Darkness enveloped the viewing room, and yet, it was pregnant with an illuminated wave of electric emanations; a large manifold of screens were fixtured to the wall, each displaying a unique exhibition of humanity and the world in action–A busy street filled with the noiseless rush of healthy looking individuals in some unknown city. Dozens of passenger ships and starfreighters in succession inching over terrestrial boundaries for contraband checks. Men in lab coats and hardhats looking over clipboards, pointing to something off camera. A pinstriped uniformed man who had just stepped into the diamond, getting ready to whack at a ball. Some procession of robed men in hoods swinging around teeming censers over a genuflected crowd. The out-stretched fields of laborers in straw hats, proudly picking prickly fruit off the vine and wiping sweat off their brow. Stilled mountains rolling with fleecy clouds that shrouded their aged majesty. A wide-angled shot of smog rising from towering gothic smokestacks that raged war against the firmament. Then, a family gathered around a table during a meal, engaged in a cheerful conversation with each other. And a man with a bag over his head, arms and legs tied to twining reels as he thrashed his restrained body back and forth.

Though it was difficult to observe at first, life still lurked in the deep automatic respirations that quietly could be heard coming from the huge, lounged body that laid in shadows. It was couched on an exuberant enmeshing beanbag throne that provided the utmost comfort to its occupant. He was thoroughly sunk.

A sigh was heard, followed by a beep from an intercom.

“Sir, sir, I’ve just gotten a progress report, and we’re going to be in need of twenty-seven new legions by this afternoon…”

“Fine, fine.”

Khalid picked up the hose that was beside him and brought it to his lips. Subtle bubbles sounded that were just as soon silenced by his exhalations. Puffs of plain white smoke filled the shadowy space between the King and his many monitors, obscuring the ones on the fringes. He seemed to be lost in deep thought at first, but then, all of a sudden, made a motion.

Pushing a button on his armrest, he ordered: “Actually Aesop, I’m going to be putting off that legion order until this evening. There’s some more important business that needs to be attended to… Also, send for John the Astrologer, wherever he is, I request his assistance.”

The voice of the over the intercom replied, wearily, “But sir, if we don’t send relief to the African frontlines soon, cities are going to be–”

“Silence! Aesop! I’m the one who gives orders here, you bumbling fool! I am fully aware of the consequences of my actions!”

More bubbles, and more smoke.

Khalid rested his cheek on his huge knuckles and continued his meditative contemplation. The flashing images in front of him continued to unfold into apparent infiniteness. He wasn’t paying attention to any in particular, but instead, phased them all into a single gestalt that he gazed into with out-of-focus eyes. One jumped out. He focused in onto a screen that displayed men in rubber-outfits wading through a stream, casting their hooks in to snag robotic trout that had been released into the wild. The King thought to himself that he had never been fishing before and marveled at the mystery of such an ancient art. How did men first learn to mentally grasp that they could extract food from the ocean and flowing rivers just with some nets or knotted vines, animal bone, and perseverance? How long did it take to pull up that first fish? It seems graspable now, but that one, first time seems almost unbelievable. The fisherman who did it must have been an extraordinary person, a god even, to some, just by discovering a new way of living.

Khalid resolved to himself that as soon as he got the chance, he was going to take off and go fishing.

A jingle of an alarm chimed through the corridor.

“Send him in…”

The darkness of the viewing room was corrupted instantly by a rectangle of light that appeared. With long curly grey hair, a beard, and a nervous looking grin, a tall, skinny older man in a purple robe stumbled through the doorway and made a bow right as the darkness returned.

“Greetings my Lord, it is a pleasure to be paying a visit to his majesty on this fine day. How may I have the honor of serving you?”

“It’s good to see you too John, my friend. It’s been a while now, hasn’t it? How are you keeping up these days?”

“Fine, my Lord, everything has been wonderful here on the Apollyon–”

“Listen, the reason I called you in here, personally, is because I have run into some difficult matters that are almost unknown to me and I’m in need of some guidance...”

“Anything, my King, anything…”

The astrologer nodded earnestly, and then straightened himself out into a better posture in front of his seated leader.

“You see, last night I had this strange dream, unlike any I’ve ever had before, and I for the life of me cannot stop thinking about it, nor do I have any to hint to what it could possibly mean… Wait, John?”

The astrologer perceivably widened his eyes.

“Yes, my Lord?”

“John, have you been drinking?”

“Well, to be honest with you sire, just a little. Your latest import from Dis seemed to me most desirable and I decided, I might as well try just a little…”

“Oh, that’s fine John. Got to keep the people happy! I always preferred the astrologers in my court to be a little intoxicated anyways! That way they were a little looser and more honest, cosmically speaking…”

“Well, then sire, if you would like some honesty, I must say, I am only an astrologer, I have no talent for interpreting the murky substance of dreams...”

