lunaracarberry

[lunaracarberry]

💚

To be beautiful means to be yourself. You don't need to be accepted by others. You need to accept yourself. When you are born a lotus flower, be a beautiful lotus flower, don't try to be a magnolia flower. If you crave acceptance and recognition and try to change yourself to fit what other people want you to be, you will suffer all your life. True happiness and true power lie in understanding yourself, accepting yourself, having confidence in yourself.

— Thích Nhất Hạnh

[lunaracarberry]

Rona’s Journey

   Rona Ni'ess woke with the dawn to a glorious summer morning.  Her comfortable, somewhat burrow-like bedroom was lit up a pair of sun-chimneys reflecting light from the roof of her family's rof'orth. The building was one of the hillside house-compounds the Bilobi tribe commonly built as their dwellings, an elaborate but sturdy structure that housed the two dozen members of her family.  Rona's room, as all the unattached young adults in the family, was carved deep into the hillside where it was cool in the summer and warm in the winter.  The sun-chimneys allowed both light and air into the chamber, with screens to keep out the pests.  It was a safe and cozy space.    Rona was a young woman of average height for her tribe, with a slim and athletic body.  Her skin was a pale brown, albeit seasonally darkened, and her hair was long, black and thick.  She was naturally quite pretty, her quick smile and strikingly grey eyes complementing her toned, but still very female, form.   Rona yawned and stretched, and dressed herself.  Short leather breeches and a light hempen crop-top were suitable for the weather, as it was going to be quite warm quite soon.  Early summer was generally a warm and humid time in the rugged region that the rest of the world knew as the Solbanian Hills.    Rona ventured out to the bathroom first.  The Bilobi, like many of the Solbanian tribes, had incorporated a limited amount of the "civilized" technologies, one of those being the blessing of running water in their dwellings.  Other concepts such as glow-lights had not been embraced, the tribes choosing to use their metal resources to forge mainly weapons and tools.   The Bilobi were a practical and resourceful people, and being in a state of perpetual near-war forced them to focus on defense and armament above all else.    Out in the community area, various members of the family were already digging into a breakfast of jura, hearty cooked grains, the smell of sweet spices filling the room.   Rona procured a cup of strong tea and a dish of the jura; her mother Nona, working in the kitchen, gave her a wink and a smile in passing.  The matrons of the family took very good care of their flock, and were treasured for it; but Rona already knew that such a domestic life was not for her.      Finishing her modest breakfast, Rona left the dishes for the younglings to wash and ascended the stairs to the top balcony.  A couple of the elders were basking in the morning sun there.  One was her great-aunt, Mida, and her life-partner Yari sat beside her holding her hand.  Rona greeted them respectfully.  "Bright morning, sh'wenga."    Mida was an aged woman, but by no means infirm.  Short of stature, she was still physically solid and her hair had not yet turned completely white.  Rona was one of her favorite young people, and she smiled and held her hand out.  "How is our little scout today?  What are you up to, going out to steal some hearts, perhaps?"   Rona blushed a little at that.  Mida was always teasing her about how pretty she was, and how easily she would be able to sneak around and steal the boys' hearts away.  "No, sh'wenga, I've no time for such prey today.  I have some fishing to do."    "Fishing?!" Yari chimed in.  The tiny woman was still beautiful despite her hair being completely whitened by time.  "Well, don't forget your elders, if you catch a fine trout!"    Rona chuckled. "Of course not!  I know how much you like a good fried trout.  Is this clear sky going to hold up today, then?"    Yari nodded, eyes flicking toward the horizon.  "Nothing but sunshine today, dear.  A fine day for fishing, and swimming."    "Thank you, sh'wenga.  I will seek out a suitable place for such ventures." Rona touched the elders' hands with her fingertips and went downstairs for her equipment.     She filled her light pack with her fishing gear and a water flask, strapped on her weapon belt and her trusty tomahawk, and put on a sun hat to round out her ensemble.  At the house entryway, her uncle Darib was on guard, casually sharpening a knife.  He grinned at her cheerily and she gave him a quick hug.  A veteran warrior, Darib had been one of her teachers in the skills of weapons.      "Enjoy your day off, halita," Darib said as she sauntered out the door.   Rona waved and set out down the path, humming a tune to herself.    The songs of birds added counterpoint to her own as she walked, down the path to the main road and southward.  Soon she reached the bridge that crossed over the Callahee RIver, although it was more of a stream here close to the headwaters.  Up and over the next ridge the carefully paved path led, into the next valley where her friend Dugi lived.  It was not a long distance, just enough to stretch her legs.  She descended into a broad valley, where her friend's farm was built into the western hillside; one of many such structures lining the sides of the valley.    The farm itself was a series of well-built terraces, spreading from the house at the top all the way down to the stream at the bottom of the valley.  The path ran by the banks of the stream, and a ramp led up to the farmhouse at a gentle incline.  Rona ascended the ramp, spotting Dugi on one of the upper terraces, working the plants.  She called out a greeting. "Ho, Dugi!"    Dugi was a mountain of a man already, even though he was barely a month older than Rona.  His wide mouth split his bearded face with a smile when he saw her. "Ho, Rona!"    She made her way along the terrace walkway to where he was, surrounded by young squash plants.  "Whatcha up to today? I have the day off, want to go fishing?"    "Oh, now, that is a tempting thought indeed," Dugi chuckled.  "I need to finish clearing out these weeds before I can go, though."    Rona eyed the patch of plants he was working.  "Doesn't seem like too much of a chore.  