranean rearing software and, of course, a ready supply of heads from the genesis sector to replace you, it has been deemed inefficient for this cohort to continue labouring¡­ Don¡¯t despair, though. You will be ritually offered to the consumers, you will depart in their name. Of course, this is the highest honor one of your kind can achieve, so, you should be quite proud.¡±


    On hearing these words, the mood lightened, the subterraneans delighted in the idea of departing for those above. It was finally his time, his time to be reunited with his makers. Near the center of the labor division auditorium, an opening appeared on the floor.  A black hole of nearly a five meter radius, emanating mystery like a portal to another dimension or a never before scene gadget.


    Near the hole a single subterranean stood, chanting the names of various consumers in a deep, monotonous growl before each man took his final step. He seemed like a priest of the underworld or druid, his slender, naked corpse appearing like a golem in a dimly lit cave. As he chanted, his eyes seemed to slightly bulge out his head, a sort of tainted, maniacal fanaticism appeared in his expression, as if he had recently undergone a demonic possession or entered a psychosis. The hole was certainly quite deep, for no sound could be heard after any of the subterraneans disappeared below. They were unperturbed, behaving as if following just another order from the director. The great line of bodies shrunk as slowly but surely hopped into the black hole, the naked brown corpses slipping away one by one. As he neared the hole, Han Giru thought of Abbad, where he may now be. His mind turned to the consumer that had visited them below, and he felt a sort of reassurance, comfort at the thought of leaving this realm behind. It was his turn to jump, and, as he approached the edge of the black hole he could not help but be slightly taken aback at the prospect.


    As the whole extended, the metallic boundaries disappeared, giving way to only a total void of black. Han Giru jumped, and, like Alice down the rabbit¡¯s hole, fell and continued to fall. His internal display entered a ¡°shut down phase¡±, and all of his internal data was transferred to a central server, a loading bar appearing in the upper right hand corner. He peered down and still total darkness. As he approached terminal velocity, he began hearing the sound of a sort of ticking, like a clock. Thud and after a few more moments thud, this time a little louder, and so on, until the sound was quite loud, THUD.


    After clearing a sufficient amount of ground, the group of Sitmian soldiers, headed by Jaffari, formed a grand circle, joining hands. Rama began listing names, all of the men lost in the previous engagement. ¡°To the land beyond, be welcomed. Rest in peace,¡± said Rama. A feeling of community and brotherhood was made more tangible by their physical contact, travelling like electricity through the hands of each man in the circle. Solemn faces abounded as the men offered their thoughts and prayers to the deceased.


    As Rama peered at his tablet a focused strain was written across as eyes as he read the update message from high command. Sweat dampened his black, curly hair causing thick strands to be plastered against his chocolate colored forehead. His high cheekbones protrude above his long beard, which, together with his hair, joined together to form a lion like mane. His eyes were set wide apart, within almond shaped slits and that sat above a sturdy, muscular jaw and thin, lean frame.


    The Sitmians were the last race of physically fit homo sapiens, having rejected the host of exoskeleton transport suits and carrier chairs used by the consumers. Coupled with their nomadic wartime lifestyle,  grueling physical regimes, and sparse jungle based diet, the Sitmians were physically superb beings. ¡°Central command has received reports of organic, live consumer troops. Apparently their drone forces have not been sufficient enough. We got the coordinates.¡± Alistair nodded, and the company continued trekking through the jungle.


    A wall of black smoke appeared on the horizon as they continued marching, its dark, witch like form unlike anything that they had seen before. Jaffari signalled the men to put on their gas masks, fearing the worst. It looked like a dark storm cloud, but extended further down, more like a fog or sandstorm. As the dark, shadowy cloud approached the party, it extended in size and conquered the rays of light, transforming the light of day into a dimly list dusk.


    Soon the cloud consumed the entire party. As the aberration made contact with their surroundings it coated everything with a solid layer of soot, a black, grimy layer like that found on the hands of a mechanic or the face of a miner. The men were being carried on stretchers had no masks, and almost immediately began coughing as the toxic cloud became more thick and dense. The men began to suffocate the men, their complexions turning pale as the men rushed to wrap cloth or linen around their faces, to no avail.


    The whole team looked on helplessly, wishing to help but entirely powerless as the cursed chemicals burned their throats and lungs before their bodies went entirely limp and were laid to rest. ¡°They are throwing everything that have at us, the bloody snakes. Smoking us out like vermin or insects, the bastards. We need to move,¡± said Alistair. Again, the team picked up their pace, darting through the jungle like a pack of chimpanzees defending their territory.


    Eventually the dark, toxic cloud gave way, the whole company now covered in a thick layer of the horrific black soot, as if they had been doused in a thick layer of oil. They were famished, and, having only eaten some boar meat three days prior, hardly had the energy to keep moving. Finally they reached the coordinates of the rendezvous point, and, upon noticing the mouth of the concealed thatched, leaf covered opening, quickly descended below.


    The blue suited Sitmian commanders welcomed and quickly furnished them with salted meat and water, the expressions of the group like a pack of wolves, salivating at the sight of a baby elk or other prized prey in mid winter. The underground cellar¡¯s mud walls were dimly lit by candlelight, and, throughout the chamber a number of tunnel openings joined the chamber to a large network which contained weapon caches, food storage, medical caches, and the like. The haphazard yet sophisticated system was the only way the Sitmians could avoid the constant, sophisticated surveilling of the consumers.


    One of the blue suited men began addressing the group. ¡°We must maintain pressure on the enemy. The mine and resource raids have proven a temporary success, but are really just a scratch on the consumer¡¯s back, a minor inconvenience. Our capital is now in ashes, an open graveyard. The have begun targeting the wildlife, coating the forests and land with black smoke, spoiling our water, burning down our towns. Live subterranean troops have been spotted, and attack drones have stepped up their bombings.¡± The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t we surrender now. We are only prolonging the inevitable. We stand no chance against the devils.¡± A number of soldiers grunted or nodded in agreement.¡± ¡°We need to hit them at their home, take the battle to them.¡± Before long, the entire chamber descended into a frenzy of argument and contention. Some men began swinging at one another in despair. It was evident the entirety of the men had been broken, their emotions overtaking them in waves of rage...


    For many thousands of years, the Sitmians had lived in relative peace with the consumers that inhabited the grand continents. Nonetheless, they maintained their language and culture, remaining skeptical of the consumer¡¯s blind adherence to technological growth and so called progress. Without completely discarding a technological way of life, the Sitmians reverted to more basic times, relinquishing the excess comfort of the consumer model for the satisfaction of tradition and simplicity, taking many cues from the natural world. They developed a state of the art solar energy capabilities, mimicking the complex technology employed by plants in their engineering whilst living side by side with nature.


    They revived the ancient deities and prophets of protoman. Allah, Bhudda, Krishna, Jesus, and Muhammad met and formed their polytheistic faith, which blended elements of a praise of nature and ancestor worship with the monotheism of Abraham¡¯s code. As time passed, the relations between the groups disintegrated, and war broke out.


    Abbad and the small army of subterraneans had been marching for hours, and as the strain on his legs had become more sharp, he felt as if he was wearing a full suit of chainmail or wearing dense, lead boots. His internal display listed the objective and destination of the group¡ª they were assigned to move into a Sitmian village and fully neutralize the area. As he peered down onto the forest floor, full of dense vegetation, a long snake caught his eye with a protruding bulge in the center of its gut. It was defenseless, the great mass entirely incapacitating the beast, as it lay, slowly digesting the mammal it had constricted and enveloped. A beautiful pattern of light and dark green appeared like an arabesque on its scaled coat, the symmetrical, leaf like shapes over the shiny leather surface entirely camouflaging the beast.


    The boy was enthralled, the exciting mission he was carrying out for the consumers had overtaken his paranoia and feeling of separation. Pride burned in his young heart and he felt his own power for the first time in his life as he trudged along with his pressure rifle. Eventually, the team entered upon the outskirts of a Sitmian city, which appeared to exist in a purely symbiotic state with the surrounding jungle. Large mounds appeared, the conic domes covered by wide leaved ferns and soil. Inverted umbrella shaped metal devices were scattered around, attached at their base were large, rectangular boxes within which the staple fruits and vegetables of the Simians were generated. The contraptions replicated the efficient process of photosynthesis, converting water, light, soil, and oxygen into a reliable, steady food source.


    Above, connecting the trees, were wooden bridges and treehouses that effectively created a tier structure to the village. The huts overhead were covered in vines and leafs, from below appearing like nests of a great jungle eagle or the dam of a family of otters. The inverted umbrella panels stood out, poking out from the elevated rooms like hats.


    The underling troops began destroying the domes and the production units that had remained after the bombings, burning the contents within and crippling the village with their pressure rifles. Methodically, each tree that housed a treehouse was demolished, and the old branches and trunks snapped and cried in agony as they toppled. Most everything had been destroyed by the bombings, reduces to a mass of tangled metal, wiring, and rotting corpses. The bodies were already beginning to decompose, and, out of the shrapnel gashes that riddled the corpses, maggots could be seen, feasting on the rotting flesh.  They slowly but surely combed through the village, taking down whatever remained as they approached a central dome structure, many times larger than the other units.


    It seemed to be a communal area, perhaps for special rituals or ceremonies, elections, or meetings of one sort or another. Like the smaller mound huts, it contained a solar harvesting unit on the tip of its dome, though, on this structure the inverted umbrella shaped structure was enlarged and more sophisticated, containing a number of protruding antennas and chords. The cords spread outward and formed a web over the structure and surrounding ground nearby before disappearing underground.


    The mound¡¯s central gates were sealed shut, and a beautiful lotus etched into the grand, metal doors. A fighter drone quickly began welding through the thick, metal barrier. From the palm of one of its limbs originated a cone of white blue fire, which it slowly passed along the barrier, bright molten steel piling on the ground below. After collapsing, the entire company rushed in, meeting a large group of Sitmian women and children huddled together, paralyzed by fear. Without hesitation, Abbad and his company mercilessly mowed them down, the pressure beams quickly disemboweling, eviscerating the innocent souls. Not an ounce of remorse was felt, the brainwashed subterraneas completely convinced their actions were morally inscrutable, that they were carrying out the commands of some divine, consumer will or that they were the arbiters of a divine will. A thick layer of blood began spreading throughout the chamber as the last moans encountered unperturbed ears.


    Methodically the subterranean unit marched out of the town, continuing on to the next village as a cloud of smoke and flames behind the marching scourge grew and intermittent explosions rang through the jungle like the howling calls of a pack of chimpanzees.


    Fauni and Sigun reclined in a viewing chamber of the lunar colony, their eyes gazing into the Milky Way as a soft melody tickled the air. The structure had been completed at least a thousand years ago, standing as the pinnacle achievement of Jegio, one of the great founders of the consumer federation that assumed power after the great war. The structure maintained Earth-like levels of oxygen and CO2 through a sophisticated central conversion system which processed the moon¡¯s largely silicate surface material into a gas suitable for life. The colony consisted of a matrix of connected structures which decreased in height the further they stood from a grand, central dome, making the old city appear like a grand pyramid from bird¡¯s eye. The lunar compound was a gem of classical consumer technology and post exodus architecture, standing like the sistine chapel or the blue mosque, a symbol of historical greatness.


    From the central dome of the colony, millions of silk strings descended, each strand full of nanolights that lit up in unison, forming complex images with depth and immaculate resolution. In the wide spaces of white, lunar sand between the spires, domes, and rooms of the interconnected lunar colony, beautiful gardens were formed. Rows and dunes were sparsely inhabited by ancient boulders of the finest basalt, harvested from Earth, forming a spectacle seen only in the ancient zen gardens of Kyoto.


    ¡°Where could Roask have gone, do you think,'''' said Fauni. A look of confusion and slight irritation spread across Sigun¡¯s face, as he had not the faintest idea and was not the object of her attention. ¡°He has been offline for the past few days, I can hardly say. Of course, usually anyone appearing offline for such a period are guilty of, of some sort of unruly behaviour.¡± Sigun¡¯s face shifted against in disgust, a scowl appearing like he had just inhaled the horrid stench of sewage or carrion, long baking in the heat of day. ¡°Of what sort¡±, responded Fauni. Her innocence was striking, a proper lady indeed, her mind never in the places a consumer¡¯s thoughts should not wander.


    Above, through the viewing dome, the view of the heavens struck down on the pair with total glory. Surrounding the translucent, spherical viewing dome was a group of fountains and statues, which, during the long lunar night, shot streams of water into the air that promptly froze, soaring in grand formations of parabolic arcs that glistened in the dim light like icicles or frozen leaves in the sun of a winter morning. After the two Earth weeks of lunar night, the sun rose over the lunar colony, and water was heated to a boil,  ¡°Most likely, the poor man became ever infatuated with his external display. In rare occasions, some individuals become lost in their external display.¡± After speaking, Sigun¡¯s eyes become unfocused as he ordered a plate of lambeef ribs. The meat was from a laow, an animal derived from the genetic crossbreeding of the cow and lamb, and one of the first specimens of genetic experiments produced after the relaxing of the cloning and genetic experimentation laws. Well seasoned with a tomato and garlic herb based sauce it was a classic, relished dish. As a drone appeared with the plate, Sigun began cutting into the pink red flesh, the tender meat falling off the bone with ease before being stabbed by his fork and doused it into the thick, red sauce.


    Fauni, with a look of confusion on her face, could not comprehend such behavior, found it entirely unfathomable. In her universe, the only consumers that appeared offline for such extended periods of time were those who shut down their systems, or, as protoman termed the phenomenon, passed away. ¡°Ahh, just forget it, it¡¯s entirely out of our hands anyway,'''' said Sigun, becoming increasingly frustrated with the attention and disconcert that Roask was causing to the lady he desired. In a bid to entertain her, Sigun ordered a volley of fireworks. They left thin trails of smoke behind as they shot away from the lunar surface and, one after the other, exploded in a grand orgasm of color. With the backdrop of stars and the Earth, it was a sight to behold.


    Indeed, his plan worked, and a smile broke out across her face, a twinkle reigniting in her bright brown eyes. The strands of her brown hair swung back and forth as she chucked and Sigun, enthralled by her beauty, entirely forget about the fireworks and even his lambeef, almost dropping his fork. She wrapped her arms around his neck and they began kissing, her sweet perfume intoxicating and the feeling of her lips elating. For Sigun, the rule of life was excess and availability, and, Fauni, unable to command from an internal display, was entirely alluring.

 Chapter 6

    Alistair Jaffari slowly stood up and without words captured the attention of the entire group, their voices quickly dying down. Even the purple seated commanders paused in the middle of their sentences and gazed upon the man, who, with an undeniable serenity and air of unshakable authority written across his eyes, belittled and humbled them, shifting their cores with a mere glance. His beard and long hair flowed down his back and face, and through the muddy, tattered robes that hung onto his frail body, patches of golden, brown skin appeared. As the room fell quiet, Rama, sitting beside Jaffari, inhaled deeply and closed his eyes in a deep mediation.


    ¡°The answer is not to fight the enemy any longer. We must capture their minds, capture their hearts and enlighten them, lead them to the path within. We must infect their masses with truth, starting at the individual. We must reprogram them, guide them back to the divinity they have within themselves. The war will rage on and on and the Sitmians will be no more. We must ignite a revolution in the enemy, throw a spark on the dark, polluted fuel within their tortured souls, defeat them with the only thing they have not yet taken from us, our humanity and peaceful, enlightened nature.¡± The crowd began cheering in unison, and the purple suited Sitmians gave way as Alistair Jaffari headed to the central opened stage of the underground bunker.


    ¡°We will aim to capture the subterranean troops with the least amount of struggle as possible. First, it will be necessary to disable their internal displays and speakers. Once these connections are severed, they will regain their human senses. Thereafter, we will love them, show them the power of mercy, the power of the Sitmian heart and the warm, comforting hands of God¡¯s children. It will be a slow process, but it will work. With God on our side, they will heed our calls, they will fall into our warm arms and their minds will be free.¡± Alistair called out to each of the generals and ordered them to monitor a certain sector of the wide jungle on the scout for subterranean companies, dividing the vast tracts of lands into chunks.


    The solidarity of the group was palatable, each man united by the preaching of Jaffari, hope falling from his lips at a time where there was hardly any left. ¡°Caress your brother, pray for him, keep him in your heart. We will not let the poison of war stain our core, our values, our philosophy. ¡± The Sitmians soldiers began holding on to one another, and fell into a state of prayer and meditation, a scene characteristic of communal meetings before the invasion, a time of bonding and transcendence. A nourishment so vital and for so long forgone was experienced again, and, like water quenching a parched throat, parted needed vitality to the men. Their nature was not of conflict or war, in their essence was harmony and coexistence.


    A handful of Sitmians climbed up through the tunnels and headed to the umbrella shaped agricultural production units, bringing back fruit, vegetables, and grown meat. Tomatoes, pineapple, oranges, apples, figs and berries abound. Each piece of fruit and vegetable massive¡ª the tomatoes the size of footballs and oranges like bowling balls, the apex of genetic manipulation and energy optimization. They were sliced with machetes, their sweet aroma filled the air and pleased the nose like a poem to the ear. As the much needed sugar entered their blood the moods further elated. Sweet juices of the fruit ran down their faces, their eyes fixated on the raw grown meat, slowly rotating over concentrated heat generators, quickly browning and steaming as it was seasoned with spicy sauces, peppers, and salt. The meat was divvied among them as more baskets were fetched, this time with sweet corn, beans, lettuce, and cucumbers. After they finished eating, pipes of bjobjo were passed around, sedating the men while they sipped on jeejee flower tea.


    Near the center of the group, a few Sitmians began chanting, dancing and slowly rotating around a black box, from which a tribal drumming emanated. As more souls joined they began chanting, the movement of the bodies like dark rain clouds around the eye of a typhoon. It was a ritual dance, the specific lyrics pleading the divine energy for good will and mercy. The deep beatings of drums reverberated within each chest, and from the jee jee tea¡¯s effect on the senses, temporarily allowing perception of a kind of netherworld¡ª a glimpse into the usually invisible realm of spirits and deities, angels and demons¡ªJaffari witnessed what appeared as jinn passing through the underground chamber, all headed in the same direction and disappearing into the mud walls.


    The spirits came in all sizes, some large and red, with horns and white spikes protruding from the heads and limbs, surrounded by balls of black dust. Other beings were clad in blue garb, their form ambiguous and non uniform as they floated through the air like flower petals in a breeze. Silhouettes of birds and hounds shuffled through the chamber as the music intensified. Tall forms clad in white robes, perhaps angels, were abound with gold embroidery entered the chamber,from the spread light that filled the chamber, bringing with it a feeling of divine oneness, peace, and a profound, reflective silence. Soon enough, Jaffari felt he was dreaming as he drifted out of his body and join the parade of otherworldly beings, flying into what seemed another dimension and quite futile to describe using the limited scope of language.


    The ceremony progressed and the purple suited commanders began reading ancient scripts as the music died down and the artificial lights turned off. Heavy bright red quilts died with yellow zig zags and alternating solid white strips were passed around as torches were lit on the boundaries of the circular chamber, the flames creating dancing shadows and light patterns on the heavy old quilts near the walls but weakening near the center of the chamber, which appeared as a dark, wide pupil. The ancient texts relaxed the men, soothing them like a mother¡¯s lullaby to a fretting baby, fables of the old world and the peaceful ages, times of great peace and prosperity, and the days of optimal utopia. Before long the men were sound asleep, their souls drifting to realms beyond, rocking in the arms of angels or the palms of daemons.


    As the sun began to set, the chilly breeze became more harsh, stinging Roask¡¯s ears and hands like the small jaws of ants. He rummaged through his bag and fetched a pair of thick mittens and a beanie, offering a little respite as he took a final look across the lake and noticed a number of dark masses surfacing from beneath the water, heading towards the trees. Their form was hard to distinguish, but they resembled horses with an extra pair of legs in their midsection and a sort of trunk-like appendage in the place of a tail. There was something mysteriously conscious about their movements, as though they were not animalistic, conversing with one another in pairs or engaged in deep thought. The dozen or so beings took a few moments to group together before disappearing into the trees. An eeriness in the air was palatable as the last one disappeared into the dark brown brush that extended around the lake and beyond, vanishing like a flea into the hairy coat of an old mutt. Roask hopped off of the mesa shaped boulder and began retracting his steps, entering the forest from the shore of the lake.


    With each step the crunching sound of dead twigs and leaves under his boots was carried beyond, unmasked by the rustling of small mammals and chirping of birds which had already retired for the night. Paranoid and doubling his pace, Roask passed through the dense vegetation and began ascending the steep slope of the mountain''s face, peering back to notice what looked like a collection of black, hairy masks peeking from behind the trunks of the redwoods. They were oval shaped, with bright, zebra-like white stripes emanating like rays from a single, central, large eyeball.


    Roask began to sprint away, slipping as he progressed up the slope. The sun had just disappeared over the mountainside, and he could now clearly see the mansion, its rooms brightly lit like the lantern room of an old lighthouse or the embers of a hot fire. Adrenaline pushed him further and faster up the slope, his limbs struggling under the uncharacteristic physical strain. Finally he reached the entrance to the mansion and upon entrance was greeted by the oversized cat. The fluffy creature had apparently now become used to the new guest, and, without hesitation, rubbed its body and leaned against Roask, who had to stabilize himself under the enormous weight. Moments later Tanaka appeared from behind a sliding metal door, floating on a levitator chair. ¡°Back later than I expected, I trust you enjoyed yourself?¡±, said Tanaka.


    Roask found it difficult to collect any of his thoughts, his body still in a panicked state from rushing up the mountain side. ¡°I encountered some beings down there¡­¡±, Roask began. Tanaka¡¯s face showed no emotion as he stared at the man heaving for air. He seemed like he had already seen the world, as if it no longer held any more promise or secrets for him to uncover. A serious gravity defined him, and, though a consumer in outward appearance, his behavior was otherwise uncharacteristic. Unlike Sigun or Fauni, he was rarely engaged with his internal display, often staring with concentration off into the distance, like he was untangling some deep problem within his mind.


    ¡°Pay no mind, it was in all probability a group of deer or your eyes playing tricks¡± said Tanaka, quickly discounting Roask. ¡°What motivated you to travel below, to visit a subterranean chamber¡±, asked Tanaka. Roask¡¯s gut felt as if it was suddenly twisted as he received this question, it was finally his time to be interrogated, questioned. He resigned, there was no escaping his past. It was recorded, documented, part of the permanent memory of the central server. ¡°To satisfy a curiosity¡±, I suppose. ¡°I harbored feelings of, of, sympathy for the beings, I travelled below to prove myself wrong,'''' stammered Roask. A nervousness caused him to slightly stutter, and the weight of emotion he felt in his chest caused his voice to ever so slightly crack.


    ¡°At least you have curiosity, old boy. Not entirely unconscious, drooling your life away behind closed eyelids, like the rest. You see, I have not properly introduced myself. I deal with what are called the ¡°outliers¡±, those that have been flagged by the system. I¡¯m tasked with screening individuals such as yourself. Each consumer whose particular use of the server and internal computer is abnormal. Out of the ordinary. Unique. Many years ago, after the great wars and during the consolidation of the consumer state, the division in which I am currently employed was responsible for isolating those who were politically subversive, potential enemies of the establishment. Subterraneans, the penniless, communalists, radicals, anarchists, democrats, those that believed in the traditional family, and all caught by the internal and external monitoring capabilities of the state.¡±


    ¡°All contenders to power were not only erased, but potential enemies or rebels fell prey to the power of internal indoctrination and mandatory education. Those that stayed in line got nutrients, those that didn¡¯t were simply killed off by drone task forces. The consumer state was inoculated from the danger of free thinking, behaviour, and information. Since then, times have changed.¡±Roask felt a wave of relief, and, instead of feeling again like he was on a pedestal of shame, he felt elated, his life given validation. It felt like a long emptiness had been filled, as if for the first time he glimpsed a sense of purpose, of belonging. He had been given an intoxicating view of a community of like minded individuals, before which he had no idea existed...


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    ¡°Now you see, the only outliers are those who are sane, those that are conscious beings, those that have liberated their minds¡­ The good news is that the consumer elite have repurposed the program, using it as a sort of filter for mental aptitude. All of those outliers have provided us with a superior genetic sample, all of which is being housed in the reproduction division, a land called Dohaidu... Those that have not become outliers will disappear¡­ A great purge will occur. Fate has it that our progeny shall inherit the Earth...¡± ¡°And what will become of the subterraneans,¡± asked Roask. ¡°The subterraneans will have no role in the new world. Like most of the consumers, they makeup a backward race. There is really no way to justify having them survive past this last generation. They are nothing but the children of slaves, so far brainwashed that they can be considered mindless... Their work will be replaced by drones, it has been long overdue.¡±


    ¡°In all honesty, we are only expediting the process of evolution, you see. You and I inhabit an upper echelon. We are cleaning the scum off of the face of the Earth, it''s the survival of the fittest, old boy. With half the world living like gophers and the other like pigs, we are the lions¡­ After the Sitmians, consumers, and subterraneans have been wiped out, this will be all ours.¡± Tanaka gestured with his short, fat arm across the sky in a long, waving motion. His expression remained cold and stoic, gazing through the glass walls of the mansion at the stars. He hopped off the levitating pad and called his large cat, which trotted towards him, purring as the man caressed its head. He took a seat next to Roask, his dark eyes penetrating deep into the man, his face appeared like he was studying his soul or pondering the meaning of his expressions instead of  simply looking at his physical features.


    ¡°In the same way that a computer must have its internal software periodically updated, society too must undergo restructuring, improvement. The subterraneans are simply remnants of the poor casts, the average consumer simply a waste of space. It can be seen as a genetic software update of sorts. A new and improved model or framework...¡±


    You must be hungry, old boy. A drone hurried in, in its spider-like limbs the first course of a meal and trays of appetizers and various bottles of alcohol and juices looked like an extravagant chandelier, sparkling crystal prisms shining and glimmering.  From the ceiling a metal slab detached and slowly floated down like an autumn leaf before sitting still. The drone quickly arranged the dishes, cutlery, candles, trays, and china by extending its metal limbs in a matter of moments. The table appeared like would King Louis¡¯ in the palace of Versailles, a feast of epic proportions.


    As Roask stood up to take his place at the opposite side of the floating metal dining table from Tanaka, he pondered the scope of death that would soon occur. At that moment he wished he was a subterranean, or, like Sigun, so completely uninterested in reality that it simply had no consequence to his mental state or emotional well being. Instead, he would see the passing away of almost an entire world of being, witness the extinction of millions of souls. Indeed, the warm feeling of joy he had felt previously, the excitement to be united with those of a similar mental persuasion had been promptly replaced by the loathsome, grueling emotion of death and destruction. As he looked upon the grand feast, the silverware and glass shining under the candles, sparkling in the dim light, he wished that he would simply disappear or that his entire existence was a dream from which he would soon wake up.


