When I was little, my mother often told me in the dark evenings about who we used to be. I lay on the straw bed, holding her hand against my cheek, swallowing every word. We were forbidden to read and write, so the history of our people was passed down orally from parents to children. Memories were very important to us. We had to remember that what we are now is just the result of human greed.
"Remember everything I tell you, Ilan," my mother urged me each time in a low voice, her face buried in the shadows. "Remember also what happens to you, and remember it well. Everything in your life is important and everything has a purpose. Life is made of memories. The good and the bad. We want to remember the good ones, the bad ones remind themselves. When a bad one appears, we can drive it away with a good one. And when we think of the pretty one, the ugly one comes to mind. And that's life, Ilan. Memory replaces memory. The ordinary ones gradually fade away and the essential ones stay with us. Unfortunately, there are always fewer of the pretty ones. But without memories, Ilan, without memories there would be no life."
And my mother remembered. She gave me both her memories and the memories of those who were no longer with us. So I learned through the memory of several generations that once upon a time, many years ago, an old shepherd discovered a small piece of mineral that radiated heat. He sold the mineral to local stonemasons. After many experiments, it was discovered that it contained a large amount of energy. Because of its clear color, it was called sclenite.
The whole world craved the energy that sclenite contained, so people followed the shepherd's footsteps into the mountains to find the mineral. Some were successful and some were not. But those who were favored by fate and the stone became their life came to be called glaziers.
My mother told me that Amaria, the city I lived in, was the first of its kind. That it was built by the first glaziers because of the rich sclenite mines located nearby. That sclenite later became the most sought-after mineral in the entire world and glaziers the richest people. Yet, unlike the rest of the world, their lives have not changed. It's like they got stuck in the past. Surrounded by simple things, they dedicated their lives to sclenite.
She said that the Duval Range stretching from north to south, from one sea to the other, mercilessly dividing the two continents was once called the Urals and was not nearly as long. That the whole world was engulfed in war. People were dying and the world was on the brink of destruction. Then someone invented a weapon so crazy that it wiped out the last of the enemies on the other half of the continent. But that weapon didn't just kill people. It killed plants and animals and poisoned the air that rushed back to us over the mountains. The consequences have continued to this day. The gray clouds on the other side of the mountains poisoned all living things, but they did not disappear. They hung above the ground like a silent, deadly witness to human hypocrisy.
While in the north people sacrificed part of the land to the sea, in the south the Urals were artificially created to separate the continents forever and renamed the Duval Mountains. The first shield that humans built on its summits to contain the poisoned air was powered by atomic energy and posed a great risk. There were frequent breakdowns and Its consumption was so great that people all over the world had to cut down and ration energy.
Glaziers were the only ones to not participate in the Great War. They refused to help either side. Unfortunately, the poison clouds ended up being their main problem because the five sclenite cities that existed at the time were right next to the shield. They had to take action.
Although the glaziers used long-outdated machinery to work, they were able to do things that others could not. At the time, their discovery was seen as a miracle. One of the glass cutters discovered that when two oval pieces of sclenite are ground in a certain way and placed at a precise distance from each other, a force field is created between them so strong that they do not allow wind, rain or air, including the poisoned one. And so a new shield was born.
Sclenite began to be mined on a large scale. Other towns were springing up near the new mines. New people were coming in willing to live like in the old age and throw away the things they used until then that made their lives easier. They were learning. Some adapted, others returned to where they came from. But the important thing was that the ranks of glaziers were growing. The most trusted and skilled of the glaziers were imparted the knowledge of sclenite and some of its secrets. And the biggest one was the production of the so-called turnuls that formed the shield.
The turnuls, or towers in the original language of the glaziers, were more than a hundred meters high, made of the finest sclenite and polished with a precision that no machine could imitate. Machines have no hearing or feeling, and working with sclenite required such qualities. Only in this way could a fereastra, a window, be created between the turnuls and prevent the poisonous cloud from penetrating to the other side of the Duval Mountains.
And so the retea, the glass shield, replaced its atomic predecessor and became the next level of the mountain range. From a distance it was only visible when sunlight touched the sharp edges of the turnuls. Like the golden teeth of some kind of a monster with an ever-open maw swallowing poisoned air.