How about I give you a hand and we can go all that much sooner?"    "That would be great!" The big man smiled again.  He was very easy-going and good-natured, and had been friends with Rona for most of their young lives.      With no further ado, Rona set aside her pack and joined in the work.  The fertile earth yielded the weeds easily, but the patch was large.  Dugi worked this farm alone most of the time, as his parents had passed away a few years before.  Despite his youth, Dugi was the sole proprietor of the farm and had already earned his full ranking of kagori, "plant-tender", an honored position in the tribe.  Among the Bilobi, a farmer was treated with the same respect as a warrior or a craftsman.    Before long, the patch was cleared of invasive plants and they were ready to go.  They went up to the farmhouse for a cup of cool mint tea and set off for the fishing hole.  Further up the valley, the paved trail gave way to a well-trodden path that led up onto a ridge before dropping back down into a wild, lush stretch of forest where the stream was slow and formed several large pools among ridges of black rock and large, ancient tree roots.      They spent the bulk of the morning there, enjoying the simple leisure of setting the lines, lounging in the soft summer grass, and trying to lure the wily fish out from under the banks with various lures and tactics.  When the heat became oppressive, they splashed around in the cool water and dried out in the sun.  It was not a hugely successful venture, as they only actually landed a couple of fish worth keeping.  Finally, hunger drove them to pack up their fishing rods and head back to the farmhouse to cook them properly.    The path over the ridge was lined with boulders and gnarled bushes sporting brilliant purple flowers.  Distracted and relaxed, Rona and Dugi were both startled at the appearance of two people on the trail ahead, rounding a bend along the highest point; they nearly collided with the two, who were going the other way.    Inri and Waro were a pair of boys who were not among Rona's favorite people.  A couple of years older than her, they had been pests and teases to many of the girls, in the callous way of boys.  They were both trained warriors now, and strutted like a pair of roosters, in Rona's opinion.  Inri had actually made sexual overtures to her only a couple of weeks before, but she had turned him down flat at his arrogant and entitled approach; leaving him red-faced in the road in front of several of his older compatriots, who had been quite amused at the turn of events.    "Well, well, well," Inri said, immediately reacting to the appearance of the two friends.  "Look what we have here, a sneak and a dirt-stirrer," he sneered.  Waro laughed, but his eyes were hard, calculating.   Rona's eyes narrowed at the tone.  "At least we do something useful, muscle-head," she retorted.    Inri barked a humorless laugh.  "Useful? Oh, you're going to see trouble coming, scout?  Then run back and hide behind the warriors?  Hardly useful." He spat.  "I can think of a good use for you, girl."  Waro laughed again, coarsely.    Dugi growled at that, his large hand clenching around his walking staff.  "You're barking up the wrong tree, lashka," he said.    Inri took a half step back, hand creeping up toward the hilt of his sword.  "Oh, you're going to claim her for yourself, dirt-stirrer?  I knew she had bad taste."    "Nobody's -claiming- me, meathead," Rona replied angrily. "I'm a free woman and I'll do what I want!"    Inri eyed her up and down and grinned lewdly. "Well, you should want to use that body of yours to make a warrior happy.  We're your protectors, after all.  Come on, just a tumble in the grass with me will show you the error of your ways."    "Hmmph.  In your dreams!  Why don't you just go play with yourself?  Don't get caught this time." Rona gave him a sneer of her own.  All of them knew about how the boy had been caught spying on the women's bathing pool the previous summer, and been soundly switched by the matrons all the way back to his family's home.    Inri's face contorted and grew red with anger.  "You little... I think it's time you learned some respect, bitch."  He drew his sword.    Rona had her tomahawk out in a flash, adrenaline surging as she shifted into a combat stance.  "Honorless cur!" she spat angrily.  "You have NO right!"    Waro drew his own sword, glancing sidewise at his partner.     "Subdue her," Inri ordered. "I'll take this fool dirt-stirrer apart!"  He whirled his sword confidently and advanced on Dugi. "Don't hurt her too much," he sneered disparagingly.    In a heartbeat Rona and her friend were fighting for their lives.  Time slowed to a seeming crawl as the two warriors moved in confidently, their superior weapons flashing in the sunlight.  Inri came in slashing at the farmer, who backed slowly, trying to fend off the blade with his stout staff.     Waro circled to come at Rona from her right side, sword-point moving in an infinity pattern, then stabbing at her in a series of quick thrusts.   Rona used her agility and speed to dodge away, spinning and trying to get a slash in with her shorter weapon, only to be forced back by the warrior's quick defense.    Inri pressed his attack, feinted high, then lunged forward and stabbed Dugi in the thigh when his staff was raised too high to deflect the blade.  The farmer grunted in pain, swinging hard even as the warrior spun away, blade flicking a stream of red droplets across the rocks.    It was all Rona could do to evade Waro's calculated attacks; she could spare hardly a glance to her ally's plight.  Waro was careful to keep his guard up even as he probed at her own defenses.    Dugi staggered momentarily, but kept his feet, roared with anger, and charged at Inri, his staff a whirling blur.  Suddenly the warrior was the one on the defensive, backing up quickly from the long-armed farmer, deflecting the staff mere inches from his face.  Inri tried to come in under the arc, but Dugi swung the staff lower, forcing the warrior to block again.  Wood chips flew from the force of the impact.  Dugi kept the momentum of the swing, however, sliding his hands further down the staff for extra reach as he put his substantial strength and mass into the strike.  Inri's attempt to back away and parry the blow were too little, too late, as the farmer's staff connected with the side of his head with a heavy thud.  