Alive In An Allegedly Acceptable Fiction : or, In Closing
“Prestige bars any serious attack on power. Do people attack a thing they consider with awe, with a sense of its legitimacy?”
- George L. Jackson ‘Blood In My Eye’
1.
Worm followed the trail, every day each new trail, and that’s how it gets done. Sure, you had to be at the ready and you had to know what to look for, but there was a new trail to follow each and every day. Identifying the signifier was the whole game. Without it, no trail, no head, no terminus. There was a worry, now and again, that it had been missed, overlooked, with the creeping dusky shade swallowing the sky, lengthening the stains on the corners and in the alleys, reminding one to consider the distance from, and the time it will take to travel back to, the nest. But, without fail, it would present itself, different every time and unmistakable.
It could be anything; Worm recalled a few of the markers - the blue background of a painted sign with one small brush stroke of a lighter hue in the bottom right corner, a brick wall symmetrically collapsed, three empty bottles on the side of the road forming the shape of a triangle, a perfectly smooth pile of ash, and so many others, almost too many to remember. It wasn’t as if following the trail was Worm’s primary concern; it was nothing more than a daily occurrence, something that had to be done. There were other actions Worm performed on a regularly recurring schedule, such as water collection and purification, the latter of which dovetailed naturally into fire starting. There was also cartographical cognition and awareness, as well as the sustenance conundrum which was resolved either by theft or killing. Transparency was a moment to moment concern, never mind pattern of life analysis. It’s a wonder that Worm has any time at all to notice the indicators or follow the trails.
Once the mark was noted, though, the trail took precedence, because the nest and the trail were intricately linked, bound up in a feedback loop. At the end of every trail, no matter the day of the week or the season, Worm would unearth a single page. The nest, on the other hand, was constructed from single sheets of paper, one applied each evening, mulched by the weather - by the deluge of the rainy season, the melting ice during the thaw, the morning dew in the dry months - then baked by the sun into a protective abode that allowed Worm to survive another night, to live another day and to find another page. The nest didn’t offer much beyond shelter and Worm didn’t ask anything more from it, some protection between evening and dawn, and then it was out to face the day and all of the challenges and routines that needed to be overcome, the trials and the tribulations.
The trails themselves, once recognized, were a cinch to follow. Such a banal maneuver that it’s not even worth recounting past examples here. It’s enough to describe today’s trail as an exemplar of all previous versions. And as it happens, Worm has just identified the new signifier. Behind the bar at dawn, in the midst of rummaging, there it is; a crate of empties with the slots filled in the shape of an X. Early and easy, thinks Worm, already hunting for the way forward. The first step of this trace perfectly illustrates the importance of the signifier; the paint on the wall opposite the bar is weathered and has chipped and flaked from the bricks. Bereft of knowledge concerning its potential significance one might not notice, as Worm does now, that the shedding paint has left the bare wall in the shape of a crudely formed arrow.
Almost three blocks away, following the direction indicated, someone has cut an opening into a chain-link fence large enough to fit through. Beyond the fence is an old auxiliary pump station, decrepit. On the face of one of the rusted hex heads securing the ducts there’s a thin remnant of wire folded back onto the bolt, as if indicating the position on a dial. By process of elimination, Worm deduces a compass as the reference point and, turning to the north-west, identifies the lowered fire escape ladder almost immediately. It’s attached to a six story structure that once held rooms for rent; much of the siding is gaping with rot, most exterior surfaces are covered in a thin layer of fuzzy moss, the fire escape groans under Worm’s weight, but it holds. At the first story window there’s no indication, just a blown out frame open to an empty room. Each floor repeats the same offering until the fourth, where there’s both a small piece of terracotta wedged beneath the frame and an unusually large piece of glass still intact in the upper left corner. This all appears too obvious, so Worm investigates the last two floors to confirm its legitimacy. Sure enough, the other levels are barren and the fourth floor is, indeed, the way forward.
Through the fourth floor window there’s an empty room, the same as on each of the other levels. The floor is littered with a few scraps of detritus and nothing of value can be extracted from them. The same goes for the patterns occurring in the coat of dust, the direction of the light-beams, or any of the markings on the walls. Then Worm notices the cracks in the ceiling and studies them; nothing alphanumeric, no shapes nor pictograms, there’s no counting system, but during the interrogation of a grid system a thing becomes clear. Of the three doors in the room, two on one wall that lead to adjoining rooms and one on another wall that exits to the hallway, the ceiling cracks only intersect with the frame of the one, falling just short of the other two, and so it’s out into the hall with Worm.
The corridor is another moderately bland canvas, empty except for some meaningless garbage that has accumulated in the corners, more derelict window frames at either end, and alternating doors on opposite walls. No singularly distinct welcome mat, no uniquely painted door jam, no out of the ordinary structural damage, but what’s this? A tight cluster of pockmarks in the wall numbering five, almost certainly made by a fired weapon. There are six apartments on this level, denoted with letters, so Worm enters into apartment E.
