Alistair Jaffari slowly stood up and without words captured the attention of the entire group, their voices quickly dying down. Even the purple seated commanders paused in the middle of their sentences and gazed upon the man, who, with an undeniable serenity and air of unshakable authority written across his eyes, belittled and humbled them, shifting their cores with a mere glance. His beard and long hair flowed down his back and face, and through the muddy, tattered robes that hung onto his frail body, patches of golden, brown skin appeared. As the room fell quiet, Rama, sitting beside Jaffari, inhaled deeply and closed his eyes in a deep mediation.

“The answer is not to fight the enemy any longer. We must capture their minds, capture their hearts and enlighten them, lead them to the path within. We must infect their masses with truth, starting at the individual. We must reprogram them, guide them back to the divinity they have within themselves. The war will rage on and on and the Sitmians will be no more. We must ignite a revolution in the enemy, throw a spark on the dark, polluted fuel within their tortured souls, defeat them with the only thing they have not yet taken from us, our humanity and peaceful, enlightened nature.” The crowd began cheering in unison, and the purple suited Sitmians gave way as Alistair Jaffari headed to the central opened stage of the underground bunker.

“We will aim to capture the subterranean troops with the least amount of struggle as possible. First, it will be necessary to disable their internal displays and speakers. Once these connections are severed, they will regain their human senses. Thereafter, we will love them, show them the power of mercy, the power of the Sitmian heart and the warm, comforting hands of God’s children. It will be a slow process, but it will work. With God on our side, they will heed our calls, they will fall into our warm arms and their minds will be free.” Alistair called out to each of the generals and ordered them to monitor a certain sector of the wide jungle on the scout for subterranean companies, dividing the vast tracts of lands into chunks.

The solidarity of the group was palatable, each man united by the preaching of Jaffari, hope falling from his lips at a time where there was hardly any left. “Caress your brother, pray for him, keep him in your heart. We will not let the poison of war stain our core, our values, our philosophy. ” The Sitmians soldiers began holding on to one another, and fell into a state of prayer and meditation, a scene characteristic of communal meetings before the invasion, a time of bonding and transcendence. A nourishment so vital and for so long forgone was experienced again, and, like water quenching a parched throat, parted needed vitality to the men. Their nature was not of conflict or war, in their essence was harmony and coexistence.

A handful of Sitmians climbed up through the tunnels and headed to the umbrella shaped agricultural production units, bringing back fruit, vegetables, and grown meat. Tomatoes, pineapple, oranges, apples, figs and berries abound. Each piece of fruit and vegetable massive— the tomatoes the size of footballs and oranges like bowling balls, the apex of genetic manipulation and energy optimization. They were sliced with machetes, their sweet aroma filled the air and pleased the nose like a poem to the ear. As the much needed sugar entered their blood the moods further elated. Sweet juices of the fruit ran down their faces, their eyes fixated on the raw grown meat, slowly rotating over concentrated heat generators, quickly browning and steaming as it was seasoned with spicy sauces, peppers, and salt. The meat was divvied among them as more baskets were fetched, this time with sweet corn, beans, lettuce, and cucumbers. After they finished eating, pipes of bjobjo were passed around, sedating the men while they sipped on jeejee flower tea.

Near the center of the group, a few Sitmians began chanting, dancing and slowly rotating around a black box, from which a tribal drumming emanated. As more souls joined they began chanting, the movement of the bodies like dark rain clouds around the eye of a typhoon. It was a ritual dance, the specific lyrics pleading the divine energy for good will and mercy. The deep beatings of drums reverberated within each chest, and from the jee jee tea’s effect on the senses, temporarily allowing perception of a kind of netherworld— a glimpse into the usually invisible realm of spirits and deities, angels and demons—Jaffari witnessed what appeared as jinn passing through the underground chamber, all headed in the same direction and disappearing into the mud walls.

The spirits came in all sizes, some large and red, with horns and white spikes protruding from the heads and limbs, surrounded by balls of black dust. Other beings were clad in blue garb, their form ambiguous and non uniform as they floated through the air like flower petals in a breeze. Silhouettes of birds and hounds shuffled through the chamber as the music intensified. Tall forms clad in white robes, perhaps angels, were abound with gold embroidery entered the chamber,from the spread light that filled the chamber, bringing with it a feeling of divine oneness, peace, and a profound, reflective silence. Soon enough, Jaffari felt he was dreaming as he drifted out of his body and join the parade of otherworldly beings, flying into what seemed another dimension and quite futile to describe using the limited scope of language.