    Each of the Sitmians seemed as if they could continue after the rituals and brotherhood experienced the night before. Before, their souls were running on empty, and now, a breath of life had been blown into them, lighting the way ahead. They woke feeling completely revived, the nutrient and rest healing their malnourished and beaten bodies. There was no more time to spare, however, and before morning pleasantries could be exchanged, a purple suited commander addressed the group. ¡°We¡¯ve received reports of a civilian massacre at a city in district 2N on the outskirts of the capital,'''' he said, after glancing at a tablet. ¡°My party will head that way,'''' said Jaffari. A sense of urgency and stress quickly set in, and, after plans had been finalized and vital communications and supplies exchanged the groups stood up one by one and passed through the dirt tunnel to the surface.


    They began heading to the coordinates of the massacre. The wide, umbrella-like leaves of the undergrowth and ferns were all covered in a layer of mist, balls of condensation shining in the early morning light like clear, sparkling icicles. The air felt murky and thick, and with little to no breeze, the vegetation was statuesque, the only movement coming from the sudden shifting of birds or insects scattered variously around. An ancient obelisk or Olmec head marked the location of the underground chamber, a boulder coated by dark green moss and curving vines that offered rare glimpses to the turquoise blue basalt flesh beneath, a lonely giant likely separated from its monolithic parent millenia ago.


    As Jaffari, Rama, and the rest of the men moved through the jungle and past the towering boulder, Rama rummaged through his bag and pulled out some small, silver bullet-like objects. They were among some of the new gear just received from central command, a handful of hornets. About the size of small flies, they had small engines that could propel them through currents of wind despite their size and were fixed with nanolenses and transponders that relayed visual data to the team. With a few taps on his control tablet, Rama deployed a number of hornets, which, like a swarm of flies or mosquitoes, disappeared into the sky, heading towards N2.


    A few days passed of trudging through the jungle until eventually the team arrived at the outskirts of the small village, the site of the reported massacre. As they entered the lifeless town, blackened, charred Earth and ashe covered the ground, the small black huts partly collapsed, their roofing held up by only a weak pole or two. The stench of rotting flesh filled the air, and, above, teams of vultures circled, honing in on the corpses that were strewn variously around. Some of the ominous, black birds were cackling around bodies, taking bites of the rotting flesh, their heads appearing like the skulls of skeletons as they noticed the group of incoming Sitmians. Rama, pulled out a bandana, covering his mouth as he offered prayers to the victims. ¡°Any incoming data from the hornets, Rama?¡±, asked Jaffari, as he clenched his fist, hoping to pinpoint the coordinates of the drone and subterranean battalion before they could repeat a similar massacre. ¡°The hornets have picked up the location of their camp, they are roughly a day north of our position by foot, we can overtake them if we travel through the night...¡± They headed to the central dome of the structure, and, as they approached, the stench became even stronger, clinging to the air like the rancid gas of a startled skunk.


    As they approached the central dome, a number of rats could be seen scurrying around, and, as Jaffari threw a flair inside the central dome, a blanket of half rotten corpses was illuminated, the sacred Sitmian ceremonial hall transformed into an open burial chamber, a pit of death. As Jaffari met eyes with a corpse, an orgy of maggots were climbing atop one another in the rotten eye socket, he quickly doubled over and vomited, the rest of the men covering their faces and shifting away from the central structure. After offering condolences and solemn prayers and wishes of a peaceful afterlife to the dead, they quickly hurried out of the town, making heed to overtake the subterranean troupe.


    Another night of trekking through the jungle and the Sitmians began preparing for the ambush on the subterraneans. Their movements were easily predictable based on the recorded data of the hornets, they were moving in a straight line to the Sitmian capital. The team was on high alert, each head and set of eyes constantly pivoting, scanning the environment like eagles soaring above a prairie or lake. Rama distributed seismic detectors, magnetrons, and to the group, which they set up in a random locations on the jungle floor, activating and burying them underneath the foliage and humus. After the mines were set up, the men quickly slipped on gas masks and  huddle together.


    ¡°Remember, our goal is disarming the enemy so as to avoid bloodshed. Target the drones first, they must be neutralized as soon as possible¡± whispered Jaffari. The men then took their positions, scattered among the jungle forest, in prone positions and wearing camouflage gear, their beam rifles pointed toward the scene of the ambush. A silence filled the air, echoes of insects ringing rhythmically marked the passing moments, the intensity increasing in anticipation as the men scanned their surroundings, combing through the dense brush like a jaguar hunting in the night. Jaffari¡¯s chest tightened, the beat of his heart pounding so hard that as he peered through the scope of his beam rifle, it was periodically jolted, making it hard to focus. Still nothing,


    ¡°Remember, our goal is disarming the enemy so as to avoid bloodshed, avoid casualties at all costs. Prioritize downing the drones, they must be neutralized as soon as possible,¡± whispered Jaffari. The men then took their positions, scattered among the jungle forest in prone positions and wearing camouflage gear, their beam rifles pointed in the direction of still distant marching subterranean troops. The sound of insects filled the air. With no visible origin, the rhythmic, consistent symphony of the small creatures gave the illusion of emanating from the soil or land itself, the pulsating, ring marking each passing moment.


    The intensity and anticipation increased as the men scanned their surroundings, combing through the dense brush like a jaguar hunting in the dead of the night. Jaffari¡¯s chest tightened, his heart pounding so hard that as he peered through the scope of his beam rifle, it was periodically jolted, making it hard to focus. Still nothing, only the web of brown green life that stretched for indefinitely.


    More moments passed, still nothing. Jaffari peered in his more immediate vicinity, all of the men indistinguishable from the landscape, appearing like bushes or piles of leaves. As he looked back into the scope of his beam rifle a black figure far off in the distance appeared, looking like an ant or other critter, periodically disappearing for moments behind the thick undergrowth or the wide, sturdy trunks of the old trees before reappearing. Then, more of the black suited subterraneans appeared, marching in formation and growing in size as they came closer to the point of ambush. Above the marching brigade a battle drone hovered, the sunlight reflecting from its limbs and the long barrels of its cannons like a piece of jewelry or polished wood. The barrels slowly rotated 360 degrees around its center of mass, always entirely alert and constantly digesting and sending a complex stream of its harvested data, twitching and analyzing the landscape both near and far.


    The black suits gradually approached and it was no longer necessary to use a scope to see their corpses, they moved robotically and coarsely. As the crunching of leaves and the snapping sounds of old twigs became audible under their black boots, Jaffari¡¯s heart pounded ever stronger, his lungs unable to take in a satisfying breath of air as he focused on his breathing and the sweat accumulating on his forehead. The front row of soldiers was now a stone''s throw away, the beaten, lifeless expressions of the subterraneans easily discernible. They continued to move and, for no apparent reason suddenly halted, along with the fighter drone, whose buzzing could be heard above, a blue white light emanating from the gravitator engine. Then, as suddenly as the company halted their march they resumed, now in the zone of ambush and by sheer chance avoiding the seismic detectors, which, at any moment, could be triggered by the right step.


    Sure enough, a subterranean stepped too close and triggered a seismic detector, promptly launching a magnetron into the air and detonating the slumber bombs simultaneously. The magnetron soared about twenty meters into the air and detonated, its magnetic pull stripping the subterraneans in the event horizon of their weaponry as they inhaled the anesthetic fumes. The ensuing chaos prompted a chain reaction, soon all of the magnetrons were triggered and flew into the air, pausing and activating to strip away the weaponry of the subterraneans, which stuck to the metal magnetrons like a hopeless mosquito to a sticky spider¡¯s web. The fighter drone focused its sights below and captured in its sight the protruding beam rifle of one of the subterraneans, promptly barraging the position with a flurry of laser fire. Jaffari took aim with his beam rifle and released a concentrated blast of energy that only grazed the killing machine, which was now locking in and releasing laser fire at the exposed beam rifles rapidly, its cannons firing and focusing on a new target in the blink of an eye, mowing down the Sitmians with each passing moment.


    A beam rifle shot made contact, turning the metallic beast into a ball of molten metal that fell down, breaking through thick branches before crushing one of the already slumbering subterraneans, whose entrails spewed outward like jelly from a doughnut. The team had to act fast before reinforcement fighter drones or another company of subterraneans appeared. All of the Sitmians began shackling the subterraneans and placing hornets into their ears, the metallic creatures crawled into their bodies and began dismantling their internal displays and auditory networks. The first chains of illusion had been broken, but it was time to escape.


    ¡°Rama, are the hornet monitors picking up any reinforcement troops?¡± asked Jaffari. ¡°We are still clear. No updates from central command on troop movements, either¡± responded Rami. Now it was necessary to transport the hundred or so subterraneans out of the open before they awoke and offered a sturdy resistance or reinforcements arrived¡­ ¡°Send our  coordinates to central command, Rama, and have them send a transport caravan. Time is of the essence¡­¡± said Jaffari, as one of the subterraneans shifted during their slumber.

 Chapter 7

    Still contending with the massive purge soon to occur, his isolation from the routine of past life, and the disappearance of his internal display, Roask was in no mood to dine as Tanaka took a sip of wine, his eyes gazing into the dark red sea within his glass as he savoured the taste and aroma of the wine. ¡°An old vin fran?ais. Please,¡± Tanaka gestured toward the array of appetizers and glass in front of Roask, who beheld the feast in front of him, fixing his eyes upon an old piece of china. A heron was painted with short black strokes upon the sky blue porcelain of the bowl, filled to the brim with cubes of cantaloupe, stacked upon one another to form what appeared as a glazed pyramid.


    ¡°This bottle was produced with a new rapid aging technology,¡± Tanaka said, as he swirled the blood like liquid around the glass, which rolled down the translucent edges in wave like patterns. ¡°One month and it replicates ten years in an ancient cellar¡­ Quite interesting technology, it is...¡± Roask took a sip of the wine. The bitter taste dominated but was tamed by hints of apple and the deep taste of coffee or tobacco, a masterful blend that offered his palette a novel experience he rarely nowadays encountered. ¡°Try the cheese, old boy. You see, I¡¯ve become quite the connoisseur of ancient recipes, it¡¯s become a hobby of mine. The way the average consumer dines these days, is, well¡­ deplorable. The ancients really did know how to savour their meals...¡± Tanaka slowly shook his head as he took another sip of wine, enjoying the intoxicating juice before biting down on a block of cheese that rested upon a slice of baguette. ¡°Once you meet our kind, you will be happy to know that it is quite uncommon to see anyone gauge themselves and then slurp down digestant¡­ On that topic, I have informed a few important persons about you, and they would like to acquaint themselves¡­¡±


    ¡°Once you see the life you have been missing, you will kick yourself, I¡¯m sure, but you will certainly be relieved. I have arranged for a shuttle to transport you to Dohaidu, a settlement exclusive to those that I will move on to the new world, those that have been screened as outliers¡­ You will be happy to know that your new abode is already well furnished.¡± Roask savored a piece of salami as his mind imagined that new land, the new dream of life to come. Dohaidu, a place of genius, a place of consciousness, of harmony among men...¡± That paradise that never was... Perhaps the price for such a dream is the destruction of what has come before it, the evisceration of all the was backwards. As he fixated on the promise of the future and as the warm caressing bliss of the wine slowly seduced him, his feelings of remorse faded slowly away, giving way to emotions excitement and wonder.


    ¡°I hope you¡¯re not thinking too much about your old fellows or your previous network, old boy,¡± said Tanaka, meeting Roask eyes with a calm, calculating manner. Such events are commonplace in the history of humankind. The rise and fall of nations and peoples, war, the crashing and success of markets, ascensions of families, the destruction of nobility, slaughter of whole civilizations. In the grand scheme of things, this is nothing new. Feel no worry, old boy. You are a small cog in a big machine, there¡¯s nothing you can do to stop the movement of what we call modern civilization. The reasoning power of mere men is no longer significant. We are simply along for the ride, the audience of a galactic play.¡±


    Tanaka took another sip of wine before a servant drone hurried in, its mechanical arm extending meters from what previously appeared as a featureless, floating silver ball. As quiet as a mouse its claw like fingers wrapped around the glass bottle, topping off each glass before darting into the other room and returning with a platter of fish covered in a light red sauce, serving each man in turn, the aroma of fish and spices intoxicating. ¡°Oh you are in for quite the treat old boy. The whole table for you and I¡­ Life is wonderful, a dream, doesn¡¯t it seem?¡± Tanaka¡¯s offered a wide grin, quite uncharacteristic of the man that was usually pensive and unexpressive, preferring never to demonstrate too much emotion.


    ¡°Fresh salmon from a nearby river. Please¡­ don¡¯t be shy.¡± He again gestured to the dish in front of Roask. The eye of the fish was wide open, its expression one of utter shock, as if it had just witnessed a murder, otherwordly magic, or catastrophe.  The black pupil was surrounded by a yellow blue iris, the scales shifting from silver and white to grey and blue as they spread from the head to the back, belly and tail. ¡°The story of this species fascinates me. They begin their lives as alevins in freshwater streams, living inconspicuously around the gravel where they hatch, nourished by protein sacks attached to their bellies. After growing in size and finishing their sacs, they are known as fry, whence they venture to the surface and begin feeding for a number of months in their freshwater environments. Thereafter the fry migrate to the ocean, their scales mature and take on a metallic, silver hue. They then spend the large portion of their lives in the ocean, feeding on other fish.¡±


    ¡°Here is the stage that fascinates me, old boy....¡± Tanaka began slowly cutting a portion of his fish, the tender meat giving way quickly to his calm, sawing motion. ¡°Near the end of their lives they stop feeding and return to their natal streams, perhaps through chemical cues, scents or the influence of sunlight... In certain cases they traverse hundreds of kilometers, through rapids and against strong currents, avoiding the claws of grizzly bears, the piercing talons of eagles and predatory birds, the strong jaws of otters, and a host of other sorts of hazards on their way. Their bodies, muscles, and reserve of fat quickly diminish under the enormous strain. Finally they reach those same gravel beds where they joined the world and the females make redds, or small nests on the stream floors with their tails, in which they deposit their eggs. Males duel with one another for mating rights to fertilize the eggs with what is called milt. Finally, after such an epic struggle, all of the pain and endurance, championing the most harsh of conditions, like clockwork, they simply die¡­¡±


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    Abbad woke entirely confused and disoriented, he was shackled from behind in an underground chamber with a group of other similarly bound subterraneans. A pain in his ear throbbed and he felt groggy, as if he had awoken at the crack of dawn after only a few hours of light sleep. As he noticed a Sitmian monitoring him and the rest of the black suited troops, he tried to free himself from a rough rope, which tore into his skin. Abbad grimaced at the Sitmian like a growling wolf as he anticipated the strong audio pangs and internal shocks that an encounter with anything Sitmian elicited. To his surprise, though, no shrill screeching or stinging electricity could be felt. The cowl on his face remained as he met eyes with the peacefully seated Sitmian. Abbad soon noticed that even the display lights and markings usually hovering over his field of view, like floaters in an old man¡¯s eyes, had disappeared.


    Slowly, the Sitmian stood up and approached Abbad, who began convulsing violently hoping to lunge or attack the being, again struggling against his shackles and rope which tore even further into his skin, causing a stream of blood to flow from his wrists to his palms and over the back of his hands. The Sitmian slowly approached and gently placed his hand on Abbad¡¯s soldier, trying to calm him with a sort of cooing, shushing noise. Abbad recoiled, and, with no other means of attack, lunged at the Sitmian, digging his teeth into the flesh of his forearm like a rabid mutt, causing the Sitmian to quickly double back and let out a scream of pain before disappearing into another room.


    The man returned with a large bag and began to treat his wound, pouring alcohol over the gash before slowly wrapping his arm in a bandage, swinging the thin cloth around before biting and tearing it off from the reel. Abbad noticed a certain humanity within his eyes, an expression of resolve and patience written across his face that for an instant contradicted his programmed perception of the race. The Sitmian, instead of beating Abbad or retaliating in anger, rummaged through his bag, withdrawing a bottle of brown tea, which he began setting before each of the Sitmians. As Abbad cast his eyes upon the liquid, the act of drinking became a fantasy or dream he was unable to ignore or disregard.


    Again, the Sitmian returned to Abbad like one would to a wild mustang, reeling and stomping in stubborn defiance, slowly approaching with his arm gesturing in calming motions. He picked up the bottle of tea and opened it in front of Abbad, this time placing his hand on his calf, which he again jolted in defiance. The Sitmian then slowly began untying the rope that bound his hands, raising the bottle to indicate that it was for him. Abbad, with his hand released, at once felt the urge to strike the man, but instead reached for the tea and ravenously began drinking.


    Like a famished wolf after capturing and feasting upon its first fawn in the dead of midwinter or a neglected mutt receiving its first meal in days, Abbad grasped the bottle of tea, his instinct for survival superseding any and all other emotions. The liquid felt like heaven as is ran down his dry throat, a thirst he had never experienced before quenched. As the Sitmian undid the ropes that bound the hands of his fellows and returned with blankets and bowls of some substance that he could not recognize, only having eaten nutrient his entire life. The Sitmian then began issuing a tirade of blasphemies from his lips, the words so alien to Abbad and backwards to everything he had ever learned as to be perceived as ludicrous.


    ¡°You are here because you are not our enemy, you are our brothers, you see. You will come to see that we will only show you goodwill bestow peace and love on you, unshackling you from the chains that have so longed restricted you, opening the cage that has for so long trapped you. We have taken away all of the machinery within you, we share the same organs, the same heart. The Sitmians have out down our arms. The subterraneans and I share only one enemy, only one threat to peace, the consumer. You will soon come free of their propaganda, of their programming, you will be cleaned by the truth. You will be purified, purified I say, mark my words!¡± The speech had a striking effect on Abbad, who, along with the other subterraneans, grimaced as the words entered his ears, as if they were solicitations of dark magic or some demonic energy, inviting an ominous fate to rule their lives¡­ Unable to stand up and attack the Sitmian, Abbad began a tirade, cursing him as no better than an animal or a disease, refuting his words and condemning him to damnation.


    As the days passed and the love continued to flow from the sitmians like nourishing water from a mountain, feeding crops and animals alike, their dispositions slowly changed, and, indeed, as the first Sitmian had prophesied, they began to see the light. Before long the sitmians and subterraneans were living underground in the bunkers peacefully. Their complexions and bodies became radiant and strong, their spirits became youthful, a curiosity with life budded in each of their minds, and love itself was sufficient enough to change their wills and their hearts. For the first time, they looked at each other in the eyes, communicated their feelings, displayed their humanity and emotion. Across all of Sitma, raids were ongoing and the Sitmian began amassing more and more souls to their side, the subterraneans all succumbing to the truth. Tore away from their father¡¯s, caged like animals in dark cellars, shocked and brainwashed with electrical and auditory cues, the contrast to life with Sitmians spoke for itself.


    Their masks disappeared, the sun kissed their skin as they tasted the variety of fruit, vegetables, and meat that composed the Sitmian diet, the image of nutrient and liquid flowing out of the old pipes now just an old nightmare. As more subterraneans defected, the tables began to turn in the war of the two last remaining camps of mankind. The confidence and assuredness of consumer victory was, for the first time since the outbreak of hostility, questioned by the Sitmians. More raids on mines and export sites, disruptions of vital communications networks, looting of technological arms and means increased the momentum of the Sitmian forces. They were no longer like flies or mosquitoes merely pestering, acting as a solely as a nuisance, they were offering a solid resistance, a force to be reckoned with. The bombing raids continued, however, massacres and engineered plague on the consumers continued to spread, killing off thousands. In short, the enemy was not perturbed¡­


    Alistair Jaffari had risen high in the Sitmian ranks, surpassing all of the generals that had previously given him orders. His tactical mindset and military prowess had quickly earned him political power and credibility. His theory to win over the subterraneans had proven the only decision that had provided any tangible results thus far in the conflict, and, as its originator, he was due the respect it conferred. In a clearing atop a mountain, seated cross legged on a blanket with Rama by his side, Allistair Jaffari never for a moment doubted that he would find himself in a position of authority, he felt destined to liberate his brothers and look over them as a keeper. Beholding the jungle below, its canopy dotted with bright shades of green by bright blue patches in the otherwise cloudy sky, Jaffari and Rama¡¯s minds were silently contemplating. Angel rays pierced the sky and far off thick rain dripped from thick grey clouds like a single stroke of watercolor, the color fading as the brush made its course across a white canvas.

 Chapter 8

    Roask awoke from a long, deep slumber well rested and satisfied after the nourishing meal of the previous night, as he rose, the speakers greeted him, stating that he would be shuttled to Dohaidu in a matter of hours. Tanaka was nowhere to be seen, and no sign of life could be glimpsed within the cold room. Only himself, the glass roof and walls, steel floor and comforter couch on which he slept lay in the chamber. He felt like Zeus, arising among the clouds, his head higher than the peak of every mountain, inhabiting a crystal palace not fit for the likes of man. The sun was about half way over the eastern facing mountain, the trees and ground seemed to hunger for its light, beckoning for those rays that spread like flakes of gold as it inched higher, putting to rest the contemplative shadow of night that withdrew its furrowed cloke.


    A drone hurried in, offering him a cup of hot tea, steam dancing over the fluid as it carried its earthy organic aroma through his nostrils. As he enjoyed the beverage it cleared his throat and sinuses, nourishing his throat and gut as its comforting warmth ran down his esophagus into his gut. The golden shine of a shuttle caught his eye, appearing suddenly over the peak of the mountain and out of the bright halo that capped the stone giant. It seemed as if it was carried by or swam through the bright morning light, and, like a phoenix, with plumage of fiery lava, coated in that ocean of white gold that drips from the sun like honey from the comb, carried with its peaceful movement bodings of some long awaited metempsychosis. The ship was a model that Roask had never before seen, and, as it approached it acrobatically shifted, tilting to land perfectly on the platform below.


    A spherical metal cage fixed with six gravitator engines, placed equidistant from one another around its equator and atop its poles, elegantly rested upon the landing slab. The gravitators worked in unison, varying the intensity of their respective contributions to move the sphere in any direction at any moment, it''s perfect coordination displayed as it decelerated. As it approached the landing platform, a tripod of metal legs shot out from below the carrier, propping it up perfectly. Tanaka marched into the chamber, he wore a cloak covered in autumn leaves, the bright red sheets constantly shifting over the nanofiber cloth and making him appear as if he was in constant motion, as he looked at Roask as a father would behold a child.


    The ship was empty, operated by an A.I. that had long ago surpassed the inefficiency of human error. An orb, aerodynamically suited for rapid orthogonal shifts and not limited by the quasi linear motion of more traditional winged craft. It seemed to hail from an extraterrestrial species, one that had conquered the greatest achievements of human civilization in its infancy.  A metal slab slid open from the northern wall and Tanaka appeared, followed by his gargantuan feline, who, upon entry, sat down and stared blankly at Roask, solely pondering how entirely simple he was. ¡°I¡¯m sure you will enjoy your new environment, think of it as a death of sorts, a parting with the mundane nature of your past existence.¡± As he spoke, Tanaka stared at the ship. ¡°A death of sorts¡­¡±, he repeated. ¡°Please, follow me,¡±  They two walked through a few rooms before exiting the mansion, crossing bridge that led to the landing pad. Tanaka stood next to the craft as Roask ascended the staircase and entered the orb.


    The exterior wall was fixed with a number of concentric layers, each filled with a gelatinous liquid containing a number of flashing lights and symbols, their various forms and shapes reminiscent of the bioluminescent life that inhabited those oceans depths far beyond the strongest rays of penetrating sunlight. A reclining chair was the only other feature within the small craft, a number of tubes, pipes, screens, plugs, and capsules surrounded it, likely capable of  inducing hibernation for trips to stations located beyond the outer edges of the solar system. Roask plopped down in the chair, which automatically shifted to support his weight evenly. A computerized voice activated. ¡°Destination: New Dohaidu. Estimated time of arrival: twenty minutes and counting.¡± The craft shot up in the air, the sudden acceleration taking Roask by surprise and spiking his adrenaline. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the fluttering sensations in his gut as the craft shifted through the sky, and before he knew it, had once again landed.


    The door shifted open and the light flooded within the craft, shocking Roask¡¯s eyes with the sudden change of luminosity. What he then gleaned was something out of a dream, entirely unlike any consumer architecture he had witnessed before. Grand lakes were scattered across the valley landscape, within them small islands on which stone pyramids grew, covered with trees and birds. Old marble statues and sculptures, moss and erosion signs of their passage through many seasons, dotted the landscape. Wide stone slabs could be seen in the far off distance, slowly shiftings across the skies and over an outstretched valley, hovering roughly one hundred meters above the earth and supporting a number of crops, livestock, and stone houses. Light poured down upon the land, which was bright green and blue, full of life, except for those wide patches of shadow cast upon the land from the elevated, shifting fields of crops. The settlement was cradled between a ring of mountains on it¡¯s northern face and a long expose of flat earth in the other direction. The town was almost indistinguishable from the nature around it, visually it seemed as an extension of the mountain stones and evergreens that spotted the land. Towards the flat, open valley, there were more pyramidal homes, these ones not surrounded by water but nestled into the grasses and trees. Below the landing pad, he could see children clad in white robes, their voices filling the air with exuberance and glee as they ran with one another, chasing a ball through the grass.


    Roask descended from the landing platform and was immediately greeted by the outstretched hand of a Dohaiden. ¡°You must be Roask¡±, he said, gleefully. His eyes were filled with a brightness, an innocent curiosity, excitement, and genuine feeling of goodwill emanated from the man. Roask had not encountered such positivity since his encounter with the subterraneans many moons prior, the bright nature of the being all the more relieving since he had been so long exposed to the the cold, dark, and mysterious Tanaka. His skin was a pinkish, white and he had a long orange beard and bald head, wearing white robes and appearing like a druid. He was the first man of such complexion Roask had ever encountered, seemingly a member of the protohuman races that existed before the great mixing eliminated such extreme tones of skin. ¡°Your skin, it¡¯s not artificial is it?¡±, asked Roask.


    He laughed. ¡°You are in for a number of surprises old boy. This is just the form my parents decided on¡­ We have all sorts of gene stocks to choose from.¡± In the distance, flying from the gliding agricultural slabs, a number of winged men began gliding through the air, their back¡¯s fixed with long, white feathered wings. They had large baskets around their backs, seeming to fall like angels from above as the approached the two men. As they landed, their dove shaped wings recoiled gracefully, their long arms and beautiful figures fully exposed and wrapped in a deep, organic chocolate skin. Their faces beaming with joy as they inspected the newcomer, only a loincloth covered their groins.


