Like a pirate in a crow’s nest, Tanaka was seated in an observation cell that extended far above his mountain castle, a bubble-like container that gave a panoramic view of the surrounding peaks and valleys. From a distance the towering, bubble shaped structure looked similar to the terminal end of a beetle or other insect’s capitate antenna and was held up by a single, white metal shaft, wide enough for one person at a time to ascend or descend. Tanaka had recently ordered the release of his genetically bioengineered species on the Sitmian mainland and was currently imagining just how much damage they had already inflicted on the enemy. Beyond their physical superiority, the beings were superintelligent, capable of intellectual wonders-- infecting servers, communications networks, and technical infrastructure with access to just a single piece of Sitmian technology. In just days since their arrival on Sitima, they had provided locations of key Sitmian military outposts by scouring their communication devices and inflicted a tremendous amount of damage on the elusive Sitmian gorilla parties.

Tanaka was awaiting the arrival of the illustrious L. Fauni to discuss the fate of Roask, an individual that she had apparently gone through great lengths to track down. Upon studying her consumer data it was evident that her behaviour had recently become quite erratic--- in the past weeks she had hardly utilized her internal display. Despite this, she had always been on the brink of being labelled an outlier, and was consistently involved in anomalous behaviour-- fancying antiquated goods and devoting much of her time to items like books, television movies, paintings, video games, poetry, theater, and the like. Tanaka himself anticipated her arrival quite excitedly, he had not had such a feeling for a consumer in years. His heart began beating faster as he shifted through various pictures of her in his internal display.

She often appeared in bright colored, skin tight suits. Like many articles of consumer wear, the surfaces of her clothing were capable of replicating movement and could rapidly shift in color, like the chromatophores of an octopus or skin of a chameleon. Like most consumer clothing, hers was able to generate special patterns or shapes over its surface through the behaviour of colored gases which escaped and were reabsorbed through pores. Tanaka was staring at a photo of her, apparently taken on the Lunar colony in an observation chamber, her eyes fixed on the stars above with a tickling glee written across her auburn eyes and bright smile painted over her face. Brown, wavy hair danced over the upper half of her bright red suit. The natural form her naked body was preserved and her hips, breasts, and the arches of her thighs bulged out from the recesses of her tight stomach and upper body. From the suit, arcs of orange and black gas emerged and were drawn back in, giving the article the appearance of a tiger’s coat.

As he stared longer at the picture, it was given life by the internal display. Calming music began as she started slowly shifting and engaging Tanaka, asking him what he was in the mood for as she twirled her hair and began slowly undressing. Carrier 5FCY approaching, a loud message interrupted Tanaka and he jolted, like someone being woken from a bad dream that seemed inexplicably real. He scanned the horizon and noticed a sparkle, like a tiny piece of shell or other piece of treasure lodged in the sand. It soon betrayed the markings of a ship as it quickly approached and Tanaka hurried down from the observation deck to ready himself for the arrival of his guest. He quickly ordered a drone to clothe him, the mechanical being showing up quickly and giving him a quick shave while dressing him in one of his more luxurious items.

The ship reached the landing pad and instead of forcing her to enter the mirror room, as he did with most of the outliers that came to his mansion, he went out to greet her, descending from this levitation pad in order to display his physical means. Like the wings of a ladybug, the doors of the spheroid craft opened upward and the neon blue gravitator engines died down in intensity before shutting off completely. L. Fauni descended from the vehicle gracefully. “Welcome”, said Tanaka. “I’ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival. Please, follow me”. The landing pad was a wide disc, that was elevated over the rocky, jagged mountainside below, attached to a narrow walkway that lead to a transparent, pyramidal chamber of the mansion.

Tanaka directed Fauni to be seated at a long table after offering her a short tour of the mansion. The snow and rock of the mountain appeared far beneath their feet and the transparent walls, ceilings, and floor gave the sensation of remaining outdoors. A drone suddenly burst in from an adjacent chamber and began setting the dining table, first laying down a cloth and then placing down silver trays, fine gold cups, silver plates, carafes and much more at a dizzying pace, the spider like limbs of the butler bot and the contenes each limb held crossed over one another so quickly that it was amazing not a single thing broke or a collision occurred.

