Planet SX122

TX514

85 light years it had drifted within the cold space. The tides of gravity rippled within the universe helped its small spherical form forward. The creators had imprinted the map of the desired solar system to leave an imprint on. The planet-building technology, called SX122, contemplated its current position, knowing it was within the desired system. The tech-organism cruised passed fields of debris – it knew that the civilization that would colonize itself would call this the Kuiper Belt. SX122 slowed its course as it passed a red sphere just outside an asteroid belt…This they would call Mars. SX122 found where it needed to be. Its body opened and swallowed a piece of asteroid- taking its stuck rotation along with it. It’s mechanical pores opened and magnetized debris around it, crashing it against its surface. SX122 knew that its name would not be known among its settlers, but they will choose another – SX122 would now be known as Earth.

SX122 was one of the 3 billion machines floating in many galaxies, each designed by their Creator to form a planet which would later be colonized by the desired species. There was one planet amongst these many that hid from view amongst its mechanical brothers and sisters – TX514 who was a rouge planet that constantly drifted within a mist- universe surrounded by Relue Radiation. TX514’s creators had wanted a civilization to grow in this hidden, radioactive forest – away from the conscious ripples and waves of space. In a sense, TX514 felt alone. The small machine- like organism contemplated this strange feeling. The radiation around it was affecting his bio-mechanism, perhaps. TX514 spun in a slow cycle between the red and blue radiation that made up relue radiation. A civilization would grow within this hidden universe.

Billions of years passed while TX514 sensed his planet forming slowly. Water from lost comets that wondered onto its body began to form puddles on the surface. The planet could feel the pull of the blue radiation going back and forth, like the moon amongst other solar systems – locked in a pulsing tide. The red radiation acted like a star, providing warmth to the planet’s surface. Both would look like lightning strikes among the settlers. Billions of years have passed, and it was then TX514 was made conscious of it- organisms have begun to grow. It was a cycle of life and death with these organisms, until they begun to survive the conditions. TX514 couldn’t see anything, but its creator had given them the conscious ability to know- to see things without seeing – a dimension of sight. Allowing him to be the observer in this strange dimension. Amongst the organisms was one with a strange protein, or so TX514 had thought. Every time it would sense this organism, it would disappear. TX514 convinced itself that this was simply an organism with a short life span, overcome by its brothers and sisters within the fight for survival.

12 billion years into the future birthed a civilization that died and grew several thousand times. Each millennia their lives had not yet adjusted to the living conditions on their Planet Ethew. Red and blue radiation acted in strange patterns on these life forms that could not be mathematically predicted, it was a strange anomaly to Planet TX514, or Planet Ethew, and its people.

TX514 was gripped by the gravity that held him in place, slowly leaning back and form when the blue marble of a moon pulled his form. It was then, when it contemplated the life forms that grew around him. Can it communicate with these beings? The thought had exhilarated it for a moment, but soon died due to its impossibilities. All of a sudden TX514 felt something different in its consciousness…

“Hello” a voice spoke.

TX514 contemplated whether this was itself thinking…or calculating a conversation with itself.

“I feel something here” the voice spoke again.

TX514 ran all sorts of scenario based problem solutions, but none could explain how this was happening.

Finally, it gave in: “Hello” replied TX514.

There was a pause, but soon enough the voice spoke again: “What are you? And where am i?”

TX514 was not allowed to reveal its origins, and it also didn’t know where this thing was or how he was able to communicate, so it remained silent.

“You don’t speak my language” the voice said.

“I do, it seems we are speaking in a dimension that makes language transparent” replied TX514. It contemplated the second part, realizing the thing speaking to it couldn’t contemplate what it was describing.

“So in a sense we aren’t speaking, and in a sense we are” said the voice after a few moments.

This stranger DID understand, which brought TX514 the feeling he should now be on guard with this conversation.

“The last thing I could remember is, ah yes…finding the artifact” said the stranger.

Impossible, thought TX514. What artifact could allow this sort of communication? Unless he had found piece of his machinery, but that was at the core of the planet. TX514 knew that was impossible, no civilization could reach his core. This had to be some programming test that his creators had allowed.

