We, the Harmony

The leftover shelters, pathways and metal tools prove there was a world before ours, one that belonged to the Chaos. The rectangular doorways we walk through were clearly made for us, all the way down to the receptacle created for our hands. We, the Harmony, harvest the remnants of the old world, a world we cannot remember. But no matter – that world has forgone relevance.

We have not been so far beyond the lands of Harmony for years. Here Chaos holds sway. The flora grows uncontrolled, and Confused creatures dwell, large and small. The paths we follow are well-trodden, but not by us. The murky rays of sun flow from holes far above, onto the packed earth we walk. We bend down and scrape our hands through the earth, the dust and mud move out of the way and to reveal smooth, glossy stone beneath. A clue there may be objects of at the centre of the shelter. We see movement. The moved earth troubles a column of ants, alarmed by the upset march. We watch them dart around each other, an attempt to reach the goal regardless of the challenges they face along the way. We revere the ant, a creature that reached Harmony long before we knew of Harmony.

“Who are you?”

We had forgotten ourselves for a moment, left ourselves unguarded. Our eyes saw the source of the sound, a Confused stood near us, posture messy and body movements anomalous. The Confused’s eyes grew large and face paled. They turned and ran away down the hall. We, the Harmony, are competent and enhanced – we pursue the creature through the shelter’s hallways as the sun reveals the Confused’s whereabouts. We can catch the Confused and trap them to the shelter’s wall.

The Confused struggled and attempted to escape our grasp, but Chaos cannot match the Harmony. We study the beast for the resemblances to us. The general form and adornments are the same. The eyes stare at ours, the same construct as ours. Below the eyes, the shape matches the parts of us used to self-reproduce, not that we could breed a Confused.

The Confused speaks more of the nonsense to us, another unnecessary aspect of the Chaos. We, the Harmony, are elegant.

“Stop, please. Let me go.” The sounds evoke an old memory, one where we also used sounds. But that world has long been over. The Confused strew Chaos, destroy the Harmony and pose a constant threat.

We push our hand through the Confused’s vertebrae – the death was abrupt. We must store the flesh for later. Where we encounter one Confused, we always encounter more. The shelter could be a home to many. We travel deeper. We can hear more Confused echo throughout the shelter, but we cannot see more.

A sharp crack, a flash of flames and momentary agony, those eyes cease – removed from us by a truculent Confused. Analogous to the ants we, the Harmony, have many eyes. We swarm towards the shelter.

The glass around the shelter’s external walls were opaque from years of dust and death. Fortunately, we have brought the tools from the remnant world. We shatter the glass and the panes become a storm of shards.

The Confused were ready for an equal response. More flashes from the darkness and moments of extreme agony. Those eyes cease to operate. The Confused are tools of Chaos – they cause so much hurt. We feel rage towards the Chaos. They do not see Sense and choose to be segregated from the Harmony. They do not know any better. However, alone they are weaker than the us. The Confused are unable to oppose us.

We proceed forwards, the carcasses that once belonged to them and us pave a safe path across the jagged ground. Later, we can return to collect the carcasses of the Chaos, as well as the parts that have fallen from us. Flesh, bone and tendon can be recycled for sustenance and spare parts.

The Confused attack us from around objects and walls, and so forego concealment. However, the attacks only delay our progress. There are many here, more than we have seen for years. The shelter must be of worth to them. Therefore, the shelter must be of worth to us too. As we progress down an enclosed hallway, we are enveloped by flames and shrapnel, but too late – we swarm through other entrances that are defended by the Confused.

Some Confused see Sense, lay down weapons and come over to us. We feel joyous at the knowledge they want to become the Harmony. The Confused do not understand that we, the Harmony, feel joy, rage and sadness, even as we perform countless tasks spread across our land. When we feel, we feel as one. At our joy, we bare our teeth and part our mouths – a holdover from the Chaos creatures we once were.

But our face muscles revert as we feel sadness at those that do not see Sense. They soon fall to us. When we are short of metal slugs, we rush forward to smother the Confused, for them to be crushed beneath our mass. Soon, the Confused are dead or herded back to accept our grant of Harmony.

The Confused had attempted to conceal and defend a secret from us. We scurry through hallways, rooms and crossroads, and are able to map out the complex. Some of the Confused have used the structure as a shelter. They had hewn tunnels and chambers that have no form of concordance. We had seen exactly two hundred and seven Confused, but the shelter could house thousands.

We come across large doors at the centre of the complex, an entrance to a great, underground space. The doors pry open under our many hands, and we feel a moment of rare shock. The chamber was enormous, a tube that expanded upwards and downwards. Below us, we saw an earthen floor and far above, round metal doors. The extent of the chamber was not what made us feel shocked, but the shock came from chamber’s contents. A craft to travel above the sky to the stars.

The Confused had schemed to depart the planet, clearly because the Confused knew we, the Harmony, had plans to do the same. Even when they reject us, the Confused endeavour to become Harmony, and acknowledge Harmony as the more natural and supreme state. Hence why they look comparable, and dwell together as a poor parody of us. However, we do not understand how could they produce such a craft before we could?

Does a lone Confused boast some form of knowledge the Harmony does not? How does the knowledge transfer to other Confused, and how do many Confused create a spacecraft? Perhaps a fundamental allowance and aspect of Chaos – even a thousand Confused that bash rock to rock could produce a tool of teleology. We shall never know. Whatever knowledges and process the Confused hold are lost once we grant them Harmony.

But how the Confused could complete such a task would appear to be of no relevance now. The spacecraft belongs to us, an enabler to our advancement beyond the atmosphere of the plant. We, the Harmony, must be brough to other stars and worlds, for the progress towards a concordant cosmos.