“Thank you for having me”, Fauni responded. She seemed dejected, perhaps anticipating some sad news about Roask or something else quite grim. As she took a seat at the floating table, Roask tapped a few controls and the entire transparent crystal room detached from the rest of the mansion and began slowly drifting through the sky, powered by silent gravitator engines. The room was shaped as a geometrical cube, the faces spotless. The winter had begun to diminish and the sun had come out after the last storm of the season. The snow had begun melting, green shoots and flowers appearing amongst the evergreen trees. The mansion on the mountain’s peak shined like a diamond and the great lake, which at first seemed like a puddle,enlarged as the room sank downwards through the air.

“It’s my pleasure. You are my most welcomed guest”, said Tanaka, as he took a sip of wine. “Please, help yourself to whatever you please. You see, I am quite the connoisseur of ancient recipes, and in a recent virtual emersion I experienced the extravagance of dining at ancient monarch by the name of King William I. I’ve ordered my butler drones to replicate the cuisine here. Of course, the ambiance and surroundings are not matched but I am convinced you would prefer the natural beauty of the mountains.”

A royal feast was laid between L. Fauni and Tanaka. A fine linen cloth sat above the table over which fresh game unavailable to the commoners of those times was laid, seasoned with various exotic spices. Steam from the rabbit, beef, peafowl, swan, pork, quail, turbot, crane, veal, venison, partridge, lark, stork, linnet, and mutton filled with room with a delicious aroma. Verjuice, vinegar, and pomegranate, mulberry, and blackberry wines filled gold and silver carafes, one of which was presently grasped by a butler drone, refilling Tanaka’s gem clad chalice. “Please, don’t be shy.” Tanaka gestured across that table before he began sawing a piece of meat. “Of course, being true to the spirit of a feast of King William I and his entourage, I do not have the luxury of using a fork. In those days, forks were not used...”. Tanaka grabbed a piece of stork meat with his bare hands from a trencher of stale bread, used as a sort of bowl in those medieval, protohuman days, and began savoring the game.

“Now, I’ve studied your recent behaviour, and, though you have always been quite strange, you were never what I would call an outlier. That has changed since you have become so fixated on Roask’s disappearance… Indulge me, where does this obsession with Roask come from exactly?” “An outlier?”, asked Fauni, never having encountered the expression. “An outlier is, put simply, one that deviates one too many standard deviations away from from the mean, fringe individuals that inhabit those regions far from that central dome of the bell curve… If you are not statistically inclined, an outlier is, simply put, one that deviates too far from prescribed, natural consumer behavior”. “Unfortunately, the object of your curiosity and desire, Roask, was also an outlier, infatuated with the subterranean race… Such a pity...” Tanaka shook his head slowly, taking sipping some verjuice hopping to see Fauni cringe at the mention of Roask’s interest in the subterraneans.

Like Sigun, Tanaka was intent on securing Fauni’s goodwill and interest, aggravated by her obsession with Roask. “There is something fascinating about him, something that intrigues me. It isn’t a feeling I can't quite put into words. It is a feeling of pure emotion and curiosity. It seems quite reasonless and absurd, for it needs no reason or explanation, it seems to justify itself.... Infatuation and excitement, a desire to uncover more of him, get lost in him. Ever since his disappearance it has grown, and I can simply no longer stand being away from him… Perhaps I have overblown his image, but I simply can’t control myself...”

The flying crystal room had descended the mountain and was now hovering above groves of evergreen trees. A pack of white wolves could be seen sprinting through the thick snow, disappearing and appearing behind the trees, which seemed like small saplings from above. The wolves had just broken out a snow covered plain, pure concentration and determination seemed to define them in that moment, their white coats partially grey and soiled from the particles and other impurities of their snowy environment.

Tanaka was fixated on the pack of wolves as he turned Fauni’s words around in his mind, distilling them, analyzing them for some ultimate meaning, reflecting on them like one would a profound equation or poem, pondering their significance or lack thereof. Tanaka knew that such intense emotional feelings towards others, those usually found in familial bonds or other tight social relationships, love, some may say, had once been hostile to the interest of the state. Indeed, the consumer was formulated as an individual unit, reared by drones and raised to have no true conception of “family”, “sibling”, “tribe” or other such identity beyond their allegiance to the consumer race and state. Of course, such an implementation was once a crucial form of control, removing any social bonds beyond those useful to the state.