“How strange” the stranger contemplated. “I’m not sure how this is possible” said the voice. The stranger’s tone was now more cynical, “Planet Ethew, yes, I see you now”

TX514 was now trying to aggravate his consciousness, in order to drown this being out.

The presence was now disappearing, but the being spoke something with greater aggression and determination before he faded out completely: “We’ll meet again”

Thousands of years had past since that conversation. TX514 sat slowly spinning as lifeforms advanced on his planet. It was now time for him to drift into a sleeping state, according to his programming. His body would automate any actions and results, and in the meantime his consciousness would rest for the desired period of time. His duty was done…for now.

Jericho had stood still for nearly 4 hours, waiting for the ritual to be complete. His father had crunched up the bone of the skull beside him as many of the people around him were watching. The desert was cold, due to the red sun that was now receding. The funeral they were hired to preform at was now becoming an all- day event. The wife of the dead husband walked forward and passed the piece of hair. Jericho stood silent and his Father, Patriclus, was handing over the bowl to the grieving woman.

“Before you drink from this cup” his father began, “I will acknowledge once again, now in front of all that are present: Memories are a precious and fragile cloud, one that can be changed without much of a notice. You are about to drink your deceased husband’s memories. What you see may be truth or may be deceiving. Trust in your judgement on who he was. Do you wish to drink his memories?”

The grieving woman was now weeping, and the audience present at the funeral were now rushing out of boredom to witness what was about to happen. The memory ritual of the Witchga, these traveling Frapkulian Desert Gypsies.

The woman nodded her head, but Jericho’s father needed a verbal confirmation. She said yes, then drank.

A moment passed and nothing happened. Jericho could see some speculations amongst the crowd. All of a sudden a violent spasm hit the grieving wife’s body. She fell to her knees and closed her eyes for a few more moments.

One member of the crowd shouted that the Witchga had poisoned her. Before the crowd got heavier with argument, the woman finally stood form her knees.

What had she seen, thought Jericho. Looking into another’s memories was once a sacred ceremony amongst his people. Now, it was a way to make money.

The woman finally opened her eyes and looked into the crowd until she finally spotted a woman standing next to a fat butcher known locally as Buff.

“You damn, bitch!” the widow spat, “You slept with my husband?!”.

Buff drew a shocked look as he turned imminently to his wife and fell into a rage, “What the hell is she talking about?!”

Jericho and his father went over to the sister of the widow as the crowd behind them were now frenzy with speculations and argument.

The sister gave him a sack of gems, the local currency as she spat onto the ground. It was common to do so since giving money for such an un-holy event wasn’t well regarded. Patriclus, Jericho’s father, explained to the sister to remind the wife to take precaution to the memories. She was now living with her own memory and her husband’s dead memories – fantasy and emotions would surely manipulate them. He didn’t tell her that it drives many to suicide.

Jericho and Patriclus receded back into the desert as the blue waves lit the sky with a cold haze. The blue radiation above the planet acted differently to Jericho and his people. Like a mirage, he could faintly realize traces of the dead around him through some of his senses. The smell of seared metal told him he was around the dead. A glimpse of a faded image from the corner of his eye told him something was there, as well as the taste of burnt rubber. His father said that the Witchga, a locally given name that stuck, were gifted with these senses – brought by generations of tuning.

They traveled deep into the desert until they arrived to the quicksand that they then stepped into, dragging them down until they slid into an open cavern. They were finally home. Miles of the cavern ran through below the sand above them, leading towards the ocean. Half a day of traveling in these tunnels finally brought them home.

“Jericho! You're back!” shouted a young girl who ran to greet both of them.

“Elsa, its good to see you” said Jericho’s father, “You mind helping Jericho with these bags. I have some things to do before dinner”.

Patriclus had darted into the direction that tunneled deeper below the cavern. He had arrived into a room that looked like a library. In the center was a group of older men already seated.

“You’re a little late, Patriclus” one of the elders, Munos, said.

“Yes, these funerals are becoming a tedious event” he replied with a slight smile when one of the elder’s smirked.

“A necessary evil, one would say, what have you found out?” asked Tamius.