"It's just that things don't always go the way we want them to," continued the mother. "When we want to take a step forward, sometimes we have to take a step back. While the shield is completely self-sustained, it absorbs any energy in its vicinity.”
But it wasn't such a small distance. Nothing powered by energy worked within a range of hundred and fifty lorn. Glaziers, who until then used the energy from sclenite for their daily life, found themselves further back in the past than before. A total of seventeen cities built by the retea had to use candles, torches, or plain fire to keep their cities from being plunged into total darkness at night. From Vortol to Roghos. From north to south. The lives of the people living in the sclenite-making cities began to resemble the times of long-dead kings. They worked in the mines, mined sclenite, took care of the shield so that those in the lowlands could live exactly as they were used to.
Working in the mines was hard. Right from the beginning. Sclenite was a strange mineral defying all laws known and relied upon by mankind. In order to be brought to the surface, it first had to be melted at very high temperatures deep in the earth. It was highly poisonous in its raw state. Along with the energy, many poisonous substances also emanated from the stone. At the right temperature, these waste products are released, leaving only the harmless ones.
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The people who supervised the farfures, plates that caught everything that was not allowed to leave the mine, or those who mined the sclenite, came to be called muntglaziers — glaziers of the mountain. For their safety, it was established that a glazier could only work in the mines for a limited time. Five days of eight hours per month. Not even an hour more. Of course, glaziers were well paid for such hard and dangerous work. People from the lowlands therefore began to derogatorily call them munts.
The whole world had to pay a high tax every month to the sclenite cities for the administration of the shield. Each city was in charge of a certain section, and the amount of the tax corresponded to the size of the part it policed. But even the smallest fee was outrageously high for the people of the lowlands. While people in the lowlands had to humble themselves, glaziers in their cities ate selected delicacies, dressed in expensive fabrics, and adorned themselves with jewelry. There was no slum in any of the cities. The people of the lowlands became envious of the glaziers. But none of them were interested in the fact that glaziers light their houses and streets with candles, ride horses, and know only by hearsay the technologies that fill the lives of people from the lowlands.
Years of work in the mines continued to steel the glazier. Yet only some of them were born with special gifts. None of the scientists could explain how and why this happens. It was not even possible to determine which of the born children would be gifted. Nature chose itself. The unexplored properties of sclenite began to be studied all the more.
And so it happened that one of the sclenite scientists made a groundbreaking discovery. Humprey Lutos, dealing with the poisonous substances released during smelting, was the warden of the farfure. One day he noticed unknown crystals of pink color, which until then no one had paid attention to. He named this substance lutomine. After many experiments, he discovered that lutomin can regenerate human cells at a high level. Excited to extend the lives of those who spent their time deep in the mines, he announced his discovery to the world. He never dreamed that he could enslave his people by doing so. Lutomine, a unique and completely inimitable substance, immediately caught the interest of the people of the lowlands. Everyone wanted it. However, the fayas of the time, the regents of the sclenite-making cities, completely agreed on one thing. They unanimously rejected the possibility of exporting lutomine to the lowlands. It was enacted that this substance would only be given to glaziers working in the mines. They did not back down from their decision. As one, they refused to prolong human life and thus change the laws of nature.
The consumption of sclenite increased significantly at that time. New and new uses kept appearing for it. Down in the lowlands, the first voices of discontent were starting to be heard. Maintaining the shield was becoming too expensive for the lowlands, according to them not enough sclenite was being imported. And lutomine was the last straw. Disputes began to arise. Negotiations between the fayas and representatives of the lowland countries were unsuccessful and arguments escalated.
"And so the rest of the world was engulfed in another war," Mother remarked bitterly. "It's as if those from the lowlands have forgotten about the thick clouds on the other side of the Duval Mountains. As if they didn't even want to see them. All they cared about was a long life.”
Although the sclenite towns were well armed and protected, and our territory was fought with old weapons, we lost the war. Seventeen sclenite-making cities could never match the power of the entire world. It only took a few battles and we were defeated. Defeated and enslaved. The earthly paradise was replaced by a hell that came from the lowlands. The victors marched into the cities. They had human faces but animal souls. They took away our freedom, faith and joy. They made us ghosts. They drove us out of our homes into high walled places they called ghettos and forbade us to leave. They took our books and burned them. We called them temutes or the feared ones.