The ceremony progressed and the purple suited commanders began reading ancient scripts as the music died down and the artificial lights turned off. Heavy bright red quilts died with yellow zig zags and alternating solid white strips were passed around as torches were lit on the boundaries of the circular chamber, the flames creating dancing shadows and light patterns on the heavy old quilts near the walls but weakening near the center of the chamber, which appeared as a dark, wide pupil. The ancient texts relaxed the men, soothing them like a mother’s lullaby to a fretting baby, fables of the old world and the peaceful ages, times of great peace and prosperity, and the days of optimal utopia. Before long the men were sound asleep, their souls drifting to realms beyond, rocking in the arms of angels or the palms of daemons.

As the sun began to set, the chilly breeze became more harsh, stinging Roask’s ears and hands like the small jaws of ants. He rummaged through his bag and fetched a pair of thick mittens and a beanie, offering a little respite as he took a final look across the lake and noticed a number of dark masses surfacing from beneath the water, heading towards the trees. Their form was hard to distinguish, but they resembled horses with an extra pair of legs in their midsection and a sort of trunk-like appendage in the place of a tail. There was something mysteriously conscious about their movements, as though they were not animalistic, conversing with one another in pairs or engaged in deep thought. The dozen or so beings took a few moments to group together before disappearing into the trees. An eeriness in the air was palatable as the last one disappeared into the dark brown brush that extended around the lake and beyond, vanishing like a flea into the hairy coat of an old mutt. Roask hopped off of the mesa shaped boulder and began retracting his steps, entering the forest from the shore of the lake.

With each step the crunching sound of dead twigs and leaves under his boots was carried beyond, unmasked by the rustling of small mammals and chirping of birds which had already retired for the night. Paranoid and doubling his pace, Roask passed through the dense vegetation and began ascending the steep slope of the mountain's face, peering back to notice what looked like a collection of black, hairy masks peeking from behind the trunks of the redwoods. They were oval shaped, with bright, zebra-like white stripes emanating like rays from a single, central, large eyeball.

Roask began to sprint away, slipping as he progressed up the slope. The sun had just disappeared over the mountainside, and he could now clearly see the mansion, its rooms brightly lit like the lantern room of an old lighthouse or the embers of a hot fire. Adrenaline pushed him further and faster up the slope, his limbs struggling under the uncharacteristic physical strain. Finally he reached the entrance to the mansion and upon entrance was greeted by the oversized cat. The fluffy creature had apparently now become used to the new guest, and, without hesitation, rubbed its body and leaned against Roask, who had to stabilize himself under the enormous weight. Moments later Tanaka appeared from behind a sliding metal door, floating on a levitator chair. “Back later than I expected, I trust you enjoyed yourself?”, said Tanaka.

Roask found it difficult to collect any of his thoughts, his body still in a panicked state from rushing up the mountain side. “I encountered some beings down there…”, Roask began. Tanaka’s face showed no emotion as he stared at the man heaving for air. He seemed like he had already seen the world, as if it no longer held any more promise or secrets for him to uncover. A serious gravity defined him, and, though a consumer in outward appearance, his behavior was otherwise uncharacteristic. Unlike Sigun or Fauni, he was rarely engaged with his internal display, often staring with concentration off into the distance, like he was untangling some deep problem within his mind.

“Pay no mind, it was in all probability a group of deer or your eyes playing tricks” said Tanaka, quickly discounting Roask. “What motivated you to travel below, to visit a subterranean chamber”, asked Tanaka. Roask’s gut felt as if it was suddenly twisted as he received this question, it was finally his time to be interrogated, questioned. He resigned, there was no escaping his past. It was recorded, documented, part of the permanent memory of the central server. “To satisfy a curiosity”, I suppose. “I harbored feelings of, of, sympathy for the beings, I travelled below to prove myself wrong,'' stammered Roask. A nervousness caused him to slightly stutter, and the weight of emotion he felt in his chest caused his voice to ever so slightly crack.