Patriclus had laid out a piece of parchment onto the table, “its getting harder to get closer to these machines” he said now circling the ones he found on the paper with blue chalk stone, “but Sires had built these de-toxins above the drill sites…”

Munos nodded, “Propaganda says its to filter out high levels of radiation in the poorer regions, you’re saying these aren’t for that purpose?”

Another elder, Oran, replied: “perhaps the radiation allows for weaker soil, cutting the drill time”.

“All correct, but intel tells me that the main purpose of these de-toxin machine is to suck out the toxins that are released the closer you get to Ethew’s core – the deadlier toxins that leek out.” Replied Patriclus.

“Ah, so it’s a smoke-screen. These machines not only hide the drill sites, but conveniently suck out the radiation into the atmosphere…wait, wouldn’t that make the air even more toxic?” asked Munos.

“No” replied Tamius, “perhaps this black core radiation evaporates faster when exposed to the red sun”.

Patriclus nodded, “Yes and because it may be in small, but very deadly, quantity then it allows for the machine to use some of its remaining power to detox the surrounding area even if so little”.

“News has it that Sires was given a limited budget, if we destroy some of his machines then we could prolong his activities even further,” said Tamius.

Oran thought heavily then lifted his head, “ we prolong everything, we need to get rid of Sires”.

Before Oran continues, Munos spoke: “No, Sires is just a puppet, and there are more puppets around him. If we get rid of him, it will only expose more of us.”

“Then we take out the leader!” snapped Munos.

“Please, calm yourself Munos. No matter how much more we try to find out this shadow behind Sires, it only brings us trouble. Time will tell us soon enough.” Replied Tamius.

“Time hasn’t told us for generations” grunted Munos.

His feelings were familiar amongst the group, a constant reminder of the never-ending task of stopping others from getting into the core. The first of the Witcgha lived constantly in their mind as they preformed the memory ceremony amongst the council. The skull that has been chipped, piece by piece, across the generations lay hidden deeper underground. It told us that the core of Planet Ethew lived a machine of a different world, it was better to be hidden. No other could know this information. It would cause mass panic and destruction if this secret was to be revealed. It is not known that Sires knows about this information, but it is clear enough that whoever is leading these subtle drilling projects knows more than he’s leading the public.

Sires watched the small sparkle of gas bubbles burst in the mosh pits from his balcony. They pop into different colors as the red sun recedes from the sky.

A woman’s voice spoke behind him, but he was having a hard time hearing it as the message was vocalized on markala crystal which recorded the pulses of sound waves, making for a statically translation.

As he stared into the distance, Sires thought about the first half of the message: “The Witchga have found out about the purpose of the mushroom detoxer machines. Patriclus, of the council members, is meeting with an engineer nine days from now. He begins traveling, by the time you get this, tomorrow. They know of our limited budget on the project and are determined to sabotage them. This would imply that there is a leek within the finance department…”

Sires smirked, these Witchga’s seem to have many followers, he thought. Why? Because they speak with dead? There are too many folklore with their kind, thought Sires. They are Ethew lovers who don’t like progress at the expense of the planet.

The doors opened and in came Marcus Tabatha, a Witchga. He wore a robe that was covered with small different color beads and small bells. It was a strange to know that these Witchga could move without any clinks or sounds from these bells, as if gliding without any movement of the fabric. It was known that when they felt threatened by the dead, then they walked with noise clanking around them. Sires never asked further into the phenomena, and only thought it was a superstitious parlor trick.

“You’ve called for me?” spoke Marcus as if his time was wasted in the few moments of silence after he had entered.

“Yes, I need-“Sires suddenly paused with an angry expression, “Damn, Witcgha- when you talk to me, you close the door”.

Marcus felt the bitterness pierce his annoyed attitude and he suddenly fell into submission.

After the doors shut, Sires continued: “ They’ve seen through the mushroom detoxers, its now known that several, including one of their council members, will be meeting an engineer”

Marcus cut in, “do we know which engineer might be a suspect?”