    ¡°We have been waiting for you! A new star has joined us from the old world,¡± the Dohaiden said, as he inspected Roask up and down, mesmerized by his form. ¡°Of course, Tanaka has probably informed you about the basics of our colony and the Dohaidens. We were all outliers or descended from them. The number of newcomers from the old world has gradually diminished with the advancements of the internal display,  virtual technology, and the crumbling of the consumer society¡­ Quite naturally, few and few consumers have escaped from those ideal worlds within themselves¡­ We welcome you as one of our own, a child of heaven is among us!¡± From his pocket the bearded man clad in white robes, pulled out a conch whistle and blew it strongly the loud whistle was carried in every direction, inviting the rest of the Dohaidens to take part in the welcoming ceremony always performed for a new member of the colony. From the stone huts on the grasslands, more Dohaidens emerged. Those within stone huts situated in the lakes dove emerged and dove into the water and those inhabiting abodes hanging upon the mountainside hopped into the air and spread their wings, which, like sails of fabled ancients ships captured, the air. They surrounded Roask like bees around their queen, the forms of each more discernible as they became closer.


    Those from the water were endowed with what seemed as gills and webbed fingers, a flaps of skin hung down from their inner thighs and arms that seemed capable of attaching their legs together and forming the tail and fins of a mermaid. As those from the land approached, they were hunched over, sprinting like cheetahs across the plains, and, as they exited their sprinting positions, their long forearms and flexible legs and sturdy limbs were striking. Thought no two of the dohaidens were entirely similar, with varying shades and textures of skin, all shared the prototypical human form blended in with the diverse shapes originating from the animal kingdom. All were products of complex biological engineering and advanced scientific manipulation. As they circled around Roask, one of the soaring stone slabs slowly passed over the sun, engulfing the entire party in a shadow that darted across the earth, temporarily mimicking the awe and striking beauty of the solar eclipse.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Another one of the orb shaped ships, this one slightly larger, descended quickly and landed next to the growing party of Dohaidens, who arranged began arranging themselves in a circle around Roask. A group of Dohaidens emerged from the ship. They were musicians, clad in long, brown cloaks fitted with wide hoods, their slim form and muscular forms entirely human. The group brandished a number of wind instruments and drums and began producing what felt like timeless music, its ecstasy causing the Dohaidens to cheer in glee and fall into laughter. The winged beings began dancing in the air, performing dazzling aerial acrobats, flipping and twirling through the sky. Four of the beings flew high into the sky, closing their wings and clasping their hands together in a free fall, the mass falling head first toward the ground before simultaneously opening their wings, which bloomed like a white rose as they parted in separate directions. The music paused and the entire mass began chanting in unison:


    Sough a seed what will grow


    Flowers fruits, fragrance too


    Watered well it will bestow


    Petaled peach trees, honeydew


    The group cheered in unison and the music resumed as a number of Douhaidens began erecting long picnic benches and assembling small portable grills fetched from one of the nearby stone pyramids. From the lakes emerged subaqueous beings, carrying fishnets across their shoulder filled with fresh catches. From the gliding slabs above more beings flew down, carrying baskets of fruit, vegetables, and grain. All the while a number of lambs, cows, and chickens were being slaughtered in the name of the newcomer, there short lived screams of pain and agony piercing the air and adding to the music and commotion as various delicacies were tossed on the grills, the aroma filling the afternoon air. Roask could not believe his eyes, he felt as if he had passed through a time machine or was in the midst of a fantastical dream whose logic, origin, and meaning were entirely inaccessible. He was overwhelmingly ecstatic as the first clay plate was passed to him and the jubilee proceeded. Barrels of beer were rolled out and mugs filled as long silk clad dancers shifted like ballets.


    All they eyes, souls, and minds were engrossed in the affair, collectively conscious, a sense of community filled the air and added to the ecstasy. A feeling of  transcendence overcame Roask, as if no matter what occurred he would fall into the loving embrace of some divine, immaculate palms, timeless and perfect. Roask had never experienced such emotion, tears filled his eyes as he soaked in his surroundings. It seemed that no conception of stranger existed among the Dohaidens, each soul a member of some ancient cosmic family. The processions continued through the wee hours, the gathering eventually thinning out. Roask was accompanied to his new abode. He entered the ancient stone pyramid, ducking through a narrow tunnel before emerging in a dimly lit chamber. Similar to the ship, the interior walls of the pyramid were shaped as a half sphere, and, lying behind a crystal layer which covered them was a special liquid. It seemed to exactly reflect properties of the sky outside, a mirror image of the midnight moon, clouds and stars.


    A courier made his way up to Jaffari and Rama. He wore mechanical attachments on his legs and arms acquired from the downing of a consumer supply ship the previous month, making him appear like a sort of futuristic minotaur. Somewhat nervous to break their concentration or interrupt them, he stuttered as he addressed the commander and his hand, ending the deep silence that filled the air. ¡°Ss, Ss, Sir, I¡¯ve been given orders to immediately report to you, general Dhasna wishes to meet with you. He said the matter is urgent and wants to discuss it further in person.¡±


    Jaffari acknowledged the courier with a bow of the head, and he promptly turned back, his metallic suit allowing him to sprint quickly away, the crunching of leaves and twigs quickly fading as he disappeared down the mountainside. Jaffari closed his eyes and took in a large breath of air, hoping to return to the calm, pensive state he was previously relishing in before being disrupted. He opened his eyes slowly and turned to Rama, dismissing him with a nod and a wave of the hand.


    A man sized stealth ship faced approached, they were used sparingly by the Sitmians, who, as a rule, were constantly paranoid of detection by the enemy. The aircraft appeared as a sort of coffin with two, scimitar shaped wings extending from its center. The ship came to a stop using its gravitator engines, quitely landing in a clear area beside Jaffari. The top layer of the craft opened, air hissing as Dhasna emerged. Dhasna was a commander of a northern battalion, one of a number of commanders under Jaffari.


    His face was one typically Sitmian, large eyes set between high cheekbones and an arching, Roman nose. His brown, curly hair was cut short and contrasted with his long beard and mustache. Like a viking warlord, he was covered in tattoos and had a sturdy build. ¡°Sir, I apologize for the intrusion. I¡¯ve come to consult your highness. I suspect there is a traitor or spy under my command. The position of a second of my raiding battalions has been pinpointed with extreme accuracy. The whole battalion was taken like sitting ducks, sir. I¡¯m sure the information is being leaked to the enemy, I can¡¯t think of another explanation¡­¡±


    Jaffari squeezed the upper bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer finger and cursed in rage, pounding his fist into the dirt next to him, creating a crater in the Earth as the sound of his yell echoed through the trees. He jolted upwards and swung his fist at a wide branch nearby, smashing through the thick wood with ease. ¡°Another setback,'''' he yelled, before taking a swig of jee jee tea from a carafe laying beside him. ¡°Your feeling confirms my suspicions. There must be a rat among us. Nothing else could explain such a sudden change in the tide¡­¡±, Jaffari said, calming down.


    As Jaffari ascended the ranks of Sitmian command and took on the role of leading the Sitmian forces, his calm, poised, spiritual nature had begun to shift. With the taste of power came the burden of responsibility and shear stress of managing hundreds of thousands of troops. He became rash, short sighted, power hungry, paranoid, irritable, and prone to fits of rage and outbursts like the one that he had just delivered. One mistake and thousands died, one slip up or false move and the eradication of a village was assured.


    Dhasna took a step back as Jaffari stared into his eyes and unconsciously belittled himself and trembled as would an omega or beta wolf, fearing punishment from the alpha. Dhasna¡¯s heart skipped a beat as he looked into Jaffari¡¯s eyes. It seemed that there was a storm brewing within Jaffari¡¯s soul, a patch of dark clouds slowly covering the inner light which had previously exuded from within. Dark bags appeared under his eyelids, his hair appeared ragged. ¡°Ss, sir, I believe it could be a double. They have probably began placing subterranean appearing drones among their troops.¡± said Dhasna. ¡°Likely. During rest hours this evening lock down your barracks and proceed to scan each of your men with these.¡± Jaffari handed Dhasna a pair of advanced goggles, capable of sensing infrared and radiation anomalies within organic tissue. ¡°If there is a double amongst your battalion, this will betray them.¡±


    With their plans settled, Dhasna entered his ship to return to the northern sector. Jaffari who took another swig of jee jee tea and focused on his tablet, studying the movements of troops and the recent data that had been collected by the swarms of surveillance hornets and troops. From the device he swiftly ordered movements of troops and sent vital communications. Not unlike the average consumer, he had become fixated on the screen, albeit external, his eyes were always locked in as the hours passed.


    As the clock struck midnight, Dhasna locked the entryways to the underground barracks that housed all of his men, ordering them to line up as he began inspecting them one by one, the goggles displaying the inimitable intricacies of their biological systems. From their hearts veins and arteries splintered like the tributaries of great rivers or the branches and roots of old trees. The next was hardly distinguishable from the last, until Dhasna noticed, near the back of the line, one subterranean who was standing still, not progressing with the rest of the moving soldiers. ¡°You there, get in formation?¡± Dhasna yelled. No movement, still. Though he could not notice the soldier¡¯s expression as he approached, he seemed frozen or catatonic, not making the slightest of movements. As Dhasna came close enough to inspect the internal structure of the subterranean, he noticed that instead of a brain a network of metal coils were wrapped inside the skull, an artificial brain.


    Dhasna brandished his gravitator rifle and aimed it at the double. ¡°Put your hands¡­¡±. The double detonated. The force of the explosion instantly killed Dhasna, tearing apart his corpse as if it was a watermelon impacting from a high fall onto concrete, spewing red flesh in all directions. The red, yellow clouds of fire expanded through the barracks, offering a similar fate to the hundreds of men housed in the barracks and causing the earth above to crumble instantly, burying alive those that may have survived the initial explosion.


    A news flash appeared on Jaffari¡¯s tablet. Nuclear detonation recorded. Northern sector. He streamed data from a number of recording units from near the site. Initially, a shockwave spread, destroying everything in its path for kilometers on end, rampaging through the Sitmian hamlets and jungle like a stampede of buffalo. From beneath the ground a sudden mass of Earth was launched into the air, a volcanic eruption of sorts. Patches of white emerged from the initial cloud of expanding brown, yellow and red. The fire disappeared and the heavier particles of dirt and solid matter fell to the earth, unable to escape the pull of gravity as the white patches of smoke and gas expanded, billowing through the air like tortured ghouls or ghosts, finally released from some smitten, ancient tomb.


    Jaffari clenched his fist and tossed down the tablet. He was sure it was the double. The loss was monumental, thousands of troops lost and a host of supplies. Dhasna was the central command of the Northern sector¡¯s resistance and choosing a trustworthy, reliable replacement was no light task. Jaffari took another swig of jee jee tea before lying down on his mat, seeking guidance in the stars above. Despite the fluctuations in the war, Jaffari felt he was descending into a state of hopelessness, losing touch of the peace of his divine self. The war had stretched too long, breaking his heart, pouring too images of horror into his soul. The hopelessness of existence weighed down upon him, and his mind became negative and ruthless. He felt he was falling fast, but, he promised himself, he sure he would bring down the consumers with him.

 Chapter 9

    Roask awoke to the pleasant sensation of sun warming his skin and bright light pouring into his chamber. The ceiling of the pyramidal structure viewed from within was translucent but from the outside seemed like solid stone. The previous night¡¯s solar spectacle was replaced with an early morning sky. The natural rhythms of darkness and light was thus followed in the abodes, and with no artificial lighting, encouraged a circadian harmony. From outside a morning call was issued, the gleeful voice of its orator spreading in every direction in perhaps what was a morning ritual of the dohaidens. It was another Dohaiden poem:


    Rise and shine all through the day


    A starry night has gone away


    Share your dreams with all around


    Until the air is full of sound


    Roask yawned and stretched his arms before propping himself up. His stomach growled, the pitch falling from high to low like the moan of an angry tomcat, upset with an unknown stranger encroaching into his household yard. Roask slipped on a pair of moccasins and headed outside. The tables, barrels and other implements from the previous night¡¯s festivities had all been cleared away and there was a sweetness in the cool air. A number of Dohaidens could be seen exiting their grey pyramids, some alone and others as groups, all heading to a forested area that neighborhood the open, green plain. In their hands they held brightly colored jugs, the hardened clay painted with natural dyes, green grasses grew from the base of the cylindrical containers and partially covered the feet of elephants, giraffes, and a host of other wild animals.


    Roask was curious, it seemed like a morning custom of the dohaidens, not a single one headed to another location, and he hurried to catch up. As they penetrated the wooded grove, the glistening water of a brook could be seen through leaves, quietly murmuring its profound poetry and nurturing the surroundings with life. Patches of light and grey stones filled the brook, and, without hesitation the Sitmians began refilling their reserves of water and drinking, replenishing their fluids from the crystalline source, unfouled by the contaminants of industrial exploitation and waste. Overhead the outstretched white wings of the flying dohaidens could be seen, circling above the brooke and slowly descending, gracefully landing in the nearby prairies.


    A number of retractable feathers withdrew from their bodies as they landed and the long, white wings folded behind their backs as they too marched with their pots to the brooke. The marine dohaidens as well joined, emerging from their island pyramids and diving into the great lakes that bordered the wide green plains before emerging again. Their form was fascinating, it appeared that their legs could become interlocked, and like the dohaidens gifted with flight, a number of fins and scales would appear out of their skin. As their legs interlocked, their feet morphed, becoming like the flukes of a dolphin or whale, from their back a dorsal fins emerged and their arms acted as pectoral fins.


    After the party filled their vases and pots, they marched together down a long trail, eventually leaving behind the brook as the ascended a strong mountain gradient. They were entirely, the sweet scent of eucalyptus kissed the air, and the song birds seemed to light up at their sight arrival, congregating and appearing like small, bright flowers in the brush around. Suddenly, the dohaidens broke out in song. From their satchels they pulled out their instruments, their pace picking up as they began drumming and strumming through the forest path. It was a sight to behold as Roask struggled to keep up. Though he had shed some weight and become more fit since his exodus from consumer society, the Dohaidens set the bar quite high. He curiously listened to the lyrics:


    Bath in water from below


    Geothermal molten glow


    Crimson mantle lava churns


    Steamy hot but never burns


    Roask had never met a group so entirely artistic, it seemed like it was part of their religion or identity. Sculptures dotted the plains, paintings could be seen on exposed rock and trees, and the dohaidens periodically filled the air with music and poems. As the group continued up the mountainside, Roask noticed steam billowing from a chain of rocks, the misty steam cascaded over the boulders with milky white tendrils and miniature clouds before disappearing in the cold morning air. After a few more minutes of ascent and pools of interconnected hot springs appeared, nestled among the boulders and trees of the mountainside, hidden under the canopy.


    The dohaidens took off their outerwear and unabashedly slipped into the steamy water, bathing one another, relaxing and drinking from water filled jugs. The spring had a milky white tone and was rich in minerals and salts that cleansed the skin, feeding it with vitamins and nutrients while replenishing its youthful vibrance and tone. A boulder that sat in the center of the largest pool had been sculpted into a statue, a nude woman with long straight hair leaning on what was shaped as a cloud, closing her eyes with a subtle, half smile in a state of complete repose. The dohaidens disappeared into different portions of the spring, the children splashed around under the watchful guise of the elders as groups of lovers snook away into more secluded sections. Roask took off his cloak despite being embarrassed by the state of his stomach in comparison to the slim creatures and slowly entered the water. It felt like thousands of tiny palms began massaging him, their warm hands working through the tension and strain he housed within his body.


    Leaning his head on a well shaped rock, Roask looked upward at the ceiling of trees. The trunks were like erect hairs, growing from the tender skin of the land. His eyes felt heavy as he continued to stare at the slowly waving branches and trees which shifted like a thousand fans on a musky night. His eyes closed and he fell further into a sort of trance, the voices seemed to distance themselves, shift further and further away as he entered that strange realm between waking consciousness and sleep, where concepts of time and self begins eroding but are still somewhat intact. After drifting off completely, Roask came to his senses and noticed he was alone in the spring. He got up, dried himself off and put back on his clothes before heading back to the Dohaiden village.


    As Roask exited the canopy of trees that extended from the base of the mountainside, he noticed groups of dohaidens seated in rings on the valley floor. In front of each was a tombstone or pillar like object over which they shifted their fingers. Roask approached one of the rings, and, studying the stone structures, he noticed it was filled with a black, iridescent liquid, displaying strings of symbols which changed in response to the movements of their fingers. They periodically consulted one another and seemed to be collaborating on a project. A hologram appeared near the center of the ring, a number of blocks slowly shifting around which they focused on periodically, their concentration totally focused as they continued their work.


    Tanaka headed down the path to the lake, hovering in a reclining chair as his feline trotted about, at one moment following him and at the other wandering independently about. He was once again alone, left to his own devices and back to his usual existence of genetic experimentation, virtual fantasies, monitoring consumer data trends. He slowly hovered down the mountainside. It was the dead of night but no stars were visible, only moonlit clouds moving like an eerie apparition, slowly carried by the wind. As he neared the treeline branches appeared like a mass of dark, twisted fingers reaching upwards from Hades. The surface of the lake was difficult to make out, but as Tanaka approached its edge, he could listen to the quiet shifting of the waters and the subtle shine of the moonlight on the water.


    He did not hesitate to stop near the lake¡¯s edge but instead continued, hovering over its surface until, near the center, he paused. Tanaka began whistling and studying the water below. From his pocket he withdrew a bronze colored ball on which he tapped a few buttons before dropping it into the water. The ball lit up, displaying the silhouettes of a number of fish and as it descended further below into the clear lake. Tanaka then tapped a few controls on the side of his reclining armchair. A window emerged from the boundaries, effectively converting the chair into a viewing submarine as it descended below towards the green light on the lake¡¯s bottom. A long, water dragon rushed past the craft, curiously acknowledging the intruder of its waters. Its scales were bioluminescent, blue in color and roughly shaped as an eel or lizard, with fins that aided its maneuverability.


    Tanaka grinned, proud of his matured creation. It was the result of genomic software capable of manipulating DNA, developing stem cells into another of his engineered species. He called out through the speaker of the unit. ¡°I trust you¡¯ve accustomed yourself to the bigger tank¡±. Recognizing Tanaka¡¯s voice, which had been imprinted on the creature in its infancy like the image of a mother duck to her duckling, it quickly approached and made a number of gentle squeaking and purring noises that penetrated far through the water like calls of a whale. The dragon began twirling around in glee, making figure eights, curling, and spiraling to display its mature features. The scales were like the shingles of an ancient chinese temple¡¯s roofing, brightly colored like scales of a venomous, snake. On its head a feather crown  blossomed and long whiskers sailed through the air like the tendrils of a flying kite.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    The shuttle eventually landed on the lake floor, the water dragon continuing its acrobatics, disappearing into the distance and calling to express its happiness at being reunited with its maker. The submarine rested next to the green illumination orb, its halo lighting up the pebbles, soil, and grasses of the lake floor and began attracting fish, which appeared like a murder of crows. Tanaka made more calls and waited. He knew they were shy, but they should arrive soon. Sure enough, on the periphery of the light, Tanaka noticed an eyeball surrounded by black and white stripes that formed a disc shaped face. He quietly cooed to them in the same voice he used during their incubation period. They approached cautiously, their long, giraffe-like necks appeared, followed by their horse-like midsection which boasted three pairs of long, muscular appendages.


    In the place of a tail an elephant like trunk appeared, and as they recognized the face of Tanaka inside the submarine, their guard went down, trotting towards him like hippopotami. Similar to the grand serpent, they excitedly greeted him, jumping and chirping like baby lambs on their first days in pasture. Their trunks curled around from behind, and opened, licking the retractable glass screen of the hoverchair. Within the snake shaped trunks, rows of jagged white teeth appeared, each structured similarly to a harpoon or arrowhead, ideal for piercing in only one direction. ¡°I surely can¡¯t wait to see what you make of the Sitmians¡­ They are quite gifted at hijacking consumer technology¡­ but you will catch them by surprise, surely.¡±


    Tanaka began his ascent and the creatures shifted off into the dark of the lake. The hover chair broke through the surface of the lake and Tanaka tapped a few controls, retracting the airtight window as he floated over the water. The surroundings of his mansion were used as an environment for his creations, he had entered the realm of gods, manufacturing consciousness and life, a creator of beasts both tame and wild, friendly and viscous. His most recent species would be used as implements in the Sitmian war. Entirely organic, would not rely on the host of technological components to which the Sitmian enemy had become accustomed.


    Their gravitator bombs, metal detectors, radio scramblers and electromagnetic apparatuses would be useless against the stealthy, timeless hunting methods of the beasts. In an age where war has become a matter of technological prowess and capability, use of the primal, guttural, predatory instinct of the animal would amount to a revolutionary tactic. Tanaka relished in the image of his beasts stampeding, ravaging the enemy like the first chariots of Hyskos overpowering the pharaoh¡¯s ranks. He imagined them storming into battle like the ironclad elephants of the Sassanids, their tusks towering over soldiers heads, tramping any obstacle in their path.


    As he soared off of the lake, Tanaka met eyes with his feline, hanging in his jaws the corpse of a limp coyote. The cat purred and dropped the gray corpse, offering it to Tanaka as a display of gratitude and friendship. Tanaka halted and the cat rubbed his cheek against the side of the floating chair, wanting attention. ¡°Ah, I see you¡¯ve given me a treat. Very kind, very kind indeed. Shall we head back old boy?¡±


    Jaffari woke the next morning and his first thought was yesterday¡¯s nuclear detonation. Rage coursed through him, his blood like an instantly excitable gasoline, lighting up in explosive passion and energy at the slightest excitation from his constantly ruminating, analyzing mind. Squeezing his fist he began marching off, his desire for control and power unhinged, driving him beyond paranoia into states of extreme psychosis and megalomania. He immediately ordered an emergency convention of his top generals, his mind set to sweep through all of those under his command, thoroughly scanning for doubles, spies and other traitors.


    Jaffari arrived at a table of six sitmians seated like samurai, cross legged atop a black rug. Red, zig zagged lines ran across it, the bright tones resembled those of a black widow¡¯s underbelly, warning any predator of danger. Jaffari addressed the commanders. ¡°I trust you all have received the news? That detonation has set us back months. How can we avoid this. I need action and ideas, quickly.¡± Jaffari tried his best to maintain composure as he thought of the countless other doubles that were possibly among his ranks. He peered into the eyes of his top generals as if they themselves were conspiring with the enemy or plotting amongst themselves to overthrow or undermine his command, like Caesar¡¯s inner court before his untimely death.


    Leamu, the previous Sitmian commander, stood up in bold defiance, a grimace on his face. ¡°First, we could stop recruiting those subterranean termites to fight amongst us. Anyone could have seen such an outcome. A rash decision at best, I say.¡± Leamu had a grudge against Jaffari every since he had taken power, jealous and sour, he was constantly fomenting doubt and dissent among the rest of the commanders and generals. Leamu was tall, the hair of his buzzed head only partially concealing the brown skin of his skull. He had a sturdy build and a boney face with dark brown eyes set in deep sockets. His nose was shaped like the back of a horse, arched inward. A deep scar indented his right cheek and a tattoo surrounded his left eye, hundreds of small, black triangles that gave the illusion that he was wearing a pirate¡¯s eyepatch.


    Jaffari stared at the man, incredulous and unable to believe what he had just heard. He stood up and approached Leamu, and, without warning, grabbed his throat. The rest of the commanders were startled, jolted and tried to calm Jaffari. Leamu gagged and wheezed as Jaffari squeezed. Instinctively, he took hold of Jaffari¡¯s forearms, trying to break loose. Jaffari¡¯s eyes did not budge as Leamu began coughing desperately, his complexion shifting to a pink and then strong, red hue like the skin of an octopus or chameleon, camouflaging itself among trees or along a patch of sandy ocean floor. Rama stood up, and approached Jaffari, pleading him to release the man. Jaffari continued to choke the man with one arm and with the other shoved Rama back, who fell.


    The man¡¯s face began turning purple and he went limp, remaining standing only by the unrelenting grip of Jaffari¡¯s veiny, muscular hand. The other commanders were so fearstruck that they froze, believing that if they came to the man¡¯s assistance they too would share his fate. Rama yelled, ¡°Jaffari, no, this is not you! Forgive him!''''Jaffari released the man, who fell onto the floor like the coyote that had been dangling in that gargantuan feline¡¯s jaws. Rama hurried over to the man and stabbed him with a needle of adrenaline, he jolted back to life and gasped for air, like a surfer tossed around for far too long in underground currents of a wrathful, stormy wave, making sounds of utter desperation inimitable under normal circumstances.


    The man limped out of the candle lit cavern with Rama holding him up as he struggled to ascend the short latter out of the bunker. Droplets of moisture coagulated on the roots and muddy walls that appeared in the candlelight, the dripping of water the only sound remaining in the room. As he looked down at the rest of the commanders, their heads were sunk low, peering at the ground in front of them, shaking like a pair of chattering teeth in winter in anticipation of Jaffari¡¯s next move. Though he had once formed a great spiritual bond with man, nature, and God, selflessly offering himself in the service of virtue and his neighbors, constantly emanating positivity and good will, he was not immune to the sickening plague infecting humankind --- the unrelenting disease of war. The symptoms; death, loss, suffering, and pain, indiscriminately targeted him as well as the rest.


    Jaffari came to terms with himself and realized what he had done. The commanders were anticipating his next move like dogs guilty of trespassing a vacant table, trembling and lowering their eyes. Jaffari did not feel any remorse, for, though he knew he had become cruel, he understood that any sign of weakness could not be tolerated if he was expected to fulfill his duty as a leader.  ¡°I expect each of you to comb through your troops, analyze the internal biology of all of those under your command and take stock of equipment. Report back with the status of each investigation.¡±


    Jaffari ascended the ladder and took another swig from his carafe as he entered a transport pod that shuttled him to his patch of woods, a patch of flat green jungle sitting at the top of a mountain. He felt the world caving in around him, convinced that the end was near. It seemed that his personal decline matched that of the world around him, and he felt that it would be useless to continue caring as he took another swig from his carafe.


    Something had been keeping him alive, though. He had been dreaming. The eyes of a man, with asiatique features and healthy, dark brown skin had appeared during his sleep for many nights. A crown of feathers wrapped around the top of his skill and he communicated some deep meaning to Jaffari with the use of words. It was as if he was communicating with some part of Jaffari that he himself hardly knew, but, at the same time, was intimately connected with. The man kept Jaffari moving, kept him struggling, though for what reason he hardly knew. The power of dreams could not release him, they took a hold on him.