“At least you have curiosity, old boy. Not entirely unconscious, drooling your life away behind closed eyelids, like the rest. You see, I have not properly introduced myself. I deal with what are called the “outliers”, those that have been flagged by the system. I’m tasked with screening individuals such as yourself. Each consumer whose particular use of the server and internal computer is abnormal. Out of the ordinary. Unique. Many years ago, after the great wars and during the consolidation of the consumer state, the division in which I am currently employed was responsible for isolating those who were politically subversive, potential enemies of the establishment. Subterraneans, the penniless, communalists, radicals, anarchists, democrats, those that believed in the traditional family, and all caught by the internal and external monitoring capabilities of the state.”

“All contenders to power were not only erased, but potential enemies or rebels fell prey to the power of internal indoctrination and mandatory education. Those that stayed in line got nutrients, those that didn’t were simply killed off by drone task forces. The consumer state was inoculated from the danger of free thinking, behaviour, and information. Since then, times have changed.”Roask felt a wave of relief, and, instead of feeling again like he was on a pedestal of shame, he felt elated, his life given validation. It felt like a long emptiness had been filled, as if for the first time he glimpsed a sense of purpose, of belonging. He had been given an intoxicating view of a community of like minded individuals, before which he had no idea existed...

“Now you see, the only outliers are those who are sane, those that are conscious beings, those that have liberated their minds… The good news is that the consumer elite have repurposed the program, using it as a sort of filter for mental aptitude. All of those outliers have provided us with a superior genetic sample, all of which is being housed in the reproduction division, a land called Dohaidu... Those that have not become outliers will disappear… A great purge will occur. Fate has it that our progeny shall inherit the Earth...” “And what will become of the subterraneans,” asked Roask. “The subterraneans will have no role in the new world. Like most of the consumers, they makeup a backward race. There is really no way to justify having them survive past this last generation. They are nothing but the children of slaves, so far brainwashed that they can be considered mindless... Their work will be replaced by drones, it has been long overdue.”

“In all honesty, we are only expediting the process of evolution, you see. You and I inhabit an upper echelon. We are cleaning the scum off of the face of the Earth, it's the survival of the fittest, old boy. With half the world living like gophers and the other like pigs, we are the lions… After the Sitmians, consumers, and subterraneans have been wiped out, this will be all ours.” Tanaka gestured with his short, fat arm across the sky in a long, waving motion. His expression remained cold and stoic, gazing through the glass walls of the mansion at the stars. He hopped off the levitating pad and called his large cat, which trotted towards him, purring as the man caressed its head. He took a seat next to Roask, his dark eyes penetrating deep into the man, his face appeared like he was studying his soul or pondering the meaning of his expressions instead of simply looking at his physical features.

“In the same way that a computer must have its internal software periodically updated, society too must undergo restructuring, improvement. The subterraneans are simply remnants of the poor casts, the average consumer simply a waste of space. It can be seen as a genetic software update of sorts. A new and improved model or framework...”

You must be hungry, old boy. A drone hurried in, in its spider-like limbs the first course of a meal and trays of appetizers and various bottles of alcohol and juices looked like an extravagant chandelier, sparkling crystal prisms shining and glimmering. From the ceiling a metal slab detached and slowly floated down like an autumn leaf before sitting still. The drone quickly arranged the dishes, cutlery, candles, trays, and china by extending its metal limbs in a matter of moments. The table appeared like would King Louis’ in the palace of Versailles, a feast of epic proportions.

As Roask stood up to take his place at the opposite side of the floating metal dining table from Tanaka, he pondered the scope of death that would soon occur. At that moment he wished he was a subterranean, or, like Sigun, so completely uninterested in reality that it simply had no consequence to his mental state or emotional well being. Instead, he would see the passing away of almost an entire world of being, witness the extinction of millions of souls. Indeed, the warm feeling of joy he had felt previously, the excitement to be united with those of a similar mental persuasion had been promptly replaced by the loathsome, grueling emotion of death and destruction. As he looked upon the grand feast, the silverware and glass shining under the candles, sparkling in the dim light, he wished that he would simply disappear or that his entire existence was a dream from which he would soon wake up.

