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34> Stories from a flat world
The year is 2038. The month: August. The day is Friday - the 20th by the old Earth calendar. 20 years and a long forgotten amount of days earlier Earth was visited by a race of peace-loving non-Terran lifeforms we now know as Neutraals from a galaxy so far, far away that it is yet to be named.
So great was the Neutraalians dedication to peace that their primary action upon first contact was to locate and destroy all political figureheads, financial executives and power hungry leaders of private corporations. Religious leaders were rounded up and exiled to the FaanTkk mines on Mars. All forms of currency were located, collected and destroyed in a bonfire so incandescent it was seen, as was reported years later, by the n’Boq from their interplanetary viewing platform orbiting their home planet of Neptune.
With the leaders of Earth in exile or reduced to particles and no money to create division between the planet’s occupants the King of Neutraalian Peace and Order in the Universe nominated a Global Leader to oversee the population of Earth and ensure peace reigned. The model of dictatorial peace had served the Neutraals well for a thousand years in their self-imposed role of guardians of the galaxy.
Clem Anderson pondered upon these facts as he surveyed the landscape that unfolded before him. As a native of Earth he now enjoyed unlimited free time to pursue whatever interests piqued him, as long as those pursuits fit within the stringent boundaries of peace set out by Neutraalian law.
Clem was a traveller. A shade under 6 foot tall and whippet thin, he enjoyed nothing more than leaving Earth behind to explore the furthest reaches of the galaxy that were now available to him since the Earth’s emancipation all those years ago.
The vista currently entertaining Clem was a small planetoid on the very edge of the solar system. It was known simply as Flat_Earth_01. In many ways it matched Earth – there was water, grass, trees, a breathable atmosphere. Unlike the Earth, this planetoid was bowl-shaped. The water was pink and the soil shone golden in the highest hours of the daytime. The water that existed within the bowl pooled and eventually leapt over the edge, sprinkling the infinite below with an never ending shower of rain that eventually turned to ice as it reached the chill of space. No one, not even the Neutraals, understood how this planet’s eco-system worked and the mystery that surrounded it was a big draw to an adventurous Earthican such as Clem.
“How lucky I am to live in these times”, he thought to himself as his senses imbibed the incredible sights, sounds and smells that surrounded him.
“How lucky”, he furthered, “to live in a time of alien occupation so militantly benevolent that I could be allowed to see this”.
He breathed in deeply, steeping his lungs in the fragrant air.
From somewhere nearby Clem heard a snap and the sound of gears chafing. The view – that incredible view – began to waver as if, Clem thought, the tracking needed attending to on one of those vintage VHS players that were in vogue again.
Clutching his chest, Clem exclaimed weakly. The entire right hand side of his body was now numb and he felt himself staggering, inexorably, towards the edge of the cliff he was standing on. He could hear the sound of the cherry waves but vision was becoming more of a problem. More snaps, pings and grinding were heard and Clem’s legs finally buckled, ushering him headfirst into the water below.
Back on Earth, Clem Anderson returned to the world with a gasp. His vision was still obscured but with scrabbling hands he found a headset encasing the top of his skull. As he feverishly removed it, light exploded into his eyes and he fell to the floor with his head in his hands. He stayed there for a time, trying to regulate his breathing and re-establish his vision. Calmer now, Clem raised himself to his knees and peered out. The scenery made him gasp again, this time in reaction to his surroundings.
Clem found himself entombed within a concrete box not much taller than him but so wide the far walls could not be seen. The walls and ceiling were smooth and grey. The floor, however, glowed intermittently with a pulsing pink aura. It was divided into squares which, upon closer inspection, were translucent, allowing the pink glow to shine through.
By the light of the floor, Clem explored. On one wall he came across a brushed chrome wall mounting with writing inscribed. As he read, his eyes widened in fear and his hands slowly raised to his mouth, as if to temper any attempts at a scream.
“EMERGENCY PROTOCOL”, the inscription began.
“If your wearable tech has failed”, it continued, “contact your duty Neutraalian guard by pressing this wall mounted plate firmly into the wall”.
“While awaiting a response please continue to move around your cell in order to continue your personal production of energy”.
“Please note that if personal energy production drops below the prescribed average during your tech failure, the duty punishment officer will attend your cell to offer encouragement”.
“Once your tech is repaired, peace will be with you once more”.
Clem stared at the words chiselled perfectly into the metal and understood. The Neutraalians maintained peace not by freedom but by imprisonment. Mental and physical imprisonment. Virtual reality to trap the mind, a concrete bunker to trap and convert the energy of its occupant through the weight-sensitive battery cells installed in the floor.
The Neutraalians were no more peaceful occupiers than Clem was a space adventurer, their continued expansion throughout the universe predicated upon the worlds already occupied and turned into battery farms.
Clem, dazed and confused, pressed the metal plate, desperate to return to the world he knew, loved and belonged.
Strobist info: SB600 camera right at 1/2 power. Fired by CLS.