“No, but we have found out that one of the chief at our PX3 detoxer had been seen copying a construct map” replied Sires. He then clapped his hand which brought several men inside, dragging a thin and tortured man who Marcus knew was to be the said suspect. Sires had given the man a nod and the guards slit the man’s throat, splitting his head from his neck and then putting it into a container filled with a acid solution which purged the tissue from the skull.

Marcus felt the whiff of seared metal fill his nostrils and water his eyes. He could feel one of the bells on his robe begin to vibrate the quick passing of the dead man. The bell soon began to silence- The dead have moved on.

The skull now was dumped into another chemical solution which killed any of the remaining acid then another that purified the skull.

Marcus knew now why he was requested, and went to work. He grabbed the skull and began to smash it into pieces which he then ground into a powder. He reached into the robe and brought out several different ingredients which Sires couldn’t make out. The Witchga always carried the memory ceremony with them for the sake of preserving their own kind. Although, he hadn’t respected the natural decomposition of the skull which held all those vibrations- now it had been hazed with the chemical solutions he had used. After several hours the drink was finally ready.

Sires had called in another of his tortured victims. Marcus wondered how many had this man imprisoned. The woman’s hair was falling out and small bubbles of burnt skin stood out on her seared flesh. Marcus understood why she was here before Sires had given her the cup.

The woman closed her eyes, and she felt a rush of memory flow around her. It was like a conscious dream where she could see the shrewd films of the man’s life. Soon enough she could see herself being dragged into the office, and the blade piercing her flesh. A small shock ran through her body as the moment of violent death scarred her. Marcus felt a chill run through his bones. He knew that this was considered torture amongst his people- to feed a violent death to someone else…permanently traumatizing their mind. There Is more to Sires than he had originally thought, and Marcus wasn’t sure if he liked it.

“Bring me the book” Sires asked one of the guards who was standing in the corner.

A few moments passed and the guard brought a book that held the photographic directory of all the staff working in each detox plant. The woman brushed through each page with careful contemplation until her finger circled an image of one man.

Sires looked at the woman, then to the book and nodded, “That’s the man that they’ll meet” spoke Sires.

A couple days had passed since they had arrived. Jericho joined Elsa as they both went spear diving along the coast for supper. The waves were rowdy and tempered as they both fought the current in excitement – each attached to a rope that connected them to each other, anchored to a coastal rock. They both returned onto the rocky shore, recovering their breath as several large eels sat dead next to them.

“Your father is leaving again?” asked Elsa who was now gutting one of her eels.

Jericho nodded, “he says there are some meetings down in Saskabar he needs to attend to”.

Elsa rubbed her nose, sniffling from the cold, “You going with him?”

“No, he only invites me when it’s the memory ceremony for those silly towns-folk” said Jericho who was now getting a little irritated about having to do those.

Elsa nodded, realizing how foreigners misunderstand their traditions. What we do to fit in, she thought exhaustively.

Jericho let in a deep breath and looked into the distance. He loved the ocean because it masked all other senses. Here was a place where the dead could not meet him, and it gave him some peace.

Patriclus headed out in the early morning before the sun rose. He hadn’t said goodbye to Jericho and instead let him sleep. Jericho had been irritated with him lately about not being able to travel with him more often. Patriclus didn’t mind this too much, he was the same way to his father when he was younger. Boys will be boys.

It had taken him a few days to get to the edge of Saskabar where he was to meet his contact. Patriclus wore some of the clothes he bought from a traveling salesman. Better to blend in, he thought. He didn’t know who the person he was meeting, only the name: Jonah Maksbar, and the location: near the camel stall.

“Saskah, Saskabar” one of the tellers finally spoke after seeing Patriclus stand near the stalls.

Patriclus knew the common greeting: “It’s good to be in Saskabar” or more literal: “Live good in a Good Life”.

“Saskah, Saskabar” replied Patriclus, “I’m not here to buy a camel, just simply waiting for a friend”.

“I like the common robes, but that face betrays you. A face of time, of eternity, a face of death. . A face of a Witcgha” the salesman said in a giddy mood.

Patriclus bowed respectfully, “gracefully said” he replied sarcastically.

The salesman laughed and enjoyed this little excitement in his day, “Come with me” he finally said.

