Roask awoke from a long, deep slumber well rested and satisfied after the nourishing meal of the previous night, as he rose, the speakers greeted him, stating that he would be shuttled to Dohaidu in a matter of hours. Tanaka was nowhere to be seen, and no sign of life could be glimpsed within the cold room. Only himself, the glass roof and walls, steel floor and comforter couch on which he slept lay in the chamber. He felt like Zeus, arising among the clouds, his head higher than the peak of every mountain, inhabiting a crystal palace not fit for the likes of man. The sun was about half way over the eastern facing mountain, the trees and ground seemed to hunger for its light, beckoning for those rays that spread like flakes of gold as it inched higher, putting to rest the contemplative shadow of night that withdrew its furrowed cloke.

A drone hurried in, offering him a cup of hot tea, steam dancing over the fluid as it carried its earthy organic aroma through his nostrils. As he enjoyed the beverage it cleared his throat and sinuses, nourishing his throat and gut as its comforting warmth ran down his esophagus into his gut. The golden shine of a shuttle caught his eye, appearing suddenly over the peak of the mountain and out of the bright halo that capped the stone giant. It seemed as if it was carried by or swam through the bright morning light, and, like a phoenix, with plumage of fiery lava, coated in that ocean of white gold that drips from the sun like honey from the comb, carried with its peaceful movement bodings of some long awaited metempsychosis. The ship was a model that Roask had never before seen, and, as it approached it acrobatically shifted, tilting to land perfectly on the platform below.

A spherical metal cage fixed with six gravitator engines, placed equidistant from one another around its equator and atop its poles, elegantly rested upon the landing slab. The gravitators worked in unison, varying the intensity of their respective contributions to move the sphere in any direction at any moment, it's perfect coordination displayed as it decelerated. As it approached the landing platform, a tripod of metal legs shot out from below the carrier, propping it up perfectly. Tanaka marched into the chamber, he wore a cloak covered in autumn leaves, the bright red sheets constantly shifting over the nanofiber cloth and making him appear as if he was in constant motion, as he looked at Roask as a father would behold a child.

The ship was empty, operated by an A.I. that had long ago surpassed the inefficiency of human error. An orb, aerodynamically suited for rapid orthogonal shifts and not limited by the quasi linear motion of more traditional winged craft. It seemed to hail from an extraterrestrial species, one that had conquered the greatest achievements of human civilization in its infancy. A metal slab slid open from the northern wall and Tanaka appeared, followed by his gargantuan feline, who, upon entry, sat down and stared blankly at Roask, solely pondering how entirely simple he was. “I’m sure you will enjoy your new environment, think of it as a death of sorts, a parting with the mundane nature of your past existence.” As he spoke, Tanaka stared at the ship. “A death of sorts…”, he repeated. “Please, follow me,” They two walked through a few rooms before exiting the mansion, crossing bridge that led to the landing pad. Tanaka stood next to the craft as Roask ascended the staircase and entered the orb.

The exterior wall was fixed with a number of concentric layers, each filled with a gelatinous liquid containing a number of flashing lights and symbols, their various forms and shapes reminiscent of the bioluminescent life that inhabited those oceans depths far beyond the strongest rays of penetrating sunlight. A reclining chair was the only other feature within the small craft, a number of tubes, pipes, screens, plugs, and capsules surrounded it, likely capable of inducing hibernation for trips to stations located beyond the outer edges of the solar system. Roask plopped down in the chair, which automatically shifted to support his weight evenly. A computerized voice activated. “Destination: New Dohaidu. Estimated time of arrival: twenty minutes and counting.” The craft shot up in the air, the sudden acceleration taking Roask by surprise and spiking his adrenaline. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the fluttering sensations in his gut as the craft shifted through the sky, and before he knew it, had once again landed.