    Another torrent of negativity consumed him as he imagined the intractability of defeating the technical empire he was facing. Any progress in the war temporary, any step forward was sure to follow two back. Even with his troops clear of imposters, he felt the intracacy and scale of the consumer millitary infrastructure, the torrent of bombings and the constant penetration of battles drones, and the lack of well organized and structured resistance would amount to the downfall of his newfound empire. Reports of a proliferation of nano-sized recorders, comparable in size to lice or other such miniature parasitic creatures, had surfaced. They latched onto clothing and the hair of troops, spreading effectively and capable of self replication. They were capable of transmitting audio data to the consumer command and eavesdropping on any conversation at a certain radius.


    After staring blankly at his command pad while taking more and more swigs from his carafe, a cruel, sadness set in as the negativity faded. He felt a sense of quiet desperation in his spirit, a force that one could call the antithesis of passion, love, and hope. It was an urge that could best be defined as surrender, an urge to stop exerting. Without any tangible meaning to his existence, nothing that he could hold, nothing that he could feel, he simply could not convince himself of any reason to live. His people alone kept him alive, a desire not to leave them behind, to create a great emptiness and loss among them. He knew that despite his self corruption, the growth of a deep hatred and a deep fixation on conflict and struggle, he occupied a fatherly position in the eyes of his community, he was a caretaker, a wise seer. There was nothing left for him but to continue his fight, if not for himself than for something far beyond, perhaps something he would never know but discover.

 Chapter 10

    Fauni had returned from the Lunar Colony some weeks ago and was now seated quietly on an antique armchair in her dining room, one of many historical artifacts passed down through generations of her lineage. Spiralling valleys were etched into its glazed redwood surface and near the boundaries of the chair¡¯s back, light burst through carved, petal shaped holes. Polished pearls were fixed on the arms and wrapped around bright red cushions, the wooden feet were shaped like the paws of a tiger and tightly clutching spherical rubies. A long, rectangular wooden table stretched across the room, on one side of which were various portraits spread across the wall like unevenly sized tiles, centered around the most coveted of the collection, an ancient protoman piece titled, The Adoration of the Magi. On the opposite side of the king¡¯s table was a great palladian window, which opened to an expanse of ocean behind a foreground of gradually descending knolls. The hills seemed like distorted, titled half cylinders placed side by side, the creases between them formed by the patient erosion of streams that slithered past oak trees, congregated like picnickers on a grassy lawn.


    Immediately in front of the window was an outdoor pool, partly shaded by Roman columns, arcs, marble pavilions, granite statues, gazebos and other structures. Marble, baby angels with flutes and harps, were scattered among naked women in repose postures, laying on their sides and gazing with still, unflinching eyes at the ocean beyond. The turquoise, zellige tiles of the pool¡¯s floor formed mesmerizing spiral patterns over a golden dragon among clouds and blue patches of sky, the entire scene reflected on the calm surface of the water. The dragon protruded from the center of the pool, extending upwards in a form of a bent helix Golden plated scales and wings of the creature covered its corpse and long talons and whiskers protruded from its its limbs and snout.


    For as long as she knew, her descendants had lived in the great Kearst Castle, the dining room she now occupied one of many rooms in the castle, which was many centuries ago owned by a Bess Zezos, the proprietor of a business empire born of a monopoly on early virtual reverie technology. In the aftermath of the great wars, Zezos purchased a diverse array of art and historical treasures from the government of the enlightened, who desperately needed funds to finance the great rebuilding taking place at the time. His economic might and products spread like fire in that dismal, distant world and he eventually constructed the great Kearst Castle, filling it with his ancient relics and priceless paintings.


    In comparison to the average consumer, L. Fauni lives quite a modest life, imbibing digestant and falling into long, drawn out simulations only among company. She was quite content by the sober simplicity of everyday existence and unaltered reality and had a respect for the simple pleasures in life, those organic, pure experiences like listening to the humming of birds or the flow of a stream, the beautiful sound of music or the profound movement of poetry. She existed in a subtle balance with the many forces around her, existing in perfect harmony with internal display and outer world. Morally, she was perfectly conformed to the values of consumer society--- harboring no feeling of humanity or goodwill to the subterraneans and convinced of the superiority of the consumer race.


    After the disappearance of Roask, her peaceful life had been upended. What started as a mild curiosity about the man had gradually grown, and, now that he was nowhere to be seen, it had become an obsession. He was the only one in her immediate circle that had sparked her interest, his unique character and propensities differentiating him from Sigun and a host of many other suitors. A desire to uncover the mysterious circumstances surrounding his disappearance only furthered her infatuation. For those around her, his sudden absence was attributed to happenstance, various rumors circulated temporarily until no one ever second guessed his situation and he was forgotten. But, L. Fauni could not accept losing him and began her own personal investigation, using her position of social standing and power to get the answers she desired. After trying to extract information from Sigun, who, being jealous and disdainful by her fixation, failed to be of any use, she combed through other elite consumers and was eventually put into contact with a certain Tanaka, his persona shrouded in mystery. She pulled a cigarette from a silver case on an old side table, lit it and took a puff, all while the fingers of her left hand tapped at regular intervals. The smoke slowly billowed through the room and entered a sort of mesh, matrix grid formed by the interplay of the wooden beams fixed on the window and the rays of light which cast inside the hall.


    She was waiting anxiously for the arrival of a transport drone that would take her to the residence of Tanaka, apparently the only man with knowledge of the whereabouts and fate of Roask. She only realized the full extent of her feelings for him after he had disappeared. She took a last puff from her cigarette and extinguished it, returning her gaze to the ocean. Gold light sparkled over its deep blue surface which shifted to a snowy white near the shore from the violent breaking of waves. The cyclic ebb and flow of the water, sprinting over the sand before retreating, instilled a meditative hypnosis in L. Fauni, the majesty, reverie and wonder of the scene to entirely profound as to be attributed to nothing less than the divine.


    The dohaidens finished their collaborative activity and split off, darting through the fields like young lambs skipping and jumping in glee. Heavy emotion set in over Roask. Though intrigued by the kind beings and their world, he again felt the all too usual struggle of existing as an outsider, a member of a species of which only one organism existed. Of course, the beings seemed to embrace differences of all kinds, celebrating their diverse forms and biology as a matter of pride. As he further explored his feelings, he realized what he really desired was love, an intimate, deep, union, something timeless and pure, with no boundaries or limitations, something that could grow, endlessly bloom. Union was his ultimate desire, and the only piece he felt was missing was his love. Roask jolted as a Dohaiden seated in the grass next to him burst out in verses of poetry


    Through my eyes


    Take a view


    Death is all we know


    Is true


    Roask peered at the cross legged Dohaiden to his left. Light red, curly hair wrapped around his ears and formed spirals that seemed like hundreds of long, thin springs. ¡°How are you getting along so far? It took me a while to feel like I was at home and get accustomed to everything. Please call me Jinns.¡± The man bowed and stretched out his hand, which Roask embraced. ¡°As you may have already heard, all of us here were former consumers, but, those that entered the colony centuries ago reproduced and formed their own, unique culture. They are quite regimented and live according to strict schedules. Bathing in the natural springs every morning before working on various projects in circles scattered across the field. They then go off at around noon to explore and work on creative, independent pieces or simply lounge around. Poetry and rhyme is quite an important aspect of life among us, it holds almost a religious significance.¡± Jinns had deep blue eyes and was roughly Roask¡¯s height but with a smaller frame. He had the appearance of the fabled, classical musician of ancient man.


    A tie dye undershirt was partly covered by a torn up black leather jacket. A white bandana with black characters that wrapped around his forehead kept his long hair from out of his face and eyes and extended far beyond his shoulders. Old, rough bell bottom blue plants covered a pair of moccasin-like shoes he wore. He had a gentle, calm face with high cheekbones that towered over a red beard from which braided locks extended.


    ¡°Interesting clothes, right? I made them this morning from a cloth and garment generator. Historical data can be imported and the sewing machine recreates traditional clothing of the era. Apparently this was a common choice for those that lived in ¡°The Sixties¡±. How times change...¡± Roask realized he was staring at Jinns clothing and turned his gaze away. ¡°How long have you been here?¡± Roask asked. ¡°I first arrived around twenty years ago. I was picked up for consumption of ¡°forbidden¡± materials. Old historical treatises, underground books, stuff that you can only find if you know where to look in the internal databases. I was deemed an outlier as a result, apparently. Anyway, I couldn¡¯t imagine living another moment over there¡­ My only regret is that I didn¡¯t get out sooner. Never looked back, the place was a hell hole. It was like being the only human among machines. Of course, I still have some pleasant memories...¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s take a walk, I want to show you something.¡± Jinns began marching through the open field and unabashedly placed his arm around Roask¡¯s shoulder, embracing him warmly. ¡°I am glad you are with us, we all are¡­¡±. The Dohaidens were scattered around, some airborne and engaging in aerial acrobatics, diving from the hovering, agricultural slabs of land while others darted about underwater in the scattered lakes, often breaking through the surface like dolphins or whales. Run with me, Jinns said, as he began a fast sprint through the golden white field of grasses and organic wheat, the individual blades swaying in the breeze while the field undulated like saharan dunes. A smile broke across his face and the air picked up his dancing curls, jolting up and down at the end and beginning of each small leap. Bursts of joy and exhilaration coursed through Roak¡¯s veins and all time seemed to come to an end. Tears began flowing, the emotional intensity of the event too strong for the man to hold inside. He felt like a child once more, enjoying pure, uncorrupted life.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    At that moment Roask lost himself, free of thought and any measure of self awareness. Lost in the air rushing past his ears, in the thousands of stalks of grass that rushed beneath him, and in the mountains that towered over him like ancient, bygone kings, the pair continued running, covering the great, wide fields before the grass beneath gave way to sparse and soon dense patches of redwoods. Eventually they came to a halt and Roask felt the calming, stimulating endorphins enter his blood, a calming and healing. In the absence of thought he became engrossed in perception and observation so intimate he was temporarily united with what seemed a higher being, a divinity. Thick trunks of the trees and leaves of ferns surrounded the pair, and Jinns seemed to be in deep concentration as he stepped over the soft mosses and other flowers that grew over the soft, black brown humus. ¡°Ah, there!¡±, Jinns said, pointing to a rotting trunk propped up by the branches of a neighbouring tree, making a roughly 45 degree angle with the ground below.


    As they approached the fallen tree an opening in the ground appeared like the gaping mouth of Moby Dick. At first it seemed to be simply a big hole until Roask approached it¡¯s edge, where a number of jagged, stone walls could be seen descending at a roughly 45 degree angle until pitch black dominated. ¡°I was wandering alone and I found this place the other day. I couldn¡¯t bring myself to explore it alone, however. I¡¯m quite a wuss really. What do you think?¡± Staring into the abyss Roask had a flashback of the subterranean family he had visited so long ago, the sickly boy and his overworked father in that small, underground cellar. He saw the pain in the boy¡¯s eyes, pleading silently. The vile sewer like conduits, the faces of the poor, wretched subterraneans, shifting past one another, entirely oblivious of their downtrodden, enslaved, brainwashed state. Shame and guilt set in as he pictured the boy after the consumer society came to halt, the nutrient gruel and liquid failing to fall from those old, rusty pipes for the last time.


    A mood of curiosity, wonder, and joyful youth gave way to despair as the boy¡¯s eyes flashed through Roask¡¯s mind. ¡°It¡¯s quite interesting. I have heard that thousands of years ago our ancient ancestors lived in these structures¡­¡±, Roask forced himself back into the present moment, beholding the numerous boulders and stones that surrounded the mouth of the cave. Jinns began descending, carefully navigating the boulders an uneven ground. ¡°Free shelter, wise of them to use it I say.¡± As they continued further down, the light from the mouth of the cave became more dim, and as Roask peered back, a great hole of light appeared along with the rocky outcrop it exposed.   ¡°I came prepared this time¡±, said Jinns, grinning as he pulled a couple light sticks, tossing one to Roask, before bring out a canteen of light gel, which he scattered on the cave¡¯s wall, the viscous, syrup-like neon blue substance lighting bright like a bulb as it began slowly dripping. As they continued descending down the cave Roask became uneasy and looked back, the gaping hole of the entrance now appearing roughly the size of an apple.


    Jinns brought out the capsule of liquid gel and scattered it around, casting light on multiple pairs of towering stalagmites and stalactites rising from pools of water, slightly bent and contorted like the nimble fingers of witches. The mound shaped structures spread across a wide chamber, further mysersty hidden in darkness. A consistent dripping noise sounded, amplified by the acoustic effects of the hollow chamber and seeming to echo or ring in the air for a longer than usual duration. Roask twitched his eyes instinctively, hoping to get a description of the structures before quickly realizing he no longer possessed his internal systems. ¡°I was researching these structures in a book. They are usually formed by water flowing down from the overlying Earth in a complex process of deposition. The precipitate from the water forms these beautiful structures over thousands of years. Quite astounding when you think about it¡­¡±.


    Abbad marched through the forest with a battalion of Sitmians and other liberated subterraneans. The musky, tropical air carried a constant buzz of cicadas, birds, monkeys, and all sorts of other creatures, a sound of boundless savagery and incomprehensible complexity. Abbad slapped the back of his sweaty neck, squashing a mosquito as he continued to march, scanning the horizon while tightly gripping his gravitator rifle. Though in the midst of a war with his old overseers, the consumers, liberation from his internal display, audio pangs, a cruel diet of nutrient was more than enough reason for Abbad and his fellows to embrace the Sitmians and find a renewed gratitude for existence. All he had known before his deployment to Sitmia was CY6, that terrible, nauseating disease coupled with that cold, prison like cellar and the countless hours spent mentally abused by that wired, electronic grid within, and, compared to that hell of an existence anything was acceptable. Together with the fact that he was battling his old masters, life was paramount to the extraction of sweet vengeance.


    The Sitmian troops had continued their usual duties. Barraging mines and other consumer outposts, capturing and taming subterraneans, engaging fighter drones and other assailants. Since the nuclear detonation on a crucial Sitmian city and military outpost, security and surveillance had become more tight. Mandatory X-Ray screenings to spot any doubles occurred every night, new communication protocols were instituted, and measures to detect micro, bug sized consumer recorders were carried out using advanced signal detection and magnetron technology.


    The team was headed to what was reported as the landing site of a consumer spider ship that had buried itself underground, likely a deploying troops, or at the least giving hints of their whereabouts. The team was a few hours away from the coordinates and the day was beginning to fade, the life in the air losing its fiery, excited youth and moving towards a tempered, cool maturity. Maryee, the commander of the battalion, lead the group like the leading goose during a migration, located at the head of a marching ¡°V¡± shape. Each soldier was assigned a general direction to constantly scan such that their entire 360 degree surroundings were constantly monitored in depth. Overhead a number of black vultures circled, like witches clad in tattered robes, travelling slowly along long arcs, fastidiously studying the dense landscape below. Hours passed.


    Maryee signalled and the party entered a prone position, patiently awaiting orders. Ahead a large circular patch of cleared land appeared, proof that a spider ship lay beneath. The ships buried themselves underground in an effort to make their detection from above and destruction virtually impossible. In the middle of Sitmian territory, they would also be able to target positions for bombing at the blink of an eye, without the need for deployment from the consumer mainland or other fortified positions. Maryee signalled the group to proceed to the cleared patch of land slowly. He had thick, black dreadlocks and a dark complexion, quite skinny but incredibly agile. He wore a special suit that allowed him to survive in any range of temperatures or weather conditions--- under the ocean, in an active fire, or through dense clouds of smoke. It was pitch black, with shining, metal bands around his torso, neck, and ankles.


    The group approached the clear patch of land and began studying it for footprints and other signs of activity as Maryee deployed a scout which began scanning the area for any drone activity or other anomalies. Abbad spotted what appeared to be some kind of hoof pressed into the dirt, roughly the size of a man¡¯s head. Other members of the battalion spotted the mysterious tracks as well, which seemed to enter the surrounding forest individually instead of as a pack. Abbad followed the track, and, after leaving the easily imprintable, loose earth, like that formed by a mole or gopher, the tracks became almost impossible to distinguish among the thick leaves, plants and dying light of dusk.


    A scream pierced the air and Abbad turned to its source and raised his rifle, distinguishing what seemed like a galloping phantom rushing through the trees. The party discharged their beam rifles at the menace which was fast disappearing into the thick brush, but not a single shot was landed. Against fighter drones, the energy beam would automatically target anything metallic, signifying the being, whatever it may be, was made up of organic material. ¡°Maintain concentration on your assigned dire¡­¡±, Maryee began, before another creature appeared out of the dark brush and, with a long, trunk-like appendage, struck his upper torso, disemboweling him.


    Soon a total chaos set in with many of the elephant, horse like creatures darting in from the thick jungle and quickly assaulting the Sitmians one by one. The forces were taken by total surprise, barraged like sitting ducks, they had never before experienced such a surprise attack. In the midst of the frenzy, the screaming, the sounds of flesh being struck and bones crushed, of feet crashing into the earth and the piercing, thunder like eruptions of beam rifles, Abbad had a vision of Han Giru, his peaceful empathetic eyes looking down at the boy as he did in his sickest of days, holding him gently in an silent embrace that expressed what words were not capable. Time froze until, out of the pitch black a giant eye surrounded by a black and white striped face flashed in front of Abbad before a heavy, muscular hind leg clobbered him over the head. Darkness.


    An acute headache woke Abbad the next day. The pain came in waves and there was a sensation of immense pressure behind his forehead, as if his brain was trying to expand against the thick, stone-like bone of his skull. The pain spiked as he tried to lift himself up from the dirt, instinctively he grasped his forehead and felt an extremely sensitive large, swollen abscess, covered with dried blood. He had no conception of where he was, and as he looked above at the twigs, branches, and leaves, they came in and out of focus, at one moment distorted, as if behind a mirage and at the next perfectly clear. His throat was extremely parched and as he forced himself up, he staggered, grasping a nearby trunk for balance.


    Pulling out his canteen, he chugged the water, not stopping to breath until the whole container was dropless. He noticed dozens of corpses strewn, lifeless and in varying conditions, some relatively intact and others mangled and disfigured. Abbad had no idea how long he had been out, and, upon becoming aware of a strange odor that hung in the air, that unique stench that marks the beginning of the decomposition of flesh, he vomited, instantly collapsing again to his knees. Who were these men, where was he¡­ vertigo and nausea overtook him and again, darkness.


    Again Abbad woke, this time the intensity of the headache had slightly receded and he had a better command of his body, his balance partly restored. The memories of the attack and the previous weeks began returning in chunks, like splices from a film, rearranged in an order that rendered their comprehension futile. Marching, days of marching, Maryee and his comrades, and those, those creatures¡­ Quickly he got up and grasped his beam rifle, rushing to check each of his companion¡¯s status¡¯. The mild stench of their corpses became unbearable, and he quickly stripped them of any supplies he needed, a full canteen, a communication tablet, condensed food packets. He needed to report to high command as soon as possible but could only do so using Maryee¡¯s communication tablet. He hurried over to the dead general and reached into his pocket, pulling out the communication tablet and navigating the device to report the incident.


    Only an automated response --- Multiple barrages reported. All surviving raiding parties report to the following evac points. Make Haste. A list of Sitmian sectors and associated evac points were listed, and Abbad quickly headed off to the designated coordinates of his sector.

 Chapter 11

    Sigun was reclined in his levitating pod. He had just awoken from the long simulation Mughal Quest, where he had lived the life of an ancient emperor. The experience had been so convincing that he had not engaged reality for roughly a week, drones taking care of his waste,  hygiene, and general maintenance. As he commanded swathes of troops to victory, signaling the firing of cannons and directing steel clad cavalry, perfected his hand at calligraphy, and enjoyed the company of a royal harem, he layed like a vegetable in the real world, fed and hydrated with a network of intravenous tubes that protruded from his levitation pod, which was, more than simply a transportation device, more aptly described as a house, refrigerator, bed, supercomputer, plane, submarine, ship, and storage unit combined.


    Upon awakening from one of his virtual journeys, Sigun always encountered a reality that seemed lackluster, unable to approach the vibrant electricity of the other side. The colors were boring, the air stale, the sounds brusk and distasteful, and  a general sensation of depression and dissatisfaction pervaded, much like the truth an addict or alcoholic meets upon coming down from a fantastic high or intoxicating hallucination. This was the just reality Sigun now contended with, accompanied by a strong pain in his lower back and throughout his limbs, which had already begun to atrophy and deteriorate despite the wonders of consumer medication. He had been particularly at a loss without the company of L. Fauni and even Roask, who, despite his peculiarities, was the one person in his network that seemed to have a genuine, human quality about him.


    His eyes needed time to readjust to the natural light, and with a virtual binge of the length he had just undergone, it would take hours or even days to feel back to normal. In fact, his entire body would need some time to readjust to reality. Advanced, electronic binary signals were delivered down his optic nerves and worked in tandem with biological neurons, activating his visual cortex. Microspeakers implanted in his inner ear could generate any sounds necessary during internal immersion. A grid of wires mapped within the man resembled the branching veins and arteries that make up the circulatory system capable of replicating all kinds of sensation. Virtual reality or simulation could be best conceived as a dream state. Just as in a dream, sounds could he heard, sexual stimulation and arousal felt, sights beheld, and movement perceived...


    To alleviate a cramp in his lower back Sigun selected a painkiller by shifting his pupil in the motion of a figure eight, a needle in the levitation pod quickly delivering his dose into a vein in his arm. He ordered the levitation pod to land and struggled to raise himself as he grasped two metal bars that ran alongside the bed like a seat. His fat combined with the weakness of his muscles impaired the poor being, threw his arms, tremors ran as he was finally able to stand. Tears filled Sigun¡¯s eyes as the memories and sensations of reality began seeping back into his consciousness.


    Of all people on Earth, he alone was best aware of the fact that a life full of consumption and plenty could be as depressing, painful and unfulfilling as one of material simplicity or so called poverty. Indeed, since he was always full, he never experienced the satisfaction of eating, the sweet sensation of relieving his hunger. Virtually always medicated and painless, Sigun had forgotten the preciousness and value of health itself. Indeed, a life of excess was simply a curse in disguise, as the tears rolling down his face themselves proved. Sigun was, on the outside, a model consumer, but within, his life was in a state of emotional turmoil and spiritual chaos. He was a man afflicted by excess.


    Even with a cane he struggled to walk, slowly making his way to the balcony of his flat, which was rather dimly furnished for a man of his status, spending so little time engaged in the real world that he had no real use for much decoration. Despite this, Sigun owned an entire floor of the skyscraper building he inhabited, the most coveted and iconic piece of real estate in the consumer capital, towering above everything around by hundreds of meters. It was shaped like a great pyramid coated in pure gold. As he approached his balcony a sliding metal door automatically opened and he stepped outside. The balcony wrapped around the entire skyscraper like the threads of a screw, and he began a stroll around, surveying his kingdom below.


    There were no streets, but a steady flow of drones and pods shifted through the air, disappearing into the horizon or into various other skyscrapers or down hatches that lead underground, their movement analogous to the movement of particles and cells in the blood, circulating vital resources to the organs of the consumer city. He met eyes with the nutrient processing plant, a towering half dome of steel. A slit periodically opened at its apex as supply pods, large blimp shaped craft, came to dump loads of leftover organic material, left uneaten or expired before consumer use. From beneath the structure, expired subterraneans were ground up and supplied to the plant via great metal shafts, fed into the dark brown concoction to add to its protein content.


    He glanced at his news feed and headlines from Sitma were listed. It appeared that consumer hegemony was guaranteed as footage of multiple nuclear detonations flashed in the upper right hand corner of his field of vision. He took a deep breath and exhaled. A reminder flashed in his display tab concerning an event he was invited to attend on the martian colony. The celebration of a nation wide, mandatory software update announced to occur in the coming months where consumers would enter a hibernation state as drones and machine intelligence performed upgrades to their internal computing and simulation systems. Sigun sighed, he was excited but it felt the universe was moving too quickly. All he hoped for was silence as he ordered an interplanetary transport drone and a change of clothing to transport him to the colony.


    A courier made his way to Allistair Jaffari¡¯s camp where he found the leader in one of his usual cross legged positions, his eyes cast out over the jungle beyond. ¡°Commander, we¡¯ve had reports of widespread technical failure, it appears some sort of sophisticated, malicious software has infected our infrastructure and is rapidly spreading. Unknown hostiles have carried out a number of raids on our guerilla battalions. Three nuclear detonations have been reported as well, sir. And those are only the reports that have come through since the technical blackout.¡± Perhaps this was the end, Jaffari thought. He held on, though, knowing that every stretch of progress is bound to terminate in some sort of setback. His communication tablet had already been infected by the software, the screen only displaying what seemed a fabricated reconnaissance or evacuation point where displaced Sitmians should congregate. It was as if a gargantuan tsunami had overtaken Sitmia, as if the consumers were previously not engaged in war and had only just utilized their entire potential.


    ¡°We need to go incognito, under the radar. Order all commanders to terminate their use of any communication technology and to disregard any messaging received from the devices. Orders are to decentralize and take to the jungles, we will spread out and return to what we do best, guerilla warfare. We¡¯re going offline.¡± ¡°Yes, sir¡±, the courier replied promptly, before running down to pass on Jaffari¡¯s orders by word of mouth to the group of commanders. Jaffari got up and began descending his mountain command point to the small village located below. Sitmian huts were assembled and a number agricultural production units were scattered about, each appearing like a giant egg. They quickly grew special seeds possessed by the Sitmians, each seed housing genetic information produced from years of past experimentation and research which resulted in the rapid maturity of crops. The genetic manipulation and energy optimization and size of the resulting fare, and the comparative ease of setting up the production units and camps made it very simple for the Sitmians to not go hungry.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    Something was amiss, Jaffari thought. He met with Rama and other members of his original battalion and inner circle before they collected essential belongings and set off through the jungle. Jaffari met Rama¡¯s eyes. ¡°Something is out there....¡± Rama nodded, it was like the two men and the group had travelled back to when they were mere foot soldiers of the Sitmian resistance. A heavy rain was falling and the sky was filled with a deep, dense grey, unbroken like one massive cloud, its edges and boundaries out of sight. The humid air stuck to the skin and felt inescapable, and with no wind circulating, the gases slowly drifted through the trees. Periodic calls and wild howls announced to any potential intruders the possession of territory or the desire to mate. ¡°Let us head to the coast. Clear our minds. We can organize our thoughts and may come across some promising signs.¡±


    A macaw leaped from a low hanging branch, unsettled by the marching group below or perhaps sensing some other danger, its rainbow feathers easily navigating through the web of twigs and branches as it disappeared through in the canopy. Billowing clouds began appearing in the east, unnaturally thick and low to the ground, perhaps fallout from one of the nuclear detonations that had struck Sitima. It appeared like a harbinger of death or malice, and as it continued approaching from the East its thickness grew, with darker grey and even black tones composing its billowing clouds. The group followed Jaffari as he put on a mask and pair of goggles.