The layout of this corner unit is different from its neighbor; here, the adjoining rooms are on one wall, all three in a line opposite the windows. Worm runs through the same set of inquiries as in the first unit but comes up empty. There’s a brief hesitation, a mental rerun of previous steps in the trace, searching for a false indicator, when the outside light slightly shifts, altering the throw of the shadows cast by the window frames on to the doors, revealing to Worm that of the three, the old blast pattern lines up perfectly with the four sides of only one, whereas the other two are slightly foreshortened. Across the threshold of the marked door, the room, perhaps an old office or library, is also empty, except for a set of built-in shelving units in various stages of collapse. And there, lying lonely under two caved-in shelves, is a small pile of paper, each page filled with type. This is a unique moment; never before has there been more than one sheet. It’s an unprecedented phenomenon, but that doesn’t excuse Worm of the day’s further obligations. So, as the pages are temporarily stored, folded into one of many external pouches, let’s leave Worm for now and rendezvous later on, at the nest.
2.
In the gully formed by the switchback on the east side of town, the nest can be found wedged between the incline and a small outbuilding. This little scrap of dirt resides right on the far edge of a piece of private land and the shack is most likely a former sentry post from the days before the town was parceled and subdivided. The nest wasn’t started by Worm, someone else occupied it in an earlier time. Who knows what became of them. A significant amount of work has been done since Worm assumed occupancy of the nest; all three of its dimensions have been enlarged or extended. And always one page at a time. But here comes Worm now, just ahead of the gloaming, to change that rhythm with a pouch full of paper, the exception that proves the rule or the emergence of a whole new paradigm. In a moment like this, it’s not enough to simply arrange the pages where the nest needs them the most. The whole scenario calls for Worm to read the pages first, something that’s never done, enforced neither by a dictate nor a threat, but simply due to a lack of necessity. Let’s head into the nest and settle into a comfortable corner within earshot of Worm, who has also just entered, sat down, and commenced reading the pages aloud.
3.
(pages from ‘The Nail That Sticks Up’)
The center of the circular square, while affording little in the way of cover, allowed It an appreciable slice of life perspective. Such was the dissection, in breadth, that it found itself in, quite overcome. Over the three days since it arrived in Nawt a flood of abstruse archetypes have revealed themselves. Specters and cyphers of varying shades disconnected from both each other and the apparent reality of things. Strange, It thought, and then, The warning regarding the reveries and the valley. Perhaps there are lingering effects. Perhaps these are lingering effects?
Temporarily detached from observation, it used the pause to recall its actions leading up to the arrival in the bailiwick; exiting the reveries upon leaving the valley at the Great Crossing, entering the south-east territories and, for many weeks, wading through the tall fibrous meadows around Empress Peak, turning left below the cutouts to eventually arrive at the unexpectedly unguarded open gates of Nawt. Preparatory pre-journey information had named another bailiwick on the opposite side of the mountain from It’s current position, called Rohm. Had it turned east earlier and instead circumvented the northern slopes, Rohm would have been its current residence.
But it wasn’t, so better for It to reassemble focus and increase the mental space between the end of the reveries and the observation point of now. From its current position, it could indicate a number of the decoupled types, various in nature, such as those who maintained some semblance of a citizenry. They appeared to It as a type who is short of temper and gruff, though diligent in their work ethic. These were only preliminary observations, due to both the brevity of its time spent in the bailiwick so far, as well as the suspicious glances that they levied upon It, which caused a fair distance to be kept between them most of the time. Another style, by far the most prevalent, were those who shuffled around as if dazed from a blow to the head, absorbed with their little crystalline tetrahedrons. It hasn’t been able to deduce a thing about the palm-sized pyramids. Except for catching the occasional glinting reflection of the skybox, they were otherwise as blank as the expression of their guardians. And there, another one, this version representing the type who whisper their stories to others, tales which most often include details of, or references to, shocking acts of violence. Once told, they look around with blank smiles, ineffectual grimaces that convey nothing, before slowly lowering their heads to once again settle into a worried stupor.
One of these types has wandered close, nearing the center position. There are times when a guide of some sort is needed, and this is one of those times, It admitted to itself. To the wanderer it asked, May I ask you a question?
The macabre murmurer approached it, leaning over so that their chin hovered near to its shoulder and, in a soft and moist manner of speech, recited the following -
“The violence of housing neglect… Death by decapitation, malfunctioning elevator door. Death by pipe, via both lead poisoning and shrapnel from explosive neglect. Death by fire, you slovenly hoarders. Death by toxicity, an abundance of origins both inside and out. Death by pest, from all that they carry. Death by…”
Could you recommend a guide? Nawt is a knot difficult to unravel, It offered as a perspective.
“There,” whispered the wanderer through a vacant grin. “There is Expo.” The denizen lowered their head and raised their finger to indicate a functional historian only a few meters away. Then they shuffled on, trailing a thick stench of concern behind them.
“In your situation, I am here almost as if you’ve conjured me,” said Expo, in the midst of some variant of a strut that propelled him in its direction.
