A lethargy strained his limbs as if suddenly his blood had become mercury, weighing down every step. Instinctually Han Giru looked for the boy before exiting the room but his gaze was met only by the walls and mattress of the lonely chamber as he remembered the boy was gone. He went about his normal commute and reported to the labor division, taking his place among the group in the wide auditorium. The space was entirely unwelcoming, colorless, impersonal. Gray metal walls stretched in every direction, the cheerful light of the sun nowhere to be seen. Like the cold interior of a secluded prison cell, only artificial sources half lit the wide space, which seemed like the interior of a submarine, slowly inching through the cold, dark depths.

The director ordered all of the black suited men to strip naked. Like cattle branded by a common rancher, all of their bodies exhibited the same scars from the mechanical implant surgeries they underwent during infancy. “Take off your suits, you will no longer be needing them. You’ve reached terminal expiry, your cohort is passed its prime, more of a burden than anything else at this moment. Your only use at this stage of your career will be to fill a bowl…” An eeriness filled the air, a trepidation afflicted Han Giru as he wondered what would happen. “With updates and improvements in subterranean rearing software and, of course, a ready supply of heads from the genesis sector to replace you, it has been deemed inefficient for this cohort to continue labouring… Don’t despair, though. You will be ritually offered to the consumers, you will depart in their name. Of course, this is the highest honor one of your kind can achieve, so, you should be quite proud.”

On hearing these words, the mood lightened, the subterraneans delighted in the idea of departing for those above. It was finally his time, his time to be reunited with his makers. Near the center of the labor division auditorium, an opening appeared on the floor. A black hole of nearly a five meter radius, emanating mystery like a portal to another dimension or a never before scene gadget.

Near the hole a single subterranean stood, chanting the names of various consumers in a deep, monotonous growl before each man took his final step. He seemed like a priest of the underworld or druid, his slender, naked corpse appearing like a golem in a dimly lit cave. As he chanted, his eyes seemed to slightly bulge out his head, a sort of tainted, maniacal fanaticism appeared in his expression, as if he had recently undergone a demonic possession or entered a psychosis. The hole was certainly quite deep, for no sound could be heard after any of the subterraneans disappeared below. They were unperturbed, behaving as if following just another order from the director. The great line of bodies shrunk as slowly but surely hopped into the black hole, the naked brown corpses slipping away one by one. As he neared the hole, Han Giru thought of Abbad, where he may now be. His mind turned to the consumer that had visited them below, and he felt a sort of reassurance, comfort at the thought of leaving this realm behind. It was his turn to jump, and, as he approached the edge of the black hole he could not help but be slightly taken aback at the prospect.

As the whole extended, the metallic boundaries disappeared, giving way to only a total void of black. Han Giru jumped, and, like Alice down the rabbit’s hole, fell and continued to fall. His internal display entered a “shut down phase”, and all of his internal data was transferred to a central server, a loading bar appearing in the upper right hand corner. He peered down and still total darkness. As he approached terminal velocity, he began hearing the sound of a sort of ticking, like a clock. Thud and after a few more moments thud, this time a little louder, and so on, until the sound was quite loud, THUD.

After clearing a sufficient amount of ground, the group of Sitmian soldiers, headed by Jaffari, formed a grand circle, joining hands. Rama began listing names, all of the men lost in the previous engagement. “To the land beyond, be welcomed. Rest in peace,” said Rama. A feeling of community and brotherhood was made more tangible by their physical contact, travelling like electricity through the hands of each man in the circle. Solemn faces abounded as the men offered their thoughts and prayers to the deceased.

As Rama peered at his tablet a focused strain was written across as eyes as he read the update message from high command. Sweat dampened his black, curly hair causing thick strands to be plastered against his chocolate colored forehead. His high cheekbones protrude above his long beard, which, together with his hair, joined together to form a lion like mane. His eyes were set wide apart, within almond shaped slits and that sat above a sturdy, muscular jaw and thin, lean frame.