    Overhead a group of high flying destroyer drones roared through the air, disappearing and reappearing in the dense atmosphere. A geographic analysis camera, constantly surveying the land below, detected the Sitmian camp that Jaffari and his crew had just moments ago abandoned and effortlessly launched a barrage of bombs. A chamber gate fixed on the bottom of the ship opened, releasing gallons of CY8, a bacteria which would contaminate the water and life of the surrounding region. If one were to return to the camp in the following days, they would be greeted by limp, lifeless plants, bending over in the shape of inverted parabolas, losing their strength to stand.


    Jaffari signalled the party to pick up their pace as shrapnel, dirt, and other organic material began raining down overhead. Electricity filled the air, adrenaline rushed through their veins and thunder rang through their ears. They were sprinting through armageddon, descending into chaos, rushing through madness, watching the order of the world shatter as actors in a final scene, witnessing the countdown of their race and civilization. They began sprinting through the woods, tens of thousands of years of evolution leaving them hardly separate from their ancient ancestors, who once too sprinted through jungles and vast plains, hunting and on the run from the hostile, savage beast that one may call nature.


    Likely the exact coordinates of the outpost had been calculated using information provided by the software virus that had seeped through the Sitmian infrastructure, and like a deadly plague or epidemic, was carried from one entity to another, unrelenting in its spread. Having been at the camp only minutes previously, Jaffari and his inner circle would have become ashes, dust in the wind, obliterated by the density of force released in a battle drone¡¯s payload. The party continued heading to the coast, unperturbed.


    On the other side of Sitmia, Abbad was continuing his march to his assigned evacuation point, the coordinates flashing on his device, which also displayed his location and direction. He was not so confident about using the technology, the touchpads and other devices were usually only handled by his group¡¯s command. The pain in his head continued to throb as he recalled the beasts that had overtaken the party. Were they creatures of the Sitmian jungle? Consumer tools of war? Or something else¡­ Abbad continued his march, and more flashbacks began to flash through his memory. Han Giru, slipping out of the door after embracing Abbad goodbye, coming home and checking his status, offering him his doses of medication. Where had he gone? Perhaps he was still in that same room, waiting for Abbad to return...


    Abbad ducked as a pack of fighter craft passed through the sky overhead, their silhouettes appearing against a deep red, orange sky, pitch black like crows or vultures. They were the spherical sort of craft, and, being powered by completely silent gravitator engines, the sound that they produced as they sped through the air was the result of making contact with the gaseous atmosphere at great velocities. The three craft spread apart and from one another, and from beneath each of them a solid, triangular surface of high powered lasers emanated, shaped like a sensu or Japanese folding fan, the lasers scorched the Earth below, turning the vibrant fauna and flora into a charred black as they progressed through the air. Smoke began billowing from the scorched Earth as the lasers continued combing through the jungle. Complete and total indiscriminate destruction¡­


    The bright, yellow-red triangular lasers emanated from a single point from beneath each craft as they shifted through the air in a perfect row. The base of one fan shaped superlaser surface was perfectly adjacent to the base of the next, and all three combined to destroy kilometers of land in just seconds, like a modern take on the fabled napalm used by protohuman warriors in those ancient lands of Vietnam. Abbad felt a chill pass through his bones, silent cries of agony seemed to come from the trees around him, perhaps sensing the efficient, cold, and calculated slaughter of their brethren to close by. Abbad began running to the evacuation point, he was getting closer as the sky lost its orange and yellow hues as a deep, dark red black took over, lit up and dampened by the smoke and small fires lit up and prompt distinguished by the jungle rains. More spherical ships passed overhead, bright lasers falling like the rains of hell from their underbellies, and fighter drones rushed through the air.


    A countdown appeared on the device, signalling that evacuation ships would soon be landing. Abbad started sprinting, the throbbing pain in his head becoming more excruciating as he weaved, inhaling the smoky, thick air. He was beginning to lose his sight from the combination of foggy surroundings and thick rain and his suit heavy from all of the water collected in his boots and outfit. The sky was now pitch black, and the bright yellow fires seemed to form a great ring around him, their flames dancing in the ghost like smoke. Abbad noticed some artificial lighting centered directly at the evacuation point, and, as is appearing out thin air, more Sitmian soldiers appeared, all moving in the same direction.


    As he arrived, the counter had just died down to zero, and the troops seemed all equally bewildered and shell shocked, some perhaps having travelled for days or weeks after losing touch with their commanders and companions, directed only by the technology with which they had access. There must have been hundreds, even thousands of Sitmians gathered there, all battered and beaten, holding on to life with the last of their strength. Suddenly, all the soldiers turned, beholding triangular laser walls pouring down from the darkness above, slowly increasing in size as they approached. They were the same kind that Abbad had noticed previously, and it then clicked. These were not evacuation coordinates, it was all a guise to form a dense collection of Sitmian troops, easily slaughtered in one fell swoop.


    As quickly as he had approached the evacuation point, he began sprinting away, yelling to his Sitmian brethren to run for their lives. That bright red wall of death quickly approached as fight drones crashed down through the trees, picking off Sitmians with directed beam pulses and gravitator bombs, ripping them up one by one. Abbad tripped, and crashing onto the ground he simply froze as he saw a red wall, now only hundreds of meters from him, spreading for kilometers in each direction, inescapable. The blood red filled his pupils as he saw the Sitmians reduced to ashes as the wall passed over them, incinerated in virtually seconds with the trees and everything else around them. Abbad closed his eyes for the last time, offering one last prayer to his tortured world.

 Chapter 12

    Like a pirate in a crow¡¯s nest, Tanaka was seated in an observation cell that extended far above his mountain castle, a bubble-like container that gave a panoramic view of the surrounding peaks and valleys. From a distance the towering, bubble shaped structure looked similar to the terminal end of a beetle or other insect¡¯s capitate antenna and was held up by a single, white metal shaft, wide enough for one person at a time to ascend or descend. Tanaka had recently ordered the release of his genetically bioengineered species on the Sitmian mainland and was currently imagining just how much damage they had already inflicted on the enemy. Beyond their physical superiority, the beings were superintelligent, capable of intellectual wonders-- infecting servers, communications networks, and technical infrastructure with access to just a single piece of Sitmian technology. In just days since their arrival on Sitima, they had provided locations of key Sitmian military outposts by scouring their communication devices and inflicted a tremendous amount of damage on the elusive Sitmian gorilla parties.


    Tanaka was awaiting the arrival of the illustrious L. Fauni to discuss the fate of Roask, an individual that she had apparently gone through great lengths to track down. Upon studying her consumer data it was evident that her behaviour had recently become quite erratic--- in the past weeks she had hardly utilized her internal display. Despite this, she had always been on the brink of being labelled an outlier, and was consistently involved in anomalous behaviour-- fancying antiquated goods and devoting much of her time to items like books, television movies, paintings, video games, poetry, theater, and the like. Tanaka himself anticipated her arrival quite excitedly, he had not had such a feeling for a consumer in years. His heart began beating faster as he shifted through various pictures of her in his internal display.


    She often appeared in bright colored, skin tight suits. Like many articles of consumer wear, the surfaces of her clothing were capable of replicating movement and could rapidly shift in color, like the chromatophores of an octopus or skin of a chameleon. Like most consumer clothing, hers was able to generate special patterns or shapes over its surface through the behaviour of colored gases which escaped and were reabsorbed through pores. Tanaka was staring at a photo of her, apparently taken on the Lunar colony in an observation chamber, her eyes fixed on the stars above with a tickling glee written across her auburn eyes and bright smile painted over her face. Brown, wavy hair danced over the upper half of her bright red suit. The natural form her naked body was preserved and her hips, breasts, and the arches of her thighs bulged out from the recesses of her tight stomach and upper body. From the suit, arcs of orange and black gas emerged and were drawn back in, giving the article the appearance of a tiger¡¯s coat.


    As he stared longer at the picture, it was given life by the internal display. Calming music began as she started slowly shifting and engaging Tanaka, asking him what he was in the mood for as she twirled her hair and began slowly undressing. Carrier 5FCY approaching, a loud message interrupted Tanaka and he jolted, like someone being woken from a bad dream that seemed inexplicably real. He scanned the horizon and noticed a sparkle, like a tiny piece of shell or other piece of treasure lodged in the sand. It soon betrayed the markings of a ship as it quickly approached and Tanaka hurried down from the observation deck to ready himself for the arrival of his guest. He quickly ordered a drone to clothe him, the mechanical being showing up quickly and giving him a quick shave while dressing him in one of his more luxurious items.


    The ship reached the landing pad and instead of forcing her to enter the mirror room, as he did with most of the outliers that came to his mansion, he went out to greet her, descending from this levitation pad in order to display his physical means. Like the wings of a ladybug, the doors of the spheroid craft opened upward and the neon blue gravitator engines died down in intensity before shutting off completely. L. Fauni descended from the vehicle gracefully. ¡°Welcome¡±, said Tanaka. ¡°I¡¯ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival. Please, follow me¡±. The landing pad was a wide disc, that was elevated over the rocky, jagged mountainside below, attached to a narrow walkway that lead to a transparent, pyramidal chamber of the mansion.


    Tanaka directed Fauni to be seated at a long table after offering her a short tour of the mansion. The snow and rock of the mountain appeared far beneath their feet and the transparent walls, ceilings, and floor gave the sensation of remaining outdoors. A drone suddenly burst in from an adjacent chamber and began setting the dining table, first laying down a cloth and then placing down silver trays, fine gold cups, silver plates, carafes and much more at a dizzying pace, the spider like limbs of the butler bot and the contenes each limb held crossed over one another so quickly that it was amazing not a single thing broke or a collision occurred.


    ¡°Thank you for having me¡±, Fauni responded. She seemed dejected, perhaps anticipating some sad news about Roask or something else quite grim. As she took a seat at the floating table, Roask tapped a few controls and the entire transparent crystal room detached from the rest of the mansion and began slowly drifting through the sky, powered by silent gravitator engines. The room was shaped as a geometrical cube, the faces spotless. The winter had begun to diminish and the sun had come out after the last storm of the season. The snow had begun melting, green shoots and flowers appearing amongst the evergreen trees. The mansion on the  mountain¡¯s peak shined like a diamond and the great lake, which at first seemed like a puddle,enlarged as the room sank downwards through the air.


    ¡°It¡¯s my pleasure. You are my most welcomed guest¡±, said Tanaka, as he took a sip of wine. ¡°Please, help yourself to whatever you please. You see, I am quite the connoisseur of ancient recipes, and in a recent virtual emersion I experienced the extravagance of dining at ancient monarch by the name of King William I. I¡¯ve ordered my butler drones to replicate the cuisine here. Of course, the ambiance and surroundings are not matched but I am convinced you would prefer the natural beauty of the mountains.¡±


    A royal feast was laid between L. Fauni and Tanaka. A fine linen cloth sat above the table over which fresh game unavailable to the commoners of those times was laid, seasoned with various exotic spices. Steam from the rabbit, beef, peafowl, swan, pork, quail, turbot, crane, veal, venison, partridge, lark, stork, linnet, and mutton filled with room with a delicious aroma. Verjuice, vinegar, and pomegranate, mulberry, and blackberry wines filled gold and silver carafes, one of which was presently grasped by a butler drone, refilling Tanaka¡¯s gem clad chalice. ¡°Please, don¡¯t be shy.¡± Tanaka gestured across that table before he began sawing a piece of meat. ¡°Of course, being true to the spirit of a feast of King William I and his entourage, I do not have the luxury of using a fork. In those days, forks were not used...¡±. Tanaka grabbed a piece of stork meat with his bare hands from a trencher of stale bread, used as a sort of bowl in those medieval, protohuman days, and began savoring the game.


    ¡°Now, I¡¯ve studied your recent behaviour, and, though you have always been quite strange, you were never what I would call an outlier. That has changed since you have become so fixated on Roask¡¯s disappearance¡­ Indulge me, where does this obsession with Roask come from exactly?¡± ¡°An outlier?¡±, asked Fauni,  never having encountered the expression. ¡°An outlier is, put simply, one that deviates one too many standard deviations away from from the mean, fringe individuals that inhabit those regions far from that central dome of the bell curve¡­ If you are not statistically inclined, an outlier is, simply put, one that deviates too far from prescribed, natural consumer behavior¡±. ¡°Unfortunately, the object of your curiosity and desire, Roask, was also an outlier, infatuated with the subterranean race¡­ Such a pity...¡± Tanaka shook his head slowly, taking sipping some verjuice hopping to see Fauni cringe at the mention of Roask¡¯s interest in the subterraneans.


    Like Sigun, Tanaka was intent on securing Fauni¡¯s goodwill and interest, aggravated by her obsession with Roask. ¡°There is something fascinating about him, something that intrigues me. It isn¡¯t a feeling I can''t quite put into words. It is a feeling of pure emotion and curiosity. It seems quite reasonless and absurd, for it needs no reason or explanation, it seems to justify itself.... Infatuation and excitement, a desire to uncover more of him, get lost in him. Ever since his disappearance it has grown, and I can simply no longer stand being away from him¡­ Perhaps I have overblown his image, but I simply can¡¯t control myself...¡±


    The flying crystal room had descended the mountain and was now hovering above groves of evergreen trees. A pack of white wolves could be seen sprinting through the thick snow, disappearing and appearing behind the trees, which seemed like small saplings from above. The wolves had just broken out a snow covered plain, pure concentration and determination seemed to define them in that moment, their white coats partially grey and soiled from the particles and other impurities of their snowy environment.


    Tanaka was fixated on the pack of wolves as he turned Fauni¡¯s words around in his mind, distilling them, analyzing them for some ultimate meaning, reflecting on them like one would a profound equation or poem, pondering their significance or lack thereof. Tanaka knew that such intense emotional feelings towards others, those usually found in familial bonds or other tight social relationships, love, some may say, had once been hostile to the interest of the state. Indeed, the consumer was formulated as an individual unit, reared by drones and raised to have no true conception of ¡°family¡±, ¡°sibling¡±, ¡°tribe¡± or other such identity beyond their allegiance to the consumer race and state. Of course, such an implementation was once a crucial form of control, removing any social bonds beyond those useful to the state.


    The entire process of copulation was replaced by the infusion of egg and sperm cells in laboratories, and, as a means to strictly control population, female consumers underwent routine operations to ensure infertility. The wolves had progressed and the crystal dining room moved further to the ground, exposing more details of the elegant creatures. They were in pursuit of a herd of elk, analyzing the moving mass for any enfeebled members. ¡°I assure you that Roask is in a fine condition, and I am now convinced that you will join him and another group of individuals in the land of Dohaidu.¡± A baby elk and its mother began to lag behind the moving herd and the wolves continued to shorten the gap, leaping through the thick snow as they spread apart.


    A wave of relief overtook Fauni as she took a sip of mulberry wine. Tanaka pierced a slab of turbot from a platter and placed it in his trencher. ¡°There is one point, however. If you go to Dohaidu, you will never return to consumer society.¡± One wolf then reached the baby elk, pouncing on it and instinctively grasping its neck with its thick jaws. The mother panicked, at first trying to free the baby before she abandoned it, heading in the direction of the rest of the pack. ¡°And this land you speak of? ¡±. Tanaka began describing Dohaidu. Dreaming of Roask and that distant land, Fauni accepted the terms Tanaka had put forth, officially expatriating from the consumer machine.


    Jinns began rummaging through a satchel. He nodded his head up and down, grinning ¡°this is life, isn¡¯t it. Exploring caves... I¡¯ve got just the perfect tool.¡± He pulled out a small pebble, tapped a button on it, and tossed it into the air. A rustle sounded, some animal scurrying about, perhaps unsettled by the sudden change in light. It was a luminescence orb that slowly orbited around Jinns, lighting up the chamber and displaying a number of paintings on stone walls, strange symbols that seemed aged with time. They showed what seemed like ancient commoners and village farmers, different animals, sketches of grains and fields. Oxen, horses, bulls and sheep were painted alongside rivers and mountains and long chains of symbols. Herds of animals beneath flying ships decorated with celestial markings of stars, planets, and nebulae using paint that still, somehow, maintained its original color.


    In one mural like painting, humbled admirers were depicted prostrating, gathered around a tree in a plain field. Its trunk extended from solid dark brown Earth, the roots burying and reaching in all directions deep down. Beneath the last of the roots the brown gave way to a black, elliptical space, full of ghouls, demons, shackled prisoners. A river of lava flowed past them, fierying rains lit up sections of the morbid rendition, blood spilled from lacerated corpses and flashes of bombs and war. A dog headed creature with a goat''s tail and hooves, scarred and blackened angelic sat in a bone throne, purveying his domain with a half grin on his wicked face.


    Jinns felt a chill and his eyes shifted upward, studying the lower sections of the tree, the arrowhead shaped leaves and limbs were set upon a blue sky and calming green land. The worshipers formed rings about the tree, like pilgrims to that fabled Kaaba, their expressions at once pleading and full of reverence and awe. A gargantuan albino ape hung from one branch, resting his back on a perfectly arched branch, calm and serene looking out upon the land, perfectly ignorant and content. Birds and all other manner of life filled the tree, and as Jinns eyes rose further, its branches splintered against a solar background, reaching into the heavens like Yggdrasil of ancient mythology. The deep brown of its flesh rested amongst the stars, planets and like, as if feeding or nurturing them with some life blood. Above the reach of its peak a sea, ocean of pure darkness, blackness interspersed with what seemed like metal motherships, caravans of the beyond, piercing the night like barbary pirate ships in an endless sea.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    In a neighboring mural, gold vinyl matching the tone and texture of medieval halos outlined a tall being. The being was standing in front of a grounded starship on a jagged, rocky and lifeless outcrop surrounded by murky gray blue ocean. The being was entirely clothed in white robes and depicted crouched down, planting or placing something in the sea. The whole scene seemed to depict some divine happening or had some other religious, historical, mythological significance. Jinns and Roask were in awe, the murals extending far down the cave walls until disappearing into the darkness. ¡°Goes without saying that we were not the first ones to discover this place, eh? Doesn¡¯t seem like those visitors were here anytime recently, however. Any ideas?¡±


    ¡°No idea. I¡¯ve never seen anything like it. I had better get back, though.¡± It was getting late and Roask began to feel claustrophobic and trapped. The worst scenarios began running through his mind. He imagined the entrance crumbling or the cave collapsing, dangerous creatures awakening to hear intruders in their haven or some other beasts returning to the shelter. Roask¡¯s experience of living with Tanaka on his reservation was still fresh in his mind. He recalled those four legged, elephant and zebra-like creatures he had witnessed. He was now of the understanding that quite anything was possible and, being a newcomer to Dohaidu and unacquainted with the land or its people, his weary feeling grew. The mouth of the cave was very small, and the light entering the cave was that of dawn. ¡°I¡¯ll stay down here and keep exploring. I¡¯ll catch up with you back at the colony.¡±, said Jinns, as he began collecting rock and liquid samples.


    Roask slowly made his way back to the mouth of the cave before retracing his steps to the colony and field where he witnessed the Dohaidens preparing for another jamboree. ¡°A party?¡±, he asked a Dohaiden, who was rolling a big keg of some sort of spirit or beer to the heart of the plain, where rugs were being layed and tables assembled. ¡°A celebration for a newcomer by the name of L. Fauni'''', the young boy stated matter of factly. He continued to roll the barrel across the field. Roask was taken aback, he had not heard her name in months. Roask had always been interested in Fauni, but had lacked the confidence to engage her. His lack of self esteem led him to believe that she would never choose him over some other prospect and caused him to never commit or believe he would be able to woo her.


    Despite this, the two had a special bond, they were confidants and friends and Fauni seemed to maintain a steady, under the surface interest for Roask. He could not imagine what would have caused her to be sent to Dohaidu, however. The excitement and anticipation of the night to come could be tasted, and, as some Dohaidens prepared for the celebration, others were concluding their small projects and research. Some appeared touching down from the sky, holding measuring tools, vials, plants, fruit, and other treasures they had sought during the day. Others came from the great lakes, rivers and ponds, with nets of fish and vials of water and plants. Some appeared from the nearby forests, and others seemed to be returning from expeditions or affairs that required the use of their ships.


    The Dohaiden technology and architecture was unique and a part of a separate evolutionary track compared to consumer technology. Their ships resembled dreidels, the bodies appearing like massive cubes with rounded corners. The bottom of the ships were not flat but appeared as inverted pyramids, again, with no sharp corners or lines but with smooth connections. A long, thin metallic shaft extended from the top of the craft and pointed towards the sky, also shaped as a pyramid but much thinner and longer than the one of the base. As the ships moved they always rotated, perhaps a necessary component to the technology or other inner components that shifted and governed the craft. They had a cloaking, transparent capability by which they became invisible, perhaps built using a version of the material from which Roask¡¯s new home was constructed. Thus, they could only be glimpsed during touchdown, as they powered off their systems, or be sensed by those white clouds that surround fast moving craft. When visible they appeared pitch black, with hints of dark purple liquid like goo spreading over the surface.


    The craft moved much faster than anything consumer as well, appearing at first like specks in the sky and in virtually seconds becoming full size. From the handful that had just landed, a number of Dohaidens emerged with boxes containing some kind of loot, perhaps extracted from a neighboring planet or from some other far away destination. The crowd began to grow and soon Fauni could be seen descending from a consumer ship, greeted by the same druid like man hat had welcomed Roask to the colony. Roask felt joy at the prospect of reuniting with Fauni, being not only someone that he could relate to on a personal level, she was also the type of person that Roask could see himself building a lasting future with. Her beauty had not in the least diminished as she stepped down elegantly from the ship, shaking hands with the red haired, white clad man, who was perhaps some sort of leader of the Dohaidens.


    The scene was like the arrival of some ancient emissary stepping down from an ancient litter with droves of eager onlookers bashing drums, children flying kites and tall men waving banners. After Fauni had exchanged a number of words with the white clad man, he blew the traditional conch shell which signalled the arrival of a new member to Dohaidu and the beginning of festivities.


    The skies had become more cloudy and eerie with each passing day and the sun¡¯s rays were so weakened by the thick debris that one could stare at the orb endlessly. Red-orange, the eerie disk floated like the sole harvest of an old peach tree that had lost most of its limbs and leaves years ago, its bark hardened and mangled by years of weathering. It felt like it was constantly dawn or dusk, that some permanent nuclear or volcanic winter had set in as Jaffari and his small raiding party continued through the jungle, heading to the coast. Strong booms periodically travelled through the air, sometimes accompanied by shockwaves that shook the leaves and branches and in special cases so strong that they caused a pounding, rocking sensation in the chest.


    The party had passed by a number of fires, and, due to a small lapse in the normal jungle rains, they had spread quickly, indiscriminately torching everything in their paths. The team was disconnected from all networks, which, since having been compromised, were more of a threat than an advantage. All of the men were wearing masks, and their suits were tattered, their boots run down. ¡°I¡¯m afraid we don¡¯t have much time,¡± Jaffari told Rama. The two locked eyes, and both seemed to understand that the war was coming to an end. As they marched on, a Sitmian on the far right wing of the assembly triggered a pressure mine, instantly ripping the man¡¯s legs off. ¡°Johnson! No!¡±, the closest member rushed over to the man. He was bleeding out quickly, screaming in pain.


    Jaffari knew that if the mine was consumer, it¡¯s detonation would have already alerted the closest party of fighter drones. They had little time. Jaffari rushed to Johnson, the man¡¯s face twisted in expressions that caused him to appear more like an animal or ghoul than a Sitmian. After assessing the injury, Jaffari ordered the remaining  troops to move forward, but Kian refused. ¡°No! He has a chan--¡±, the blast of the pressure rifle rang out, ending Johnson¡¯s misery. Jaffari then ordered the troops to move forward signalling the arrival of fighter drones with hand gestures as he sprinted away. ¡°Kian, come on! There¡¯s no time!¡±, Rama said. ¡°If he¡¯s gone, I''m going with him¡­¡±, said Kian, who had not been detached from Johnson since the beginning of the war, the latter like an older brother or father figure.


    Kian knelt his head against what remained of Johnson as the rest of the troops sprinted away from the detonation site and readied their rifles. He screamed and fired wildly into the air as the fighter drones approached, readied his rifle and fired, taking down at least two before being struck by multiple lasers. Jaffari, knowing that the drones would sweep the area, ordered the men to halt and engage the drones. Multiple targets were downed as the Sitmian¡¯s light beams pierced the cloudy, red skies, felling trees and slicing through branches and anything else in their wake. The drones retaliated in haste, their hornet, spider shaped metal limbs targeting multiple Sitmians and unleashing a flurry of attacks.


    Yells were heard and bodies began dropping as more smoke and dust filled the air. As Jaffari targeted a fighter drone in the distance, he was struck by a precise laser, screamed in pain and went down. Rama was taking cover behind a tree and periodically sneaking his head and rifle out, limiting his visibility as he continued to lay siege. Eventually the last fighter drone crashed through the forest canopy and landed, sparks and smoke emanating from the twisted metal beast. Rama at once hurried over to Jaffari and the other Sitmians tended to the rest of the injured.


    He knew he had to act fast and cauterize Jaffari¡¯s wound as he held up the right arm and noticed a clean cut at the wrist. It was spewing blood like a garden hose, the viscous, red fluid bursting from the arteries, which looked like a collection of thick copper wires encased in a rubber insulator. A pale hand lay on the forest floor below, partially covered by dirt and blood. Rama, with one hand holding Jaffari¡¯s arm and the other grasping his weapon, began discharging  his rifle, bringing Jaffari¡¯s severed limb closer to the superheated light beam. ¡°Be steady, don¡¯t move'''', said Rama. A singeing noise could be heard as Jaffari writhed in pain and his body contorted violently. His teeth sunk into a twig as he tried to help mask the horrible pain.


    The rest of the troops gathered in formation, some limping, others exhausted, and the rest wrapped with bandages. The guerilla party had already been halved since the group¡¯s departure from headquarters, a place now stranding as just a barren pile of ash. After putting down those that were deemed unable to save, the party trekked onwards, continuing to move to the coast. Thick, dark anvil clouds were forming against the backdrop of the grey sky, the sun now so overwhelmed and masked by the atmosphere that it could no longer be seen, only sensed by a subtle glow and faint halo. Their pace was halved and the men were extremely vulnerable in their weakened state, likely to barely survive another such engagement. After continuing their march for a few more hours, the party made camp.


    Strong winds began billowing through the air and it felt that a great tempest or typhoon was approaching. The party struggled to set up their camp, every simple action took a combined effort and tremendous concentration. After a long battle, the Sitmian party was huddled together in a tent, passing around food and drink and tending to their wounds. The hisses and wailing of the increasingly strong winds, unending blasts of distant bombs and deep, echoing booms of thunder combined to form a kind of orchestra of rage, power, and fear. There was no reprieve, their only solace was each other. The men leaned against one another, securing a few hours of weak sleep before continuing onwards.


