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‘Human sweat layered thick as if to signify toil and heat’, ‘something gritty and grainy and earthy I can’t quite put it’, ‘stale dried out air wafting through a small long sealed hole’, all words Aliyah leaned in a little too closely to whisper in my ear to describe the scent that accompanied each of the courses in the ‘intellectual feast’ the High Visionary had designed.

Not to mention the sounds too, the whole tent was always abuzz with something. Worksongs, conversations and crass jokes, clanking chains or digging equipment tearing up the earth, the occasional clinking of glasses. All of it coming from our fellow participants or from speakers laced around a tent that blissfully was thick enough to shroud us in thick and relatively cool darkness. One that would have given me another shot at nice and blissful sleep if it wasn’t for the annoyance that was a light system that turned off or on based on whether each course was set in the ‘day’ or ‘night’ (I should book a trip to the dark side of the planet before the year is out, been a while).

I guess it was interesting? Watching people sift through little grains of brown rice for edible ‘jewels’ of slowly roasted pork and cracklings and taking pictures of each find to haggle with the waiter in the next course over to determine portion sizes in the next. But you know, despite how ‘open minded and futuristic’ the other guests at the table claimed to be, they all still looked at me weird for not taking off my mask the whole time. It made me really uncomfortable.

I told Aliyah as much, but I guess she was too distracted by our next course (a slab of beef stylized to look like a human arm wrapped up in what I am told are brine infused cloth that was roasted on the beef) to really care. By the time I slinked off outside of the tent to catch my breath I think she was trying to convince the other two to recite an old catholic exorcism prayer she found online before unwrapping it, since you know, it’s a cursed artifact. Made me chuckle a bit I’ll be honest.

But I already knew where I wanted to go. The giant metal head they uncovered is cool and all even from this distance, and I walked by a few tents that might be worth visiting later that’s marked by signs as ‘open case museums’ or merch stores (of course they’d have one). But that slight weight pressing down all around my body’s telling me to walk up and fall into one of the air conditioned building’s many beds, and really who am I to say otherwise? 

But that’s where I see her, huddled against the side of the wall underneath the building’s shade with a rolled up smoke in hand and a lighter in the other that she’s flicking and flicking with her long fingers, trying to actually get the damned thing to work while I’m just, standing there figuratively scratching my head about feeling like I’ve seen this woman before. 

It’s not about her squarish but thin face or her gorgeous brown eyes or the light brown of her soft looking skin or anything about the way her wavy black hair settles on her broad shoulders. It’s not until I look down at her chest and more importantly the type of vest barely covering it that I find two braincells bouncing around in my head to rub together and realize that sh-

“You should take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Wha-huh?”

I look up again and realize that she’s been staring right back at me, um, awkward much.

“Can’t even get a moment to myself these days, Christ you know my identity’s not much of a secret right? All of you guerilla journo-tabloid types keep trying to snap candid shots and soundbites like my face and name isn’t all over the web already, and believe me I’ve read some of the shit you people have tried to smear me with, god forbid a woman ever believe in anything.”

Journo type? Wait is this because of what Aliyah said about us, “Uhhh-”

“Oh just make it quick and get a good angle at least, go on now, do it, do it before I change my mind.”

She flicks her lighter on and takes in a deep puff of her newly lit cigarette and gives me the sort of expectant and demanding look that makes me fumble around in my satchel for my old and kind of beat up phone. She’s striking a pose by the time I finally get it out, and there’s a sort of exasperated expression on her face when she sees what I’m packing.

“A phone? A phone? Can’t you at least pretend to take this seriously? What sort of journalist doesn’t even have a proper camera with them these days? you know half of what comes out of those things aren’t even real right?”

My finger twitches and takes a picture of her as she complains about my ignorance, it’s not very flattering, I do not mention it to her. “Huh? Wait really?”

“How do you not kno-look, with a pinhole lens that small it’s all facial filters and predictive algorithms. Bullshit, do you understand? It’s how the world looks the way they want it to based on how everything should be and has been and not how they actually are. god you could not have picked a wor-which rag did you say you worked for again?” God, she’s very… expressive when she’s not under the mask.

“Rag? I don’t… oh!” I shake my head, “I’m not working with anyone actually, I’m just kind of… here? Like my friend’s a Concordian but I’m not really involved with any of that, well she made me drive her here so I guess I am sorta?”

She points at me with just her cigarette, “Okay so if you’re not a journalist or a weird fan then what are you bothering me for man? The party’s back where you came from, trust me you’re missing the best part. I’m pretty sure someone’s figured out the curse tablets are edible by now.”

I reach into my satchel and pull out one of the meal mix slurry pouches I keep stashed away for emergencies, “This is basically all I can be bothered to eat these days ever since I got this mask. I mean I can take it off to eat if I want to but my face’s a little messed up underneath this thing and I didn’t want to put anyone off their meals and it sounded like you were using a lot of perfumes and scents or whatever that I just don’t get, I just can’t get any of that at all and you know I haven’t slept in hours and hours so whenever the night parts happen and people start talking about things I don’t really understand my body just sorta wants to lean back on those really comfortable seats and fade away but then they come back on or someone just starts screaming or laughing for no reason or Aliyah says something to me and like even if I tried some everything tastes wrong anyway, I just can’t right now sorry.”

