That night.....

I stumble into our camp exhausted. Maur had warned me of hypoxia and I didn't want to fly too high. My tent was separate from the other two. I enter my tent and pat my sleeping bag. I cold hear the foreign wildlife around me. There was a campfire outside and Toah was trying to get Maur to gamble with him. Maur couldn't see the dice with the light around. I could hear them bickering. I crawl to my tent entrance and take a peak through the crack.

“Suppose I roll the dice and lose,” mentions Maur. “How will I know with the fire burning?”

Toah looks at Maur. “What if you win?,” he replies.

I tuck myself back into my tent and ignore their argument. I look over at a makeshift table we had stolen from the debris of Cepertine. I had my diary to keep myself busy. Maur had retrieved it for me as a gift. Sometimes, I would finger over the Lam Lathi pages and have nostalgia. I was writing a new chapter now.

“Mm...”

I brush my fingers over my diary. The cover was getting worn already. I think about what to write. I've become better at it over the last year and a half. I decided to write about what I saw in Cepertine.

Today Neandeleria fell. It still leaves me expressionless. It's more than my mind can take without simple doses. My memories of it are like a collection of photos, carefully stored away with emotions that plunder my well-being. My recollections leave brief moments of despair. More inner expression follows, until the frustration within me swallows my pain insincerely and I'm left parted like a heart cut in two. I try to calm myself by writing in my diary. I saw too much in Cepertine. I still hold it close to my heart, maybe always. Maybe I can grow numb to it. It seems to work for the Neandelerians.

Those fortunate enough to escape the Cepertine massacres were allowed to abandon their homeland without being chased by the Pilot. I recall their eyes held captive, as his leechers swept them away with harmonic light. I don't understand what could have brought the Neandelerians so close to the clutter of material and destruction that once gave them refuge. They wallowed in their city rubble and clung to the very handguns they were being forced to leave behind. Life should be more than materials. What about the long road ahead? Couldn't they see that new life that would sprout from their jungles if they lived to fight another day?

Cepertine is now a paved city recreated. The Far Away Dream is being made anew, using the souls of our world. The pilot's new dream is taking place, built with peace and good feelings. The angelic beauty of his creations remade the once cluttered city, into a land of warmth an positivity. Among the safety of his guardian angels, the Pilot sits on his new throne. He made it himself. I saw him do it.

I recall smiling when I saw the new bodies the pilot made for the Neandelerians who stayed. I remember their unified expressions they carried. The pilot redrew everyone as beautiful. They don't even need clothing anymore. Their naked bodies are too perfect to cover up. In his world, there is no room for ugliness or suffering. There is no room for losers and rejection.

Now, there is no longer rivalry among the land, sea, and sky. In place of it, universal acceptance and an odd love that greets people with joyful expressions. Everyone has what they need to feel good and not a soul is left disgraced.

Yet, there were a few Neandelerians who protested the pilot's changes. They said the true Cepertine had been lost. They said the jungle land no longer had the intimacy it once held tightly, like a wildflower in the hair. I related to their frustrations. The pilot redrew their closest jungles into a picture perfect view. There is no need to gather together in air-conditioned buildings. No need to cool off in the beach waters. The comfort is all around. He needs more energy to redraw the rest.

Did the pilot really expect the Neandelerians to accept his unified and communal heaven? Did he want them to see they would no longer suffer? I think he was angry with all who resisted his redrawn Cepertine. Still, an incident holds me captive.

I saw a Neandelerian woman pointing at the pilot with hatred. She told him to go back inside the ancient picture he came from. She told him she'd rather live fighting out each day, than glowing within the confines of his peace and security. She didn't want his heaven. She said that finding true love and heaven was her own to discover. The woman didn't want his positive and loving feelings. She wanted a love story and the harshness of her Cepertine life back. I believe she was speaking the truth. She put a gun to her lips and pulled the trigger.

I put down my diary and lie on my sleeping bag. Tomorrow, we would fly across the ocean back to the Ryoken lands. Part of Maur's swarm was going to meet us somewhere over the ocean. Our journey would be long, but we would carry each other as we took turns sleeping. We have special formations for it. Maur carries me when I sleep in the air. He doesn't want someone making a pit stop and raping me when he's not looking. He observes everything.

I would never forget what happened at Cepertine today. I wonder what happened to the survivors who fled.