The entire process of copulation was replaced by the infusion of egg and sperm cells in laboratories, and, as a means to strictly control population, female consumers underwent routine operations to ensure infertility. The wolves had progressed and the crystal dining room moved further to the ground, exposing more details of the elegant creatures. They were in pursuit of a herd of elk, analyzing the moving mass for any enfeebled members. “I assure you that Roask is in a fine condition, and I am now convinced that you will join him and another group of individuals in the land of Dohaidu.” A baby elk and its mother began to lag behind the moving herd and the wolves continued to shorten the gap, leaping through the thick snow as they spread apart.

A wave of relief overtook Fauni as she took a sip of mulberry wine. Tanaka pierced a slab of turbot from a platter and placed it in his trencher. “There is one point, however. If you go to Dohaidu, you will never return to consumer society.” One wolf then reached the baby elk, pouncing on it and instinctively grasping its neck with its thick jaws. The mother panicked, at first trying to free the baby before she abandoned it, heading in the direction of the rest of the pack. “And this land you speak of? ”. Tanaka began describing Dohaidu. Dreaming of Roask and that distant land, Fauni accepted the terms Tanaka had put forth, officially expatriating from the consumer machine.

Jinns began rummaging through a satchel. He nodded his head up and down, grinning “this is life, isn’t it. Exploring caves... I’ve got just the perfect tool.” He pulled out a small pebble, tapped a button on it, and tossed it into the air. A rustle sounded, some animal scurrying about, perhaps unsettled by the sudden change in light. It was a luminescence orb that slowly orbited around Jinns, lighting up the chamber and displaying a number of paintings on stone walls, strange symbols that seemed aged with time. They showed what seemed like ancient commoners and village farmers, different animals, sketches of grains and fields. Oxen, horses, bulls and sheep were painted alongside rivers and mountains and long chains of symbols. Herds of animals beneath flying ships decorated with celestial markings of stars, planets, and nebulae using paint that still, somehow, maintained its original color.

In one mural like painting, humbled admirers were depicted prostrating, gathered around a tree in a plain field. Its trunk extended from solid dark brown Earth, the roots burying and reaching in all directions deep down. Beneath the last of the roots the brown gave way to a black, elliptical space, full of ghouls, demons, shackled prisoners. A river of lava flowed past them, fierying rains lit up sections of the morbid rendition, blood spilled from lacerated corpses and flashes of bombs and war. A dog headed creature with a goat's tail and hooves, scarred and blackened angelic sat in a bone throne, purveying his domain with a half grin on his wicked face.

Jinns felt a chill and his eyes shifted upward, studying the lower sections of the tree, the arrowhead shaped leaves and limbs were set upon a blue sky and calming green land. The worshipers formed rings about the tree, like pilgrims to that fabled Kaaba, their expressions at once pleading and full of reverence and awe. A gargantuan albino ape hung from one branch, resting his back on a perfectly arched branch, calm and serene looking out upon the land, perfectly ignorant and content. Birds and all other manner of life filled the tree, and as Jinns eyes rose further, its branches splintered against a solar background, reaching into the heavens like Yggdrasil of ancient mythology. The deep brown of its flesh rested amongst the stars, planets and like, as if feeding or nurturing them with some life blood. Above the reach of its peak a sea, ocean of pure darkness, blackness interspersed with what seemed like metal motherships, caravans of the beyond, piercing the night like barbary pirate ships in an endless sea.

In a neighboring mural, gold vinyl matching the tone and texture of medieval halos outlined a tall being. The being was standing in front of a grounded starship on a jagged, rocky and lifeless outcrop surrounded by murky gray blue ocean. The being was entirely clothed in white robes and depicted crouched down, planting or placing something in the sea. The whole scene seemed to depict some divine happening or had some other religious, historical, mythological significance. Jinns and Roask were in awe, the murals extending far down the cave walls until disappearing into the darkness. “Goes without saying that we were not the first ones to discover this place, eh? Doesn’t seem like those visitors were here anytime recently, however. Any ideas?”