A guide? was It’s query.
“To Nawt?”
To Nawt.
“I’m unavailable today,” said Expo rummaging in his rucksack. “Other commitments. I always recommend booking in advance, my services are well sought after. Ah, here we go…” From the sack, Expo produced an impressive volume; stiff boards, but small enough to fit in a pocket, a thickness indicating it to be a thorough rendering, and with a heft that was dense enough to double as a weapon. Stamped into the cover board was the title, ‘A Unique and Heterogeneous History of Nawt : A Guide’ and the author’s given name, bab. “That’s an internal bailiwick edition,” said the historian, pulling a second, nearly identical copy from his bag. “This is what I distribute in the sprawl,” indicating the cover where the name of the scribe was represented in letters as pap.
Who’s Expo? So confused, it was.
“Why’s the better question. If you know, then you know… and all of that. Now, if there’s one thing to remember as you delve into my work it’s this - action must release tension. Well, two things, really. The other is, people want stories with beginnings and middles and endings, with characters who experience growth, or they don’t grow but they still experience an arc that is affected by a loss, or a love, etcetera…”
In a far corner of the square a small skirmish has broken out between two officials, clad as such, and a quartet who have embraced a more cretinous appearance. “It never ends,” lamented Expo. “Well, I’m off. Enjoy the book and the jurisdiction, these are exciting times indeed! Progress is no longer confined to the horizon.”
I do not possess the means for exchange… It began, holding the small volume aloft.
“Don’t concern yourself with it. My editions are like a calling card, a courtesy that, more often than not, leads to a long term retainer. I’m certain we’ll cross paths again. There’s only so far one can really go, no?” And with that, Expo dissolved into the midday assemblage forming around It’s position, a veritable nightmare of contrasting, and sometimes conflicting, energies. Another minor dust up extinguished itself not far from the center. More uniforms and more bland aggression. As a matter of fact, It noticed, the drab cretins scuffling with the representative authorities exhibited similar qualities to an apparition, especially in relationship to their appearances and vanishings.
4.
The enclosing mass forced It to relocate to a position better suited to information comprehension. Its initial destination was a ramshackle cafe tucked into a small residential alley off the main square, but en route it was alerted by a street sign to the existence of a public library only a few blocks further, a locale better suited, it assumed, for study. Many topics were brought to a fine point between the covers of bab’s guidebook, but not every crumb tumbled from today’s bread. On the way, it stopped at a kiosk and swiped a copy of a very official looking daily edition, along with a couple of enthusiastic, ad hoc broadsides.
The library was impressive, especially compared with the somewhat decrepit state of Nawt. A two story brick and mortar structure with tall, smoked glass windows and terrazzo floors. Dust motes floated in the softened beams of light intruding from outside. Comfortable armchairs dotted the open spaces, with higher backed versions surrounding broad wood tables. One assistant sat quietly at the checkout counter, unmoving, staring blankly into the light rays, while a page silently pushed a cart through the aisles shelving new titles. Except for a couple of cretins huddled in the shadowy corners, in respite from the midday heat, the space was otherwise emptily put to waste.
It remained in the information repository until the cessation of services many hours later, which, luckily for it, occurred deep into the night, a much later closing time than it had expected. Over the course of its stay, it perused sections of bab’s guidebook, portions of the daily paper and most of the variant handbills, while cross-referencing curiosity piquing topics, as well as filling in narrative gaps, with additional material procured from the many labyrinthine rows of books. By the time the assistant demanded the facility closed, it had accumulated a pile that included the following titles -
‘In The Shadow Of The Empress’ - a condensed history of Rohm, written by a Rohman.
‘A Pluralism Paradox’ - a sociological study of the various factions of Nawt citizens, written by a native Nawtian.
‘Birth Rights : Legend And Law’ - a brief title on Nawt’s laws concerning the jus soli, written by a Rohman.
‘The Sculpting Of Dispositions’ - a dissident native’s treatise on propaganda, written by a Nawtian.
‘Glimmera : A User's Guide To Build 11 Mk7’ - a contemporary technical manual for the small pyramids, written by the manufacturer, the Solis Lux Corp.
To It’s great fortune, the nearby cafe hours kept the spot open throughout the night, so that’s where it sat to weave a distorted and gap-riddled tapestry from the numerous threads accumulated over the course of the day.
For ages, according to an oral history documented by bab, the people of Nawt, an isolated jurisdiction located in a far corner of the south-eastern territories of the heights, accessible only via the Great Crossing, existed in a kind of secular egalitarianism that bordered on a primitive communism. Seemingly devoid of any explicit constitution or doctrine, life in the bailiwick developed around a profanely mystical connection to their environment.