The Sitmians were the last race of physically fit homo sapiens, having rejected the host of exoskeleton transport suits and carrier chairs used by the consumers. Coupled with their nomadic wartime lifestyle, grueling physical regimes, and sparse jungle based diet, the Sitmians were physically superb beings. “Central command has received reports of organic, live consumer troops. Apparently their drone forces have not been sufficient enough. We got the coordinates.” Alistair nodded, and the company continued trekking through the jungle.

A wall of black smoke appeared on the horizon as they continued marching, its dark, witch like form unlike anything that they had seen before. Jaffari signalled the men to put on their gas masks, fearing the worst. It looked like a dark storm cloud, but extended further down, more like a fog or sandstorm. As the dark, shadowy cloud approached the party, it extended in size and conquered the rays of light, transforming the light of day into a dimly list dusk.

Soon the cloud consumed the entire party. As the aberration made contact with their surroundings it coated everything with a solid layer of soot, a black, grimy layer like that found on the hands of a mechanic or the face of a miner. The men were being carried on stretchers had no masks, and almost immediately began coughing as the toxic cloud became more thick and dense. The men began to suffocate the men, their complexions turning pale as the men rushed to wrap cloth or linen around their faces, to no avail.

The whole team looked on helplessly, wishing to help but entirely powerless as the cursed chemicals burned their throats and lungs before their bodies went entirely limp and were laid to rest. “They are throwing everything that have at us, the bloody snakes. Smoking us out like vermin or insects, the bastards. We need to move,” said Alistair. Again, the team picked up their pace, darting through the jungle like a pack of chimpanzees defending their territory.

Eventually the dark, toxic cloud gave way, the whole company now covered in a thick layer of the horrific black soot, as if they had been doused in a thick layer of oil. They were famished, and, having only eaten some boar meat three days prior, hardly had the energy to keep moving. Finally they reached the coordinates of the rendezvous point, and, upon noticing the mouth of the concealed thatched, leaf covered opening, quickly descended below.

The blue suited Sitmian commanders welcomed and quickly furnished them with salted meat and water, the expressions of the group like a pack of wolves, salivating at the sight of a baby elk or other prized prey in mid winter. The underground cellar’s mud walls were dimly lit by candlelight, and, throughout the chamber a number of tunnel openings joined the chamber to a large network which contained weapon caches, food storage, medical caches, and the like. The haphazard yet sophisticated system was the only way the Sitmians could avoid the constant, sophisticated surveilling of the consumers.

One of the blue suited men began addressing the group. “We must maintain pressure on the enemy. The mine and resource raids have proven a temporary success, but are really just a scratch on the consumer’s back, a minor inconvenience. Our capital is now in ashes, an open graveyard. The have begun targeting the wildlife, coating the forests and land with black smoke, spoiling our water, burning down our towns. Live subterranean troops have been spotted, and attack drones have stepped up their bombings.”

“Why don’t we surrender now. We are only prolonging the inevitable. We stand no chance against the devils.” A number of soldiers grunted or nodded in agreement.” “We need to hit them at their home, take the battle to them.” Before long, the entire chamber descended into a frenzy of argument and contention. Some men began swinging at one another in despair. It was evident the entirety of the men had been broken, their emotions overtaking them in waves of rage...

For many thousands of years, the Sitmians had lived in relative peace with the consumers that inhabited the grand continents. Nonetheless, they maintained their language and culture, remaining skeptical of the consumer’s blind adherence to technological growth and so called progress. Without completely discarding a technological way of life, the Sitmians reverted to more basic times, relinquishing the excess comfort of the consumer model for the satisfaction of tradition and simplicity, taking many cues from the natural world. They developed a state of the art solar energy capabilities, mimicking the complex technology employed by plants in their engineering whilst living side by side with nature.