The door shifted open and the light flooded within the craft, shocking Roask’s eyes with the sudden change of luminosity. What he then gleaned was something out of a dream, entirely unlike any consumer architecture he had witnessed before. Grand lakes were scattered across the valley landscape, within them small islands on which stone pyramids grew, covered with trees and birds. Old marble statues and sculptures, moss and erosion signs of their passage through many seasons, dotted the landscape. Wide stone slabs could be seen in the far off distance, slowly shiftings across the skies and over an outstretched valley, hovering roughly one hundred meters above the earth and supporting a number of crops, livestock, and stone houses. Light poured down upon the land, which was bright green and blue, full of life, except for those wide patches of shadow cast upon the land from the elevated, shifting fields of crops. The settlement was cradled between a ring of mountains on it’s northern face and a long expose of flat earth in the other direction. The town was almost indistinguishable from the nature around it, visually it seemed as an extension of the mountain stones and evergreens that spotted the land. Towards the flat, open valley, there were more pyramidal homes, these ones not surrounded by water but nestled into the grasses and trees. Below the landing pad, he could see children clad in white robes, their voices filling the air with exuberance and glee as they ran with one another, chasing a ball through the grass.

Roask descended from the landing platform and was immediately greeted by the outstretched hand of a Dohaiden. “You must be Roask”, he said, gleefully. His eyes were filled with a brightness, an innocent curiosity, excitement, and genuine feeling of goodwill emanated from the man. Roask had not encountered such positivity since his encounter with the subterraneans many moons prior, the bright nature of the being all the more relieving since he had been so long exposed to the the cold, dark, and mysterious Tanaka. His skin was a pinkish, white and he had a long orange beard and bald head, wearing white robes and appearing like a druid. He was the first man of such complexion Roask had ever encountered, seemingly a member of the protohuman races that existed before the great mixing eliminated such extreme tones of skin. “Your skin, it’s not artificial is it?”, asked Roask.

He laughed. “You are in for a number of surprises old boy. This is just the form my parents decided on… We have all sorts of gene stocks to choose from.” In the distance, flying from the gliding agricultural slabs, a number of winged men began gliding through the air, their back’s fixed with long, white feathered wings. They had large baskets around their backs, seeming to fall like angels from above as the approached the two men. As they landed, their dove shaped wings recoiled gracefully, their long arms and beautiful figures fully exposed and wrapped in a deep, organic chocolate skin. Their faces beaming with joy as they inspected the newcomer, only a loincloth covered their groins.

“We have been waiting for you! A new star has joined us from the old world,” the Dohaiden said, as he inspected Roask up and down, mesmerized by his form. “Of course, Tanaka has probably informed you about the basics of our colony and the Dohaidens. We were all outliers or descended from them. The number of newcomers from the old world has gradually diminished with the advancements of the internal display, virtual technology, and the crumbling of the consumer society… Quite naturally, few and few consumers have escaped from those ideal worlds within themselves… We welcome you as one of our own, a child of heaven is among us!” From his pocket the bearded man clad in white robes, pulled out a conch whistle and blew it strongly the loud whistle was carried in every direction, inviting the rest of the Dohaidens to take part in the welcoming ceremony always performed for a new member of the colony. From the stone huts on the grasslands, more Dohaidens emerged. Those within stone huts situated in the lakes dove emerged and dove into the water and those inhabiting abodes hanging upon the mountainside hopped into the air and spread their wings, which, like sails of fabled ancients ships captured, the air. They surrounded Roask like bees around their queen, the forms of each more discernible as they became closer.

Those from the water were endowed with what seemed as gills and webbed fingers, a flaps of skin hung down from their inner thighs and arms that seemed capable of attaching their legs together and forming the tail and fins of a mermaid. As those from the land approached, they were hunched over, sprinting like cheetahs across the plains, and, as they exited their sprinting positions, their long forearms and flexible legs and sturdy limbs were striking. Thought no two of the dohaidens were entirely similar, with varying shades and textures of skin, all shared the prototypical human form blended in with the diverse shapes originating from the animal kingdom. All were products of complex biological engineering and advanced scientific manipulation. As they circled around Roask, one of the soaring stone slabs slowly passed over the sun, engulfing the entire party in a shadow that darted across the earth, temporarily mimicking the awe and striking beauty of the solar eclipse.