Agriculture was based on competitive play, with virtuosos in the field garnering elite status. Though not a technical society, Nawt’s organic engineers bent their natural surroundings in ingenious ways to improve living standards and life expectancy. Socially, the populace balanced a fiercely competitive culture which formed a naturally occurring hierarchy with a nearly devotional focus on mutual support. The receivers of said assistance, those who failed in their strivings and those who were simply happy in their station, were known, non-pejoratively, as the incompetents. They cycled through the mundane tasks required by any jurisdiction, and thus never found themselves locked into an endless, repetitive work cycle. Those not inclined to engage at all were known, not without a touch of animus, as the dregs. They slept under the trees in the wooded areas, bathed in the north river coming off the mountain, sustained themselves on foraging and discards, and were otherwise outfitted by the trash dump, simply reclaiming what would normally have been handed down, had they occupied any other echelon. Nawt’s ethos sang with odd authoritarian collectivist overtones, ‘Pursue only noble goals’.
5.
From ‘In The Shadow Of The Empress’ It learned about the formation and development of Rohm’s culture, although much of this narrative was contradicted and challenged by information printed in the other volumes and the periodicals. According to the so-called history book, Rohm’s society corresponded to Nawt in many ways, to a stunning degree, except for two interconnected elements, two fundamental distinctions. The first was the fact that Rohman devotion was not accorded to their environs, but directed toward the beyond, to whatever filled the space past the boundaries of the cutouts. The book claimed that Rohm had developed this cosmology early on, upon the discovery of a divine site located on a mountainous rise above the bailiwick, a zone that afforded early Rohmans unencumbered views of the expanse. Due to their heavenward gazing, the book claimed, they developed a different kind of technology; which was the other major difference between the two regions. Rather than being grounded by a terrestrial limit, the advances made by Rohm’s citizenry were of an otherworldly electronic nature.
In the foreword to ‘A Pluralism Paradox’ there was a reference to ‘In The Shadow Of The Empress’ which dubbed the book an imported history of Rohm. According to the author of the foreword, and this information was corroborated in bab’s guide, ‘In The Shadow Of The Empress’ was an artifice introduced to Nawt and its arrival, in hindsight, helped to explain the jurisdiction’s tumultuous status ever since. bab’s guidebook also revealed that, following the publication of the history title, an expedition of missionaries from Rohm showed up at the gates of Nawt prepared to spread the gospel of the unseen realms. In the secularized society of Nawt, according to a passage from ‘The Sculpting Of Dispositions’, the message of the proselytizers both created and then satisfied a latent desire for a different style of mysticism; an uncompromising spiritual nature that doggedly obeyed its divine ordinances, socially maladroit with unquestioning elevated principles placed above personal considerations.
As a result of the missionaries' work, over the following decades, many residents of Nawt devoted themselves to Rohm’s gospel of the beyond. Although the evangelists discouraged Nawtian pilgrimages to Rohm, a sister shrine was created on the plateaus above the district. It found a passage in ‘A Pluralism Paradox’ that claimed expeditions were made to Rohm, but that the travelers never returned, though it was unable to corroborate this in any of the other volumes. bab states that the establishment of the shrine above Nawt was the proverbial tipping point and the first fracture in Nawtian society; novelly and henceforth there would be a subsect of the population who deviated from the rhythms and collective convictions of the jurisdiction. These iconoclasts removed themselves from the hierarchy and spent their days wandering the bailiwick disseminating their word in hopes of converting more of their neighbors to their doctrine. As a result, according to ‘A Pluralism Paradox’, the strain on citizen relations was conspicuous.
6.
It discovered the name of the pellucid pyramids intertwined with the first mention of the Rohman called Mitchell Wylie, a messianic figure who arrived in Nawt long after the subsect was cemented within the community. His advent bore the premier model of a device called Glimmera, the small pyramid. No matter that every cross-reference was made in each piece of material at It’s disposal, including the user’s manual for the contemporary version of the device, it still hasn’t a clue as to what the things actually do. The prime unit, in the hands of Wylie, had been treated as something sacred by the disciples, something unique and permeated with aura.
Wylie’s Glimmera was eventually set on display in a divine gallery which, in short order, became an unofficial site of indoctrination. At this spot the subsect, who were instant believers in Glimmera and early adopters of the initial run of multiples dubbed Mk2, could bring neophytes in order to complete their conversion. According to It’s readings, one gaze was all it took for the original model to work its charm and, before long, the quiet streets around the shrine were clogged with disciples, many with fresh inquirers in tow. Those who eventually took possession of Mk2 were colloquially dubbed guardians, and the name stuck. From the chapter on the guardians in ‘A Pluralism Paradox’ It had taken notes on a concept called the delta principle, which made the case that in order for Rohm to enact irreversible changes in Nawt, three things first needed to occur. Initially, a fissure must be created separating the portion of Nawtians determined to remain in situ from those who had already fixed their gaze on the beyond. After that, that gap would be further widened by subdividing the populace yet again with the introduction of Glimmera. And last, upon reaching a certain point of saturation and absence, the proverbial gap was meant to be filled with the willing converts who would then have all of their desires satisfied. This meant Glimmera for all who wanted it.