Each of the Sitmians seemed as if they could continue after the rituals and brotherhood experienced the night before. Before, their souls were running on empty, and now, a breath of life had been blown into them, lighting the way ahead. They woke feeling completely revived, the nutrient and rest healing their malnourished and beaten bodies. There was no more time to spare, however, and before morning pleasantries could be exchanged, a purple suited commander addressed the group. “We’ve received reports of a civilian massacre at a city in district 2N on the outskirts of the capital,'' he said, after glancing at a tablet. “My party will head that way,'' said Jaffari. A sense of urgency and stress quickly set in, and, after plans had been finalized and vital communications and supplies exchanged the groups stood up one by one and passed through the dirt tunnel to the surface.

They began heading to the coordinates of the massacre. The wide, umbrella-like leaves of the undergrowth and ferns were all covered in a layer of mist, balls of condensation shining in the early morning light like clear, sparkling icicles. The air felt murky and thick, and with little to no breeze, the vegetation was statuesque, the only movement coming from the sudden shifting of birds or insects scattered variously around. An ancient obelisk or Olmec head marked the location of the underground chamber, a boulder coated by dark green moss and curving vines that offered rare glimpses to the turquoise blue basalt flesh beneath, a lonely giant likely separated from its monolithic parent millenia ago.

As Jaffari, Rama, and the rest of the men moved through the jungle and past the towering boulder, Rama rummaged through his bag and pulled out some small, silver bullet-like objects. They were among some of the new gear just received from central command, a handful of hornets. About the size of small flies, they had small engines that could propel them through currents of wind despite their size and were fixed with nanolenses and transponders that relayed visual data to the team. With a few taps on his control tablet, Rama deployed a number of hornets, which, like a swarm of flies or mosquitoes, disappeared into the sky, heading towards N2.

A few days passed of trudging through the jungle until eventually the team arrived at the outskirts of the small village, the site of the reported massacre. As they entered the lifeless town, blackened, charred Earth and ashe covered the ground, the small black huts partly collapsed, their roofing held up by only a weak pole or two. The stench of rotting flesh filled the air, and, above, teams of vultures circled, honing in on the corpses that were strewn variously around. Some of the ominous, black birds were cackling around bodies, taking bites of the rotting flesh, their heads appearing like the skulls of skeletons as they noticed the group of incoming Sitmians. Rama, pulled out a bandana, covering his mouth as he offered prayers to the victims. “Any incoming data from the hornets, Rama?”, asked Jaffari, as he clenched his fist, hoping to pinpoint the coordinates of the drone and subterranean battalion before they could repeat a similar massacre. “The hornets have picked up the location of their camp, they are roughly a day north of our position by foot, we can overtake them if we travel through the night...” They headed to the central dome of the structure, and, as they approached, the stench became even stronger, clinging to the air like the rancid gas of a startled skunk.

As they approached the central dome, a number of rats could be seen scurrying around, and, as Jaffari threw a flair inside the central dome, a blanket of half rotten corpses was illuminated, the sacred Sitmian ceremonial hall transformed into an open burial chamber, a pit of death. As Jaffari met eyes with a corpse, an orgy of maggots were climbing atop one another in the rotten eye socket, he quickly doubled over and vomited, the rest of the men covering their faces and shifting away from the central structure. After offering condolences and solemn prayers and wishes of a peaceful afterlife to the dead, they quickly hurried out of the town, making heed to overtake the subterranean troupe.

Another night of trekking through the jungle and the Sitmians began preparing for the ambush on the subterraneans. Their movements were easily predictable based on the recorded data of the hornets, they were moving in a straight line to the Sitmian capital. The team was on high alert, each head and set of eyes constantly pivoting, scanning the environment like eagles soaring above a prairie or lake. Rama distributed seismic detectors, magnetrons, and to the group, which they set up in a random locations on the jungle floor, activating and burying them underneath the foliage and humus. After the mines were set up, the men quickly slipped on gas masks and huddle together.

“Remember, our goal is disarming the enemy so as to avoid bloodshed. Target the drones first, they must be neutralized as soon as possible” whispered Jaffari. The men then took their positions, scattered among the jungle forest, in prone positions and wearing camouflage gear, their beam rifles pointed toward the scene of the ambush. A silence filled the air, echoes of insects ringing rhythmically marked the passing moments, the intensity increasing in anticipation as the men scanned their surroundings, combing through the dense brush like a jaguar hunting in the night. Jaffari’s chest tightened, the beat of his heart pounding so hard that as he peered through the scope of his beam rifle, it was periodically jolted, making it hard to focus. Still nothing,

“Remember, our goal is disarming the enemy so as to avoid bloodshed, avoid casualties at all costs. Prioritize downing the drones, they must be neutralized as soon as possible,” whispered Jaffari. The men then took their positions, scattered among the jungle forest in prone positions and wearing camouflage gear, their beam rifles pointed in the direction of still distant marching subterranean troops. The sound of insects filled the air. With no visible origin, the rhythmic, consistent symphony of the small creatures gave the illusion of emanating from the soil or land itself, the pulsating, ring marking each passing moment.