The warrrior crumpled soundlessly to the ground.    Waro, meanwhile, continued his attacks, finally catching Rona on her non-weapon arm with a slash.  She cursed and dodged away.  He pursued relentlessly.    Then Dugi rushed at Waro from the side, thrusting the staff like a spear at the warrior's ribcage and forcing him to turn and defend himself.  Rona immediately attacked , blood running down her arm as she swung her tomahawk.  Waro parried her swing as he moved, trying to keep either of his opponents from flanking him.    They faced off momentarily, the warrior's eyes narrow and cold; the two friends bleeding, enraged.   Waro's gaze flickered toward his fallen comrade, but there was no emotion on his face as he moved into an aggressive sword-form, blade weaving intricate patterns as he attacked them.    Even outnumbered, Waro was a deadly, well-trained opponent, and for some time there was a desparate dance to keep his sword out of their bodies.  For a few long minutes, heavy breaths, guttural growls of effort, shuffling boots on gravel, and occasional clash of steel on steel were the only sounds to be heard.  Finally Rona was able to slide inside the warrior's guard and get a solid chop into Waro's abdomen, rolled away from his counterattack, and bounced back to her feet.      There was no pause as the warrior cursed and and lunged after her murderously.  She weaved away from the blade like a phantom, the edge cutting only air time and time again.  Dugi followed as best he could, swinging the staff until he finally caught the warrior's leg, sending Waro staggering and off balance.      Without hesitation, Rona pounced, kicking the warrior's sword arm aside, and at the same time swinging her razor-sharp tomahawk in a vicious downward chop into the side of Waro's neck.  She leapt away from his backhand slash, and he staggered back several paces, eyes widening as he clamped his off-hand to the wound.  Blood spurted through his fingers, spraying across the trail in a dramatic fountain for a few heartbeats before he fell; sword slipping from his nerveless fingers, he twitched, bled, and died.    Panting and wild-eyed, Rona and Dugi stood transfixed for a minute, gazing down on the bodies of the vanquished.  Finally Dugi staggered over to Inri and stooped to look closer.  "He lives."  He glanced over to Waro's body and looked away. "We're gonna have to summon the Council."   "Yeah." Rona regained her breath quickly, and her wits, although drenched in sweat. "Oh, my Goddess, you're hurt!"      Dugi leaned against a rock, blood seeping down his leg and coloring the dust beneath him.  "You are too.  It's not that bad.  Just need to wrap it with something for now."    Rona quickly bound the wound with one of her bandanas, and Dugi returned the favor on the shallow slash on her arm, which was also bleeding profusely.    Then she helped him to his feet and they continued their journey home, the farmer leaning heavily on his staff.    As they descended the path into the valley, the import of what had just occurred began to sink in.  They walked in silence, deep in thought as the shock of the violent encounter began to wear off.  Even the birds had grown silent in the oppressive midday heat.      They climbed the ramp up to the farmhouse, entered, and shed their burdens. Dugi sank gratefully into a cushioned chair, grimacing as he raised his leg onto a footstool.  "Damn, that stings."    "I'll go ask the neighbors to summon the j'sarka and the eshtale," Rona said.  She took a moment to wipe her face with a dampened cloth, then hurried over to the next household to ask their assistance.    The tribe's shaman and spiritual guide, j'sarka Miasa, was always available for the people in her community, or one of her trusted acolytes.  It was she who arrived first.  Rona was waiting at the door, too anxious to stay seated for long, even after the adrenaline of battle had worn off.       Miasa took one look at Rona's face and folded the girl into a giant hug. "Oh, Goddess, you poor dear!"  At that, Rona burst into tears.  Miasa held her close, stroking her hair and soothing her while she wept.    After a few moments, Rona composed herself and Miasa took a look at their wounds.  She clucked her tongue at the damage, but did not comment.  She invoked the Goddess and cast healing magic on them both, erasing the physical damage of the fight as if it never had been.    Soon afterward, the eshtale ascended the path to the farmhouse.  The eshtale was the designated peacekeeper of the day, a duty which rotated among all the senior warriors of the tribe.  Today's eshtale was Oriv, and he had brought one of the junior warriors with him to bear messages.      Oriv bore the ceremonial rod of the office, an ornately carved hardwood stick with a bright blue gemstone imbedded in one end where the Osinagi tree had grown around it.  It was widely thought that the rod gave the eshtale the ability to detect lies.  "What crime has been committed?" Oriv intoned formally.    Rona answered just as formally. "I have killed a member of my tribe, eshtale."    Oriv's face grew grave, and the junior warrior gasped, eyes growing wide.  "Where did this happen?" Oriv asked.    Rona told him, and the junior warrior was sent running to get more help.    Oriv separated the two friends and asked them what had happened, first Rona, and then Dugi.  Miasa bore witness to the inquiries.  By the time they were done telling their stories, a squad of warriors had arrived to assist the eshtale in fetching the fallen.  "The council will hear the testimony, and send for you when they've made their decision," Oriv announced, and away they went.    Miasa went with them, after giving the farmer a hug and a word of praise for his courage and honor, and a motherly kiss on the forehead for Rona.  "It's going to be okay, honey.  One way or another.  Come see me when the ruling is made, and we will ask the spirits to give you guidance."     They spent the afternoon mostly in quiet reflection.  Rona cleaned and grilled the fish they had caught, and Dugi made wondrous herbal salad, and they feasted.  Afterward, they laid down in the cool depths of the farmhouse and rested, although neither was able to fall asleep.      Just before sunset, a messenger boy arrived to summon them before the Council.