“No idea. I’ve never seen anything like it. I had better get back, though.” It was getting late and Roask began to feel claustrophobic and trapped. The worst scenarios began running through his mind. He imagined the entrance crumbling or the cave collapsing, dangerous creatures awakening to hear intruders in their haven or some other beasts returning to the shelter. Roask’s experience of living with Tanaka on his reservation was still fresh in his mind. He recalled those four legged, elephant and zebra-like creatures he had witnessed. He was now of the understanding that quite anything was possible and, being a newcomer to Dohaidu and unacquainted with the land or its people, his weary feeling grew. The mouth of the cave was very small, and the light entering the cave was that of dawn. “I’ll stay down here and keep exploring. I’ll catch up with you back at the colony.”, said Jinns, as he began collecting rock and liquid samples.

Roask slowly made his way back to the mouth of the cave before retracing his steps to the colony and field where he witnessed the Dohaidens preparing for another jamboree. “A party?”, he asked a Dohaiden, who was rolling a big keg of some sort of spirit or beer to the heart of the plain, where rugs were being layed and tables assembled. “A celebration for a newcomer by the name of L. Fauni'', the young boy stated matter of factly. He continued to roll the barrel across the field. Roask was taken aback, he had not heard her name in months. Roask had always been interested in Fauni, but had lacked the confidence to engage her. His lack of self esteem led him to believe that she would never choose him over some other prospect and caused him to never commit or believe he would be able to woo her.

Despite this, the two had a special bond, they were confidants and friends and Fauni seemed to maintain a steady, under the surface interest for Roask. He could not imagine what would have caused her to be sent to Dohaidu, however. The excitement and anticipation of the night to come could be tasted, and, as some Dohaidens prepared for the celebration, others were concluding their small projects and research. Some appeared touching down from the sky, holding measuring tools, vials, plants, fruit, and other treasures they had sought during the day. Others came from the great lakes, rivers and ponds, with nets of fish and vials of water and plants. Some appeared from the nearby forests, and others seemed to be returning from expeditions or affairs that required the use of their ships.

The Dohaiden technology and architecture was unique and a part of a separate evolutionary track compared to consumer technology. Their ships resembled dreidels, the bodies appearing like massive cubes with rounded corners. The bottom of the ships were not flat but appeared as inverted pyramids, again, with no sharp corners or lines but with smooth connections. A long, thin metallic shaft extended from the top of the craft and pointed towards the sky, also shaped as a pyramid but much thinner and longer than the one of the base. As the ships moved they always rotated, perhaps a necessary component to the technology or other inner components that shifted and governed the craft. They had a cloaking, transparent capability by which they became invisible, perhaps built using a version of the material from which Roask’s new home was constructed. Thus, they could only be glimpsed during touchdown, as they powered off their systems, or be sensed by those white clouds that surround fast moving craft. When visible they appeared pitch black, with hints of dark purple liquid like goo spreading over the surface.

The craft moved much faster than anything consumer as well, appearing at first like specks in the sky and in virtually seconds becoming full size. From the handful that had just landed, a number of Dohaidens emerged with boxes containing some kind of loot, perhaps extracted from a neighboring planet or from some other far away destination. The crowd began to grow and soon Fauni could be seen descending from a consumer ship, greeted by the same druid like man hat had welcomed Roask to the colony. Roask felt joy at the prospect of reuniting with Fauni, being not only someone that he could relate to on a personal level, she was also the type of person that Roask could see himself building a lasting future with. Her beauty had not in the least diminished as she stepped down elegantly from the ship, shaking hands with the red haired, white clad man, who was perhaps some sort of leader of the Dohaidens.

The scene was like the arrival of some ancient emissary stepping down from an ancient litter with droves of eager onlookers bashing drums, children flying kites and tall men waving banners. After Fauni had exchanged a number of words with the white clad man, he blew the traditional conch shell which signalled the arrival of a new member to Dohaidu and the beginning of festivities.