In order to produce Glimmera locally, and thus avoid the arduous trek of importing it from Rohm, Mitchell Wylie orchestrated a subterranean survey and analysis of the land below Nawt. bab writes in detail about what was discovered below the jurisdiction; many rare things unrecognized by Nawt and therefore of little worth to the bailiwick, including vital components for Glimmera. The guidebook also documents Wylie’s diligent campaign designed to convince the bailiwick’s elite to open their gates for an excavation and extraction initiative. ‘A Pluralism Paradox’ accuses the Rohman missionaries of subterfuge in a plot to instill in the subsect the belief that they had a divine right to the first run of Glimmera, due to their early adherence to the discourse, thus making Wylie’s success a crucial outcome for a significant portion of native Nawtians. Wylie’s lobbying, with the full support of the missionaries and the subsect, eventually won over the most highly regarded members of Nawt, and it wasn’t long before the arrival of the first Rohman engineers, accompanied by another, significantly larger survey crew.
At this point, It sketched out a rough timeline from its notes - Areas for mining were identified in Nawt. Arrival of more engineers from Rohm followed by the first construction crews. Construction begins on the initial mining site and outpost. Mining operators from Rohm arrive and begin training Nawtian converts on extraction. Ground is broken at the initial mining site, construction begins on multiple other sites and their outposts. First arrival of Rohman cultural attachés. Construction begins on the first refinery and Glimmera production facility. Families of missionaries and the Rohman workforce migrate for reunification. First yield of raw material. Discussions begin regarding a Rohman embassy in Nawt. First appearance of Rohman security forces safeguarding Glimmera facilities. Build 1 of Glimmera Mk2 is produced. First export facility is constructed for excavated non-Glimmera materials, followed by the establishment of a Rohman logistics firm in Nawt; both enterprises employ secular Nawtians. Construction of Rohman embassy begins. Multiple functioning mine sites and production centers facilitate pockets of Rohman heritage in Nawt; restaurants, clothing stores, publishing houses, &c. First investment in Nawtian infrastructure by a Rohman financial firm. Build 9 Mk2 becomes the final version of the initial run of Glimmera. The location of the first mine is designated as a sacred site, and so on… By build 5 Mk3 every disciple was in possession of discrete Glimmera, and a good portion of the secular citizens found themselves in the employ of a Rohman enterprise.
As to what Glimmera was, what it did, how it operated and so on, It had no idea. Except for Wylie’s prime talisman, the devices only revealed their secrets to the guardians who possessed them, appearing otherwise blank. As such, the best people qualified to describe the effects were those least likely to do so; the adherents. And to date, not a single apostate felt compelled to share information regarding their sacred experiences. So, despite all of its research, it was only able to cobble together the following few notes about the implications of Glimmera, information most certainly drawn from wildly indirect sources -
Consider the pyramid as if it were a stippled textile; each pointed detail is a mark. There are gaps in the weave that hinder a clear vision. In order to get a good overall view from the many tiny marks, the changes in color, hue, and size, it requires significant effort and a broad vantage point. In contrast, the world becomes unstable and unpredictable; the guardian feels as though they are in the center of a carousel, devoid of stability or consistency; this is the first impact of the pyramid. But to focus upon it is to be constantly shifted to dynamic matters, new principle heights, to give oneself over and to be wasted on myriad things that vanish from one moment to the next. Consequently, the guardian ends up in a sort of kaleidoscope where thousands of unrelated images and ideas quickly succeed each other.
7.
The subject that caught It’s attention more than any other was the metaphysical treatise on the propagandization of Nawtian society by Rohmans documented in ‘The Sculpting of Dispositions’. It gathered all of its notes on the subject into one train of thought, which we will reproduce here. Keep in mind that in no way is this meant to be a definitive synopsis of ‘The Sculpting of Dispositions’, rather, it is a summary compilation of the notes that were scribbled down in the time It was afforded before the library shut down for the night -
In order for the propaganda to succeed, Nawtian society must consist of two qualities which may appear at first glance to be contradictory; individualism and meshwork. An individualist society, which values discrete citizens over the interconnected group, is designed to dismantle the groups restricting the individual, while a mesh society diminishes the individual’s significance. The reality is, an individualist society must also be a mesh society. The initial step toward liberation of the individual involves breaking up foundational connections and allowing the individual to freely engage with the milieu, unshackled by communal bonds. In the absence of native structure, the individuals can only coexist in an unstructured interconnected mesh, where their identity is singularly defined by their relationships with other individuals. The inherent standing of the individual in these relations leads to abstraction and a reduction of the individual to insignificance. Only when the very core, fundamental groups are annihilated, when the individual finds no more defenses, no equilibrium, no resistance exercised by the group to which they currently belong, will total action by the propaganda become possible.
Different institutions are suited for specific types of propaganda: mysticism and missionaries excel in sociological propaganda for gradual influence and integration, while sacred spaces and totems are effective for a campaign of manipulation that incites immediate action. Covert and overt propaganda will often combine, with profane propaganda serving as a camouflage for the sacred kind. While the existence and objectives of the profane type of propaganda can be transparent, it will still function as a facade to divert attention, neutralize resistance, and manipulate public opinion in a different direction through hidden efforts, taking advantage of preexisting resistance to sacred campaigns. When the information to be disseminated is something so novel as to be unbelievable, it will be done through secret and covert profane propaganda.