   The Council was composed of nine heads-of-households, six women and three men.  Rona's father Jorjio was one of the men, and when Rona and Dugi entered the ceremonial Council chamber, his was the first face she sought.  Impassive at first, when their eyes met, the warrior gave her the slightest of smiles before returning his expression to neutrality.      Miasa was there, of course, and the eshtale announced their entrance, as per custom, as they took their place upon the central pedestal.  "Rona of clan Ni'ess, stands on the charge of causing the death of a tribe member. Dugi of clan Ketall, stands on the charge of assault upon a tribe member."    Olika, the eldest of the Council, stood and addressed them directly.  A strikingly beautiful woman despite a half-century of life, she met their gazes levelly as she pronounced the judgement of the Council.    "We have heard the testimony from the eshtale, and the verification of the witness to the testimony.   This is a sad day for the Bilobi in many ways."    "One family has lost a son, and another has brought shame upon himself.  As you are entitled to defend yourselves, Dugi of clan Ketall, you are absolved of wrongdoing."  Olika turned her eyes to Rona.  "You are entitled to self-defense as well, Rona of clan Ni'ess.  However, there is now a blood debt  to be paid to the family of the man you killed today."    Rona lowered her eyes in acceptance of the judgement.  All the tribe's children were emphatically and thoroughly taught the rules and laws that they were expected to live by, so it was no surprise.  Neither were the councilwoman's next words.    "To pay this blood debt, Rona of clan Ni'ess, you are hereby banished from the lands of the Bilobi for a year and a day, beginning in two days at sunset.  Make sure you are beyond our borders at that time."  She sat down.    The eshtale turned to the pair and waved the rod.  "Do you accept this judgement?" He asked.    "Yes, eshtale, they said, almost in unison.    Oriv tapped the ceremonial gong with the rod of office.  The rich sound vibrated through the room, and it was over.

   They exited, and after a few moments, Jiorji caught up with them outside the chamber.  He gave his daughter a quick hug and motioned for them to follow him back to the Ni'ess rof'orth.      In the darkening twilight hour, people were going back and forth at various tasks and errands, the lamplighters sparking up intermittent candles along the pathways.  It was a pleasant summer evening, and the sounds of music, laughter, and banter echoed from the various households they passed.   Several young people hurried by, on their way to an evening training session in the Weapons yard, saluting the Council member politely.    They reached the house, and came inside to a warm welcome.  Rona could immediately smell her mother's signature cheese-covered flatbread baking, Rona's most favorite food.  Her mouth immediately began to water even as her eyes started to fill with tears.  Her mother and aunts gathered around her in a warm enveloping of sympathy.    Jorjio turned and clasped Dugi's hand in the traditional warrior manner.  "Thank you, kagori.  You are a fine and honorable man, to defend my daughter's life and freedom as you did.  Words cannot say enough how grateful we are for your courage and strength!"      Darib, the councilman's brother-by-marriage, stepped forward and offer the farmer a hand-clasp as well, then handed him an ornate weapon.  It was a war spear of great quality, with a long metal-shod haft and a foot-and-a-half-long double-edged blade of a peculiar silvery hue. Rona noticed the transaction and involuntarily gasped.  The spear was one of the family's greatest treasures, and had been a family heirloom for many generations.  "Take this gift, friend, and know that you can count on us if you are ever in need of help.  May it serve you and your descendants well, should you ever find your life threatened again."    Dugi turned the spear over in his hands, eyes wide with awe.  "Thank you..." he looked around the room at the gathered family, and bowed somewhat awkwardly.  "Thank you, all of you.  I will treasure this weapon."    Everybody wanted to hear the story, so they told it together as best they could.  The children ooh'ed and aah'ed at the description of the fight, especially Rona's little sister, Nuni.  A girl of only seven, she felt inspired enough to demonstrate some kicks and punches at an imaginary foe while they told about the battle, which made everyone chuckle.      There was a general consensus among the family that the blood spilled was justified, and the ruling of exile was somewhat unfair, but the law was the law.  The rules were in place to prevent the tribe from internal conflicts and power struggles, and a millenium-long tradition of sustained self-government gave the free people of the Bilobi great respect and trust in those rules.  Rona would be exiled for a year and a day, and her family would send her off as prepared and educated as they could possibly make her.    Dinner was served and the family ate with gusto.  The family was a whirlwind of caring and compassion around Rona, and she savored it while she could.      