Post by Annasiel on Apr 9, 2023 9:29:33 GMT
The world was perfect, or something like it. A sort of happy stasis - on Terminal, humanity's needs were met, their lineage upheld, their lives untouched. There is little history of the early days, or how we built so much. A city built on the inner ring of a toroidal planet orbiting around a dying star. The planet, which shares the city's name - for the city is the only thing of note upon it - is something of an oddity. Not outside of the realm of possibility, but the little mishaps and gravitational deviations and strangely manifested motions necessary to push a planet from its natural, spherical path of growth to something far more strange are, without a doubt, astronomically rare. It left us a place not uninhabitable, but certainly inhospitable.
Without the guidance of the Elohim, we would have never survived.
The inner ring is cold. Quite cold. And the outer ring? A scorched, barren desert. Though there are habitable zones near the edges where the two sides meet, and this is, doubtless, where our kind originated, they are plagued by frequent ionized storms that pose great threat to life. But the Elohim, those glorious makers, took our hand and led us into prosperity. By their blessed intellect, we were given light - brilliant, warm light above the city, keeping away the cold, keeping away the dark. In this city of light, humanity prospered.
Four were, from the hand of the Elohim, given dominion over parts of Terminal, to tend to our great city. It was a show of trust between our rulers and we, a union, a unity.
Tavri, a Brilliant Mind, was granted authority over the network that spanned the city, the great Ruach, tasked with its upkeep and protection. Communication is, after all, the spirit of life, and through her sharp intellect the breath that dwelled in wires and computers would pass on messages between.
Yager, a Firm Hand, was given power over right and wrong, serving as Justice in the name of the Elohim's will. He upheld the edicts they passed, kept peace through turmoil, and made sure all who lived in our great city upheld their duties to each other - and to the Elohim themselves.
Selma, a Steady Will, was made custodian over the power that fed our lights and gave us warmth. It was her duty to keep our needs for fuel met, to keep the plants supplying energy maintained, and to build new ones as our city grew, keeping the lights on forever more.
Avus, an Open Heart, had closest ties to the Elohim of all. The man was a dreamer, one who thought in mights and coulds, and for that, they handed him power over progress in the city - new business, new technology, new growth. He was the one who ran the path so we might all walk after.
Of course, these four were mortals. Only the Elohim live forever. But their lives set the foundations for a legacy, and in that legacy, four bodies rose, companies enacted in the spirit of their will. Neuros Tavri. Yager Corps. Selma Lite. Avus Arch. We held our futures in our hands, and the Elohim could rest in their guidance.
If only it were that simple.
Men are imperfect. Men are impure. They want more than they have, and they take more than they are given. The Neuros Tavri were corrupted by selfish use of the Ruach for their own gain, sending their malignant whispers to the corners of the network to blackmail, steal, and deceive. The Selma Lite grew hardened in their control, thuggish extortionists that hold light hostage for pay. The Yager Corps became more and more aggressive, resorting to brutality, harsher sentences, and shows of force to keep the peace. Where the companies once worked in tandem, they now stood at each others' throats, each holding shattered territories of Terminal.
Where were the Elohim? We do not know. They had withdrawn into the Mount long before, settling in their temple, seeing humans capable of shepherding themselves.
And where was Avus Arch?
Gone the way of the Elohim. Silent.
Things deteriorated over several decades. We tore apart our utopia, and the strongest and wealthiest took the void the Elohim had left. The rest of humanity struggled to get by. We entered a bit of a stasis, so to speak, as the last bits of unclaimed parts of the city were conquered, as boundaries were drawn and - while shifting, from time to time - never changed enough to matter. This might have been livable. This might have been bearable.
But - then the lights started to go out.
Selma Lite blamed Neuros. Yager blamed Selma. Neuros - they blamed both, and neither, and conspiracies passed on bated breath. Whoever's fault it was, no one seemed capable to fix it, the flickering growing worse and worse, the times in darkness growing longer and longer. Perhaps, if we knew darkness before this, we would see the night sky empty of stars, the last few flickers fading day by day. We know darkness now, though -
And in the darkness, we are not alone.