Another one of the orb shaped ships, this one slightly larger, descended quickly and landed next to the growing party of Dohaidens, who arranged began arranging themselves in a circle around Roask. A group of Dohaidens emerged from the ship. They were musicians, clad in long, brown cloaks fitted with wide hoods, their slim form and muscular forms entirely human. The group brandished a number of wind instruments and drums and began producing what felt like timeless music, its ecstasy causing the Dohaidens to cheer in glee and fall into laughter. The winged beings began dancing in the air, performing dazzling aerial acrobats, flipping and twirling through the sky. Four of the beings flew high into the sky, closing their wings and clasping their hands together in a free fall, the mass falling head first toward the ground before simultaneously opening their wings, which bloomed like a white rose as they parted in separate directions. The music paused and the entire mass began chanting in unison:

Sough a seed what will grow

Flowers fruits, fragrance too

Watered well it will bestow

Petaled peach trees, honeydew

The group cheered in unison and the music resumed as a number of Douhaidens began erecting long picnic benches and assembling small portable grills fetched from one of the nearby stone pyramids. From the lakes emerged subaqueous beings, carrying fishnets across their shoulder filled with fresh catches. From the gliding slabs above more beings flew down, carrying baskets of fruit, vegetables, and grain. All the while a number of lambs, cows, and chickens were being slaughtered in the name of the newcomer, there short lived screams of pain and agony piercing the air and adding to the music and commotion as various delicacies were tossed on the grills, the aroma filling the afternoon air. Roask could not believe his eyes, he felt as if he had passed through a time machine or was in the midst of a fantastical dream whose logic, origin, and meaning were entirely inaccessible. He was overwhelmingly ecstatic as the first clay plate was passed to him and the jubilee proceeded. Barrels of beer were rolled out and mugs filled as long silk clad dancers shifted like ballets.

All they eyes, souls, and minds were engrossed in the affair, collectively conscious, a sense of community filled the air and added to the ecstasy. A feeling of transcendence overcame Roask, as if no matter what occurred he would fall into the loving embrace of some divine, immaculate palms, timeless and perfect. Roask had never experienced such emotion, tears filled his eyes as he soaked in his surroundings. It seemed that no conception of stranger existed among the Dohaidens, each soul a member of some ancient cosmic family. The processions continued through the wee hours, the gathering eventually thinning out. Roask was accompanied to his new abode. He entered the ancient stone pyramid, ducking through a narrow tunnel before emerging in a dimly lit chamber. Similar to the ship, the interior walls of the pyramid were shaped as a half sphere, and, lying behind a crystal layer which covered them was a special liquid. It seemed to exactly reflect properties of the sky outside, a mirror image of the midnight moon, clouds and stars.

A courier made his way up to Jaffari and Rama. He wore mechanical attachments on his legs and arms acquired from the downing of a consumer supply ship the previous month, making him appear like a sort of futuristic minotaur. Somewhat nervous to break their concentration or interrupt them, he stuttered as he addressed the commander and his hand, ending the deep silence that filled the air. “Ss, Ss, Sir, I’ve been given orders to immediately report to you, general Dhasna wishes to meet with you. He said the matter is urgent and wants to discuss it further in person.”

Jaffari acknowledged the courier with a bow of the head, and he promptly turned back, his metallic suit allowing him to sprint quickly away, the crunching of leaves and twigs quickly fading as he disappeared down the mountainside. Jaffari closed his eyes and took in a large breath of air, hoping to return to the calm, pensive state he was previously relishing in before being disrupted. He opened his eyes slowly and turned to Rama, dismissing him with a nod and a wave of the hand.

A man sized stealth ship faced approached, they were used sparingly by the Sitmians, who, as a rule, were constantly paranoid of detection by the enemy. The aircraft appeared as a sort of coffin with two, scimitar shaped wings extending from its center. The ship came to a stop using its gravitator engines, quitely landing in a clear area beside Jaffari. The top layer of the craft opened, air hissing as Dhasna emerged. Dhasna was a commander of a northern battalion, one of a number of commanders under Jaffari.

His face was one typically Sitmian, large eyes set between high cheekbones and an arching, Roman nose. His brown, curly hair was cut short and contrasted with his long beard and mustache. Like a viking warlord, he was covered in tattoos and had a sturdy build. “Sir, I apologize for the intrusion. I’ve come to consult your highness. I suspect there is a traitor or spy under my command. The position of a second of my raiding battalions has been pinpointed with extreme accuracy. The whole battalion was taken like sitting ducks, sir. I’m sure the information is being leaked to the enemy, I can’t think of another explanation…”

Jaffari squeezed the upper bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer finger and cursed in rage, pounding his fist into the dirt next to him, creating a crater in the Earth as the sound of his yell echoed through the trees. He jolted upwards and swung his fist at a wide branch nearby, smashing through the thick wood with ease. “Another setback,'' he yelled, before taking a swig of jee jee tea from a carafe laying beside him. “Your feeling confirms my suspicions. There must be a rat among us. Nothing else could explain such a sudden change in the tide…”, Jaffari said, calming down.

