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.
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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.