The intensity and anticipation increased as the men scanned their surroundings, combing through the dense brush like a jaguar hunting in the dead of the night. Jaffari’s chest tightened, his heart pounding so hard that as he peered through the scope of his beam rifle, it was periodically jolted, making it hard to focus. Still nothing, only the web of brown green life that stretched for indefinitely.

More moments passed, still nothing. Jaffari peered in his more immediate vicinity, all of the men indistinguishable from the landscape, appearing like bushes or piles of leaves. As he looked back into the scope of his beam rifle a black figure far off in the distance appeared, looking like an ant or other critter, periodically disappearing for moments behind the thick undergrowth or the wide, sturdy trunks of the old trees before reappearing. Then, more of the black suited subterraneans appeared, marching in formation and growing in size as they came closer to the point of ambush. Above the marching brigade a battle drone hovered, the sunlight reflecting from its limbs and the long barrels of its cannons like a piece of jewelry or polished wood. The barrels slowly rotated 360 degrees around its center of mass, always entirely alert and constantly digesting and sending a complex stream of its harvested data, twitching and analyzing the landscape both near and far.

The black suits gradually approached and it was no longer necessary to use a scope to see their corpses, they moved robotically and coarsely. As the crunching of leaves and the snapping sounds of old twigs became audible under their black boots, Jaffari’s heart pounded ever stronger, his lungs unable to take in a satisfying breath of air as he focused on his breathing and the sweat accumulating on his forehead. The front row of soldiers was now a stone's throw away, the beaten, lifeless expressions of the subterraneans easily discernible. They continued to move and, for no apparent reason suddenly halted, along with the fighter drone, whose buzzing could be heard above, a blue white light emanating from the gravitator engine. Then, as suddenly as the company halted their march they resumed, now in the zone of ambush and by sheer chance avoiding the seismic detectors, which, at any moment, could be triggered by the right step.

Sure enough, a subterranean stepped too close and triggered a seismic detector, promptly launching a magnetron into the air and detonating the slumber bombs simultaneously. The magnetron soared about twenty meters into the air and detonated, its magnetic pull stripping the subterraneans in the event horizon of their weaponry as they inhaled the anesthetic fumes. The ensuing chaos prompted a chain reaction, soon all of the magnetrons were triggered and flew into the air, pausing and activating to strip away the weaponry of the subterraneans, which stuck to the metal magnetrons like a hopeless mosquito to a sticky spider’s web. The fighter drone focused its sights below and captured in its sight the protruding beam rifle of one of the subterraneans, promptly barraging the position with a flurry of laser fire. Jaffari took aim with his beam rifle and released a concentrated blast of energy that only grazed the killing machine, which was now locking in and releasing laser fire at the exposed beam rifles rapidly, its cannons firing and focusing on a new target in the blink of an eye, mowing down the Sitmians with each passing moment.

A beam rifle shot made contact, turning the metallic beast into a ball of molten metal that fell down, breaking through thick branches before crushing one of the already slumbering subterraneans, whose entrails spewed outward like jelly from a doughnut. The team had to act fast before reinforcement fighter drones or another company of subterraneans appeared. All of the Sitmians began shackling the subterraneans and placing hornets into their ears, the metallic creatures crawled into their bodies and began dismantling their internal displays and auditory networks. The first chains of illusion had been broken, but it was time to escape.

“Rama, are the hornet monitors picking up any reinforcement troops?” asked Jaffari. “We are still clear. No updates from central command on troop movements, either” responded Rami. Now it was necessary to transport the hundred or so subterraneans out of the open before they awoke and offered a sturdy resistance or reinforcements arrived… “Send our coordinates to central command, Rama, and have them send a transport caravan. Time is of the essence…” said Jaffari, as one of the subterraneans shifted during their slumber.