I dreamed this universe one night in the late nineties. I wrote it all down as an outline and began writing. I got the introduction and the barest beginning of chapter one down. For me, this sort of writing is very challenging--because I second-guess myself too often, I suppose. If I get feedback, I may return to this world.
Arrival of the Slow Ones:
Massive and beautiful, the Slow Ones’ habitat entered the solar system like a celestial glacier. So slow was it that at first it was seen as a huge wandering asteroid. Only after gradually changing course, first joining Neptune’s solar orbit and then steadily catching up to it over the course of a decade, did earth-born scientists take notice. Looking like an amorphous blob to ground-based optical telescopes, as if a smudge on a lens, it was revealed by orbital telescopes to be made up of literally millions of elements. Platforms, bubble-like objects, lumps of ice, rock and metal, unknown irregular objects of synthetic material, all these and more seemed to be tethered in a huge and disorganized web. In appearance, it could be likened to a fishing net adrift at sea, having accumulated masses of different ocean refuse. Here it was, unmistakable evidence of life from outside the human sphere. Here it was, unmistakable evidence of intelligent life not our own. What did this mean to the human race? Everything and nothing. As the years following the arrival of the Slow Ones to our solar system passed, they showed that almost every faction, clan, tribe, and clique had a differing interpretation as to the ultimate meaning and purpose of our visitors.
Perhaps it was a weapon. No-it must be a host of angels. Certainly it was evil. Surely it was good. Verily, God proclaimed it to be a divine sign calling for the extermination of those who disagree with this or that group of zealots. Perhaps it was space trash looking for a home like a fugitive barge-load of New York City trash touring the east coast. Soon a world already filled with minor conflicts and which had been disarming itself of nuclear weapons for decades began to disintegrate into conventional warfare. Small fights, large battles, a few scattered nuclear detonations, physical combat . . . these all killed a statistical few at first. But borders changed. Large nations became many small nations. Small nations died, or were changed forever. But the true holocaust was still to come.
Genetically designed illnesses were unleashed upon the Earth. Some targeted regions. Some targeted races. There were custom viruses that sterilized millions and created a race of mentally disabled people in Asia. There was a mutant strain of bacteria that caused a well-fed country to starve to death as their intestines stopped functioning. There were even a few nano-electronic microbe designs. These miniature devices spent decades quietly breeding in the spines of entire generations only to eventually destroy nervous systems when the assigned killing time came-creating a billion corpses in one night; those few who survived in the affected region started a new pass-over legend which is still told centuries later. Attack and counter attack, plagues and wasting sicknesses, within a century the population on Earth had plummeted to levels unseen in four hundred years.
For a while, defenses were developed. Nano-electronic defense forces were designed and microscopic wars were fought in the bodies of men and women everywhere. Viruses were released which altered the genetic make up of entire populations simply in order to innoculate against specific man-made diseases. Sometimes these backfired and had unforseen consequences. “Patch” viruses were developed to correct these mistakes. Unfortunately, a beta “patch” virus eventually became one of the worst diseases ever devised. Nevertheless, humanity survived...after a fashion...while the Slow Ones proceeded on their leisurely tour of our solar system.
As the humans started their killing, the Slow Ones left Neptune. Never having actually orbited the planet, they had simply chased it around the sun for 30 years or so. Years passed and there were still some humans watching as they slowly crept into Uranus’ orbit. By the time they broke orbit and drifted toward Saturn there was no one on Earth with the time to watch; the remaining technological powers struggled with their wars for survival and revenge. Decades later, when the Slow Ones visited Jupiter, there was nobody left with the means to watch. Earth had entered its second dark age, and the Slow Ones were still centuries away from our tortured blue green orb.
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Legend of the Guard Clan:Year 1, the Calling
No matter what calendar anyone else used, the GuardClan members always counted their time in one way only: in the years that had passed since the moment of the Calling. On that fateful day, almost a billion people from what was once called South America perished. It was a quiet holocaust, without even a whimper or a single cry of pain. From the deserted dead zones of central America to the southern tip of the continent, the vast majority of people simply stopped, fell over if they were standing, and died. A continent of vitality and struggle became a continent of silence and corpses.
GuardClan elders say that the Keeper of the Roots screamed in panic that day as his gates were overrun with the newly dead.
The Roots, the elders tell, were suddenly filled with blood, and the WorldTree was flooded with life, as the souls of the Chosen watered the Earth. The WorldTree had Called, and its people had come home. Before that Call, however, the goddess of war and sacrifice interceded with the WorldTree. She plead that the remains of the people, their heritage and their possessions, should not be left unguarded. She cried that those who were not of the chosen might come and defile the homes of the dead, make their spirits unhappy and sicken the WorldTree. Furthermore, the remains of the chosen would be left without anyone to honor them, without anyone to light their pyres. The WorldTree saw the wisdom in her words and sent the goddess down to earth from her place high in the branches of the WorldTree.
