In Subtle Sight
18th of November 2006 A.D.
Pausing for a moment between heartbeats, you catch your visage reflected, refracted in the many camera-eyes upon you. To be recombined on screens uncounted, in the low jacks of everyday urb-laborers who suddenly had their latest
Akashic Symphony album or episode of the
Jade Wire interrupted by religious revelation, to the high jacks of the engine-seers and Ascended Monks of the City of Swords. Aboard the wyrm-trains so named for they follow the dragon lines been under the frozen surface of the world millions now know that this moment is more important than their departure or their destination. Revellers set down multi-coloured psychedelic drinks in the Court of Crashing Song, their surge implants rendering them sober in an instant so that they may hear you. Those who patronize less refined and expensive venues will have to make due with the recordings you know.
A being of terrible awe and glory stared back at you, perched imperiously upon her throne, clad in basalt and brass, her face hidden by the a war helmet. The next words you say are the most important words of your life so far, you realize.
Who do I want to be? You shift your posture ever so slightly, making yourself look more approachable, less of a threat. Feeling the ever present ferocious storms of your realm sway in tach with your words, you speak:
"Hello to all of you. I am Margret Carpenter, the one you have been waiting for, and from the throne at the centre of this Creation I welcome you all to the first moon-split of the rest of our lives. Our, because we are in this together. As you will learn in the formal releases to come, I am not perfect, and I am not omniscient, and I am not even fully mature yet."
Lost 1 Essence -> Now at 8/15
Lost 1 Willpower -> now at 7/9
Even as you speak the words, warmth and confidence in every syllable you cannot help but wonder at some of the knowledge even now flowing into your thoughts like waves onto the shore. Do they have vid-screens in the Amethyst Chapel, in the city of Endings, that place which alone of all the world allows one to willingly and knowingly let go to the Wheel when the weight of years grows too heavy for even renewal. Are some of those weary even now reconsidering their choice?
Yes, you realize, fewer will choose an ending, not just among those who are perched on the final step, but those in counselling and meditation, those just now considering the options. Some will go to the City of Fountains, seeking instead a new beginning, some to the City of Journeys to venture into the unknown you are only now revealing.
Fewer children are going to be conceived over the next who knows how many turnings of the moon. Such a strange thought and yet it feels right, not just true, but right. Why should friends be parted from friends, parents from children, lovers torn from each other's arms by cruel and fickle fate? Why should the span of one's days in the world be limited by barely a century at most? Why should be be limited at all save by the will of each and every soul? This world is yours, it is you and deep down the truths of its beings reflect things you have always believed, things you have always wanted... impossible things made real
But beyond the scaffolding of natural law,, built atop the frozen bones of the world, carved into the steel of its cities are five billion lives, each and every one of them as complex as important important as your own. I did not make the synth-symphonies and the data-loop games, I did not write the
Adventures of Gruhm Sigh, I did not invent grav-ball... Aloud you say: "I
cannot say that I fully grasp the enormity and the depth of our world yet." For all the skill you speak them with the words are not a mask, they are not messaging or PR speak, they are a very earnest plea to learn about a living world, from its living people and not just flashes of distant insight. "I cannot promise that I won't make mistakes in the future. What I can state and vow is that I want to learn about all of you, and that I will do my best by you, and to the benefit of us all. It is with this in mind that I declare my first decree - for as long as I live, balefire cancer will no longer torment those under my aegis."
As you speak more people start crowding into the throne room, mostly security personnel marked by their exo-suits, but also palace functionaries in many-colored robes, the buzzing drones of sessile seta and for now scattered pilgrims that had been closest to the throne room when the disturbance had happened.
The elevators are going to get overwhelmed, you realize suddenly. The throne room is situated at the very top of the palace the twin elevator shafts that serve its antechamber are rated for a maximum of fifty people at once, that is one of the reason why it's not actually open to pilgrims normally.
After the feed is cut you rise from your throne and address the crowd gently: "Everyone we are going to be in Unity Plaza in... half an hour." How and why hours are earth-standard you do not know and intuition alone cannot answer it, but you are glad it is since it makes working out time a lot easier.
The tocatli woman claps her hands, the humanoid ones and calls for the security SUTRA to clear the chamber of unauthorized personnel, though that is more for show.
She obviously has a high-jack, capable of multi-threat processing and she has been arranging things for a while. "Gracious Majesty Without Peer this one is called Auspicious Moon of Energetic Labours Initiated or Ameli in noo-speak, if you prefer to dispense with formality who is above all rank and etiquette,"
Short for noosphere speak, an odd way to handle multiple part names but you like it.
"I have the honour of being the Warden of the Inner Halls," she offers a slightly shaky smile and it is not hard to tell she is terrified of saying the wrong thing, or not saying the right thing. She is support staff, you realize, an high ranking engine-seer, though one who deals more with paperwork than technological systems directly these days. She must have practically sprinted after the first responders to get there at the same time as them. "May I know the name of your honoured companions."
"You know I don't speak Klingon," Harry interjects in English.
"Seeker Speech does
not sound like Klingon," you shoot back offended, only realizing you had translated the language's name for itself reflexively. "Klingon sounds like you are about to hack up a hairball." You might be a trekie, but that does not mean you don't have working ears. "What do you want to be called here? Wizard? Just Harry Dresden? Detective?"
Your dad clears his throat. "Molly, what is this place? Your...
friend said something but it sounded a bit far-fetched." It is easy to forget your father has a gift for understatement.
What do you reply?
[] No time for complicated explanations now, we need to get your guys some security passes, Izzy and Alec into a medical bay. We will talk later OK
[] Try to explain that Usum was factually correct, as fantastical as that sounds
[] Write in
OOC: I hope you guys like the world-building... now onto explaining the literal world building,