The original fayas from the best sclenite-making families were executed along with their loved ones and replaced by people from the lowlands. Thus, regent positions were taken by exiles with bad reputations who were willing to sacrifice technological conveniences for power and primitive luxury.
With the new fayas came the new army. Hundreds of men who helped the new rulers keep the peace. The houses where the glaziers had lived for generations were given away by the fayas to the people of the lowlands. Glaziers were watched over and punished. Little by little, the invaders took everything from us, including our pride.
The men were immediately herded into the mines for twelve-hour shifts. Although we tried to point out that being in the mines so often is incompatible with life, no one listened to us. Those who now decided our lives had no mercy. And so we began to die quickly in those harsh conditions. Eventually, women and children also had to go into the mines. All lutomine began to be carried down to the lowlands and denied to us. Everything turned around. While life was getting longer for people in the lowlands, it was getting shorter for glaziers.
After a few years, such treatment began to take its toll. The first damaged children were born. Deformed bodies or even missing limbs slowly became a daily occurrence. Undeveloped sex, various mutations, absence of hair. Slowly but surely we were becoming monsters. A few decades later, healthy babies were rarely born. Glaziers were dying out. And so appeared the first mantles, suits covering our disfigured bodies from head to toe, including voals covering our faces. This is how the lowlanders living in the sclenite towns hid their monstrous deed so they wouldn't have to look at it.
This suit has become an integral part of our world. We had to hide our mutilated bodies and faces at all times. In winter, in heat and in rain. Wearing a mantle became mandatory. They were almost uniform in appearance, differing only in color and sometimes in cut to identify which ghetto we came from.
However, the people of the lowlands began to realize what they had caused. Glaziers were dying out, but there wasn't enough lutomine even for the lowlands. So they started sending their own people to the sclenite mines, which became their death row within a few weeks, since their bodies were not as resilient as ours.
At that time, the leaders of all the sclenite-making cities came together to solve the difficult situation. And what was born in the minds of those who fled their world where they meant nothing to rule here? They started breeding us. They treated us like cattle. While in the lowlands people had to keep the birth rate at a certain limit, the glazier women were forced to give birth as much as possible.
If a woman had deformities on her body that did not relate to gender, she could hope of not being sent to the mines until her forties. If she didn't have her gender right, however, she went to work with the others at age ten. Historically, such women were known to never have offspring. It was similar with men. When he was able to procreate, he didn't go to the mines until he was thirty.
Pure children were a rarity and thus received certain privileges. If a child was born healthy and showed no signs of illness by the age of five, he could go to work in the house of one of the valons, the masters who took care of the ghetto. When he was really lucky, he ended up in the palatul of faya himself, where he could lead a decent life. If he grew into a strong man, he could even join the local army. Only the blue band around his neck was proof of his origin.
If it was a girl, and beautiful especially so, at the age of fifteen she was taken to one of the burrows. Burrows were created only after the arrival of new fayas. Here, women slept with foreign men for money. Lowland people were ashamed of such places, so they often hid them in cellars. And we started calling them burrows.
Life in the burrow could hardly be called simpler. The girl became a mere toy in the hands of soldiers and strange men. Most of the time, her corpse was found dumped by the roadside only a few years after she was taken. The blue band around her neck meant that the culprit would never be punished or sought after. Still, the burrows were a relief for many glazier women. There were few options to avoid the much dreaded work in the mines after all. One was a healthy face and the other was a gift found only in a selected few.
While the people of the lowlands lived in some kind of tall square houses, their cities were lit up day and night, they flew in mysterious machines and lived many years, the glaziers working in the mines lived to be forty at most. We lived in shacks called koliba, with smell spreading lorns away, and insufficient food rations.
While the people of the lowlands had cemeteries where they laid their loved ones to eternal sleep, we burned our dearest ones on the frontiers. There was no exception. There was not enough space on the ground or in it for a glazier. The fires of death burned continuously in the sclenite ghettos.
And I was born into such a world