After the delicious meal, various musical instruments were produced, and the family sang some songs together.  Rona's father brought out a bottle of fine spirits and poured a round of drinks for anyone that wanted one.  The first glass, however, he handed to his daughter. When they were all distributed, he raised his hand for a moment of silence.    "A salute, dear ones, for my brave daughter Rona.  She has proved her commitment to freedom today!  And whatever the laws say, she will never be outcast from MY heart."  With that, he lifted his glass and they all shouted "Hai-ai!" together and drank.    The fiery liquor quite took Rona's breath away for a moment.  Someone started a drumbeat, and the family launched into a traditional tribal song celebrating those who had fallen in the cause of freedom.    After a few more songs, some individual dances, and another round of drinks, and some luscious berry-cake dessert, the family began seeking their bedrooms, and Rona was no exception.  The drinks had made her a bit dizzy; but when she lay down, she quickly drifted off to sleep.        Her dreams were troubled.  She woke several times during the night from dreams of fighting, killing, and being hunted.  Finally she drifted off for a final time and slept peacefully, the whispered voices of a prayer echoing through the quiet house, or her dreams, or both.

   It was mid-morning when Rona awoke to the smell of tea.  She opened her eyes to see her little sister holding a cup next to her bed.  Nuni smiled, "Mama said you needed this."    "Ha! She is right, as usual," Rona sat up and accepted the cup, drinking deeply.  "I slept in, it seems."    After some breakfast and some conversation, Rona put on her sun hat and headed up the valley to the sacred grove to see the j'sarka.      Nestled into an elevated box canyon on the west side of the valley, the grove of OsinagiI trees was a place of almost unearthly beauty.  The stairs leading up to it were artistically carved from the solid rock, as was the temple itself, in the south wall of the box canyon.  Miasa herself came out to greet her on the wide patio in front of the temple.  This ceremonial area was paved intricately in a geometrical design, worn smooth by dozens of decades of dancing.  It was a familiar and special place to most of the residents of the community.  Rona had danced in the moonlight many times here.    Miasa welcomed her into the temple and led her back to the inner sanctum.  It was cool and comfortable inside the solid stone.  The priestess directed Rona to the purification bath, where a great tub carved directly into the stone stood steaming and ready.  Miasa left her there to cleanse herself and change into one of the soft white robes that hung ready by the door.  From there, Rona entered the prayer room and knelt before the altar, a supplicant.    Miasa emerged from a room behind the altar, clad in a ceremonial ensemble of silver jewelry, including an ornate tiara, and a wispy white robe that barely concealed her lithe brown body.  She paused by the altar and rang a silver chime.  Its pure tone filled the silence. She knelt before Rona and offered her a small cup.  "Let us pray, and ask the Goddess to give you visions."    Rona took the cup carefully, raised it in salute to the altar, and drank.  The liquid was sweetened with honey, but even that could only partially mask the bitterness of the karana root tea.  She finished it dutifully and handed the cup back to Miasa, who rose and returned to the room from which she had come.    After a moment the priestess returned, and gestured for Rona to move to one of the prayer mats she had already laid out on the shiny grey-green-tiled floor.  They spent the next half-hour moving through the ritualistic stretches and poses of the Centering exercises.     Rona began to feel queasy and sat back, trying to concentrate on her breathing.  "I feel faint," she said.  She was having a hard time focusing.    "Lay down," Miasa said.  Rona did so, and the priestess knelt beside her, passing her hands over the girl.  "Hmm..." She then whispered a prayer and gently cradled Rona's head in her warm hands.      The heat from Miasa's hands seemed to infuse Rona from her head, rippling through her until her entire body felt warm and glowing.  The nausea and ill feeling swept away, replaced by a deep sense of comfort and well-being.  She closed her eyes and slipped into a trance.      The steady light of the lanterns in the prayer room faded away to a faint glow, and then somehow she opened her eyes and was gazing up at the midday sky.  The sun was bright, but she felt fearlessly compelled to look straight at it, and its light seemed illuminating instead of blinding.  She gasped at the unexpected beauty.  Then rainbows radiated from the orb, bending and curving into complex patterns.      A flicker of movement distracted her, and she moved her perception to another patch of sky.  A barely-discernable shape was flying there; but when she concentrated, she could see clearly a sinuous winged creature.  She recognized immediately a Sriwi'ani, a dragon of the Air, and felt a little thrill of joy at seeing one for the first time in her life.    