34> Stories from a flat world
The year is 2038. The month: August. The day is Friday - the 20th by the old Earth calendar. 20 years and a long forgotten amount of days earlier Earth was visited by a race of peace-loving non-Terran lifeforms we now know as Neutraals from a galaxy so far, far away that it is yet to be named.
So great was the Neutraalians dedication to peace that their primary action upon first contact was to locate and destroy all political figureheads, financial executives and power hungry leaders of private corporations. Religious leaders were rounded up and exiled to the FaanTkk mines on Mars. All forms of currency were located, collected and destroyed in a bonfire so incandescent it was seen, as was reported years later, by the n’Boq from their interplanetary viewing platform orbiting their home planet of Neptune.
With the leaders of Earth in exile or reduced to particles and no money to create division between the planet’s occupants the King of Neutraalian Peace and Order in the Universe nominated a Global Leader to oversee the population of Earth and ensure peace reigned. The model of dictatorial peace had served the Neutraals well for a thousand years in their self-imposed role of guardians of the galaxy.
Clem Anderson pondered upon these facts as he surveyed the landscape that unfolded before him. As a native of Earth he now enjoyed unlimited free time to pursue whatever interests piqued him, as long as those pursuits fit within the stringent boundaries of peace set out by Neutraalian law.
Clem was a traveller. A shade under 6 foot tall and whippet thin, he enjoyed nothing more than leaving Earth behind to explore the furthest reaches of the galaxy that were now available to him since the Earth’s emancipation all those years ago.
The vista currently entertaining Clem was a small planetoid on the very edge of the solar system. It was known simply as Flat_Earth_01. In many ways it matched Earth – there was water, grass, trees, a breathable atmosphere. Unlike the Earth, this planetoid was bowl-shaped. The water was pink and the soil shone golden in the highest hours of the daytime. The water that existed within the bowl pooled and eventually leapt over the edge, sprinkling the infinite below with an never ending shower of rain that eventually turned to ice as it reached the chill of space. No one, not even the Neutraals, understood how this planet’s eco-system worked and the mystery that surrounded it was a big draw to an adventurous Earthican such as Clem.
“How lucky I am to live in these times”, he thought to himself as his senses imbibed the incredible sights, sounds and smells that surrounded him.
“How lucky”, he furthered, “to live in a time of alien occupation so militantly benevolent that I could be allowed to see this”.
He breathed in deeply, steeping his lungs in the fragrant air.
From somewhere nearby Clem heard a snap and the sound of gears chafing. The view – that incredible view – began to waver as if, Clem thought, the tracking needed attending to on one of those vintage VHS players that were in vogue again.
Clutching his chest, Clem exclaimed weakly. The entire right hand side of his body was now numb and he felt himself staggering, inexorably, towards the edge of the cliff he was standing on. He could hear the sound of the cherry waves but vision was becoming more of a problem. More snaps, pings and grinding were heard and Clem’s legs finally buckled, ushering him headfirst into the water below.
Back on Earth, Clem Anderson returned to the world with a gasp. His vision was still obscured but with scrabbling hands he found a headset encasing the top of his skull. As he feverishly removed it, light exploded into his eyes and he fell to the floor with his head in his hands. He stayed there for a time, trying to regulate his breathing and re-establish his vision. Calmer now, Clem raised himself to his knees and peered out. The scenery made him gasp again, this time in reaction to his surroundings.
Clem found himself entombed within a concrete box not much taller than him but so wide the far walls could not be seen. The walls and ceiling were smooth and grey. The floor, however, glowed intermittently with a pulsing pink aura. It was divided into squares which, upon closer inspection, were translucent, allowing the pink glow to shine through.
By the light of the floor, Clem explored. On one wall he came across a brushed chrome wall mounting with writing inscribed. As he read, his eyes widened in fear and his hands slowly raised to his mouth, as if to temper any attempts at a scream.
“EMERGENCY PROTOCOL”, the inscription began.
“If your wearable tech has failed”, it continued, “contact your duty Neutraalian guard by pressing this wall mounted plate firmly into the wall”.
“While awaiting a response please continue to move around your cell in order to continue your personal production of energy”.
“Please note that if personal energy production drops below the prescribed average during your tech failure, the duty punishment officer will attend your cell to offer encouragement”.
“Once your tech is repaired, peace will be with you once more”.
Clem stared at the words chiselled perfectly into the metal and understood. The Neutraalians maintained peace not by freedom but by imprisonment. Mental and physical imprisonment. Virtual reality to trap the mind, a concrete bunker to trap and convert the energy of its occupant through the weight-sensitive battery cells installed in the floor.
The Neutraalians were no more peaceful occupiers than Clem was a space adventurer, their continued expansion throughout the universe predicated upon the worlds already occupied and turned into battery farms.
Clem, dazed and confused, pressed the metal plate, desperate to return to the world he knew, loved and belonged.
Strobist info: SB600 camera right at 1/2 power. Fired by CLS.