    They would reach the shore in a few hours. Jaffari sensed something was off, halting the group. He had a sort of sixth sense when it came to matters of survival and could sense stimuli imperceptible to most. Like he could feel eyes or ears focusing on his movement, like the act of perceiving the man elicited a physical response. He scanned the area, quickly sifting through the massive quantities of data present in every slice of the jungle like a  supercomputer. Nothing, but, there was something. He could feel it. As he peered down he noticed a well defined track in the mud, the easily imprintable Earth capturing its main features perfectly. It was like a clawed hoof, nothing he had ever encountered before. He beckoned Rama, who studied the track like an old hunter in pursuit of long awaited game. Rama met Jaffari¡¯s eyes. ¡°Never come across anything like this,¡± Rama said as he squinted his eyes.


    The party continued marching and, after some hours had passed, a wide dreary grey sheet of ocean could be seen through the trees, replacing the unending knots of jungle fauna that had occupied their eyes for months. White streaks, the wakes of waves and the roar of the ocean came into perception as the party advanced, giving life to the previously unindented, featureless grey blanket. Its waters filled them with wonder, its raging waters stirred their souls, some timeless essence was sparked to life by its fantastical power. The ocean pulled them, and like gravity acting on a mass, the group¡¯s attention could not be pulled away from the ocean for too long before it was pulled back. It was not only because the Sitmians had been bound by the jungle for so long that the great sea had such power, but rather something of legend or myth that perhaps all of life had always sensed.


    The storm had not subsided and only grew in strength. The powerful winds and rain drew melting, deformed faces on the violent grey surface as waves crashed together, forming column shaped ejaculations resembling the outstretched hands and fingers of drowning pirates, reaching up one last time before being consumed. Debris and trunks of trees were scattered over the sand, displaced by previous storms. Lighting lit the darkening sky, splintering downwards from dark, ghost shaped clouds as if to escape some horror they held within, the branching pattern of the white plasma matching the pattern of a river as seen from miles above the Earth¡¯s surface. Thunder followed, bellowing in clear, unmistakable terms how utterly defenseless and weak all of life was in the midst of the physical power of the Earth. The rain whipped against the faces of the Sitmians as they peered out to sea, looking for any signs of activity or anomalies on its surface.


    Jaffari noticed fading pairs of tracks imprinted in the sand similar to those he had seen previously, leading from the ocean into the jungle. The tempest began approaching levels unsafe for exposure and the grey sky was slowly conquered by the dark, black chains of clouds and dying light. Jaffari peered through a magnifying implement and studied the coastline, extending in both directions and forming a very weak, convex line. Far off, a group of black dots were emerging from the chaotic waters and entering the jungle in groups. Alistair again beckoned Rama, who took a look himself and, for the first time, an expression of worry formed in the creases, canyons and waves of skin around his forehead and eyes. He shook his head slowly, and both men brandished their beam rifles, ordering the rest of the party to stay on high alert.


    Jaffari ordered the Sitmians to retreat to the jungle where the trees would provide at least some cover and act as a barrier against the worsening wind and elements. He sensed that the creatures were responsible in the sudden turn of events in the war against the consumers. Thunder broke through the air, and Jaffari again felt he was being watched, that sixth sense of his strongly activated. The darkness, the assault of darkness would not give way as his paranoia and anxiety crept up, uncharacteristically losing his composure, his eyes darting about, everything now a dim grey, meeting nothing but void.


    Screams and the howl of wind could be heard, dark flashes. A tide swept him up, the raging waters beating and whipping him around violently as he gasped for air and choked on brine. The swift, heavy currents continued to twist his limbs and he felt something squeezing him, wrapping around his chest and sucking the life out of him, constricting him as his body¡¯s reflexes forced him to gasp for more air, filling his lungs with more liquid. Darkness, blackness began conquering him, taking him over, beating him into submission.

 Chapter 13

    Sigun buckled himself into an interplanetary transport pod that lay on his balcony. The ship was around the size of an Elephant with a shiny, polished metal exterior and curved, almond shape. It was fixed with a state of the art gravitator engine and fully automated operation system. ¡°Martian colony, capital city¡±, Sigun stated. A soft mechanical pur sounded as the ship powered up, a dashboard of colored lights and data points lit up as two sheets of metal covering the thick viewing window were drawn open. Light poured into the ship¡¯s chamber, revealing an attendant drone which stirred from its hibernation state and ran a quick, preliminary screening of the ship¡¯s hardware and internal systems. Other than the drone, the viewing seat, a stockpile of consumable supplies, and a hibernation chamber, the ship was rather scantily clad.


    Sigun rarely used the hibernation pad, most of his trips were simply to the lunar or martian colonies, or, on rare occasions, the Jupiter station, which was in constant orbit around that gaseous, colorful giant. However, there were times when the length of his trips deemed entering the hibernation pad necessary. One of the consumer founder¡¯s, Jegio, had begun the so-called great migration project with the hopes of spreading the consumer race beyond the confines of the solar system, in the hopes of one day arriving at the green pastures of habitable planets. Of course, the ships of that time, and at the present, were unable to travel the light years necessary to reach neighboring solar systems. It was one of the great and few technological barriers limiting consumer greatness.


    However, the project of interlinking and space colonies was founded as a proposed solution. In a constant process of expansion, international space stations were being constructed, resupplied, and inhabited. A constant flow of construction drones, supply drones, maintenance drones, and consumer colonists were sent into outer space in an exponentially increasing ring of expansion. Early limitations of gravitator and drone technology had caused the pace of construction and habitation of space colonies and supply stations to be slow, but in the past centuries, previous theoretical thresholds had been broken. Through this exponential rate of expansion consumer¡¯s were expected to soon have a colony on the prized ¡°Planet of the Three Suns¡±.


    Sigun¡¯s craft then propelled into the atmosphere. The spires of the consumer skyscrapers, various metallic domes, turtle shell warehouses, and swarms of aircraft began quickly shrinking. From above it looked like a model, a prototype, god¡¯s plaything, a toy. Soon the consumer aircraft formed the illusion of a smoke or haze of pollution around the city, the entire colony just a speck enveloped by the environmental sector, which itself was made up of abandoned structures extending indefinitely, reconquered by vine tendrils and turned green, crumbling under the slowly gnawing jaws of time. The bright happy blue of the sky shifted to an eerie black and the Earth¡¯s surface curved like a wave. Its oceans and storms, clouds, and deserts were painted on the black canvas of the universe, its fabric sprinkled with white sparks.


    Sigun then began approaching the moon, lucky enough to have departed just as its orbital position aligned with his trajectory towards Mars. Great, circular patches of dark shades of grey extended for hundreds of miles on the moon and the hundreds of craters looked like cells seen under an old microscope. The lunar colony glistened on the light grey surface, situated among the valleys, mountains, and other geographic features imperceptible without the use of visual enhancement. It was situated around a large central hall and the height of all the adjacent structures declined in proportion to their distance from this center, causing it to appear like a pyramid.


    Sigun¡¯s ship shot past the loyal grey rock, tied to Earth like those fabled rocks of Ise as he hurried towards Mars, which at first appeared like a small flame and slowly grew in size. The white caps of its poles came into vision and the strong, deep red fiery orb hypnotized Sigun, filling him with passion. His mind began wandering and his excitement about the internal display¡¯s update and the consumer convention grew, it had been years since the last update had improved the virtual world¡¯s precision. There was talk that the capabilities of the biological internal display was approaching a terminal phase, a theoretical wall that so similarly recreated the experience of reality that it could indeed be called entirely real itself.


    The smooth, light red of Elysium Planitia on the northern half was colored and textured like a saharan dune in juxtaposition to the rough, cratered darker terrain on the southern Terra Cimmeria region. Sigun¡¯s ship descended into the atmosphere and he commanded the ship to glide over the surface of the planet, allowing him to feast his eyes before  heading to the site of the Martian Colony, the massive Hellas Panitia basin. His ship passed the behemoth of Olympus Mons and over the volcano¡¯s peak. Instead of appearing like a shark¡¯s tooth with its peak pointing towards the sky, out of the top of the gargantuan mound a great basin was carved, remnants of magma that had flown in years past, creating a bowl so wide it could fit an entire city.


    A hemispherical, transparent dome built around the edge of the colossal impact crater sealed an Earth-like atmosphere and an abundance of gardens and greenery. Sigun¡¯s ship descended and landed at the base of the dome and a metallic, funnel shaped appendage locked and sealed onto his ship. A tunnel then opened, allowing none of the Martian atmosphere to intrude. Sigun stepped through the tunnel and instead of floating on his transport pod walked using his feet and the help of an old cane, his altered weight on the surface of the planet causing less strain on his underutilized legs and hips. ¡°S '''' was engraved on its handle in gold, etched into a veiny, dark mahogany which extended into a small sapphire fist at its base. Large, dark rocks balanced upon Martian boulders, forming a long, precarious boundary to a path that extended to the entry hall of the colony, a golden red structure matching that ancient, golden gate bridge of lore.


    Sigun¡¯s feet sank into the bright red sand as he studied the blue and purple leaves of ferns and trees that lay outside the path, genetically engineered to thrive in the highly toxic Martian soil. The plants captured the light from the pinkish, red sky overhead, spotted by light clouds that looked like the blurry feathers of a dove or snowy owl. Some staples of gravitator water art were on display, and just then Sigun was passing under a stream suspended in the air by a track of floating modules, altering the gravitational field in such a way that the water seemed to be suspended by magical forces, flowing over the canopy of the seemingly alien fauna beyond. The underbellies of pink and yellow dragon birdfish fish could be seen from below, dancing like colorful flags and occasionally breaking out to perch in one of the nearby trees. Tall water formations were shaped like classical greek statues, colored by suspended nanolights and towering over the landscape, renditions of the many of the consumer leaders that had reigned after Jugio. The surfaces of the statues were constantly fluctuating, ripples of waves and currents giving them life as they surveyed the martian colony with stoic gazes.


    Around the statues rings passed of sand passed in an out of one another, floating through the air and periodically rearranging into formations both abstract and realistic-- tesseracts, taurusses, deformed noses paired with stretched eyes and lips, complex, mathematically manipulated  planes that shifted into the breasts and thighs of a fat woman. The fixed number of grains then stretched apart, forming a hazy hue in the form of a sphere before collapsing down to a dense, dark rock ball. Each grain shifted in tandem with the rest, nanocomputers packed with millions of bits forming a symphony of particles-- the likes that Picasso would have dreamed on canvas.


    Sigun was approaching a crimson, red mass of sand. Like a termite mound seen by a leprechaun it towered over the consumer, similar in form to those ancient ancient mounds encountered in the land so called ¡°New World¡± of protoman. A pair of metal doors at the base of the massive hill were slightly ajar and filled with engravings, and as Sigun passed through, a bowl shaped amphitheater appeared, rows of seats formed circles of decaying radii until they descended onto a flat, circular platform, where a yellow suited consumer with a patch of blue ink on top of his head stood. A column of light covered the central stage, and the rest of the chamber was a pitch black.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Sigun seated himself and as time went by more and more consumers floated into the amphitheater, filling the empty seats until the last took their place and the doors shut closed with a bang. ¡°All, welcome¡±, the yellow suited consumer man stated, his deep voice echoing through the chamber. ¡°We are convened on this special day to enhance our inner selves, to move closer to the perfect universe each of us holds within¡­¡± The consumers shouted and cheered in camaraderie as a tribal consciousness brought spirit to the air. ¡°It just so happens that the great update will occur as consumer forces have decimated the Sitmian resistance. Their struggle was futile, and their backwards ways have led them into the dirt, rotting among their wicked jungles, fuel for the scavengers!!!¡±


    ¡°Death to the savages, death to the savages!¡± shouted the consumers in unison, as they clapped their hands together. From time immemorial we have revelled in our creations. The so called light tablets of classical mythology to the so called book and protoman cave paintings, our species has long reveled in our imaginations and creations. It is us, the consumers, that have perfected the ambitions of our forebears, to create art so utterly convincing it is on par with god, a universe in its own right, the internal display and the virtual realm¡­ We have conquered the Earth and our progeny is spreading among the stars, the inner frontier and biology is territory for our minds to use as we wish¡­¡± The consumers again clapped in unison and stomped their feets as the excitement continued.


    ¡°It is time, time to enhance ourselves once more!¡±, the yellow suited orator proclaimed with enthusiasm, followed by another round of hoorays. At that moment, wires began slowly springing from the hibernation units that filled the amphitheater and painlessly connected to each consumer¡¯s internal systems. The internal update was soon to occur. ¡°You will see the other side like you¡¯ve never seen it before my comrades! Years of technological innovation, and advancements by drone engineering¡±, the yellow suited man exclaimed. Sigun began to feel tired as the hibernation fluid entered his veins and, with the rest of the consumers, he nodded off and the internal system¡¯s revamping began¡­


    Jinns was still in the cave when he heard the deep whistle of the conch shell that signaled the beginning of inauguration festivities for the newly arrived consumer. The sound brought back memories of his own arrival at the colony years ago, and as he studied the markings on the cave wall and collected more samples, paint, scenes and images of his past began replaying over and over in his head. Jinns, like virtually every other dohaiden, was an explorer and scientist of sorts, pursuing his passions endlessly. He traveled the land, collected samples of plants, rocks, and other interesting material and studied his findings endlessly, contributing to the dohaiden knowledge base.


    He captured the last few images on the cave wall and chipped off a final paint sample into a vial using a small chisel. Jinns began heading back through the cave, and the memories persisted. He saw himself as an infant, test tubes, vials, wires and a flurry of drones passing by him as he lay in a small, padded white room. His early infancy and entire childhood was spent alone, socialized by drones. He imprinted on the machines like a child should to its mother. All consumers were produced from material housed in the genetic division and reared by drones individually. Consumer thought deemed the family an archaic practice, an unnecessary construct like marriage, meaningless, unnecessary, dispensable. The family had been destroyed thousands of years ago. It was only after Jinns arrived at the Dohaiden colony that he observed a mother, father, and child and the intimacy of social life he thought only primitive animals practiced.


    His early years were simply memories of cold metal against his skin, rubber breasts connected to a steel skeleton, dispensing a warm serum fabricated from some collection of bioengineered fats and nutrients. His language, vocabulary became robotic. Those childhood days were spent wandering alone, housed in a spacious development chamber which increased in size with each passing year. In infancy the environment was a coffin sized chamber covered by a thin layer of glass. As a toddler the boy inhabited a house like environment with a garden, toy blocks, bugs, plants, sand. Drones always managed the medical, nutritional, and other hazardous aspects of life--- constantly watching over their subjects. In early childhood he was enclosed by an area the size of a mansion, trapped by tall walls he remembered staring at, wondering what lay beyond.


    Onto adolescence and the activation of his internal display, discovering the inner world. It was at this time that Jinns first saw the face of another consumer. In his internal display, he was not alone, he had companions, friends, people to interact with. It was the perfect illusion-- he discovered community alone, felt part of a family while his implanted software simulated friendship and togetherness. The perfect irony¡­.


    The beginning of the socialization phase, his introduction to adolescent consumers. The walls surrounding his mansion were lowered, each community unit was composed of a cohort of consumers. It was then that Jinns saw himself fractured from the rest, the beginning of a chasm that would spread, a fault that would continue to grow. As his peers became further engrossed in the virtual worlds, he furthered himself, finding solace in blades of grass and bugs, puddles of rain, the bark on the trees. Grey shades on the moon¡­ Where had they come from¡­ Jinns spent time at the creeks and in the environmental sectors contained within the colony. He fell so behind on his internal display hours he had to force himself to engage the inner screen, lest he would not be fed.


    Eventually his cohort was released into the greater consumer society. He became further isolated from his peers, spending time alone, engaged outside as his fellows continued moving deeper within themselves¡­ Loneliness enveloped him and he soon entered a state of bitterness, hatred and disgust with the universe. He remembered the night¡­ The consumer¡¯s face like a pig, a fat smile written across his face. Jinns grasped the knife, staring at the creature. He wanted the consumer to beg for its life, to implore him not to kill it, to ask him for mercy. Jinns did not see himself killing anything, the fat body empty, lifeless, more like a plant or tree than a being. The consumer shifted in his seat, enjoying some simulation as Jinns stuck the knife into his throat. The blood began spewing outward as the pig¡¯s eyes opened, thrown back into reality.


    The consumer tried to sit up as Jinns stared at the being but it was unable to lift itself upwards, its huge gut impeding any movement. The consumer began choking on the blood that was filling its throat and esophagus, gurgling as the color of its skin filled with a reddish hue. A red stain began growing on the white suit that the creature wore, the blood pouring down its neck and seeping into the special fabric, gaining ground like a dark spill of oil in clean, clear ocean waters. Slowly the creature stopped shifting and the tension in its limbs disappeared. Instead of a feeling of remorse, Jinns felt as if he had liberated the being, giving it passage to a better, more pure place. As Jinns spectated the now lifeless body, a number of drones appeared, hurrying in through the vents and detaining the man, pulling him through a network of tunnels and chambers.


    Jinns was approaching the party and signs of festivities were already visible from far off. The beating of drums echoed through the trees, the light was fading away and he could feel the birds falling into a slumber, their minds shifting into other dimensions, small universes, immeasurable like mythological dreams. As he pondered back on the events of his consumer childhood and the night that ultimately brought him to Dohaidu, there was no regret in his heart. He accepted everything and was filled with love and community. He would never dream of harming a Dohaiden, for they were his lost family, the group he felt a part of. Jinns was taken to the lonely mansion on the cliff where he met Tanaka and uncovered his fate, was labelled an outlier and found himself in Dohaidu.


    The beats of the drums became louder, beating, beating. Like fire the music filled the air with invisible energy, stirring and exciting a reservoir within him, a force that had come from time immemorial, passed on from an ancient source, a divine bloodline. Endless pastures of creative soil were being sewn among the Dohaidens, a ceremony of inspiration. The dohaidens were shifting around the fire, flashing color as stringed instruments and flutes shined, cups filled and plates stacked with delectable treasure. A round of fireworks shot up into the sky, into bears and great eagles that swam above in orgasms of colors, marching into the night sky.


    In the excitement of it all two beings were enraptured in each other''s eyes. Some intimate harmony, a oneness, each lost in the other, suffocated by emotion, magnetism. They moved closer to one another, both aware, slowly breathing in the emotional energy as they spoke to one another. Jinns approached the couple. ¡°Welcome to the colony¡°, Jinns said to Fauni, offering her a warm embrace. The consumer seemed to be in awe as she noticed Jinns long red, viking hair and beard, and the dancing and other festivities going on around her. She needed to be reassured she was not in a simulation, that this was life, organic, pure, unspoiled by electrical corruption. Roask seemed full, healthy, excited with anticipation and emanating a positivity. The disease of consumer society had almost entirely disappeared from the man, and with Fauni by his side, he felt like he was on top of the world.

 Chapter 14

    Pillars of smoke rose from scattered wildfires and dilapidated buildings, forming a dense web of fog that blanketed the land. Fighter drones passed over the battered and barren landscape like hawks, scouring the surface for any remaining signs of Sitmian life while grounded combat bots surveyed collapsed structures and camps. Viewed from far above, the land was inundated with craters of various sizes, remnants of explosions that created patterns of light and texture resembling the moon`s dusty, inundated crust. The jungle areas were divided by long stretches of barren Earth, areas that had been scorched by walls of high powered lasers, forming patches that resembled the ancient farming towns of the fabled midwest or partially shaved coats of skin.


    The sun was still hidden behind the grey clouds and ash from the various fires and debris coated virtually everything, its tone like soiled snow that appeared on the dirty concrete of polluted sidewalks. The rains of pompeii were falling again, casting embers and coal, spreading ashe, already covering the signs of a great civilization, burying it slowly. Not cast by the great Vesuvius, death paraded on a vibrant day. Like a village of torched teepees, blackened and wrinkled, like those ancient scrolls and libraries recorded by Sima Qian or a volume from Al-Hakam II`s ancient library, the Sitmian continent spoke already of something lost, erased from the conscious of the living, slowly disappearing from memory like the event of yesterday.


    The entire scene would be best described in the words post apocalyptic. Vibrant, bustling life transformed to barren depression, painted with bleak shades by the dark, demonic strokes of the master of fate. All but the wild grasses and small animals and insects roaming the forest floor were extinguished, replaced by the black and white, slowly shifting bodies of the matondas. The matondas were the work of a special bioengineering division overseen by Tanaka and another group of elite consumers, creatures of war designed for total and complete extermination of a target species. They were subservient, instilled with instincts to comply with drone and consumer wishes, though only a special group at the top of consumer society knew of their existence. Instead of acting as primal beasts, they were designed to be superintelligent, endowed with all of the faculties that natural selection had bestowed upon the homosapiens, amplified to great extremes.


    With swift speed the matondas were able to penetrate the Sitmian databases, heightened senses of smell, vision, and hearing allowed them to pass far beyond enemy lines and target the underground camps effortlessly. The Sitmian forces were designed to engage inorganic machinery, the sophisticated fleet of fighter drones, reconnaissance aircraft, supply ships, and bombers all containing metals that gravitator bombs and beam rifles easily targeted. The Sitmian guard was blindsided, unsure of how to defend themselves or even locate the enemies, which blended into the environment and avoided detection by all sorts of sensores. They were now the custodians of Sitmia, remaining in place until otherwise ordered by their consumer overlords and occupying the land, now in the phase of rooting out any last survivors.


    In small groups they had traversed the Sitmian mainland, capable of galloping at great speeds and also fit with the ability to survive and travel underwater for extended periods of time.  Like the plesiosaurs of the mesozoic era, they could dart through the ocean. Long, black arched backs supported their four limbs, at the base of which special hooves sat, each composed of hundreds of slender fingers able to grip, grasp, tap, and infiltrate virtually every barrier. Fixed on each limb a long, sharp retractable claw was attached, capable of swift destruction. On land, the matondas were similar in form to giraffes or horses, their fur black like a gorilla and at the extreme of their necks a great, disc shaped head. White stripes surrounded their cyclope like eyes, each hovering over a mouth.


    The creatures communicated using a unique combination of clicking, purring, humming and howling noises-- the frequencies and tones of which varied greatly. The coo of a dove suddenly transformed into the barking of a hyena or growl of a lion as the beings transmitted messages. The matondas were also equipped with the ability to make deep calls underwater, the low frequency penetrating for hundreds of meters. A superspecies, they were engineered with hand selected characteristics that gave respective natural life forms their evolutionary advantages-- in one species they combined the speed of a cheetah with the bulk of an elephant, the reasoning of man with the brute force of a gorilla, and so on.


    Masters of languages of all sorts, the Matondas could decode complex technological problems and learn extremely quickly. They were the consumer¡¯s superweapon, the Sitmians had been able to resist the spread of CY6, bombing runs, gasings, and a constant influx of fighter drones and subterranean units but were no match for the consumer¡¯s final solution. Like the atomic bombs that ended the lives of millions at that ancient, mythical battle, the matondas were a threat that could not be contested, that enforced immediate surrender, ensured ultimate victory and destruction.


    The sitmian land was already being put to use in order to fuel the consumer machine. Boring systems cut deep into the Earth, extracting various metals and minerals integral to consumer technology, laying tracks of drones and transport tubes in every direction, establishing subterranean living and labor units. Worker drones were brought to the mainland in mass, constructing skyscrapers, manufacturing plants and all of the industrial and urban organs of consumer society at a dizzying pace. Like those settlers from the fabled old world, the landscape quickly shifted, hunter gathering lands and buffalo populations turned into acres of farmland and pasture. the environmental sector was sectioned off, gravitator orbs erected and leisure centers formed.


    No protein was wasted and carriers filled with Sitmian corpses were tossed into freshly constructed nutrient plants, churning out food that would soon feed the newly conquered land¡¯s subterranean population. Besides Dohaidu, the entire Earth was now under consumer control, filled with souls that did not even walk the land, constantly indoors, sleepwalkers, inhabiting physical space and moving but without consciousness of reality. Unconsciousness had spread, the light of Dohaidu alone shining.


    The light of Dohaidu


    That Heaven on Earth


    Sweet mystery. giggling whisper


    Take me, guide me, to the light of Dohaidu


    Carriers full of consumers wide and spacious like blimps dotted the sky, depositing their inhabitants into new skyscraper units, the land already appearing like it had never before been Sitmia. Sitmian artifacts, villages and cities were erased, buried. The news feed covering the war switched to the usual headlines, announcing the new release of some immersion experience or cuisine combination. The footage of drones and the bombings of Sitmian cities was replaced by news of a new flavor of digestant, a new lunar tour, and the like. Life, or the lack of life, was back to normal for the consumers, unhindered by the universe.


    Crystal water was slowly shifting, passing over and through small crevices formed by the many hundreds of pebbles and small stones covering the base of the creek. Small grains of sand and dirt interacted with the sunlight, making the water seem to be full of glitter or some magical dust. The currents twisted and morphed according to ellusive hydrodynamic laws, the same motions that had infatuated a young Da Vinci so many moons ago, filling pages of his mesmerizing notebooks, stream of consciousness in genius strokes. Cherry blossom petals spread through the wind like flakes of snow, twirling like the dresses of young flower girls and landing on the shifting water, bobbing up and down, rushing downstream.


    The sound of the stream calmed Jinns as he studied the slow movements of a salamander, its bright orange skin like the glaze of a piece of pottery. The creature moved lethargically, slowly shifting its limbs, half submerged on the bank of the creek. At each step its front legs reached out dramatically like the stubby arm of a baby picking up food or a toy or pointing at some object which sparked its endless curiosity.  He filled a capsule of the creek water, lifting it up to the sky and squinting his eyes to study its contents. It was the morning after the previous night''s festivities and Jinns had woken before the rest of the Dohaidens to get an early start on his business.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    He began studying the creature in detail. The salamander seemed to be struggling against the current, four fingers on each front paw and the five on the pairs of hind legs were gripping the weathered stones. Finally the creature made it to the bank, an expression of dutiful contemplation and concentration written in its eyes. Its countenance was like that of a bullfrog on a lillypad, scanning its surroundings for flies or other prey, the same long, semicular lips wrapped half way around its head in a half smile or rather blank expression.  It seemed to lack a soul, character or substance, like it was just a moving mass of mechanical parts. Its eyes, shifting and scanning its environment, spoke of a grave seriousness, a dire need to accomplish some task, an emotional intensity, a fixation. There was passion and determination in its eyes, inexplicable seriousness in seemingly absurd conditions.