They revived the ancient deities and prophets of protoman. Allah, Bhudda, Krishna, Jesus, and Muhammad met and formed their polytheistic faith, which blended elements of a praise of nature and ancestor worship with the monotheism of Abraham’s code. As time passed, the relations between the groups disintegrated, and war broke out.

Abbad and the small army of subterraneans had been marching for hours, and as the strain on his legs had become more sharp, he felt as if he was wearing a full suit of chainmail or wearing dense, lead boots. His internal display listed the objective and destination of the group— they were assigned to move into a Sitmian village and fully neutralize the area. As he peered down onto the forest floor, full of dense vegetation, a long snake caught his eye with a protruding bulge in the center of its gut. It was defenseless, the great mass entirely incapacitating the beast, as it lay, slowly digesting the mammal it had constricted and enveloped. A beautiful pattern of light and dark green appeared like an arabesque on its scaled coat, the symmetrical, leaf like shapes over the shiny leather surface entirely camouflaging the beast.

The boy was enthralled, the exciting mission he was carrying out for the consumers had overtaken his paranoia and feeling of separation. Pride burned in his young heart and he felt his own power for the first time in his life as he trudged along with his pressure rifle. Eventually, the team entered upon the outskirts of a Sitmian city, which appeared to exist in a purely symbiotic state with the surrounding jungle. Large mounds appeared, the conic domes covered by wide leaved ferns and soil. Inverted umbrella shaped metal devices were scattered around, attached at their base were large, rectangular boxes within which the staple fruits and vegetables of the Simians were generated. The contraptions replicated the efficient process of photosynthesis, converting water, light, soil, and oxygen into a reliable, steady food source.

Above, connecting the trees, were wooden bridges and treehouses that effectively created a tier structure to the village. The huts overhead were covered in vines and leafs, from below appearing like nests of a great jungle eagle or the dam of a family of otters. The inverted umbrella panels stood out, poking out from the elevated rooms like hats.

The underling troops began destroying the domes and the production units that had remained after the bombings, burning the contents within and crippling the village with their pressure rifles. Methodically, each tree that housed a treehouse was demolished, and the old branches and trunks snapped and cried in agony as they toppled. Most everything had been destroyed by the bombings, reduces to a mass of tangled metal, wiring, and rotting corpses. The bodies were already beginning to decompose, and, out of the shrapnel gashes that riddled the corpses, maggots could be seen, feasting on the rotting flesh. They slowly but surely combed through the village, taking down whatever remained as they approached a central dome structure, many times larger than the other units.

It seemed to be a communal area, perhaps for special rituals or ceremonies, elections, or meetings of one sort or another. Like the smaller mound huts, it contained a solar harvesting unit on the tip of its dome, though, on this structure the inverted umbrella shaped structure was enlarged and more sophisticated, containing a number of protruding antennas and chords. The cords spread outward and formed a web over the structure and surrounding ground nearby before disappearing underground.

The mound’s central gates were sealed shut, and a beautiful lotus etched into the grand, metal doors. A fighter drone quickly began welding through the thick, metal barrier. From the palm of one of its limbs originated a cone of white blue fire, which it slowly passed along the barrier, bright molten steel piling on the ground below. After collapsing, the entire company rushed in, meeting a large group of Sitmian women and children huddled together, paralyzed by fear. Without hesitation, Abbad and his company mercilessly mowed them down, the pressure beams quickly disemboweling, eviscerating the innocent souls. Not an ounce of remorse was felt, the brainwashed subterraneas completely convinced their actions were morally inscrutable, that they were carrying out the commands of some divine, consumer will or that they were the arbiters of a divine will. A thick layer of blood began spreading throughout the chamber as the last moans encountered unperturbed ears.

Methodically the subterranean unit marched out of the town, continuing on to the next village as a cloud of smoke and flames behind the marching scourge grew and intermittent explosions rang through the jungle like the howling calls of a pack of chimpanzees.