As Jaffari ascended the ranks of Sitmian command and took on the role of leading the Sitmian forces, his calm, poised, spiritual nature had begun to shift. With the taste of power came the burden of responsibility and shear stress of managing hundreds of thousands of troops. He became rash, short sighted, power hungry, paranoid, irritable, and prone to fits of rage and outbursts like the one that he had just delivered. One mistake and thousands died, one slip up or false move and the eradication of a village was assured.

Dhasna took a step back as Jaffari stared into his eyes and unconsciously belittled himself and trembled as would an omega or beta wolf, fearing punishment from the alpha. Dhasna’s heart skipped a beat as he looked into Jaffari’s eyes. It seemed that there was a storm brewing within Jaffari’s soul, a patch of dark clouds slowly covering the inner light which had previously exuded from within. Dark bags appeared under his eyelids, his hair appeared ragged. “Ss, sir, I believe it could be a double. They have probably began placing subterranean appearing drones among their troops.” said Dhasna. “Likely. During rest hours this evening lock down your barracks and proceed to scan each of your men with these.” Jaffari handed Dhasna a pair of advanced goggles, capable of sensing infrared and radiation anomalies within organic tissue. “If there is a double amongst your battalion, this will betray them.”

With their plans settled, Dhasna entered his ship to return to the northern sector. Jaffari who took another swig of jee jee tea and focused on his tablet, studying the movements of troops and the recent data that had been collected by the swarms of surveillance hornets and troops. From the device he swiftly ordered movements of troops and sent vital communications. Not unlike the average consumer, he had become fixated on the screen, albeit external, his eyes were always locked in as the hours passed.

As the clock struck midnight, Dhasna locked the entryways to the underground barracks that housed all of his men, ordering them to line up as he began inspecting them one by one, the goggles displaying the inimitable intricacies of their biological systems. From their hearts veins and arteries splintered like the tributaries of great rivers or the branches and roots of old trees. The next was hardly distinguishable from the last, until Dhasna noticed, near the back of the line, one subterranean who was standing still, not progressing with the rest of the moving soldiers. “You there, get in formation?” Dhasna yelled. No movement, still. Though he could not notice the soldier’s expression as he approached, he seemed frozen or catatonic, not making the slightest of movements. As Dhasna came close enough to inspect the internal structure of the subterranean, he noticed that instead of a brain a network of metal coils were wrapped inside the skull, an artificial brain.

Dhasna brandished his gravitator rifle and aimed it at the double. “Put your hands…”. The double detonated. The force of the explosion instantly killed Dhasna, tearing apart his corpse as if it was a watermelon impacting from a high fall onto concrete, spewing red flesh in all directions. The red, yellow clouds of fire expanded through the barracks, offering a similar fate to the hundreds of men housed in the barracks and causing the earth above to crumble instantly, burying alive those that may have survived the initial explosion.

A news flash appeared on Jaffari’s tablet. Nuclear detonation recorded. Northern sector. He streamed data from a number of recording units from near the site. Initially, a shockwave spread, destroying everything in its path for kilometers on end, rampaging through the Sitmian hamlets and jungle like a stampede of buffalo. From beneath the ground a sudden mass of Earth was launched into the air, a volcanic eruption of sorts. Patches of white emerged from the initial cloud of expanding brown, yellow and red. The fire disappeared and the heavier particles of dirt and solid matter fell to the earth, unable to escape the pull of gravity as the white patches of smoke and gas expanded, billowing through the air like tortured ghouls or ghosts, finally released from some smitten, ancient tomb.

Jaffari clenched his fist and tossed down the tablet. He was sure it was the double. The loss was monumental, thousands of troops lost and a host of supplies. Dhasna was the central command of the Northern sector’s resistance and choosing a trustworthy, reliable replacement was no light task. Jaffari took another swig of jee jee tea before lying down on his mat, seeking guidance in the stars above. Despite the fluctuations in the war, Jaffari felt he was descending into a state of hopelessness, losing touch of the peace of his divine self. The war had stretched too long, breaking his heart, pouring too images of horror into his soul. The hopelessness of existence weighed down upon him, and his mind became negative and ruthless. He felt he was falling fast, but, he promised himself, he sure he would bring down the consumers with him.