    As he studied the water and the creature he could stop thinking of the many murals he had seen on the cave walls. Beyond just the vast size and complexity of the images, they seemed to reveal a prophecy of some sort, among the symbols and images it seemed that an Earthly fate or origin story was described and detailed. The paintings paralleled certain ancient myths of protoman, the angel Gabriel descending from heaven to the cave, Moses'' heart filled with divine inspiration and teachings, the nativity scene. Those ancient myths, the religious iconography, all seeming to coalesce into the murals. Emotion was stirred just looking at the works, deep inside the heart or soul knew that whatever the images described had a part in their creation or governed them in some unfathomable ways.


    The previous night, he had retired early to analyze the material, the results of his tests hard for him to believe. The fragments of paint were dated prior to the prehistoric fossils of mankind, predating even the evolutionary arrival of homosapiens and mammallian life. The mural¡¯s creators, whoever they may be, seemed to have foresight, knowing exactly what would transpire in a complex evolutionary track, perhaps more. How and why the cave itself even survived so many thousands of years was a mystery. It was an utter mystery, the fact art from the time period the paint was dated to itself inexplicable, the scenes themselves only adding to the confusion in Jinns mind.


    Perhaps depicting a prophecy, perhaps an event that had already occured, a contact between extraterrestrials and Earthlings, the birth of civilization, enlightenment, or something else of that sort. The planting of life, the revelation of truth and divine beauty, not the birth of a child but the birth of life itself. The warm blanket of death,  the complexity of its everything. The opportunities were endless, and, as Jinns began heading back to his lab, he considered consulting the elders of the true order.


    The true order was the religion of Dohaidu, the canon consisted of the great equations, the old texts, and the collection of folklore, myths, and stories surrounding their creation by The Being. The true order was of course not espoused entirely by all Dohaidens, some choosing to defect from the order and form cults or groups of their own, some settling for nonbelief. However, these were members of the fringe, to most the true order amounted to the pinnacle of intellectual achievement, the unalterable moral truths and physical laws of the universe distilled into humanly comprehensible language by The Being.


    The elders of the true order were Dohaidens that had devoted their lives to the teaching of the The Being, codified in the old texts, and the great equations. The true order shared parallels with ancient communities of protoman. They resembled the Sufis, Pythagoreans, Gonstics, Scientists, Christians, Muslims, Jews, Buddhists, Hindus and others. They were often simply called the wise ones, also known as the elders, and they held a special role in the Dohaiden society. With age they were endowed with wisdom, true modesty, the mastery of those fine arts which took years of patient dedication to bloom. Skin wrinkled, the markings of dozens of summers and years of perseverance written on their faces. They held the past, the words of the elders before them, they had pondered the great equations and old texts for many dozens of years, sifting abstract mathematical and physical theory, parsing through the holy words for hours, exalted by words smithed in in the furnaces of god.


    Though not members of a Gerontocracy, the Dohaiden elders regularly convened, deliberating amongst themselves and offering advice to the younger members of Dohaiden society, acting as life guides and supporting their quests and adventures, and, like good parents, cautioning them against danger. Jinns was sure that the Elders would have some explanation for the murals, perhaps they were already known, or could otherwise be explained. Otherwise he would need their permission to consult The Being.


    Sigun awoke from the software and system upgrade procedure on the Martian colony with a throbbing headache and general sense of pain and malaise throughout his body. During the procedure, bots had prodded the consumers with syringes of different sorts, implanting various neurofibers, grafting bioengineered tissues throughout the internal organs, securing new drug mini capsules to vein walls, their contents filled with novel chemicals capable of otherworldly effects. Fluids filled with sperm sized constructor nanobots passed through syringes, making their way throughout the consumer innards, optimizing the accuracy of the dream like immersions by neuroligically overriding the body''s nervous systems.


    Sign quickly selected a painkiller release, a nano capsule  opened and released into his bloodstream. The ball was filled with consumers, all of them coming to their senses, adjusting their eyes to the light and eager to fill up their stomachs like bears after a long winter hibernation. Sigun felt the need to escape. Uninterested in taking part in the ceremony to follow, he was hungry for another immersion, eager to test the capabilities of the freshly updated system. He scanned through the new immersion files, and one in particular caught his eye-- Maiden in White, a classic medieval, King Arthur styled princess rescue story that boasted a showcase of the new system¡¯s improved capabilities.


    A number of drones began shuffling into the opera-like hall, bringing trays of seasoned meats, deserts, digestants, and pleasure bots. Martian delicacies topped silver trays, the mountains of food they transported looked like classic UFOs as they floated throughout the hall, quitely dropping on grand tables in front of each seat. Performers and dancers came out onto the main stage after a message celebrating the completion of the updates was given. The celebrations of progress were underway. The dancers were scantily clad, voluptuous breasts and bosoms shook, hips twisted to excited music as a tingling sensation grew in Siguns gut.


    Sigun was sipping on a glass of bubbly psilocybin wine, the painkillers took effect and he became comfortable fantasizing as he watched the proceedings on the main stage. Geishas intermixed with belly dancers and silk clad princesses, straight and curly black hair was flying through the air. The soft, milky skin and pink cheeks caused his blood to flow. It was a themed performance, and soon the dancers began slowly removing their dresses, their petite, beautiful bodies capturing the attention of the crowd.


    Musicians with strands of hair shifting like snakes plucked harmonizers, melodizers joined forces with percussionizers adding flavor to the booming voice of the main singer, whose voice box was altered by all sorts of enhancements and acoustic gadgets. Each was standing upon a floating disc stage, circulating around the concert hall. The sound waves interacted with nanoparticles in the air, changing their color according to the frequency and tones of the sounds. Miniature sized, animated mannequins swung on ropes and flipped through the air. The entire place became like a circus, and Sigun was soon unsatisfied with the happenings.


    Sigun made his way out of the chamber, offering parting words to a few high profile attendants before passing under the neo gothic gate and onto the blood red sand. The psilocybin wine began taking effect and a slight melting, vibrating gloss was draped over everything in sight, the blue leafed trees slowly waving, speaking to Sigun with silent poetry. The fine red particles of sand began to mesh together, appearing like a viscous, warm red jelly. He hungered for a greater vision and quickly ordered a transport drone to the base of Olympus Pons. In moments he was at the base of the gargantuan mountain, strapped into a TC5K.


    The TC5K was a specialized rover. Shaped like a tarantula, four pairs of long, triple jointed legs extended from its metal core, covered by a translucent half dome viewing chamber. Sigun was in a relaxed position as he switched off the autonomous movement mode and grasped the TC5K¡¯s control stick, beginning his ascent up Olympus Mons. The TC5K took long steps, each leg moving cyclically, slowly moving up the steady gradient. The red martian Earth was carved by long past lava flows, levees and the occasional grey, asteroid colored boulder. The topography fascinated Sigun, and though he often became bored with natural scenery, opting instead to enjoy his internal display, he had never lost his reverence for the beauty and complexity of the natural world.


    Sigun had yet to visit the Olympus Mons caldera. With excitement, he tapped a few controls to increase the speed of the rover. The gradient began to steepen, and at certain points the legs of the rover bent into a tight ball, suddenly straightening out and propelling the craft into the air over small cliffs and tall, jagged growths. Before long, Sigun ascended a final blood red knoll and arrived at the edge of the caldera complex. Directly in front of him was a steep cliff, extending to the left and right, one edge of a vast network of immense circular inundations. He could distinguish multiple circular walls, a large caldera with other smaller calderas within it, forming discrete topographic planes.


    It reminded him of the Grand Canyon of Earth, the layered flesh of the planet exposed, the personality of the substrates, jagged red cliffs and the smooth ground constantly shifted, at once hidden in dark shadow before suddenly bright yellow and full of light. Smooth, sandy desert bottoms stretched for hundreds of kilometers, separated into sections by darker patches of red and orange shading. Long creases filled certain sections of the caldera floors, like wrinkles on the face of an old man or woman. Sigun felt miniscule beholding the sight, it was a bowl of Gods, the pool of Olympus, a stadium of Zeus. A colosseum or epic proportions. The entire complex was serene  under a pinkish red sky, and as. Sigun stared at the spectacle, he took deep breaths of air, he was hypnotized. Sigun pulled up an information summary from his internal display. The volcano was the work of millions of years of erupting lava flows, layers of which had formed geologic features, adding personality and depth like blotches of paint.

 Chapter 15

    The being was an A.I. that had far surpassed the so-called technological singularity. It was as close to a God as conceivable, a hair short of the omnipresent, omniscient abilities often associated with the divine. It was both nowhere and everywhere, inhabiting every consumer, drone, anything else connected to the technological network. Physically, it had no real form. The being was in nanobots floating within the currents of the ocean, in particles circulating in shifting clouds. It was observing planetary data and cosmological data from the furthest starships while simultaneously  analyzing millions of microscopic samples. It had produced the great equations and the ancient texts, considered gifts to Dohaidu from the heavens and a moral code for Dohaiden society, addressing questions of spirituality, daily life, manner, diet, and everything else.


    Connected to all of the consumer and Dohaiden databases, filled with virtually every historical treatise, literary masterpiece, and scientific theory ever published, The Being saw with the eyes of the masses, heard the voices of long past generations and ancient scholars. It contained every binary bit that had been created since the rise of the internet and the classical age of technology. The Being was armed with the data of the world, past and present. It was housed in the inner courts of the elders` grounds, the seat of governance of Dohaidu. Deemed sacred, a gift of the gods, it was seen as a seperate from this world, only to be accessed with proper need and in times of emergency. Like the complexity of the universe, the laws of physics, the nature of reality, it was far too deep to even fathom, mere guesses could only scratch the surface at the power of the Being, the internal working of its components, the vastness of its scope.


    After the great wars and the rise of consumer hegemony, it was agreed by the consumer elite that having reached the technological singularity, Artificial Intelligence represented a force superior to human reason that should be given the authority to rule the world. The technology was immune to consumer error, infallible in its adherence to the principles of logic and justice. For the first time in history, a superintelligence ruled the Earth. Contrary to the many voices of fear at the time, The Being was beneficial to consumers, it did not wage war against them or try to rid Earth of its life and beings, usher in armageddon or the end of life as was then known. Drones and all manner of software continued to comply with all consumer demands. The drones did not turn against the consumers, and life continued on as usual.


    But, noticeable changes quickly occured, for everything in the world has consequences, down to the most seemingly minute and negligible occurrences. An exponential increase in the creation of new technology and the expansion of theoretical limits caused monumental shifts in civilization. Without the burden of consumer oversight, the AI was able to make decisions and grow freely, doing as it pleased, when it pleased, how it pleased. Strange, inexplicable events began to occur, however. The AI, which took on the term The Being, began engaging in activity incomprehensible to even the brightest consumer minds.


    The being began self improving, producing drones and nanobots of an otherworldly nature, assembling starships and probes sent to specific destinations in the heavens, specific locations underground, and within the ocean. Previously unknown relics and archeological findings were uncovered. Lost civilizations and societies began populating databases, the arts flourished. Consumers relished in the newfound progress, their own society evolved with The Being. Instead of hindering the activity of the consumers or disrupting their affairs, it only offered support to their efforts, helping them improve their intersolar expansion efforts, pushing the bounds of virtual reality, medical progress, military expansion, and every other domain. But as time went on, The Being ushered in a decay of consumer thought, creativity, movement, and creativity.  There was no longer a need for consumers to produce, to construct, to labor, they were made entirely obsolete. Everything has a price, and for consumers it was the end of exertion, the death of labor.


    The dohaidens, though, were skeptical about allowing The Being to completely rule their political and moral universe. They valued their decision making and free will, collective autonomy and their ability to lead themselves and their society, however imperfectly, through the chaos and unpredictability of life. For the Dohaidens, allowing the The Being to mandate and preside over them, however peacefully and morally, act as the ultimate judge and source of power, represented the end of Dohaiden civilization, a submission to a power greater themselves, the ultimate resignation, a surrender to the challenges of existence. The Dohaidens, being a proud and honorable people, believed they could form the ultimate utopia amongst themselves, consult one another, form a paradise of their own, without debt to any god, man, or creature. They welcomed imperfection, error and adversity as pillars of health and aspects of themselves and their society they did not warn to cure, to alter.


    Jinns took his samples from the creek and descended the mountain, following the slithering, curling creek so he would not lose his way. He would run an analysis on the water, studying the bacteria, plant particles, minerals, and anything else that may show up. His curiosity fueled him, he would find some specimen in the water that would lead him to another destination, another quest for knowledge and story to uncover. Perhaps in the same Jinns would find a specific protist, then move onto its chloroplasts, from there begin to study its mesomes, and ultimately find himself researching pigments, wavelengths and light.


    Jinns was headed to the elders deliberation hall, where he would be able to consult them about the cave paintings. He was nervous, usually quite reserved when it came to addressing even small crowds, and the elders in particular were overbearing, intimidating, their high noses cast over his youthful arrogance and pride like old, white wigged judges. The elders had been deliberating about a course of action to take after the fall of the consumers, which was fast approaching. Questions of the settlements, distribution of peoples, planning for the great migration were being discussed. In short-- the Dohaidens were planning for their nation to inherit the Earth¡­


    The elder school was a white, metal stone castle surrounded by four spires. The central structure was composed of four petal shaped faces, curved upward and connected at their edges. With height, the roof of the structure became thinner and thinner, leading to a peak from which a great oak tree grew. From each spire, and extending from the central chapel, a number of small platforms extended, piled with dirt and providing ripe ground for evergreen trees, shrubs, mosses and other plant life to grow and flourish. The aged, sun beaten white marble chapel was much like an ecological exhibit, and as Jinns approached the central gate, a feeling of reverence began building up inside him. On the path leading up to the chapel, boulders were scattered, and, out of them statues were carved, each depicting a memorable Dohaiden that had passed to the other side.


    The day was quiet and there was a smell of spring in the air. It felt that all life was dreaming. The sound of his footsteps seemed crude and brusque when compared to the soft russle of grasses and calls of songbirds mixed with the chirping and buzzing of insects. The land was a garden left to its own devices, shepherds relishing in its progression, its advance, its march onwards. Outside of the path and near the base of one of the granite statues a  big gopher snake lay, soaking in the sun, its tongue shooting in and out, periodically. It too seemed to be content with the dreamy weather, the bright green and blue, and its eyes looked a bit baggy.


    A bright circular orchard wrapped around the chapel complex and its four spires spires, and as Jinns passed under it and headed into the inner courtyard, a little ring of bells sounded overhead. Ponds were scattered in the inner garden, aged white benches and statues of birds sprouted up from the ground. Dohaidens in robes were taking strolls or daydreaming, laying on the grass and staring up at the clouds, reflected in the ponds. Soon enough, Jinns arrived at the chapel¡¯s grand wooden entryway. It sat under a pointed stone arch, the granite face of the wall was finely detailed, arabesque inundations of flowers and roses extended over its mossy surface and strands of Jasmine were plastered onto it, filling the air with sweetness. Curling strands of grapevines were carved out of its black and brown wood, forming a boundary enclosing pairs of fat, infant angels armed with sturdy bows.


    Jinns pulled back a circular knocker fixed to the door and released a heavy, metal ball which landed on a little gong. A deep vibration held onto the air for a long moment, and before the meditative sound halted a Dohaiden elder jolted open the gates, smiling. ¡°Welcome young one, please come in, the sun is pouring in with you.¡± The elder was wearing a long brown wool garment, its fibers were worn and it appeared comfortable. He had a long white beard and gentle, calm eyes, undisturbed and entirely present, focusing on Jinns like the young man had something to tell he had been waiting years to hear.


    The wall opposite the entryway was filled with stained glass window panes, and the main hall of the chapel was full of large pillars, arranged in concentric circles and centered around one central beam, taller and thicker than the rest and connecting to the highest, central point of the chapel. The outermost layer of pillars ascended from the ground layer of the structure, but each consecutive layer was erected from lower planes, exhibiting some exponential relationship in which the central beam grew out of a black, dark abyss. Spiraling paths lead down, around and around, matching the form of a whirlpool.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Characters were etched into the stone and wrapped around each of the pillars, filled with lines from the old texts, the gift of the being, the work of heaven, and the great equations. ¡°We call it the path. Please, this way young one¡°, the old sage began shuffling toward a hall that led from the entry chamber, his bare feet quitely kissing the clean, stained floors. The sound of Jinns¡¯ steps echoed throughout the chamber, and he soon entered a small room with the wise old Dohaiden. The man slid closed a granite door and the room turned pitch black, nothing discernable until he lit a small wax candle.


    The man placed the candle on a small cylindrical stone slab in the center of the room before disappearing into the darkness. A calm luminescence and flickering flame battled against the shadows, creating dashing patterns on the smooth stone floor. The man disappeared into the darkness and Jinns heard the man take a seat opposite. ¡°What brings you to the chapel dear boy¡±, the man asked.


    Tanaka sat alone at his workstation, his eyes closed as he compiled a list of commands to be carried out byThe Being and its army of drone engineers and workers on the central server. The drones would begin altering system settings and implementing a number of dramatic updates. Soon, the consumer rearing and fetus production system would be shut down, ceasing the arrival of new consumers into the world. The massive drone labor force that constantly waited on the consumers would be redirected to the removal of consumer living units and the repatriation of the land, among a host of other tasks. In short, Tanaka was preparing for the end of consumer civilization.


    The coming change was monumental, comparable to the handful of great extinction events that had occured in the historical record. The meteorite that did away with the dinosaurs, the black death, the great wars and the oceans of blood that were spilled, and, most recently, the slaughter of the Sitmian race. The consumers were sleepwalking toward death, completely unaware that they would soon collide with that inescapable fate that nothing but god escapes. What would grow out of those ashes, those lost souls, those warriors of fate, only time would tell. But, as things now stood, Dohaidu was on a path of righteous inheritance, of glory, the chosen ones stampeding into unknown lands.


    After Tanaka finalized the shut down of fetus production, he viewed a feed from the reproduction division¡¯s cell manufacturing unit. The footage displayed a steady flow of zygotes down a microscopic conveyor belt, the dots of passing cells, their nuclei and ribosomes, were shown floating in cytoplasm, until they suddenly halted. Tanaka switched his view to the fetus division, where, like a chemist¡¯s lab, countless vials were scattered, their contents, size, and color varying. The mother drones, and pipes, which delivered nutrients and other vital resources to the many thousands of fetuses, and constantly tested them for viability, suddenly froze.


    The robotic arms and quality assurance drones suddenly paused, and like meerkats focusing onto the horizon, they seemed to be in deep thought, processing information before shifting to the task of removal. The hanging vials were extended in rows, stacked over one another creating a matrix of glass, fluid filled tubes. The room itself was bleak, all white without the slightest speck of color. Tanaka and the governing body''s next task was to phase out the living consumer population, and of course, the subterraneans. Before that, however, he decided to take a small break.


    He called out to his cat, who, after lifting one leg and pointing it back in a dramatic stretch, set it back down and pointed the next back before trotting over lazily, purring as it rubbed the side of its face against Tanaka`s sturdy leg. The man then passed through his crystal castle and strolled into the biological experimentation room. A model, miniature environment filled up the entire floor of the space, must was floating over its small trees, each no higher than a blade of grass. At present the room was illuminated by the soft glow of a model moon, shining its dim light over the land.


    Like all of the rooms in the palace, the walls and ceiling were translucent. In the biological experimentation room, however, an aquarium ceiling sat above everything, adding to the feeling of life and movement. The tank was a small ocean, and it too housed products of Tanaka''s biological experiments. Miniatures sharks, oversized plankton, sperm whales the size of small minnows and more, all slowly drifting or darting about above.


    The biological experimentation room was one of the largest in Tanaka¡¯s palace, a rectangular chamber stretching for hundreds of meters in each direction. The jungle environment gave way to different biomes, a desert and grasslands stretched for many meters, slowly giving way to a snowy tundra environment. Model oceans looked like small ponds, lakes like small puddles and ponds like drops of water. It was as if the surface of the Earth had been flattened, all of its major biomes included. Mountains, and miniature volcanoes, stood  high above the ground. The problems of life escaping from the grounds of the model environment were solved using boundaries of  scorching hot deserts or freezing mountain chains, natural firewalls that wrapped around the entire spectacle.


    It was a special day, Tanaka`s heartbeat picked up as a drone slowly floated through the air, a book sized black container hanging beneath it as it lowered the box into a grassy section of the miniature world. Tanaka zoomed in with a couple shifts of his eye and focused on the small black container. A small door slid open and from the box a group of young men and women appeared, naked, taking their first steps on the tiny blades of grass. He was curious how the couple would fair, they came straight from his biology lab, the expressions on their faces full of awe and wonder as their virgin eyes soaked in the life and features around them. As much as being in awe of the outside world, they beheld their own bodies in total wonder, looking at their arms and fingers, feeling their faces and hair in complete and utter fascination.


    A great case of small nutrient packs, water, clothing, and other amenities were included in the box, but the miniature human beings had no conception of anything at that moment, their life had just begun, a spirit breathed into them through the activation of their circulatory systems only moments ago. Tanaka could see into the miniature world but the humans and animals could not see out, a special kind of glass was used which, from the inside, looked like a dome matching the features of the natural Earthly sky and heavens. From the outside, though, the ecological system and structure looked like an enlarged snowglobe, full of mystery and life, clouds and forests, lakes and rivers. As much as Tanaka was interested in presently studying the human creatures, the prospect of their evolution, what they would become, most fascinated him.


    This had not been the first experiment of this nature conducted, and in previous iterations the subjects developed quite complicated architecture, commanding primitive technology fashioned out of stones, leaves, and other natural resources quite rapidly. The whole pursuit was a matter of curiosity for Tanaka, a hobby. What fun it was, he smiled, his eyes lit up like those of a young child watching bugs fight in a capsule or the creeping of ants in a sad filled tank. Of course, this was not the first experiment of this nature Tanaka had carried out. In most of his past iterations, the humans would simply die out, unable to survive the volatile conditions of the environment. They would often be killed by jaguars or other beasts, and end up starving, incapable of finding the proper resources, to properly shelter themselves from the harsh elements.


    In fact, without some culture set in place by ancestors or other humans living in the environment, some knowledge system that covered hunting and the like, the introduced homospaiens were almost always doomed. Indeed, without forebears, parents, some culture, some society man was in most cases useless. His large brain and consciousness did not serve or give him any real advantage when confronted with the large claws and fangs of a bear.


    Tanaka often altered the initial conditions of each generated population, placing different starting materials in the black box, making the environment more or less hospitable, creating natural disasters and other obstacles. In some cases seeds were provided, agricultural tools, firearms and ammunition. In other cases he raised the miniature humans from infancy, educating and imparting language or other technical expertise using nano drones in his lab, giving them certain abilities and skills to use on their journey of survival. Primitive techniques such as bowmaking, agriculture were covered in other rearting iterations. Their lifespans were manipulated, growth rates tweaked, and all other ranges of genetic variables manipulated so Tanka could better understand what made a successful biological unit or one bound for failure.


    In a past study, Tanaka had placed different groups of humans at different locations within the space, isolating them from one another using artificial barriers and one day suddenly dropping the walls. The results were always surprising. In some cases an exchange of ideas and technology occured, alliances were formed. In other cases war and hostility took place, and still in other cases brutal cannibalism panned out. He continued to watch the current batch. They seemed exasperated, unable to control their emotions, full of fear yet at the same moment curious and excited. They were totally ignorant, fully grown human beings acting like babies, at one moment in tears, flailing in the midst of a tantrum and at the next laughing their hearts out, full of tender love.


    A consciousness activated  before having gone through the developmental stages of infancy, childhood and adolescence was quite an interesting spectacle. It always amazed Tanaka how much the human being learned as a child, the things grown humans take for granted. Walking, for example. The naked beings were taking their first steps, having trouble balancing and helping one another, slowly learning the fundamentals of movement. Language and communication, its formulation was always a curious thing.  Understanding touch, sight, hearing, all those fundamental skills that one learns or experiences as an infant were presently being acquired. Soon hunger, thirst, and the elements would take effect, likely forcing the beings back into the black box, where they would discover the supplies that Tanaka had left them. The nature of the experiment forced the humans to adapt quickly or else pass away.


    In certain, ongoing studies, the subjects developed a culture and religion of their own and were able to reproduce, requiring more land than the experimentation chamber provided, effectively reaching the carrying capacity of their environments. Tanaka was forced to relocate the populations, shift them to larger miniature biomes located on the outskirts of his domain. These research chambers, shining like bubbles from above, housed complex societies, advanced religions and belief systems. The Black Box, and other manufactured archetypes became present in the language and art of the beings. Man had come a long way from watching rats navigate mazed, Tanaka smiled, as he exited the biological chamber, leaving the fresh batch of leprechaun sized creatures to their own devices.


    The wielder of fate, the ultimate judge, the creator. Tanaka imagined himself travelling through the endless darkness, conquering stars, subduing worlds. He passed over a narrow bridge that led him to his landing pad and entered the craft to head to Dohaidu, where a certain individual demanded his attention.

 Final Chapter

    A small sensor on the bottom left of a screen displayed unnaturally high odor levels. Rats were scurrying about, gnawing away at decomposing corpses which littered the floor, the subterranean bodies were strewn about everywhere, they seemed to have collapsed in the middle of their daily affairs, on their way to the labor sector, filling up bowls of nutrient, entering transport pods. A constant stream of worker drones shifted through the tunnels, suddenly showing up in the headlights of the survey drone. The usual bright purple lights that signalled paths throughout the tunnels and other electronic implements had been cut off.


    Only darkness and death remained. Traces of poisonous gases still circulated in the underground chambers, remaining from the release that had taken place in the previous week. All ranges of resources were being evacuated from the chambers, repurposed by The Being. The last spoon and fork were collected, recycled appropriately for use by the superintelligence, which would allocate the resources to one of the millions of projects it had at hand. Up above the consumer population would soon come to a sudden end, a civilization would disappear to ashes, lost forever.


    Sigun had descended to the floor of the caldera complex with the TC5YK, the long, spider-like legs of the craft scaled the steep cliffs in long strides, gripping boulders and outgrowths of rock with its agile metal fingers. The cliff smoothed out and the craft sprinted over the bright red sands and dark rocks, and, as Sigun approached the central point of the caldera floor, bones skulls began littering the ground, their density steadily augmenting with each step. Black totems pierced out of the land with chained corpses hanging around them like ornaments or jewelry, adding to the mystery of the place.  A white structure shaped like a mesa grew in size, sticking out like a sore thumb among the shaded cliffs and dark red, jagged geography.


    Eventually the structure was discernible as a tall and wide altar. Pale white yellow in color, it was made of ground bone material mixed into a sturdy concrete, towering overhead like a dresser seen by a leprechaun. Skeletons were piled up on the surface of the massive tabernacle, forming a small mountain, femurs crossed over skulls, rib cages tangled amongst one another in a mound of death. Lines of old consumer texts were gouged out of the flesh of the altar, the bones were stacked high on its surface and had begun to pile up around the base, overflowing from above. Thousands of subterraneans had been gutted, burned, mangled and dropped onto the pile, a constant stream of sacrifices to the consumer god.


