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132nd of First, 1100 A.W. — It is the 11th day out. Supplies are thinning out faster than the airsail’s cook, Leap Frog, expected. The captain has ordered strict rationing. There has been no land in sight. Each day drags longer. I feel like my body is shambling towards death.
I can’t even remember what it feels like to be on land. Getting a good sleep has been impossible. All members of the crew are exhausted. At night, when I do manage to dream, I dream fleetingly of discovering land or falling overboard. I have lost weight since we left. Everyone has.
The smell inside the gondola is almost unbearable. I hate it down here. It’s crowded and miserable. All the men look at me like they want to murder or cook me on a stick. I’ve been spending more time on the deck. I used to avoid going up there, but either I’ve become more accustomed to the winds and the heights, or it’s just not as bad as being below.
I’ve been falling behind on my duties. I can’t write on deck, and writing inside the gondola is filled with disruption. Whenever I put pen to paper, a crew member comes over and asks me to clean. I only get work done after Leaping Tiger berates the crew for harassing me. I’m surprised he sticks up for me as he does, but I doubt it has anything to do with a personal liking of me. For the captain, only duty matters. He may look as dead as the rest of the crew, but his spirit is unwavering.
Fog Eyes is the most pessimistic of the crew. He believes we are on a doomed voyage. We won’t have enough supplies to return home even if we find land. Whatever we may find on land — if we find land — may not even be edible for us. Leap Frog jokes about resorting to alternative food sources. They may be jokes for now, but what happens when all that is left to eat is us? I would be the first on the chopping block.
Sometimes, when I’m up on deck, I think I see shadows beneath the ocean’s surface. Not shadows from clouds… Dark shapes, like whales or sharks, but even bigger… We’re too high to get a close enough look. Maybe if the captain let me borrow his telescope… I would not dare ask. I’m sure if he saw anything, he would have me write it into my reports.
To keep my spirit occupied, I daydream of home… My mind wanders into the depths of history… Some of the other crew have resorted to religion — prayer. They believe the Wise One will guide us to a promised land. It reminds me of history, 400 years ago…
The Council never liked religion. Not now and certainly not back then. They have always tolerated private practice… What people do in the privacy of their home… Organized religion, however… The Council regards it as an intolerable pestilence.
It all comes back to the early 700s, the founding of Heaven’s Polity. Heaven Valley had just been conquered then. The former tribal peoples brought over their superstitious nature during their integration. Among them, a messianic figure arose, the Wise Man. He claimed to be in contact with the Wise One through mind speech.
Others, well before the Wise Man, reported hearing whispers when traversing the Wise Mountains. This was before the dawn of science in the 1000s. We now know, through repeated experiments, that there are no whispers to be heard in the mountains. Those claiming such are deluded or charlatans. Ancient texts confirm that mind speech is only possible in close proximity. Man had tried many times to once again find the caves of the Wisedogs, but entrances to those in Wisemount have long been collapsed.
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Some have prophesied or speculated of the Wise One’s return. According to ancient texts derived from the Wise One’s memories, Wisedogs can live for centuries. It seems unlikely that the Wise One would still be alive today, at over 1000 years old, but perhaps he may be. Even if he did return, civilization is in a much different shape than it was when he left. Mind speech could help establish a better understanding of people’s thoughts, but written texts and the scientific method have long since proven superior to memory.
The Wise Man fell soon after he arose. Initially, for a short while, the Council tolerated him. Soon, his influence over the valley people began to rival that of the Council. The Council outlawed his movement and threatened repercussions if they continued. The Wise Man was widely derided in Heaven’s Sanctuary and the settlements along the lower part of Heaven River on Heaven’s Peninsula.
From their council chambers in Sanctuary, the Polity ruled with an iron fist — not that they have grown much softer since then. The Wise Man was undeterred. He believed faith in the Wise One and his own religious authority would guide his followers to a new golden age. His followers refused their work assignments and followed the Wise Man instead. The Council sent out a detachment of soldiers to arrest him and his followers, which had grown to the thousands. They fled to the mountains.
The Wise Man instructed his disciples to build a temple at the top of Wisemount, an absurd proposition. Most explorers never make it to its summit. However, his disciples listened to him and followed through. They were unsuccessful, of course. None made it back. All of them died — thousands of them, including the Wise Man. They believed the temple would help strengthen his mind bond with the Wise One. The Wise Man’s death did not stop his movement…
Throughout the 700s, more people in the valley turned to worshipping the Wise Man and the Wise One. Some people in the settlements of the peninsula even started worshipping them. The Council, terrified of the prospect of another colossal loss of labour, outlawed all public displays of worship. Anyone attempting to lead a new congregation was sentenced to death. Sometimes, their followers too, for good measure.
Even today, some still worship them. Some believers reject the messianic status of the Wise Man, while others embrace him. The influence, while diminished and unorganized, still remains. Ironically, the Council ordered the construction of the Temple of Wisdom in the 900s on the outskirts of the mountains. Officially a museum honouring the legacy of the Wise One and the founders of Heaven’s Sanctuary, many believers still use it today as a place of pilgrimage.
Faith and superstition are stronger in the Upper City in the valley, where most of the descendants of the conquered tribes reside. Poverty is also greater there than in the Lower City. It is time-consuming and labour-intensive to transport resources up and down the falls. The Council has tasked the Works Guild with constructing a system of elevators utilizing the kinetic energy of the falls. So far, it remains unrealized. Watermills are all along the Heaven River. However, the Council believes the greatest potential for energy lies in Heaven Falls.
The more I think of home and all the possibilities there, the more I wish I never went on this voyage… Not that I had any choice in the matter. Incentives offered by the Council serve only as insurance. If any of the crew had refused their orders, the Council would ensure their regret for their disloyalty. Slavery may have ended when the last tribes were defeated, but one’s occupation has seldom been one’s choice.
The needs of the Polity override those of the individual. Even before the conquests, the Council ruled successfully since the founding of Heaven’s Sanctuary. It is their continued success, prescribed in the Heaven’s Mandate, that legitimizes their perpetual reign.