“As I said before, I am simply waiting for a friend”

“And you have found him, my name is Jonah Maksbar”

Patriclus hadn’t even considered the thought. This man was jolly and a camel salesman. The engineer he was informed of was a person nervous and suspicious of many.

Jonah now grimed his expression with more seriousness: “I can tell I’m not what you expected. Just like you, we all must wear our disguises. Please, come with me, Patriclus” he said.

They both had walked a few blocks until they arrived at a small shack of a home, which Patriclus presumed was the man’s own home.

Jericho watched his father walk into the stranger’s home. If it wasn’t for that traveling salesman who his father bought the robes from, Jericho wouldn’t have found his way to Saskabar. He didn’t know what the meeting was about, or how long his father was going to be here. Jericho decided it was best to stay at a distance, just to make sure he wasn’t spotted by them or any surrounding watchers.

Once inside, Jonah had prepared tea made from crispy frog skin (somewhat more exotic and prestigious amongst the local brew). They both sat on some mats on the floor, slowly sipping their tea.

After they both took their first sip, Patriclus began: “Thank you for meeting me, Jonah. I understand this is a very delicate matter, and I appreciate your help with these detoxers. Let’s get to the point: Do you have the layout?”

Jonah sipped the tea again, and grabbed a rolled paper from the tea table beside them.

“ I support the Witchga because you preserve the divide between death and life, a constant reminder of our fragility. If I may ask: Why meddle with these detoxers if they help the community” said Jonah.

Patriclus spoke very carefully and watched his next words: “It is a smokescreen to a greater evil. That is all I can tell you to keep your peace”.

He leaned over to accept the papers, but Jonah leaned back with them when he continued: “You know, I can help you more. I can be your inside man”.

“You have done enough, and I’m sure you’ve risked your family for this information” replied Patriclus who was now concerned by the man stalling. His heart rate couldn’t help but speed up a few beats.

“My family, yes”. Jonah got up and went to a robe closet , opening it slowly to reveal the bodies of a man, woman, and two small children. “Not my family, Witcgha, but perhaps Jonah’s” he laughed.

Patriclus shot up from the floor quickly as his heart felt like it was about to burst.

“I’m afraid that frog skin tea was poorly prepared… A little dose of drugs seemed to have slipped in” laughed the stranger posing as Jonah, “The more your heart flutters, the faster it works”.

Patriclus was now stumbling around the spinning room and couldn’t help but fall over things, desperately trying to find a door or window. He slowly grabbed the nob, but it was too late. The drugs hit him hard and he fell onto the door and became unconscious.

It took every bone in Jericho’s body to remain from running over. His eyes watched in panic when the front door opened and his father fell onto the ground. Several men Jericho noticed from the Camel stall, where his father had met this stranger, appeared from around the corner with a cart of rags. The person who his father had been talking to ordered his men to pick the body up and hide it under the rags.

Jericho squatted in fear, now given several options. One, he could follow the cart and find out where they were going. The second idea was to go back home and tell the elders what had happened. As much as he wanted to follow them, he realized it would be better to tell the elders. A part of him knew they might know where they were taking his father. His only concern now was if his father would survive long enough for them to rescue him.

It took him three days to get back home because of the panic of the event that took place had not worn off. His sense of direction was nearly lost. He crawled through the tunnels and felt something off. There wasn’t any noises. No one was talking, no jars clanking against one another, no foot steps.

Where is everyone?

He arrived into the first den branching off the trail which belonged to Malakor Bridges and his wife Tabatha. A smell of hot metal suddenly seared his nostrils.

Two bodies were on the floor with a pool of blood puddled around them- Malakor and his wife.

He immediately whipped his head around, who else is dead?!

He quietly walked through the tunnel as it began to open up into the market area. The bells on his gown began to tingle- these bodies had died not too long ago, he knew.

Pots were broken and everything was in ruin. Bodies spread across the floor and as Jericho looked down he realized he was standing in their blood. The smell of metal was making him gag and almost puke.

A small noise of footsteps echoed down one of the chambers.

Someones alive?!

As Jericho was about to call out to them a hand slapped against his mouth and dragged him into a crevice between the walls.