Now as any elder can tell you, gods and goddesses are powerful, but cannot interact directly with physical things in either the Roots of the WorldTree or on the surface of the Earth. That is why the goddess took the names of certain men and women from the list of the chosen and decreed that they would act on her behalf.
They could no longer be among the chosen.
They would not see the Keeper and join the multitudes in the Roots when the Calling came.
They would instead be entrusted with Guarding the bodies, places and possessions of the dead while at the same time preparing the great funeral pyres. They would light those pyres and Guard them as they burned. And lastly, they and their decedents would Guard forevermore. Guard the holy sites. Guard their own people. Guard the truth and story of the WorldTree. And finally, they would Guard others in need of protection; those others who need the services of what was from then on called the GuardClan.
Guard Clan:Year 475
Guard Duty
Guarding what was precious was the sacred duty as well as the livelihood of members of the GuardClan. Mozam was now performing that duty for a team of Outsiders in the quiet darkness of the desert night. This place, made up of crumbled ruins which appeared as any other pile to Mozam’s untrained eye, was not precious to him or his family, but it was very precious to the diggers from the College of Reclamation at Slow City. They were his family’s clients. They were his clients. And that was reason enough for Mozam and the family Tueth to Guard.
Here in the wastes of Mishilohio, the scrub grass grew in tall patches interspersed with many ruins and with scattered and twisted trees. During the day you would see nothing bigger than a fox as far as the eye could see, and at night you could barely see anything at all. An Outsider he met once during a supply run to Slow City told him that Outsiders who try to guard frequently get bored during night watches, and this amazed Mozam. He told of this to others in his family unit and they were likewise surprised. Night watches were at once one of the most challenging ways to Guard and the most personally fulfilling. During a night watch Vigilance had to be raised almost constantly despite fatigue or lack of stimulation, and the darkness created some level of difficulty in identifying the exact nature and numbers of possible assailants. None of this was insurmountable to an adult GuardClan member, but challenging nonetheless. The true personal fulfillment of night-time Guard duty, however, came in the solitude. An environment where all SHOULD be still allows time for mental exercises the likes of which would be more difficult during the hustle and bustle of daytime duty. Mozam, for instance, loved to practice raising Vigilance for multiple perceptions at once. Tonight he decided to start with hearing. Concentrating, meditating until the presence of...something could be felt, he visualized a light quickly flashing and dancing in a complex pattern over and over, and soon the sounds of his own breathing and heartbeat subsided. With those relatively cacophonous sounds gone, the desert could now be heard clearly. Almost subliminally, he could hear a mouse moving in the scrub two dozen feet from the ruins he Guarded. The sound was but a hint, not even a real sound, but he KNEW it was a mouse from experience. Soon, he could hear the stealthy pad-pad-pad of a feral cat approaching the mouse from the north. Concentration....mental routines...more flashing in his mind....his eyes began seeing with higher contrast. What was but a shadow in the distance now resolved to become a silhouette. The feral cat was a dozen yards away, but moving closer. Both animal sounds stopped suddenly and he fought successfully to hold himself from smiling. The cat had halted, hunkering down and preparing to pounce on the rodent. The mouse had frozen, somehow detecting that something was wrong...a momentary impasse as the two animals thought out their next moves.
As a little boy, Mozam had practiced the ways of the Hidden Guard by protecting wandering mice like this one from predators. A clansman acting as a Hidden Guard should both provide an effective defense to, and remain undetected by, the person or persons under his or her protection. It was a specialty skill, but one which the Tueth family unit was proud to call their own. As a boy, many cats went home hungry without their prey ever knowing Mozam was watching over them nearby. But tonight Mozam was on duty; this rodent would have to fend for himself.
A moment later and the momentary silence was broken by a quiet squeak and little scraping noises as the cat bagged his kill. The cat's silhouette, holding it's head high and it's kill above the scrub grass, trotted off into the wasteland to look for privacy...or perhaps her kittens.
Momentary interlude over, Mozam allowed Vigilance to subside to the normal level needed for guard duty. The presence was still there, as it always was when Vigilance was raised, but it was distant....quiet, and from years of practice Mozam hardly needed to pay attention to it to maintain the effect. His breathing and heartbeat became audible again, although still muted slightly. His eyesight dimmed from high contrast to merely light-sensitive. High Vigilance had it's costs, and even the best guards could only hold it for a while, followed by hours without the ability to raise at all. Mozam needed to stand here with Vigilance raised at normal Night Guard level for at least another hour.
Falling into the rhythm of the duty, Mozam slowly turned his head from side to side, scanning the area exactly once per 12 heart-beats as was the family custom. Listening....watching...this was not the sort of duty which required his utmost concentration to be effective. So, visualizing the entire site, Outsider base camp and GuardClan camp in his head, Mozam silently counted his sister and brothers on duty, their relative position to himself and the landmarks of the site. Time passed, and judging by the position of the moon, Rekzah should be along very soon to relieve him.
¶ 7:45 AM