“Well then, how are my stars?”

“Oh sire, they are most wonderful. Your influence on the zodiac is excellent, all the signs are in exaltation of you and your vessel, since our disposition over Capricorn and eclipsing of the necessary houses. Total accumulation of the moon’s charisma from what I can tell…”

“Good… that sounds good… Well alright, how about some personal consultation then. What am I to do, John?”

“I beg your forgiveness, I’m really not sure I can– Well, now that I think about it, there is this one lad who works in the kitchens who is said to be quite good at interpreting dreams…”

“Well, send for him then, I trust you!”

“Right away, sire.”

The robed man bowed and scampered away.

King Khalid had become excited by the graspable possibility of fixing the predicament he was in. A new thought came over his renewed mind. He pushed a button on his armchair.

“On second thought Aesop, I think I might bust out a few legions right now, and then save the rest for later.”

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“Very wise, master. I’ll prepare the necessary arrangements.”

The King arose from his throne and picked up his hookah. It was the size of a small fire hydrant and looked centuries old. He sat back down and placed the smoking instrument on his lap. With one hand on the neck of the hookah and the other grasping the hose which he brought to his mouth, he began to take one huge inhalation. Bubbles roared like water in a saucepan that had instantly reached the boiling point. After a minute, the King let out a tsunami of smoke that touched all reaches of the twilit room, obscuring and mixing the light and darkness by refractions.

----------------------------------------

“Alright my King, here is the–”

The entire viewing room was still in a haze when John the Astrologer returned, which had surprised him. What surprised him even further was what he found remaining after the smoke had begun to dissipate. He was suddenly filled in a room with hundreds of men all packed in together who were changing into clothes, as if he had just stepped into a badly lit locker room. Except, these were not men, but a segment of the king’s white-uniformed cadre. The astrologer abruptly had to leap to the side in order to avoid being knocked over by the now marching filed line of jinn that was exiting the room, off into the world to perform the deeds of greed and corporate madness. When John finally could make out his king through the vanishing crowd, sitting on his throne, he picked up his robe and hurried over.

Khalid greeted him first.

“Ah, there you are John, I was wondering where you– What? You couldn’t find the boy?”

“Oh no, sire, he’s here. Well he was just here– hold on…”

The Astrologer ran out the door and after a few seconds was pulling another person into the room. Within the glow of the hundreds of monitors, Khalid recognized right away the stranger he was being introduced to was not human, but a humanoid, a young boy, descendant of the ichthyoid variety. The King observed the boy’s out-of-date gills that still remained on his face––his respiratory system relying on oxygen/carbon dioxide, like that of a human.

Speak of the devil, Khalid thought to himself.

They approached King Khalid. John, again, bowed, nudging his young colleague to do the same, who then also stiffly bowed.

“John here tells me you have the knack for interpreting dreams, what’s your name?” Khalid inquired.

“His name is Joseph, my Lord. Yes, he’s impressed quite a few of us on staff with some of his predications.” John replied, having to answer for Joseph who was not designed to speak.

“Excellent! A pleasure to meet you Joseph. It’s such a chance of luck to have you here, my boy! Just what I needed, already in attendance at my court. If you’re as good as they say you are, you’ll have a long, successful career here, I’ll promise you that.” Khalid said, to which the boy nodded his fishhead in acknowledgment.

Khalid then straightened himself up on his beanbag. He closed his eyes, and took more drags off his hookah like it assisted him in the concentration of his memories.

“Just let me see where I should…” Khalid began, “Oh yeah. Alright, the beginning of my dream started with me being back on Earth, in my hometown of Bashan, sometime when I was in my youth, long ago. I was playing with a ball outside the precinct of the city, except, I had discovered I could pick up and control the ball with the power of my mind. I moved it up and down, releasing and allowing it to bounce on it’s own without me laying a finger on it. I continued my playing until, from out of nowhere, an immense storm gathered over me, lightning filling the skies like bars on a cage, and then over my vision. Suddenly, the weather was gone and I was back in the dry desert. Except this time I was in old Kemet, surrounded by thousands of slaves, who were pushing and pulling huge blocks, as I watched them bring them to me. I then began effortlessly lifting the blocks into the air, controlling them again with only my mind, and commenced in building hundreds of colossal pyramids, all the while observing the works from a birds-eye view, soaring over my creations and the millions of men who brought forth more material. This went on for some time until I felt another sudden change, as dreams will do, and I was in a village, somewhere in Northern Europe. It was rainy and I seemed to have inherited the role of a blacksmith, being surrounded by big hammers, tongs, a flaming forge, and an anvil. I observed my shop and tools and tried to lift them with my mind, like the blocks, but couldn’t. I even tried to lift them physically but was unable to do so. As if from my lack of strength and the dream-fatigue, a mood of panic came over me­––like I had shown a sign of weakness in front of a predator––and then the next thing I knew, I was running through the woods like a fawn, being pursued by some unknown force or entity. I dared not look back because I already knew a tremendous danger reared upon me, but in the end, I was too slow. I was apprehended and was soon to be torn apart before I forced myself to awake from fear. I was in such a sweat when I arose. I hadn’t had a nightmare like that since I was a younger. I have been quite troubled ever since…”