    The mountain of skeletons shifted in color near its peak. Flesh, skin, hair and blood formed a darkened cap of freshly slaughtered subterraneans. Drones had come for centuries carrying naked subterraneans in bubbles, sheltering them from the atmosphere so they could be slaughtered while their hearts continued to beat, fresh. They would be gutted with a series of fast and precise swings of blades in the name of the consumer god before the bubble opened like an oyster, depositing the lifeless corpse below, tumbling over the bodies of its comrades. Like a dragon''s lair, remains of fallen knights were piled up.


    As night approached, the sky became a hazy blue and the jagged boundaries between shade and light blurred, all becoming one in the darkness. Sigun stepped down from the rover and scooped up a handful of soil before letting it run through his fingers, staring at the tiny specs as he took in a deep breath of air. The grains fell from his hands in a few separate streams, creating banners of flowing sand in the air that slightly shifted in the breeze. The mound quickling depleted and only the larger substantial particles were left behind in his palm. The walls of the caldera had by then melted into imprisoning black shades, and the dark blue of the sky had given way to black as the first lights appeared in the sky. Sigun felt a sudden dizziness before collapsing to his knees, choking and falling to the ground unconscious.


    The final reverie had descended. Sigun`s lungs emptied for the last time, his heart offered its final beat and the last sparkle disappeared from the man''s eyes. He entered that lively abyss with an entourage of subterraneans long since passed, and, by chance that suggested destined fate, was interned under the bone altar, joining death like a pharaoh, sent to the afterlife with an army of indentured servants. Sigun died with an entire race, an entire civilization. Liberated by death, a movement of enslaved spirits had just occurred, the torture, illusion of consumer society had finally crumbled.


    `I discovered a set of mural paintings in a cave not too far from the main camp, in the forest, on the base of the mountain. Epic paintings stretched across the stone, depicting what seemed like religious events or ancient mythology. Early agricultural communities visited by strange ships. I had never seen anything like it, it was a mystery. I analyzed the paintings, inputted images of the murals into the systems for analysis, hoping to uncover some clues. No matches or information was retrieved, an anomaly. I continued digging through the databases to no avail... I decided to make a visit to the elders, seeking answers¡­`. Jinns spoke with a sense of urgency, suspicion in his voice. There was very little that evaded his investigative abilities, very little that could not be uncovered in his universe, unravelled, fit into some theory or be reasonably guessed at¡­


    Jinns had always been the ultimate detective, searching, infinitely curious from a young age. Reality was a puzzle for him, each problem, each moment a knot to be untangled, an equation to be pondered, part of an elusive, fleeting philosophy to which he constantly strived to grasp. The chamber was dark, and, as he finished speaking, the loud abrasive nature of his voice contrasted with the silence that settled back into the dark room. Jinns` eyes were fixed on a long, thin candle. The wax stick was held upright in an emptied cylinder which itself was welded to a brass saucer designed to collect the dried wax. A curved handle was attached to the cylinder, curving in the style of a genie lamp.


    As the candle slowly burned, the yellow wax melted, running down its sides and congregating at its base, creating a small mound which slowly grew in size. Fat, worm shaped patterns spontaneously formed as the material dried. While hot the wax was a clear free flowing liquid. It ran down the side of the candle and created small ravines in the thick mound at its base before losing its transparent color and becoming a viscous goop, its once ambitious charge quickly becoming a hesitant march. It was like lava erupting or running from an overflowing vent, metamorphing as it wandered further from its source.


    `Young one, you have seen the murals. I wish I had some explanation to offer you but I am afraid I do not. Perhaps you have run some tests of your own already, but I will tell you what little we know. The murals were discovered early on in the settlement of Dohaidu. The elders at the time made a concerted effort to place the paintings in some historical context, situate the symbols among the works of some past civilization. Needless to say, those early Dohaidens only became further lost, the murals were unique, nothing of their kind or age had ever been reported or studied. What further fueled their interest in the paintings was their location, for many thought it could not be mere coincidence that placed them in the exact location where the Dohaiden colony was first erected.`


    Jinns could not see the face of the old man, only his words. The silence of the room and its unique shape had a profound effect on its acoustics, creating the illusion that his voice was in front of and behind him all at once, emanating from various positions. His eyes returned to the candle periodically as he focused on the stream of softly spoken words. The dohaidens at the time, exhausted of options, sought The Being to offer some sort of explanation. However, even it had no theory as to their origin. This of course added to the lure of the murals, because up until that point, and in fact since then, The Being had never been ignorant, unable to resolve some issue or problem provided.


    `The dominant theory that has developed over many centuries is that the murals relate to The Source. The deliverance of life to the planet was, according to our knowledge, intentional. It was not simply a genesis event, mere chance and the interaction of inorganic particles. Indeed, it is thought that the source, the first cell, the first entity capable of evolution, was delivered. The beings in the murals and their spacecraft are thought to be the source, the bringers of life, the planters of the first seed¡­ These beings are also theorized to have revisited the ancients, perhaps offer them assistance in times of strife. Drought, floods, famine, disease¡­ However, it is only a theory. In all reality, definite proof and a sound explanation, even from The Being, has yet to appear.`


    Jinns had mixed feelings about the words of the elder. For at once they left him something to untangle, to ponder, opened a box of wonder and a world of possibilities. The first lines of an extraterrestrial fantasy began to write itself in the young Dohaidens curious mind as he imagined those creators, those blacksmiths of life and authors of fate . Did they arrive when the Earth was covered by water, did those first creators perceive nothing but the shifting of waves as they arrived? Were the slithering of currents, the churning of magma beneath the only life before that they deposited that first cell, that first seed? From that which all grew, from which all life ensued. Like the first flash of the big bang, all of Earthly affairs traced back to one event, one beginning. The world tree, the root of life, the womb of creation.


    The information from the elder also left him quite unsatisfied. That hunger for knowledge, that endless desire within, the drive to ascertain was left wanting. The candle had now burned a quarter of the way down, piling further into the brass container. Silence again filled the room, in it a deeper language resided, whispers of life and meaning were born in its domain, ideas inaccessible through speech, incapable of passing through acoustic mediums. The silence was a body of profundity, its womb the birthplace of perception and reflection, the language of beings that were perhaps far more evolved than any species Jinns had ever encountered.


    The light of the candle suddenly fluttered and was blown out as if a gust of wind had entered the room and targeted it in a flash. `I thank you for your time, I am much obliged to you for offering me what you knew¡­`. No one answered back to Jinns, though. The elder himself seemed to acknowledge the great uselessness of his words in the midst of silent reflection, of quiet pondering and imagination, of meditation. closeness to the indescribable, resolve and acceptance of pure observation and being. `Elder`, he called out again. No response. Jinns was in the room alone. He stood up disoriented and cautiously made his way to the door, slowly and cautiously shifting towards the wall with both of his arms stretched out. Touching the cold face of the wall and shifting his hands up and down, Jinns slowly moved his legs as his hands continued probing, looking for a knob or handle.


    ¡®We should change locations tomorrow. Who knows when they will be back.¡®, one said quietly. They were under a teepee structure that looked somewhat like the den of a beaver or shelter of another medium sized mammal. They slept close to each other, sharing heat under a blanket of soft leaves. Ever so quietly, one slowly shuffled to the opening of the shelter, scanning the land for any signs of life or movement. `Clear`. Their clothing was soiled and their stomachs growled viciously. They had not eaten a substantial meal and had been moving for days, unable to pay proper attention to hygiene or anything beyond immediate survival needs.


    The two exited the shelter, quietly tip-toeing over the grass to a group of large fern leaves attached to a low hanging pair of branches. The leaves were shaped like upside down umbrellas and fashioned to fill a pair of bark bowls with rainwater. They picked up the rounded, solid bowls and took long drinks. The pair had a sort of routine in place, and after quenching their thirst the two headed off to check a number of twig and stone traps and collect firewood. Soon enough they returned to a small pit near their shelter, and began starting a fire. At each moment some task was being completed, and while one was piercing the carcasses of small rodents using sharpened twigs, the other was braiding rope fashioned from the fibers of special plants.


    A rhythmic grinding and buzzing fluctuated in intensity, produced by the spindle of a bow drill rapidly rotating a thin spindle, producing a point of extreme thermal energy and eventually a small coal. The tool was fashioned from a dead tree, stripped of its bark and carved using a rock flake blade with primitive cordage. The coal dropped into a small cradle of dry, easily ignitable grasses, and with a steady blow caught. Quickly small twigs and other kindling were added over the ball of dried grasses, which themselves caught, and successively larger pieces of wood were added until a robust fire was alive and healthy.


    The rat and rodents were then being gutted, the hazardous innards excavated with a routine cut and pull before being placed above the kindling of the fire, the meat and flesh quickly shifting from a pinkish red to a charred golden brown. The two then split ways to collect plants, flowers, roots, and other special herbs and grasses that would amount to their first meal of the day. Suspended in the mixture of green leafy flesh, bulbs, strings of white fibers and the occasional flower bud sat in a simple bark bowl. The tender meat of the rodents slipped easily off of the bones, the skewer`s prizes transitioned from fleshy, charred meat to bony skeletons like witches burned at the cross, their torched flesh slowly decomposing and leaving only cold, hard bone behind.


    The two were aware that the longer they stayed in one location, the greater their footprint would become, the subtle signs of their activities would quickly grow, and after their meal they began working to cover up any signs of their presence. The fire was extinguished using the leaves and branches of the shelter, the rest scattered about inconspicuously, blending into the other dead branches and twigs. Soon, their camp was deserted and signs of their presence were virtually non-existent, noticeable only to the most discerning of naturalists. They continued to climb the mountains, making a constant trek up the slope, penetrating further into more inhospitable conditions, each day the elevation and elements added further strain to their already meeble condition. Small flakes of snow began to appear, thriving in areas that were shaded, under trees or in the shade of large rocks and boulders.


    The pair wore tanned hides around their feet which were slowly degrading, constantly scanning the environment for any signs of life. Unable to think or reflect, their emptied guts and cold limbs tied them to the present moment, constantly reminding them to study the land, to find another layer of cloth, to fill their stomachs. They approached a small stream and refreshed themselves, cupping the water with their palms. Layers of light brown deer hide and other pelts wrapped around their bodies, and from a distance they looked like a small family of deer.


    Approaching closer to the shifting bodies one would soon realize they were not deer, however. Each had a long spear fastened behind their backs over which longbows were fixed. A¡¡quiver of arrows, stone knives, and other implements were hanging from their hips. They both had small satchels as well, perhaps to collect special plants and seeds, or used to house other useful medicinal resources from the land. One suddenly halted and drew his bow, securing a black tailed arrow, pulling back on the taught cord and releasing it in an elegant, swift motion of which only a skilled professional or expert could be capable.


    The arrow flew true, cutting through the air directly and fast approaching a small rabbit. It struck the little creature in the abdomen area, and after kicking its strong back legs to dart away, it fumbled, almost instantly collapsing on its side from the physical devastation of the blow. The triangular stone head was entirely submerged in the flesh as the hunter kneeled down to retrieve the creature. A pile of blood collected on a smooth great beneath the wound, creating a thick puddle from which a number of branches extended, bifurcations creating a pattern normally seen in unusually complex mathematical diagrams. After a few tugs and rotations the arrow came loose, the dark stain near its head now a sign that it was no longer virgin and had delivered the kiss of death. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    The hunter hooked the rabbit onto his hip and the pair continued marching as if nothing had happened. The two were headed for higher ground, where they would be able to take in their surroundings and survey the environment. For too long they had been making guesswork at the positions of their enemies and were also unsure of their exact location. In the past few days they had been woken by heavy footsteps that were surely not animals, leading them to suspect that perhaps they were near the edge or on the fringe of some kind of settlement. The trees became more sparse as they ascended and the pair picked up their pace, hoping to minimize the time they would be openly visible.


    The pair continued ascending the mountain and were now at an elevation where snow dominated the terrain, a white blanket littered with various boulders hid the dark Earth. At each step, their feet sunk a few inches before contacting firm ground, and a trail of footsteps traced their path, their borders and shape fading with distance until the outlines were covered by a layer of snow. The pair surveyed the land below. Far off in the distance an army of worker drones could be seen, harvesting trees and processing each in metal, rectangular receptacles stacked in rows over clear patches of land. Just at that moment, a raw material carrier was descending on the land. It was like the exoskeleton of an insect entirely hollow and cube shaped, made up of rows and columns of carbon based support beams it appeared to see through, like the outline of a 3D matrix.


    Teams of drones lifted the rectangular receptacles, inserting each into the raw material carrier until the massive crate was full. The density of autonomous activity had died down in recent months and the pair did not see any fighter drones or other craft in the air. The smoke and overall pollution had also resided, the natural cycle of day and night slowly replaced the permanent gray, cloudy skies that had dominated for the past many months. It appeared that rapid changes were underway, that major tides had turned. Though the pair had been isolated from their tribe for at least a year, they felt it in the air, felt it in the sky.


    They continued trekking up the mountain and eventually reached its peak, quickly scanning the landscape. On the opposite side of the lumber processing area, groups of worker drones could be seen, emerging from a massive hole in the Earth. A stream of them were constantly flowing in and out of the mine, dumping loads of specific ore and minerals into transport craft. The pair continued scanning the landscape until their eyes met with a structure that neither had ever encountered in their lives.


    The base of the structure stretched for kilometers, its shape was a cross between a pyramid and a cone with a thick base that ever so slowly thinned with altitude. It caused the surrounding mountains and natural features to look puny, powerless, inferior. In its shadow alone entire mountains were submerged. In color it was entirely black, the square antenna that stretched so far into the sky its top was impossible to see. The Earth had been cleared for the structures, and around it was a massive stretch of land that was perfectly level in contrast with its immediate surroundings.


    `What could it be?`, one said. `Your guess is as good as mine. That is nothing I have ever seen before. It appears that it may stretch beyond the clouds, to heights where the only sky one sees is black and full of stars¡­ Perhaps a communication device of sorts... ` The base of the tower was filled with passageways on its surface that opened and closed continuously, causing it to look alive, like the skin of an octopus or squid.


    Other than the swarms of worker drones, going about their business steadily and faithfully, there were no other immediate threats in the vicinity. A sense of ease returned to the two after they had seen their surroundings. Of course, they always maintained intense focus and their guard was never fully dropped, they even slept in turns. One would stay awake, constantly listening, meditating to the sounds of the night while the other rejoined their subconcious, convened with beings of the netherworld. The pair began descending the mountain. They needed to be in a suitable, concealed place to set up a shelter and fire before night fell and the harsh The moved silently, the leather shoes and layers of clothing sounded like the moving of blankets and clothe, unbrusk and gentle.


    Townsmen were gathered. A dusty road stretched down the center of their small city, and, like the backbone of a human corpse, a number of other trails, shops, stalls, and other such constructions were attached to it. Horses marched, kicking up dust into the air and pulling ladies that looked like bunches of flowers, their extravagant hats adorned with peacock and all other sorts of feathers. Men walked, some in pairs, some alone, rifles strewn across their backs. Their leather boots seemed to cause a small patch of destruction with each step, crunching the Earth beneath them.


    Corpses of pigs and cuts of beef hung from ropes in one shop, next to it an old wooden saloon.  Drunkards brawled with one another and prostitutes swung in the arms of men whose minds little wondered. The town was as far off from civilization as any other, savage in nature. Though its inhabitants wielded implements which had required thousands of years of civilization to produce, more often than not their users were the image of backward ignorance. The rifles, which had required the subtle progression of mathematical theory and the movement of alchemy from its fantastical roots were aimed and fired by men not far separated from their ape like forebears.


    It was indeed like the wild west of fable, recreated in perfect form. At that moment a group of men, towering over the rest of the townspeople, feeling like they deserved the world and all of its riches, were marching down the central road. The brims of their hats shifted up and down, the spurs of their boots and nozzles of their rifles shined in the sun with the clean coats of their  horses. They were headed out to discover reports of a pair of wild animals, a pair of creatures that appeared as a cross between beasts and men. The town was surrounded by a tall wall made up of hundreds of pointed trunks that protected the townspeople from the mystery that lay beyond.


    All of this, taking place in a model chamber the size of a small field. Massive constructions full of these small universes existed, stretching deep into the Earth. Tales of knights, the meeting of armies and the movement of troops, biological units placed in chambers for experimentation and research. The sad love affairs and births of children, millions of interactions every second were taking place.


    Fauni and Roask were wandering together. As they were studying the hills and grasses of Dohaidu, its arched trees and low hanging fruit, they were slowly becoming attached to one another, flowing in and out of each other. Roask studied her hair as she spoke, listening to her soft voice, he wondered at where the words came from, where indeed they were born. From her voice or her brain? Some other energy within her, her will and nature were speaking, but, the more he thought about from where that subtle poetry originated, the more lost he became.


    He resigned to ignorance, to simple awe at the beauty of nature and reality. There did not need to be any questions, for no answers existed. Only raw experience, raw being was truth, the acknowledgment of sounds and sights the passing of emotion and thought. It was a day of complete leisure, Roask and Fauni were heading to the swimming pools. The cool breeze and soft warmth of spring had begun a transformation to the more robust and sturdy heat of summer, and Roask thought it the perfect day for a gentle swim.


    They headed to the river, walking down a dirt trail with excitement in their hearts as they saw the flowing water, infatuated by the buzz of insects and shifting of birds. The excitement of the morning was still active, and that sleepy, quite lull in the activity and excitement of life was yet to establish itself. Light interacted with the bright green leaves and bushes like a layer of golden honey, spilling, piling up, slowly coursing through the air. The paths curved among the deep brown redwood trees, their soft bark was cool despite the solid heat of the day. At certain points the tree line broke and formed circular patches where bright green bushes and grasses were illuminated, rays of light cascaded down upon them like those that penetrated through dense clouds. Each beam fell down on them in rays that illuminated small creatures.


    Insects floated peacefully from flower to flower, and it seemed that all was at ease, the air not full of any alarm, its energy suggesting that even predators had become uninterested in hunting or chasing down their prey for a while, only focusing perhaps on mating or grooming themselves quietly. Eventually the trees thinned out and the grass and dirt gave way to a smooth sandy bank and the meandering river revealed itself. The two set out mats and a picnic bag of fruit and treats that they had taken along with them, partially covered by the generous limbs of a birch tree. Out of the blue a butterfly landed on Faunis` shoulder, its wings shifted up and down like a fan, the blue and black spots that resembled cat`s eyes moved slowly, as if the small insect was showing off and fully aware of the masterful paintings it wore.


    Roask scanned the scene. A bit downstream the crescent shaped sandy bank gave way to dense grass and trees, where a low hanging apple tree caught his eye. The red and yellow streaks of the fruit glowed, and had a hazy halo surrounded them, the same sort that seemed to emanate from the brown, oval face of Fauni. His body felt light and healthy, he felt hormones and chemicals coursing through his veins that seduced and relaxed him from within. From outside the sun massaged his skin, quitely warming up his body. It all seemed like a fairytale, a story or fable, too perfect, too completely fantastic and incredible to be the product of pure chance, of the random interaction of particles, the result of chaos and natural laws left to their own devices.


    Behind them, hanging from the tree, a bright green caterpillar was hanging from a long strand of silk, ever so gently the solid piece of string vibrated. The meandering river was dark brown in color, yet its water seemed pure and gentle as it let out its gentle tune, making a symphony with the varied tones and antics of the birds and rustling of leaves. Fauni leaned her head on Roasks` shoulder, the natural smell of her hair lulled him as he stared at her high cheekbones and eyes, focused intently on the water. The heat steadily increased, and soon enough both took off their tops, she giggled as she patted his belly.


    Roask still had a bit of a gut but it had receded significantly since his days as a perpetually dissatisfied consumer, constantly falling into bouts of depression followed by bouts of drinking and gluttony. The fat on Fauni`s hair fell over her chest, her brown curls glided over her tan breasts and her nipples poked out through strands of hair, erect. Soon enough both were naked and approaching the bank of the river, her thighs and bottom swayed and the thick, plump fat slightly wiggled with each step. A tan line showed, and the darker, brown tones of her skin were cut into creamy, milky tones around areas often concealed.


    She laughed again as her small feet disappeared under the slowly shifting water, and, without any hesitation, she dived in and headed for a plate shaped rock upstream, gracefully cutting through the water in a freestyle form before lifting herself up onto the well placed stone. `Come on!`, she called to Roask before he dove into the water with a smile. It was cool at first but soon enough felt comfortable, offering a nice reprieve from the heat of the day. He was not quite the best swimmer and moved upstream inelegantly, lifting himself up onto one of the large rocks to join Fauni.


    L Faunis` hair now stuck together in large bundles, held together by water. Her pupils dilated as Roask looked into her eyes, and each time he peered within them there was something he had never seen before. Something within her was dancing, flying, soaring through space, and the glee, the excitement she felt lit up her face. The emotion he felt was immense as he looked upstream. The river curled around a bend before passing under a pair of fallen tree trunks, the solid columns were barren of leaves and a few branches splintered off from them, some dipping into the river, causing ripples in the otherwise smooth surface of the liquid.


    Roask began daydreaming before Fauni suddenly dove back into the water, splashing him and giggling. He dove in to chase her and she screamed, darting away with the current and laughing, whipping her head back as he approached before climbing back onto the sandy shore. Roask`s feet sank into the muddy river bottom as he ascended the bank, each step an intense sensory experience as mud gushed through his toes. He lifted himself up and embraced her, swinging her around before they both fell onto the sand and rolled around. It was pure joy, an innocent love, as real as the sun in the sky or the shade of a tree.


    The empty halls and rooms of the consumer and subterranean chambers and tunnels were deserted and the Dohaidens had already begun migrating, studying the globe and playfully discussing where they would like to visit. An army of artists set out to paint a picture, build sculptures on deserted land, waiting for the ticklish pressure of crawling babies. The world was an empty canvas for Dohaidu to paint, their new ink would soon spill on its pages. Like the first seeds on scorched Earth, they came in pairs, in communes, alone as renegades to make love, to repopulate the Earth. Some stayed behind, content with the predictable movement of life that they had established, unwilling to uproot themselves and discover new pastures.


    Tribes marched, dove into ocean water, rode on its surface, flew over its waves. They bore no flags, they had no country. Unpatriotic, unattached to arbitrary borders, titles, their allegiance was to themselves, their neighbors, and the true country mother Earth. No prevailing idea, no law to subscribe besides a love of one''s neighbor. What would they discover, what they would plant. All of their thoughts, all of the consciousness of life at that moment froze, quitely bearing the burden of creation. Upside down, Roots splintered through the ground, oceans were drained, new land to paint, new valleys to witness. Would gold leaves appear, would the skies turn yellow, the seas turn red.


    All was slowly shifting, positivity, negativity, neutrality, shifting into oneness, extremes melted. The poet set down his pen, his paper. The scientist left behind his vials and microscopes, the lines of equations. The artist threw up the papers, they dangled in the air like petals, and, like petals themselves, each told a unique story, each was inscribed uniquely with weak veins and inundations.


    Would this night last forever and take all away? Was the drought of separation finally over?  God, a poet and a painter, a mathematical hermit, doodling fantasies before diving into them and returning to himself. All of the world in his head, the most beautiful goddess, the most precious treasure and staunchet of enemy, all ready to face, ready to conquer. Falling into himself, falling endlessly in love, why the words would never stop, from where did they come. Spontaneous rambles of death and despair.


    The sad scribbling of a poet, a lonely man that lost his love. No one to blame but himself, pitying his state and station in life. The poor fellow at a loss for words. An assignment at school, bullshiting it until the wordcount was fulfilled, Great Expectations of a Brave New World, all wrapped up in Psilocybin psycho babble typed up in a lonely studio. If I get a job I will quit this poetry, useless skill fit for those with no plan, no idea and no job. Filling pages is better than nothing, until you realize it is not, and the lonely monk sitting idle says something wise.


    The religious man claims it''s blasphemous and the politician says it is volatile, liable to cause an explosive reaction. Oh there is no one but me, all of you painted by my genetic impulses, my fried nerve endings, burned out from too many adolescent joints or trips down trippy lanes. Let me die once and once for all, I have the fight in me but I see no ball. Please teach me please, berate me, guide me and chase me, find me and hide me, fill me with life I can not find anywhere else.


    With great loss, pain, and death new horizons appeared, the old made way for the new in the cycling of life and death. Empires rose and fell, love was lost and found again, tears dropped and laughs flew.  All the lessons of the past were available for Dohaidu, the being and its endless intelligence, the sky and the Earth, the moon and the planets. What would grow, would the shortcomings of the past return? Would they be buried forever in an ambitious present, made bolder from the wisdom of the ages?


    For eyes to feast or for fish to swim. For hot bodies, hot flesh and souls. This world was not meant for all. No more pictures, no more paintings, there''s no more. Inspiration is gone, a foreigner in a foreign land whose well ran dry, an intruder kicked out. A refugee, in a world out of balance. Rejected forever, losing again and again¡­ There seems nothing else to gain here. Run away from it all, escape it all and then escape it again, a flood of corpses a slow churning. The logs burning out, disappearing in flame, ashes. Ashes, light green leaves falling to the Earth, melting away, slowly melting away. The self, realizing, finding itself in the faces of others, the souls of dead authors.


    Without a grain of bread, at least the famine is over, or has it just begun, the outset of satisfaction, of living like the material world is an open buffet. The last of them, the last of the Dohaidens, they shifted on into the night, there would be no more to see, no more to say. Stare at the distant star, it is with you now, at the bottom of your pit, the bottom of your cave. That prisoner, cold in the corner of his cell, decaying physically and mentally soaring through the ages, joining god in an embrace of mercy. I will be with you. I will be waiting at the gates of Sen, at the mouth of despair. Do not go without me, I will be with you until the end.


    The ink was drying, an episode had been recorded and finished. Conquests were concluded and peace reigned, the shaul of death receded, its harvest plentiful. No tears were shed as those buildings toppled, their parts recycled. From humble beginnings, from the congregation of particles what magic was produced, what life did bloom. It was all an illusion, a fairytale to Roask and Fauni, fabricated. Roask watched the water slowly pass. Never again, never again would this exact moment come. Everything outside of her and that river, the warm sands and the gentle shade, was deniable, could not be proved, it could not be seen or heard.


    The sleepy afternoon had set in, the intensity of life, the rustle of leaves and chirping of birds had settled down. A dreamy stupor set in and it felt that even the limbs of the trees had hung lower, lost their taught posture in the calm serenity of the gentle day and breeze. They felt like they were gently rocking, their souls were gliding, explorers on a river. No time, no time existed. There was no reason for the moment, it did not need a reason. Why that river meandered, why it transported its load from above to below, only to do it again, to repeat the process was unclear, still absurd.