Fauni and Sigun reclined in a viewing chamber of the lunar colony, their eyes gazing into the Milky Way as a soft melody tickled the air. The structure had been completed at least a thousand years ago, standing as the pinnacle achievement of Jegio, one of the great founders of the consumer federation that assumed power after the great war. The structure maintained Earth-like levels of oxygen and CO2 through a sophisticated central conversion system which processed the moon’s largely silicate surface material into a gas suitable for life. The colony consisted of a matrix of connected structures which decreased in height the further they stood from a grand, central dome, making the old city appear like a grand pyramid from bird’s eye. The lunar compound was a gem of classical consumer technology and post exodus architecture, standing like the sistine chapel or the blue mosque, a symbol of historical greatness.

From the central dome of the colony, millions of silk strings descended, each strand full of nanolights that lit up in unison, forming complex images with depth and immaculate resolution. In the wide spaces of white, lunar sand between the spires, domes, and rooms of the interconnected lunar colony, beautiful gardens were formed. Rows and dunes were sparsely inhabited by ancient boulders of the finest basalt, harvested from Earth, forming a spectacle seen only in the ancient zen gardens of Kyoto.

“Where could Roask have gone, do you think,'' said Fauni. A look of confusion and slight irritation spread across Sigun’s face, as he had not the faintest idea and was not the object of her attention. “He has been offline for the past few days, I can hardly say. Of course, usually anyone appearing offline for such a period are guilty of, of some sort of unruly behaviour.” Sigun’s face shifted against in disgust, a scowl appearing like he had just inhaled the horrid stench of sewage or carrion, long baking in the heat of day. “Of what sort”, responded Fauni. Her innocence was striking, a proper lady indeed, her mind never in the places a consumer’s thoughts should not wander.

Above, through the viewing dome, the view of the heavens struck down on the pair with total glory. Surrounding the translucent, spherical viewing dome was a group of fountains and statues, which, during the long lunar night, shot streams of water into the air that promptly froze, soaring in grand formations of parabolic arcs that glistened in the dim light like icicles or frozen leaves in the sun of a winter morning. After the two Earth weeks of lunar night, the sun rose over the lunar colony, and water was heated to a boil, “Most likely, the poor man became ever infatuated with his external display. In rare occasions, some individuals become lost in their external display.” After speaking, Sigun’s eyes become unfocused as he ordered a plate of lambeef ribs. The meat was from a laow, an animal derived from the genetic crossbreeding of the cow and lamb, and one of the first specimens of genetic experiments produced after the relaxing of the cloning and genetic experimentation laws. Well seasoned with a tomato and garlic herb based sauce it was a classic, relished dish. As a drone appeared with the plate, Sigun began cutting into the pink red flesh, the tender meat falling off the bone with ease before being stabbed by his fork and doused it into the thick, red sauce.

Fauni, with a look of confusion on her face, could not comprehend such behavior, found it entirely unfathomable. In her universe, the only consumers that appeared offline for such extended periods of time were those who shut down their systems, or, as protoman termed the phenomenon, passed away. “Ahh, just forget it, it’s entirely out of our hands anyway,'' said Sigun, becoming increasingly frustrated with the attention and disconcert that Roask was causing to the lady he desired. In a bid to entertain her, Sigun ordered a volley of fireworks. They left thin trails of smoke behind as they shot away from the lunar surface and, one after the other, exploded in a grand orgasm of color. With the backdrop of stars and the Earth, it was a sight to behold.

Indeed, his plan worked, and a smile broke out across her face, a twinkle reigniting in her bright brown eyes. The strands of her brown hair swung back and forth as she chucked and Sigun, enthralled by her beauty, entirely forget about the fireworks and even his lambeef, almost dropping his fork. She wrapped her arms around his neck and they began kissing, her sweet perfume intoxicating and the feeling of her lips elating. For Sigun, the rule of life was excess and availability, and, Fauni, unable to command from an internal display, was entirely alluring.