“Stay silent, Jericho” she said, “They’re still here”.

The foot steps were now louder. Whoever they were, they were heading this way.

“I haven’t found it, yet” a voice spoke.

“You know what Sires said, we can’t come back without that skull”

The other man grunted in annoyance, “We’ve been here for hours, Trak, why don’t we just grab one of these dead bodies and let him have a skull to do that memory mumbo jumbo”

The man he was talking to remained quiet, and Jericho thought for a moment he had heard him breathing.

After his train of thought, the man shook his head: “No, that wont work. Remember, he’s got that Witchga with him. He’ll know it’ll be a fake. They need that particular skull.”

A witcgha with Sires?!

“For all we know, the skull is somewhere off-site. We’ve completed half the mission at least- these Witcgha’s are dead”

“It’s getting late, lets leave and come back in the morning” spoke the man named Trak, “One more day of searching and we’ll call it”

The footsteps trailed off and we stayed for another 40min in the crevice to make sure they were really gone. Jericho felt like he could finally breathe a little better now as he gained comfort these murderers weren’t here anymore. They would return.

“They’re all dead, Elsa” he finally spoke.

“Not everyone, Jericho, a few of us made it out. I came back here noticing mother didn’t follow me, but it was too late.” She replied.

Before Jericho could explain what happened on his absence, Elsa told him to wait until they’ve escaped. The murderers, they realized, had found some of the secret passage ways and killed the Witchga’s hiding inside. There were a rare few that adults didn’t know about, which both Jericho and Elsa escaped from- heading to the cliffs of the coast where they had spearfished. From there, they’d hide out in one of their fishing caves. Both were cold, and saddened. The sea air helped to mask the scent of seared metal that filled the skies- the scent of the dead- a constant reminder of the massacre of their people. They would move on to a different plane, and be reborn again- destined to become a Witchga in centuries to come.

Jericho was unsure whether Elsa was asleep or not, but he had remained up most of the night trying to put the two and two together. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that his father was sent out on to a trap, while his people would be slaughtered. Someone, he felt, knew about his plan and knew where to find the Witchga. This Sires had a Witchga on his own, but they found THIS tribe, and KNEW of his father’s plans. . The pieces were slowly fitting. Someone within his tribe, he knew, had betrayed them all. . whomever this person was- they’re still alive. No one could be trusted. Jericho slowly got up as Esla continued sleeping. He couldn’t see her in the darkness, but heard a faint and rhythmic breathing.

It was then a knife came to his throat and sliced the youthful skin open, causing him to fall on the rocky floor in disbelief. Jericho held onto his throat to clog the blood back inside, but the darkness gave in around him. A figure slowly knelt near him with a knife in their hand.

It was Esla.

Amongst the many feelings he had, a raging anger within the panic was one of them. He couldn’t let this happen to his people, his family, his father. It couldn’t end here. The world was becoming faint, and his last breath soon left his body.

A faint breeze of piss and blood within the stale air drifted into his nostrils, causing Patriclus to regain consciousness. He felt a wet stone floor beneath him and darkness of a cell surround him. There were no open windows for sunlight, just a faint torch that burned a light underneath the cell door.

Patriclus began to breath in, feeling his body flush with pain. It was then he remembered- the poison in Saskabar. Patriclus wanted to go back to sleep to try to numb the pain away, but he knew better. He sat himself up against the moist stone wall in the dark cell and began a breathing exercise to get himself a little more relaxed. His body strained violently with every breath.

His tongue suddenly felt metallic. Patriclus knew that the smell of death, but the taste only meant that someone he deeply loved was dead.

"Tule Machinue" he immedietly whispered to himself out of hhabit "Let thyself be Reborn" .

He didn’t want to believe it was Jericho. It couldn’t be. His senses were being strained with all the pain his body felt. It was then he noticed that he wasn’t wearing his Witchga garbs, but a normal black robe. The cell door suddenly opened and the large guard walked up with a wooden baton on his hand. Patriclus couldn’t move out of the way as the baton suddenly smacked his skull- causing him to fall over unconscious.

To be continued. . .