The wholesomeness of collective life holds little significance for this campaign; what matters is the intensity of that life. As the bonds within Nawtian society move toward disintegration, this intensity makes individuals more susceptible to accepting the propaganda without predefining its meaning, as they are more vulnerable to psychological manipulation. The effectiveness will rely on presenting facts while employing intentional falsehoods and misreadings. In many instances, the propaganda will serve to rationalize and justify the state of affairs by transforming unconscious wants into conscious desires. Referred to as ‘the revelation of latent aspirations’, this part of the campaign aims to demonstrate that all of the citizens of Nawt are blessed by the resulting mystical unveilings.
The majority of the incompetents will prefer expressing foolish opinions over remaining silent, as it will provide them with a sense of participation. They and the dregs are primarily victims of an emptiness and lack of purpose in comparison with those Nawtians who clearly are in full possession of one. Despite their various and changing tasks and activities, they are affectively rote, in search of enlightenment and change. The old distractions are a transient solution and no longer provide a lasting redress for their trappings. These citizens long for a dynamic and more fulfilling diversion, making them susceptible to the propaganda. Eventually, despite sharing the same area within the bailiwick’s borders, the fractured citizenry of Nawt will feel increasingly isolated, and yearn for a reintegrated community. The propaganda, encompassing both the profane as well as sacred relations, will be a powerful remedy for this loneliness, fulfilling the citizens’ need to share and to embrace a collective ideology. It corresponds directly to the deep and prevalent needs of belief, to obedience, to myth creation, and to communication in Nawtian society.
8.
By this point in the night, It had finally identified the portion of Nawt’s populace involved in Glimmera, their relationship with their brusque neighbors and, at least at face value, their contradictions. ‘A Pluralism Paradox’ helped to shed some more light on the harsh denizens, while the latter half of bab’s guidebook, the periodical, and the broadsides offered an explanation for so much more.
It learned that post-Glimmera Nawt had been slowly and steadily assimilated, dominated by Rohman industry and culture, until their conjoining took on a appearance of unacknowledged permanence. Whether due to the deviously soft nature of the invasion, or to its multi-pronged deployment, it mattered not, Rohm had assumed control over Nawt. For a time, with the bailiwick swept up in the dynamism of it all, there was a feeling that the recently fractured version of the society would heal into a new and irrevocable whole. That was when the first voices of dissent were raised.
A coalition had formed between members of Nawt’s elite, made redundant by their Rohman counterparts, and the dregs, who found their strata intolerable by the Rohmans. What began as civil resistance - proclamations and organizations pushing back against Rohman influence and fads, a highlighting of Rohm’s dispensation of welfare resources in contrast with Nawt’s historical systems of mutual support - under the leadership of an enigmatic Nawtian called Wu, had blossomed into a fully realized guerrilla movement. Years of tension and terror reigned, with the bailiwick plagued by violent skirmishes. Sadly, It learned, the combatants on either side were most often both natives of Nawt; on one side, Wu’s guerrillas, and on the other, the converts joined by a smattering of those employed in Rohman industries who feared for their jobs in the event of an insurgent victory.
As evident from their means of occupation, conflict was not Rohm’s preferred path, never mind a permanent one. Ellie Wylch, the viceroy of Nawt, called for a summit to negotiate, finally, the removal of Rohman influence from the jurisdiction. Wu and his high command attended, with Wylch joined by Rohman heads of industry, the Glimmera clergy, and a few respected members of the intelligentsia. After months of contentious negotiations it was decided that Rohm would begin to extradite themselves from Nawt, levying debt against their export endeavors and leaving behind consultants to manage the rights of the jus soli.
At this point in It’s research things became a little unclear, due in part, no doubt, to the nature of the supposed incidents themselves. From what it could deduce, the capacity of the Rohman advisors who stayed behind was two fold; officially they remained to protect the rights of Rohmans born in Nawt as well as the Rohman corporations who maintained multi-regional status, while unofficially they were funding and arming a local mafia. It also came across inferences to an inside job, something about the embezzlement of Nawt’s treasury, accomplished with the aid of a Rohm sympathizer. There were vague references, as well, to the sabotage of agricultural machinery of Rohman design, an action which was pinned on Nawtian nationalists, accused later of being paid off in advance with cash and unrealistic promises of exceptional standing.
In the newspaper, It found an article about the widespread ramifications of the Rohman businesses that had closed their doors during the repatriation. Especially hard hit were those Nawtians employed in the export sector. Rohm had also ordered a slow down at the Glimmera mines and production facilities, which led to a stagnation of new recruits. As a matter of fact, It found another, short article that investigated Glimmera apostasy and reported on an overall decline of the congregation. In the last chapter of ‘A Pluralism Paradox’ the author speculates on a potential future Nawt where cohesion dangles by a thread. The adherents of a diminishing mysticism, the fractured incompetents tied to hollowed out industries, the neutered elite of a by-gone stratification, the tension between former collaborators and guerrillas who often shared familial history across both sides, all came together in the book to present a bleak impression, one which It felt was very prophetic, eerily so. The Nawtians were free, but the bailiwick was in shambles.