She watched the dragon as it glided in a slow figure-eight, then descended to a craggy ridge of stone.  Her perception moved toward the ridge, approached the cliff, and then tilted upward as if she were flying herself.  Then she was on top of the ridge, and the rays of the setting sun were painting the sky in colorful hues.  Beyond the ridge was another higher ridge, and as she ascended, winged people launched from cliffs above and floated dreamily around her.      Atop the cliff she came upon a beautiful little meadow, full of tiny yellow flowers.  She lay her presence down there and looked up to the darkening sky.  Stars grew brighter as the sun's light faded.    Flickering light drew her attention.  Beyond the mountains to the east, she could make out a massive storm cloud, dark and menacing, lit by lightning within and around it.  An undercurrent of foreboding touched her at the sight.  The storm seemed unnatural and out of place for some reason.    From somewhere nearby she heard someone giggle merrily, then a sweet and melodic voice began singing, in words that she could not understand, but seemed familiar somehow.  Rona had the impression of a silhouette of a woman sitting on a rock nearby, moonlight shining behind her.  The sky, the mountain, the plants, all began to glow, and the stars were connected by rainbows.  As a complex pattern began to be seen, light filled her vision completely, and she heard the sound of a silver chime.  She opened her eyes and was back in her body, lying safe on the prayer room floor.    Miasa approached her and knelt beside the prayer mat.  "How do you feel?"    "Good," Rona replied, sitting up.      "What did you see?" The priestess handed her a cup of water, which Rona drained.    Rona described her vision as best she could.  Miasa listened carefully, nodding and smiling at the girl's words.      "Truly a blessed vision.  The omens are showing you a path.  I think you should go and stay with the Sky People.  They will welcome you and it will be a safe place to live during your exile."  The priestess frowned a little in thought.  "The storm... I do not know what that means.  I'm sure it signifies something important, but that is not an immediate concern.  It seems to be something that you will be involved with somehow.   You will discover its meaning, with time."    Rona nodded slowly, the vision still strong in her mind's eye.  "Thank you, Miasa.  I will prepare for my journey."

   On the stairs down from the sacred grove, Rona saw a pair of women ascending.  Rona knew them both; Chira and Usia were the mother and aunt of Inri, and Rona paused when she recognized them, unsure of their reaction.  They saw her and continued up the stairs to her position.    Chira was a tall, strong woman with long mahogany-colored hair flowing from under her black sun hat.  She wore black clothing and her face was grave as she ascended the last few stairs to where Rona was standing.  "Well met, Rona of clan Ni'ess."   "Matron," Rona replied warily, nodding in return.    Chira gazed at Rona for a moment, studying the girl's face.  "I am sorry for the shame my son has brought upon our house, young one." She paused and looked at her sister beside her.  Usia reached out and squeezed her hand in encouragement.    "This is not the way a warrior is supposed to behave.  We did not teach him this... disrespect."  Chira raised her gaze and met Rona's eyes.  "I fear that my son has been listening to some tainted follower of the cursed path of Azhilo."  She spat to the side at the name as if she had tasted something foul.      "My son has been sent to the northern border to spend time at an outpost, where hopefully he will learn some humility and appreciation for his life." She paused, looking down again. " I will not speak his name until your exile is over.  Because of his arrogance, his friend is dead, and he will need many years before he regains his honor in my eyes."    Rona let out a quiet sigh of relief.  "Your words lighten my spirit, Matron."    Chira took the last two steps up to the girl and embraced her.  "Be well, young one, and I wish you a safe and pleasant journey, wherever you end up going."    "Thank you," Rona whispered, returning the hug.  "May the Goddess smile upon you and your family."

   Back at the Ni'ess rof'orth, Rona spent the rest of the day assembling her equipment and packing her possessions for storage.  One of the younger ones would take her bedroom.  There was a sense of finality to the process that Rona could not shake.      The future was always murky, but it was clear that this was the ending of her childhood and the beginning of something entirely different.  It made her somewhat sad, but also determined to face the changes with her head held high.   The prospect of travelling beyond her tribe's lands to the mountainous hold of the M'Chal was exciting and scary at the same time.    When the tasks were done, there was a last evening with her family, filled with laughter and joy, and a few tears as well.  One last night in her home, lying awake for much of it.  Rona managed a few hours of sleep before dawn.  Her little sister awoke her again, and it was time for her journey to begin.