I take in a deep breath, “Also I’m not a guy…”

She just stands there with a weird look on her face for a bit, as if in shock or trying to wrap her head around something before she lets out a very sudden and unannounced, “FUCK! FUCK! Ugh of course there’s people like you coming to these things now. No offense.”

“Look I don’t really have the time to unpack this right now, but if you ever have any ideas on you know, how to make something like this work better you should get in touch, here!” she slips her free hand into one of her vest’s pockets and maybe opens it up a bit too much but it doesn’t take long before my gaze is yanked over to a little black and green I guess business card she’s handing over to me.

“Oh uh, thanks, I’m not really a cook but I guess I’ll call you if I ever think of something?” I offer up to the High Visionary as she takes in a long drag from her cigarette and tosses it to the floor and crushes it under her heel.

“Don’t call, text first, I am a very busy woman Miss?” She’s starting to leave already, taking the first few slow steps towards me or rather the sorta road I was walking up.

“Holly, Holly Bashur,” I blurt it out, she’s already past me but something about that makes her stop.

“You named yourself after an extinct tree?” she asks with genuine surprise in her voice.

“What?” I say, blinking at her.

“Nevermind,” is all she has to say in response, and I turn around in time to watch her walk away. I let my gaze linger there until she drops entirely out of sight. What a strange woman.

I bring her card up and on the green banded black side I see yep, that’s the Dilmun Concern’s logo alright, funny how bringing a plant over from lightyears away suddenly gives you the right to trademark a date palm leaf as your logo. The other side’s more interesting though, there’s a picture of her smiling in a strawberry shirtdress that definitely clashes with the I guess black banded leaf green of this side of the card, contact information that I infuriatingly enough need to manually type in to my phone for some reason, and her name, “Salome Tzeitman” huh? I feel like I’ve heard that name somewhere before.

Wait, actually, this says CEO at the bottom. _________________________________________________________________________

My body takes me the rest of the way down on autopilot and man it’s…

The beds are fine, the air is cool enough, and I’ve got my facemask on since I like to sleep in the dark, but it takes me a while to ease into it because I’m too used to the capsules back at home you know? Like no matter how clean this place is I’m still a little too exposed for comfort, maybe if I had been working here for a few months or years and gotten to know damn near everyone that’d come in here first I wouldn’t be so paranoid and jumpy. But tired is as tired does, and after a while I settle into a hazy half awake resting state with my satchel buried underneath the covers and-

That’s weird.

I can’t quite wrap my head around it, everything’s all hazy whenever I stop looking/thinking at it, but I think I’m in a field/enemy territory/charnel house? My right hand is holding a large mace firmly its bronze head slick with blood and encrusted gore and my left hand is bearing a long wooden shield. I think about letting go of both of these but a sense of fear/awareness/rational sense kicks in and I figure that I am not safe here and I am given brief glimpses of the bodies upon bodies upon bodies upon- 

There is a rustling sound and I look and behold not too far in front of me a woman right leg wounded not terminal black of hair fear in face maybe bearing bow in hand definitely and arrow in other hand also and she nocks it points towards me and I think to myself ‘what a fool she was to not surrender or hide amongst the corpses’ and I approach bare breasted and proud as she buries an arrow on my shield with a THUNK and she buries an arrow on my shoulderplate with a CLANG and I am upon her and with a swing I hear her arm bone separating into four pieces with a CRACK and a AAAAAAARGH as she screams and curses my name and I know her mind is stuck between hobble away fear or reach knife stab and I help her decide by bringing my mace down with FLSH and a GRGLL until her thoughts are only FLSH and GRGLL or rather “ ”.

And I look again and a man approaches spear in hand bare of breast stronger maybe and shield bearing anger and hate in face and I shout hate and he is upon me as I am upon him and spear pierces maybe but mace hand still free to turn all of him into goo flowing down flowing into black soil and I take deep breath deep pain shooting from open wound air knocked out gasping body and me going down to ground and rolling rolling I see another her atop me face like mine hair like mine shaking shaking as my fists slams down on her head down on her head as she growls grabs me with strong arms lifts up crush my wound stands and looks at me with piercing judging blue eyes that go POP as head collapses under fist and blue lips smiling and saying, "Metkatštâ meškaḥnâ l-mes‘arbhâde." 

She swings her arm and I am free.

The field, the bodies, the wounds they all fall away and I’m floating slowly turning around in a void planet below me stars above planet below stars above moving further and further away staring screaming soundlessly flailing and further and further away until I see it I see them I see them all arrayed in their glory a procession of vast vast machines built only for war and killing and conquest and I think to myself if they could even touch planetside and I think of the skies burning and people screaming and the least landing as painlessly for itself as the greatest and I think to myself how big are they really and I think a mountain range made out of brick but trudging forward on two legs and I think to myself where are they going and I rotate and I see home and I think to myself can anything stand against them? Who would be here to save/help us and I think about my hands bloody bruised and still pounding away and I ask myself/her who are these people? What are they to you and me and she replies in that selfsame and assured voice, “Sâ’nâ Ḥayltânâ”

I wake up cold yet sweaty and somehow unburdened from the weight of my travels but my hands feel strange and I pull them out from under the bed and find them grasping around something cold and pipelike and curved and firm and metallic and golden in nature or at least in appearance. For some reason the little pointed horns makes me think of that giant head at the edge of the quarry and the blue from my dreams and the blue of its jaw, and I think.

“Maybe I should go and see it for myself.”