Nobody had passed through the alley outside of the cafe for a long while, but some denizens had begun to stir and their motion caught It’s eye. Maybe it was morning.
Is it morning? It inquired of the proprietor, the first words they’d exchanged all night.
The proprietor stared back in mute reply. It returned the gaze, albeit with a slightly more inquisitive countenance. Abruptly, the cafe door was flung wide, exposing a surly incompetent who approached the counter. “Mornin’... gimme a coffee…”.
Thus informed, It took advantage of the distraction to skip out, the stealth mainly driven by its wasting of the proprietor’s time as there was no cafe bill to speak of, and it ducked into a dilapidated building a block or so away. Finding its way into a shadowy stairwell recess, it propped itself up on its pack and reflected on the deluge of information processed over the last day. It wondered if this overload mimicked in any way the maiden experience of a guardian and their Glimmera, then its mind drifted up to the sacred site above Nawt, imagining the view through the cutouts from the top of Empress Peak…
It ate paper and it died.
9.
About a week after It was revived, a major breakthrough was made. It had spent the last handful of days penetrating deeper into the frayed fabric of Nawt’s social order and it had somewhat firmed up its comprehension of the inner-bailiwick relations. One thing that had become abundantly clear was the origin of the wandering storytellers’ unease; these were the citizens of Nawt who could not find it within themselves to align with one side or another during the tumultuous era. Overpowered by the visage of Nawt’s metamorphosis, a transformation that appeared to occur beyond the control of its own citizenry, as well as the haunting imagery of the violence inflicted by one Nawtian on another, even at times between members of the same clan, these residents had their minds shattered and their footing permanently placed on shifting sands. Their demeanor, their wanderings, the foreboding tales they told and so on were, ultimately, a coping mechanism of an irreparable mind.
The tensions and conflicts that remained between the fragments of Nawt’s population had also come into greater focus; the resentment carried by the adherents due to the blows levied on their sect by the struggle of the guerrillas, the grudges held onto by the labor faction of the incompetents from their having been left out of the Nawt / Rohm negotiations, the recriminations and fault-findings on each side directed toward the others riddled with accusations of traitorous behavior, back-stabbings, collaboration and on and on. Even within the dynamics of the victorious liberation front there was strife, especially regarding reconstruction and the way forward for Nawt, whether or not that path would, or even should, include an attempt at a revival of the so-called old ways.
It’s major achievement, though, was an introduction to members of the guerrilla high command which lead, eventually, to a face to face with Wu himself. This connection was facilitated by bab, who It had crossed paths with again, once more in the circular square, on the day after it was revived. Although at that moment it had nothing of value to offer bab in return for his assistance, the imbalance did not appear to foster any strife between them. bab continued to dispense aid with the same calm certainty previously expressed; that at an undefined future time It would offer some style of compensation for his services.
The meeting with Wu was brief, unsurprising due to the many pressures exerted on the chieftain by the vacuum left behind in the wake of the Rohman’s departure, along with the corresponding power manipulations and disruptions. While Wu was normally appreciative of inquiries regarding the movement, especially considering Nawt’s isolated location, he explained that, sadly, he could only spare a few moments. A decision had been made to assemble a delegation to travel to Rohm. Although It had read nothing of the sort in the newspaper or broadsides, there’d been a growing clandestine movement that supported preliminary reconciliation with certain segments of the bailiwick on the other side of the mountain. The whispering voices that quietly extolled the benefits of Rohman technology, the stabilizing element they brought to Nawt, the enlightened aspects of Glimmera, had risen to the level of chatter. Wu pledged to silence them before the situation became unmanageable.
Why journey to Rohm to silence the neo-sympathizers? It didn’t understand the proposition.
“We have intelligence, rumors really,” said Wu, glancing at a timepiece, “that Rohm is not what we were led to believe it was.”
Not a stunning degree of similarity to Nawt, as was written? It hoped to confirm its own doubts.
“That’s why we’re going, to find out.”
It suggested joining the expedition, along with bab, as witness and documentarian, for validation, posterity and possibly even a little propaganda of the guerrilla’s own. Wu, delighted by the interest, agreed, even going so far as offering to cover bab’s fee. “I’ll waive the cost,” replied bab excitedly, “for an opportunity to pass over the Empress Peak, a zone which I have never before laid eyes upon!” At the preliminary briefing the night before the delegation was scheduled for departure, Wu further expounded on the rumors about Rohm.
(end of pages)
10.
Worm, indifferent to the spun yarn, places the pages on the top of the nest nearest the incline. This section is currently in a transition phase to have its height raised, to one that will eventually allow for light indoor calisthenics in an upright position. Soon enough, when the exterior height is ideal plus one meter, Worm will chisel out a portion of the inside, the ‘old paper’ as it’s known. But, for now, darkness has claimed the area and it’s time for sleep. We’ll reconnect, pre-dawn under a sky frosted pink, orange and green, across the road from the bar in town.