The King awkwardly eyed the present attendants of his court, like he wasn’t sure what to expect. Joseph the fish-boy raised his webbed hand and gestured toward his mouth, which he began opening and shutting, as if he indicated for them to read his lips.

Khalid understood.

“Quick, bring him a piece of paper!”

The astrologer looked at the king, and then the fish-boy, and realizing he was the one who was obliged to fetch this paper, began patting himself, up and down the folds of his robe. He pulled out a small book, hesitated for a second, staring at the cover, and then flipped it open and tore out the last page. John then placed the paper on a pedestal table next to the throne and brandished a pencil, which he placed in Joseph’s clutches.

A few minutes passed.

It was hard to get a read on the internal feelings of the fish-boy, who had a non-expressive face, stoic like the creatures he descended from. He mechanically jotted out a beautiful paragraph of very legible handwritten text, and handed it to the King, who swiftly snatched it up and set about scanning it greedily. John remained quiet and observed the King reading the paper. He wasn’t sure what to do, besides scratch at his beard and adjust himself in his robe.

Khalid probably read the fish-boy’s interpretation a few of times over until he passed it along to John.

“Here. Tell me what you think…”

My dear king,

You are the force, the storm, the ball, and the fawn that is pursued; You are everything, all aspects of your dream. Your reign shall last infinitely, limited and ranged at first, narrow like the lightning bolts, and then, expanding further than you could have ever imagined. Though you are bound and burdened now, you shall live on, you immortal one, building and conquering forever with unending satisfaction. Your powerlessness is only temporary, a phase of your growth, as like when you were a child. If only you had stayed until the end of your dream, then you would have realized this, and that which was pursuing you, was only yourself, your true persona, that which will tear and consume the old flesh by the grit of the new.

John read over it once, though, diligently.

“Hmm… It’s actually quite good, for a fish at least. It makes sense to me, sire. You have the power of the world in the palm of your hand, like the ball. There is no competition for you, no fun, I’m sure, and you’ve come to be quite bored with your role. Nothing stimulates you anymore but these dull screens, which I’m guessing, you have become tired of as well; these people with their problems… The fish predicates brightness in your future, a new dawn that will renew your spirit and leave you again satisfied.”

King Khalid stroked his own beard and mused over these divinatory insights in silence. He began puffing at his hookah again, minutely, and then made his best attempt to make eye contact with the fish-boy.

“Joseph, if what you’re saying is true, you can forget your life in the kitchens and come join me, to live out the rest of your days in my royal court, if you so desire. What you’ve said has made much sense out of my anxiety and has helped put my mind to ease. And as John said, it was quite beautiful what you wrote. Why is it that humanoids have become our most articulate writers? Is it because they cannot speak out loud, and must express themselves in other ways? Well, whatever it is, I truly appreciate you being here Joseph and I’ll be rewarding you for your time.”

“Excellent, my Lord. I am satisfied that you have cured your worries… If that’s all that you will be needing, I will escort the boy back to the kitchen and…” John was saying, who was already beginning take baby steps towards the door.

“No, that’s fine John. I can have one of my men help the boy back. I would like for you to stay a little longer and go over some things.”

The astrologer nodded in agreement and looked at Joseph the fish-boy, who made a deep, full frontal bow in front the mighty ruler, and then scurried off into the shadows, towards the exit.

The intercom signal rang again.

“Sire, I’m just getting word that our guest-of-honor for tonight’s festives, Venus de Kali, has just arrived in our orbit.”

Khalid said nothing for a few seconds, stuck in ratiocination, and then became ecstatic by the outcome.

“That’s right, the performance tonight!–Good, Aesop. I want you to meet Miss Venus in the docking bay and chaperon her to her dressing room. I’ll be finishing up here and will be contacting our special guest shortly.”

“Very good, my King. I’ll get right to it.”, and the intercom quieted.

Khalid flicked some lint off the tip of his hose. The astrologer just stood there, nervously grinning. The king looked at him.

“Now, John. How about you tell me again about my stars and the charisma of the moon…”