The skies had become more cloudy and eerie with each passing day and the sun’s rays were so weakened by the thick debris that one could stare at the orb endlessly. Red-orange, the eerie disk floated like the sole harvest of an old peach tree that had lost most of its limbs and leaves years ago, its bark hardened and mangled by years of weathering. It felt like it was constantly dawn or dusk, that some permanent nuclear or volcanic winter had set in as Jaffari and his small raiding party continued through the jungle, heading to the coast. Strong booms periodically travelled through the air, sometimes accompanied by shockwaves that shook the leaves and branches and in special cases so strong that they caused a pounding, rocking sensation in the chest.

The party had passed by a number of fires, and, due to a small lapse in the normal jungle rains, they had spread quickly, indiscriminately torching everything in their paths. The team was disconnected from all networks, which, since having been compromised, were more of a threat than an advantage. All of the men were wearing masks, and their suits were tattered, their boots run down. “I’m afraid we don’t have much time,” Jaffari told Rama. The two locked eyes, and both seemed to understand that the war was coming to an end. As they marched on, a Sitmian on the far right wing of the assembly triggered a pressure mine, instantly ripping the man’s legs off. “Johnson! No!”, the closest member rushed over to the man. He was bleeding out quickly, screaming in pain.

Jaffari knew that if the mine was consumer, it’s detonation would have already alerted the closest party of fighter drones. They had little time. Jaffari rushed to Johnson, the man’s face twisted in expressions that caused him to appear more like an animal or ghoul than a Sitmian. After assessing the injury, Jaffari ordered the remaining troops to move forward, but Kian refused. “No! He has a chan--”, the blast of the pressure rifle rang out, ending Johnson’s misery. Jaffari then ordered the troops to move forward signalling the arrival of fighter drones with hand gestures as he sprinted away. “Kian, come on! There’s no time!”, Rama said. “If he’s gone, I'm going with him…”, said Kian, who had not been detached from Johnson since the beginning of the war, the latter like an older brother or father figure.

Kian knelt his head against what remained of Johnson as the rest of the troops sprinted away from the detonation site and readied their rifles. He screamed and fired wildly into the air as the fighter drones approached, readied his rifle and fired, taking down at least two before being struck by multiple lasers. Jaffari, knowing that the drones would sweep the area, ordered the men to halt and engage the drones. Multiple targets were downed as the Sitmian’s light beams pierced the cloudy, red skies, felling trees and slicing through branches and anything else in their wake. The drones retaliated in haste, their hornet, spider shaped metal limbs targeting multiple Sitmians and unleashing a flurry of attacks.

Yells were heard and bodies began dropping as more smoke and dust filled the air. As Jaffari targeted a fighter drone in the distance, he was struck by a precise laser, screamed in pain and went down. Rama was taking cover behind a tree and periodically sneaking his head and rifle out, limiting his visibility as he continued to lay siege. Eventually the last fighter drone crashed through the forest canopy and landed, sparks and smoke emanating from the twisted metal beast. Rama at once hurried over to Jaffari and the other Sitmians tended to the rest of the injured.

He knew he had to act fast and cauterize Jaffari’s wound as he held up the right arm and noticed a clean cut at the wrist. It was spewing blood like a garden hose, the viscous, red fluid bursting from the arteries, which looked like a collection of thick copper wires encased in a rubber insulator. A pale hand lay on the forest floor below, partially covered by dirt and blood. Rama, with one hand holding Jaffari’s arm and the other grasping his weapon, began discharging his rifle, bringing Jaffari’s severed limb closer to the superheated light beam. “Be steady, don’t move'', said Rama. A singeing noise could be heard as Jaffari writhed in pain and his body contorted violently. His teeth sunk into a twig as he tried to help mask the horrible pain.

The rest of the troops gathered in formation, some limping, others exhausted, and the rest wrapped with bandages. The guerilla party had already been halved since the group’s departure from headquarters, a place now stranding as just a barren pile of ash. After putting down those that were deemed unable to save, the party trekked onwards, continuing to move to the coast. Thick, dark anvil clouds were forming against the backdrop of the grey sky, the sun now so overwhelmed and masked by the atmosphere that it could no longer be seen, only sensed by a subtle glow and faint halo. Their pace was halved and the men were extremely vulnerable in their weakened state, likely to barely survive another such engagement. After continuing their march for a few more hours, the party made camp.