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   It was another beautiful summer day, albeit with a heaviness to the air that promised rain in the afternoon.  Rona set off at a good pace, for she had some distance to cover to make it to the edge of her tribe's lands.  Up over the first ridge she went, following the same path she had taken to the swimming hole two days before.  At the site of the battle, a familiar figure stood, lit by the first rays of the sun.    "Hail, Rona," Dugi called.  "I thought you'd be passing this way."    She jogged up and embraced him, her pack and weapons making it somewhat awkward.  He held the heirloom spear in one hand as he enfolded her in his massive grip.  They stood that way for a long moment.        Finally Dugi released his grip.  "You had better go.  Luck be with you, my sweet friend.  You'll be brave.  You always are."    Rona smiled, even though tears were welling in her eyes.  "Be well, my friend, until we meet again."  She trotted away.    Up the valley she went, past the swimming hole, over a bridge and up the larger ridge to the east.  From there the trail led south again, along the top of the ridge.  She passed a couple of guardposts before the trail descended again, cutting slightly east to proceed along a craggy slope leading down the the river valley far below.  Rona stayed alert by habit, even though there was little danger to be found in this well-watched area of her tribe's lands.      The view from the trail was magnificent. The wide forested valley to the east was frequented by Bilobi hunters and berry-gathering parties.  The tribe claimed the land all the way to the river.      To the southeast rose the magnificent stony ridge of the Blackspur Ridge.  A sheer granite cliff in many places, the ridge rose a dizzying thousand-and-a-half feet above the forest slopes beneath, only to be crowned by a second, smaller ridgeline of streaked black rock, that rose nearly as high again.  Wisps of clouds drifted about the taller, spikier peaks. There was Rona's goal; the home of the M'Chal.    Around mid-day she stopped and feasted on some of the cheese bread her mother had wrapped for her.  Clouds were starting to form above her, so she took advantage of the intermittent shade and made as much progress as she could before the rain began.      As the first drops fell, she stopped and took off her equipment.  She rolled out her rain cloak and attached it to her backpack, also wrapping it around her bow and quiver.  She put her equipment back on, the cleverly designed cloak hooding her face and wrapping around to buckle in the front, easily released if one needed to shed it quickly.  The waterproof oiled hide was light but durable, and the cloak was designed to double as a makeshift tent as well.  She continued as the summer storm drenched the thirsty land around her.  The trail was neatly paved here, so mud was not a problem, and she stayed dry and comfortable under the cloak.    By mid-afternoon she was approaching the southeast border outpost. A squat stone tower stood on a narrow ridge, the trail running to the mouth of  a tunnel which had been carved through the ridge underneath it.  The massive doors were open, and as Rona approached, a guard stepped out from the shade to greet her.   "Hail, askuri," he said, using the formal title of a blooded scout of the Bilobi.  "I am Olfor.  We've been expecting you."   "Well met, Olfor," she replied, touching her palm to his in the traditional greeting.    "Your uncle sent word that you would be passing this way.  Come, set down your things and have a drink.  I'll fetch the shiragi, he will want to speak to you."  He directed her into a side room where there was a couple of benches, and a table that held a pitcher of fruit-sweetened water and several glasses.  The drink was blessedly chill compared to the warm water in Rona's waterskin.    The shiragi, leader of the oupost, was an older warrior called Gyrag, known to Rona as a friend of her father and uncle.   He entered the room and gave Olfor a nod.  The other warrior leaned on the wall outside the door casually keeping watch.    "Hail, Rona.  Darib informed me that you're heading up the Blackspur."  Gyrag spread out a map on the table.  "Now I'm sure you've studied some maps already, but I'll just point a couple of things out to you.  Once you exit the gates on the east side of this outpost, you are officially outside of our tribe's lands.  I recommend finding somewhere to camp tonight in this area above the springs." He pointed to where the springs were marked, then indicated the trail to the base of the cliff.  "That way you can start up the trade-trail in the morning.  It's the safest way up to the top of the lower cliff, and the M'chal patrol it frequently."    He pointed to where the trail began its ascent, skirting a fair-sized lake at the base of a deep ravine.  "The trail is narrow along the lakeside, so you will want to be especially wary there.   It's a good place for an ambush.  Further up the chasm, there are many stretches of trail that are exposed to view from above and below, but there are places for a tricky askuri like yourself to elude any problems there. "    "Once you reach the top of the lower cliff, the High Forest will be a more open terrain.  The Sky People will keep close watch on this area.  You're likely to see some of them flying around on their false-wings."  Gyrag pointed to a cleft in the upper cliff.  "Here there is the main trail up to the M'Chal lands.  Once you are in that rift, you will likely be under constant observation by M'Chal lookouts and under their protection there, as well."    The warrior turned his eyes to meet Rona's. "There are always Z'Krol raiding parties lurking around the base of the Blackspur.  They are, as always, the greatest threat.  Especially to a lone female.  You would be a prize indeed, young one, so take great care."      Rona nodded somberly.  "I will, shiragi," she promised.      "I know you have been trained well, askuri.  Be as a ghost.  And whatever happens..." Gyrag put a hand on her shoulder, voice grave, "DON'T let them take you alive if they find you."