11.
The early part of this day, barring an interruption by a new signifier, will be spent in pattern of life analysis. Worm has donned an ingenious disguise, tall tufts of dried grass stuffed in every exterior pouch cloaking the slight, malnourished frame, half-buried in the brush overgrown behind a weatherbeaten public bench. From this position there’s a clear sightline to the bar, with a decent portion of the main strip in the periphery. The goal is observation, with the eyes keeping tabs on the comings and goings of the drab citizenry, their routines and the nicks in their armor, and with the ears listening along to any side by side dialogues taking place on or in the vicinity of the bench.
Worm has barely settled into the soggy spot before a figure stumbles into the frame, across the road opposite from the bar. They stop at the corner and turn their back to the street, facing the pock marked brick wall. Worm knows the layout of the spot well, but not its function; there’s a toggle switch mounted to that wall, affixed to a plate set right into the brick, immediately to one side of where the person has stopped, but having never flipped it, what the switch triggers is unknown. Some long moments have passed, the sky has brightened a bit introducing some sapphire into the panorama, and the figure continues to stand there, inert. More long moments pass and the door of the bar opens. As if on cue, the illuminated sign above the structure goes dark, which brightens the sky even more in contrast, but cloaks the stranger by the wall in deeper shadows.
Jacqk and Feyn exit the bar together. Worm recognizes them from previous analysis; two highly regarded security agents currently stationed at the compound up on the hill. They’re laughing as they stumble to the curb, at a joke or anecdote spoken aloud inside; too bad, thus inaccessible for evaluation. They stop short; it appears they’ve taken notice of the person by the wall. Briefly, it sounds as if they’ve begun arguing in hushed tones, but as they stagger closer to the bench it’s clear that they’re in some kind of mutual reconsideration, debating the fates together, questioning the validity of a just-viewed sidereal zone. They’re drunk; Worm notes the time of morning, the closing of the bar, and the two agents' overall demeanor as the prime indicators, the stagger, the exaggerated and slurred speech, and so on. “There’s no way,” says Feyn, approaching the bench. “That can’t be him.” “That’s him, I’m telling you. It’s… who else could it be? It looks just like him,” replies Jacqk, clumsily sitting down.
“If that’s him, I mean, he looks like shit.”
“Look, it’s so dark over there. How can you even tell? But, yea, if that’s Ed then, I agree, he looks bad,” Jacqk agrees.
Feyn sits cross-legged, “How long has it been since…? Is that him? What’s he doing? That’s so creepy. It’s freaking me out. Why is he staring at that wall?”
“I don’t… I have no idea. But do you want to hear freaky? This is even more… now… remember I told you? About that scrap of paper that I found today on my shift?”
“Yea.”
“I’m going to read it, it’s short, but, I mean, it sounds like Ed wrote it. It was freaky enough before…”
“What?” Feyn interrupts.
“It was freaky enough just with him being gone for so long, but… but now, I’ve got the shivers.”
“Shit.”
“I’m going to read it…”
“Quietly! Fuck, Jacqk. If it is him, I don’t want him to hear you. Should we leave?”
“No, listen,” says Jacqk as he removes a small scrap of paper from a back pocket. “It’s short. Listen…”
This is the whisper that Worm hears; does it coincide with what you hear? - All of the previously private pages have been published and made public. But who could have foreseen a retreat so quickened by indifference. Or a constant leaching away of the numbers, which of course we’re aware that you know we’ve seen. You, the one, two, three, four or five, who have adopted a non-participation principle in regards to, what is disparagingly being referred to around here as, ‘the flight’, from our words, which we have always apologized for, it’s for you that we are grateful and it is you whom we will miss. Alignment, extraction… these pretensions existed before the pages were shared and they will continue unabated, but the once private pages will now be private again. As always, we thank you for your gleaming eyes. From now on, may they alight on other programs and fortunes much greater than ours.
Feyn, whose eyes have remained fixed on the silhouetted figure throughout the whispered reading, says, “Fuck.”
“We should just leave,” says Jacqk, rising from the bench, eyeing the figure across the road. Wordlessly, Feyn joins him and the pair double back to the alleys behind the bar, toward the trail that allows them to bypass the north road and the corner where Ed stands facing a dilapidated brick wall. Worm loses sight of them in the alley but, for many long moments, the sound of their steps ring out. The sky seems a little brighter, an azure promise, there are faint water sounds emanating from behind the walls of the bar, Ed stares at the bricks. Worm hears things waking up in the underbrush, up in the branches, under the eaves, the echoes of footsteps, a strong wind pooling over the edge of the crater, running water from the bar. Far in the distance the sound of a generator firing up and, echoing around the hill, maybe, the sound of the compound gate opening.
Then, suddenly, Ed reaches up to where Worm knows the switch to be, flips it, and everything goes silent.