Strong winds began billowing through the air and it felt that a great tempest or typhoon was approaching. The party struggled to set up their camp, every simple action took a combined effort and tremendous concentration. After a long battle, the Sitmian party was huddled together in a tent, passing around food and drink and tending to their wounds. The hisses and wailing of the increasingly strong winds, unending blasts of distant bombs and deep, echoing booms of thunder combined to form a kind of orchestra of rage, power, and fear. There was no reprieve, their only solace was each other. The men leaned against one another, securing a few hours of weak sleep before continuing onwards.

They would reach the shore in a few hours. Jaffari sensed something was off, halting the group. He had a sort of sixth sense when it came to matters of survival and could sense stimuli imperceptible to most. Like he could feel eyes or ears focusing on his movement, like the act of perceiving the man elicited a physical response. He scanned the area, quickly sifting through the massive quantities of data present in every slice of the jungle like a supercomputer. Nothing, but, there was something. He could feel it. As he peered down he noticed a well defined track in the mud, the easily imprintable Earth capturing its main features perfectly. It was like a clawed hoof, nothing he had ever encountered before. He beckoned Rama, who studied the track like an old hunter in pursuit of long awaited game. Rama met Jaffari’s eyes. “Never come across anything like this,” Rama said as he squinted his eyes.

The party continued marching and, after some hours had passed, a wide dreary grey sheet of ocean could be seen through the trees, replacing the unending knots of jungle fauna that had occupied their eyes for months. White streaks, the wakes of waves and the roar of the ocean came into perception as the party advanced, giving life to the previously unindented, featureless grey blanket. Its waters filled them with wonder, its raging waters stirred their souls, some timeless essence was sparked to life by its fantastical power. The ocean pulled them, and like gravity acting on a mass, the group’s attention could not be pulled away from the ocean for too long before it was pulled back. It was not only because the Sitmians had been bound by the jungle for so long that the great sea had such power, but rather something of legend or myth that perhaps all of life had always sensed.

The storm had not subsided and only grew in strength. The powerful winds and rain drew melting, deformed faces on the violent grey surface as waves crashed together, forming column shaped ejaculations resembling the outstretched hands and fingers of drowning pirates, reaching up one last time before being consumed. Debris and trunks of trees were scattered over the sand, displaced by previous storms. Lighting lit the darkening sky, splintering downwards from dark, ghost shaped clouds as if to escape some horror they held within, the branching pattern of the white plasma matching the pattern of a river as seen from miles above the Earth’s surface. Thunder followed, bellowing in clear, unmistakable terms how utterly defenseless and weak all of life was in the midst of the physical power of the Earth. The rain whipped against the faces of the Sitmians as they peered out to sea, looking for any signs of activity or anomalies on its surface.

Jaffari noticed fading pairs of tracks imprinted in the sand similar to those he had seen previously, leading from the ocean into the jungle. The tempest began approaching levels unsafe for exposure and the grey sky was slowly conquered by the dark, black chains of clouds and dying light. Jaffari peered through a magnifying implement and studied the coastline, extending in both directions and forming a very weak, convex line. Far off, a group of black dots were emerging from the chaotic waters and entering the jungle in groups. Alistair again beckoned Rama, who took a look himself and, for the first time, an expression of worry formed in the creases, canyons and waves of skin around his forehead and eyes. He shook his head slowly, and both men brandished their beam rifles, ordering the rest of the party to stay on high alert.

Jaffari ordered the Sitmians to retreat to the jungle where the trees would provide at least some cover and act as a barrier against the worsening wind and elements. He sensed that the creatures were responsible in the sudden turn of events in the war against the consumers. Thunder broke through the air, and Jaffari again felt he was being watched, that sixth sense of his strongly activated. The darkness, the assault of darkness would not give way as his paranoia and anxiety crept up, uncharacteristically losing his composure, his eyes darting about, everything now a dim grey, meeting nothing but void.

Screams and the howl of wind could be heard, dark flashes. A tide swept him up, the raging waters beating and whipping him around violently as he gasped for air and choked on brine. The swift, heavy currents continued to twist his limbs and he felt something squeezing him, wrapping around his chest and sucking the life out of him, constricting him as his body’s reflexes forced him to gasp for more air, filling his lungs with more liquid. Darkness, blackness began conquering him, taking him over, beating him into submission.