The Values Held
Whoever destroys a soul, it is considered as if he destroyed an entire world. And whoever saves a life, it is considered as if he saved an entire world.
The Talmud
I have long known that my quest is futile. Like yin and yang, order cannot exist without chaos. For order comes about from chaos, and chaos from order. I have destroyed countless worlds, crushed thousands of sects and punished millions for their crimes. I am the harbinger of Righteousness. Zephyr shall not fall while I still draw breath!
Richard Fuji,
Security Minister and Prime Minister of the Holy League of Terra
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As a man of letters, I cannot but observe the events of the last two decades but with grim distaste. It is true that mankind, at least in the Hydra Tuft, has begun to recover from the disasters of the Second Tumult. Yet this creative destruction has not brought happiness or even an improvement to mankind’s nature. Circumstances change, but mankind does not.
In my discussions with the Learned Council as well as with ranking members of the Mitzu Administration, I encountered significant resistance to my position on the Soulon. It may be the case that I shall be asked to resign my official position. G-d alone knows where things will go.
Twenty-one years ago G-d ended the world as we knew it. We have rebuilt and returned to the stars only to find that war and pestilence follow in man’s wake. The survival of the Society of the Liberes was not a chance affair; it was G-d’s will. In the path of their destruction, the beauty of G-d’s handiwork can be seen. For who else can have such power to destroy but G-d? This… creative destruction I do not fear. For in the end, it is G-d and G-d alone. Not the foolish blasphemy that is the ideology of the Gardeners or the false faith of the Lantians, but the Truth.
The end of the Kausian War due to the infamous gambit of the Gardeners, the eviction of the vainglorious Ik from Paradise, the war between the brothers, who could have envisioned it so?
One is the loneliest number. I would know.
My traditions, my beliefs, our way of life will be dead with me. Perhaps others have survived but I know not. Perhaps I shall be able to live another decade or two, but the best years of life are behind me. My twilight has come. All that remains is to see what shall be said of me. For I am but the product of my civilization, a civilization that is now gone.
In the Twentieth Lantian-Al Plenary after the Liberes Intrusion, the lead Al Communicator asked me if the Lantian Republic knew the pains of losing their entire civilization. I indicated that they did. And that they had lost their civilizations multiple times; pestilence, civil strife, famine, war and all manners of evil had brought down the great Geashial states.
Reminiscences of Doctor Nathan Rosenthal, Minister Extraordinaire of the Lantian Republic
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He tugged his tie. It was not something he was used to. He had been Minister of Security, not an empty government bureaucrat! But duty had summoned him and now he must step up. From being commanded, he would not command. Looking into the visual feeds which would broadcast his face to everyone who wanted to hear what he was going to say.
“The Lantian Republic… has never been in such peril. Akin to a lover with a foot in two boats, we too must make a choice. Shall we abandon a boat or shall we continue to traverse the waters unbalanced? For these are not the waters of our beloved home rivers; these are the waters of the Great Western Ocean of Lore. Natural tempests and the artifices of man are but a few of what might await us. The Black Swan is after all a beast. And beasts, like men, are unpredictable.
The Lantian People and Republic are not at the so-called crossroad that those unaware of their past love to speak of. A crossroad implies that there is a choice. As there are no equal choices, there is no crossroad. We have no choice. There is only one choice.
I shall faithfully serve to ensure the continued growth of the Lantian Republic and its defense. Do not doubt it. Good day and farewell.”
The feeds stopped. Turning around, he smiled gravely at the assembled technicians and staff.
Let it begin.
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The city burned.
In its wrecks, a beast was being nursed. For in the lands of Paradise, man’s greed and jealousy nursed the beast’s strength. Thousands of years might have passed since the demise of Earth but man has learned nothing. Man does not inherently seek to destroy. Greed and jealousy are but symptoms of a greater contagion.
It is a contagion that the finest genetic engineering could not heal. For the contagion itself is a cure. For the application of a disease, in select amounts it is a cure. In the burned ruins of the Ik cities of Arrakis, where the screams of pain echo throughout, where the whips cackle and the women cry, men feed the beast.
Like sacrificial lambs, man offered his companions to the beast. The beast, still young to this world, fed and ate in silence. The beast did not wish to alert its master of its true intentions. It is that of which man sees most.
From the haughty Lord of Avarice to the mighty First-Captains, a piece is given to the beast. For what was once the hope of a people became its darkest fear. For what is fear but the essence of man at his worst? Fear of the unknown, fear of the uncertain, fear is the mechanism by which men amass their greed. It is fear that moves men: greed so that they might avail themselves of arms in the face of calamitous danger, and jealousy so that their companions shall not strike them down in the dark.
And as the once joyous and proud Ik colonists worked under the once beautiful skies, a people watched. A people watched at the despair, at the death, and at the fear. The fear that not only permeated the poor slaves, but the fear that was omniscient within the slave-drivers of the Liberes and the Esani.
Fear can kill a man. Fear can tear down the greatest edifices of man.
For Fear is the new God.
The Anonymous Scribe
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The smell of the manuscripts was addicting. The silence was beautiful. Bent over his work, he turned the pages with the greatest of care. After graduating from the Center of Correct Thought a decade ago, he had already reviewed and annotated twenty-five of these wondrous tomes. He sneezed. Alarmed, he waited for the alarms to go off. Shrugging, there must have been upgrades to the preservation technology in place. He must have missed the notification.
He took notes of the relevant information and packed up. He was going to be late for the conference. Taking the MTR home, he would have been a weird sight anywhere in the Hydra Tuft outside of the Lantian Republic. Wearing thick glasses with almost a sign of pride, he seemed preoccupied with greater concerns even as he waited for the MTR to get to his station. Rushing off, he tripped getting off. Hurriedly, he collected all of his materials. All but one.
When he had settled down into his comfortable foam chair, he began his feed and logged on. Years before, these conferences would have been held on Ningbao. These days they were in held in Horn. Of course that meant he didn’t have to be physically there. People would know that he was present if and only if he elected to ask a question or raise a point of contention. “Winston!” He looked up at one of the auxiliary feeds. “Drats,” he mumbled. He had forgotten that other registered users could also see his presence.
He smiled and simply said “Sorry, I need to focus on the conference.” The other man just smiled and closed the feed. The other man knew that there would be other opportunities. Why hurry? Time was on his side.