Read The Colonial History of Tir-Torzor and Brief Accounts of Its Diasporas’ Denizens :: The Seekers and Sank's Sermon Pt1

Before the Minare’s arrival, there were a few investigative documentations done on the organized belief known as the Seekers of Nephiliham. (aka Seekers) The records showed this group followed the teachings of their deceased leader and self-declared prophet Julian Gregorian. It revolved around the prophecy foretold in which angels would come and take the worthy to the home planet of their deity only named God. It is here, God will reveal the identity of their reincarnated leader who would once again lead them – this time as a figure known as “God’s Right Hand” – and bring humanity salvation.

This belief – a more insular variation of a mixture of other preexisting organized beliefs – was little known until the Minare’s arrival, due to so many others in existence promising basically the same thing: salvation. The need of being saved was based on very real problems human civilization languished under for many years, which only seemed to be growing far worse up to this point in their history. These issues were addressed and personally experienced by the Seekers of Nephiliham’s future leader Sank.

Sank’s real name and background are largely undiscovered but there is some idea, as small details of his life were given in this transcript of his speech to his followers:

Strife. Plagues. Environmental degradation and disasters. Corruption. Gluttony. Hatred. So much wrong with our old world yet, except for a young boy watching the ugliness unfold on a pawnshop TV, it amounted to little more than background noise to his desperate mother and the man she was trying to convince her valuables were worth more than he claimed.

When my mother and I left the shop with less money than what was needed, we made our way to our car when I saw a homeless person across the street. He was on a bus stop bench either sleeping or dead. I couldn’t tell because he was too far away. Scrawled on a cardboard sign he had with them was, “I hurt.” None of the people passing him by to get to the nearby unemployment line seemed to pay it any mind.

My mother was about to start the car when I asked her, “Why are people hurting?”

Still holding back her tears from earlier, she said to me, “Because we allow it.”

We allow it. Not “her,” not “me,” not “you,” not “them,” but “we.” Back then I wasn’t sure but as I grew up, I became aware to what she meant.

My father allowed a preventable disease to take him because he had to choose between getting treatment and filling his family’s bellies with food. My mother allowed herself to be stretched over three low-paying jobs barely making money to survive because she had to make sure I was taken care of properly. The pawnshop owner allowed arbitrary worth to be given to arbitrary items because he wanted to keep making a profit. The jobless allowed the homeless to suffer because they couldn’t afford enough to care. I allowed this because I was too young, and weak, and ignorant to do anything about it. Both victims and victimizers, are responsible for allowing bad things to materialize, feeding the perpetual machine of misery, letting it work faster and harder until the coming of oblivion.