   Rona set out from the east gate at a trot, feeling refreshed.  The air was cooler from the rain and a light breeze across the top of the hills made the journey pleasant.  Rona followed the trade trail for a half mile or so before leaving the trail on the north, downslope side.  She followed game trails, picking her way carefully eastward as the afternoon wore on.  It was slow travel, as she took pains to walk over rock and gravel where she could, to conceal her trail.  Nonetheless, she reached the vale where the springs flowed a good hour before sunset.    She found a promising niche between a couple of large boulders and set up her bedroll there.  She took her weapons down to a pool and quickly bathed, reveling in immersing her body in the cool, fresh water.  She refilled her waterskin, and as twilight gathered, ate the last of the bread with some dried fish and some wild grapes she found nearby.    After her eyes adjusted to the starlight, Rona took a final scouting trip in a rough circle around her campsite, moving quietly from one vantage point to another, waiting and watching for a bit, then moving on again.  The area was full of the early nocturnal activity of numerous animals, but nothing threatening.  She returned to her spot, and used a leafy branch to brush her tracks from the sand as she backed into her niche and used the branch to further conceal her hiding place.  Then she snuggled up in her blanket and drifted quickly into sleep, spurred by both her exertions of the day and her deprivation of the night before.   Rona awoke in the night, an indeterminable amount of time later.  She lay, breathing quietly, listening; she was unsure what had woke her.  After a moment, an insect began chirping nearby.  She turned over quietly and watched the clearing beyond her leafy camoflauge.  The hair rose on her neck as she saw a shadow moving through the trees stealthily.  In a patch of stronger starlight, she made out a human figure, a large one, moving extremely quietly across the uneven ground.      She carefully unsheathed her tomahawk as she continued to watch.  The shadow paused a few yards away, then a dim light shone on the ground nearby.  In the reflected light, Rona could see a man, holding a smalll incandescent object with which he was examining the ground in a wide swathe, obviously looking for tracks.  Concealed in shadow, Rona was not in danger of being seen, and she remained lying perfectly still as the man investigated, then the light switched off.  After a moment the shadowy figure moved on, creeping through the forest toward the spring Rona had bathed in earlier.    She stayed there, motionless but alert, for quite some time.  The blood seemed to boil in her veins at the thought of an enemy scout venturing so close to her tribe's lands.  She considered following him and ambushing him, but there was no telling if he was alone.  It was a risk not worth taking, she decided, and lay quiet until the adrenaline faded.  Sleep was a long time coming.    Soon after dawn, Rona awoke, feeling rested and lively.  She carefully emerged from her niche and did a quick circuit to assess her surroundings, bow strung and ready.  All was quiet.  She relaxed a bit, and prepared for the day.      Before she set out, she looked for the trail of the intruder.  With a keen eye for the signs that even an experienced woodsman would leave, Rona quickly found where he had passed, and followed the trail down to the pool.  From there the man had gone west, then turned back to the south, towards the trade trail.  She decided that heading due east was the best route to avoid him, and proceeded that way after returning for her pack.    Through the rocks, meadows, and trees she went; moving quickly, but cautiously avoiding clearings and ridgelines where she could be seen from further upslope.  The only creatures she encountered were a family of deer that she startled, who bounded away quickly when they caught her scent.      Soon the land became steeper, and she found a narrow valley to ascend to the trade-trail just before it met the shadow of the cliffs.  She could see the trail pass over a small ridge, beyond which the gigantic cleft loomed.  She trotted along the trail and quickly passed over the ridge into the valley at the base of the cleft, which was filled with a wide, deep lake.    As Gyrag had said, the trade-trail was carved into the rocky ridge alongside the west bank of the valley, with very little in the manner of cover, especially further into the defile.  The lake itself was possibly the only escape route.  Rona took a few deep breaths as she unstrapped her bow and strung it.  Holding the bow and an arrow in one hand, she took off at a quick pace, striving for a balance of speed and silence.    Deeper into blessed shade, the air still held a refreshing coolness.   A few birds chirped in the cliffs above the trail, but that was the only discernable sound for some time, until Rona began to hear the muffled roar of the waterfall at the innermost end of the canyon.      The lake narrowed quickly as she penetrated the canyon, until there was only a stone's throw separating the walls.  The trail itself was carved into the solid rock of the cliff at this point, and even underneath an enormous overhang for a long stretch, making it feel cave-like.  As she emerged into the canyon beyond the overhang, Rona rounded a corner to see the trail begin to rise ahead, a steep slope up to a spur of rock.  She ascended to this point and paused to assess the path ahead.    Instinctively crouching by a boulder, Rona scanned the trail and the steep slope above her to the west.  She could see where the trail switched back ahead, and glanced upward to get a feel for where it ascended.   Just then, a flicker of movement drew her attention ahead, to where the trail turned.    She froze as she saw the figure of a man - no, two men - approaching the first switchback ahead of her.   They moved with the quick and furtive pace of hunters, which immediately alerted her suspicions.  She drew closer to the boulder and pulled the edge of her rain cloak down to disguise her profile.  At this distance, in the deep shadow of the cleft, they would be hard-pressed to see her if she stayed still.   She watched, motionless, as they rounded the switchback.  The rearmost stopped for a quick view of the trail behind them before continuing.    Rona watched carefully upslope, trying to catch a glimpse of the hunting party on the trail above and ahead of her.  From the angle she had, there was only a couple of places where she saw movement.  Taking a deep breath, she started up the trail herself, staying quiet, as close to the slope as possible.  Her adrenaline rode high, and she grasped her bow firmly as her senses sharpened.  She stalked.  Rona had done some hunting in her life, but never for a prey as dangerous as this.    At the switchback she quickly darted around the corner and continued up the path.  As she had suspected, the trail was wide and well-built, and she was able to move quickly and close to the wall.  Her eyes were constantly moving from the trail ahead, to the slope above her, ears alert for any sound of her quarry.   She was quite confident that they had no warning of her presence, and took great care to maintain that status.    As she drew closer to the next switchback, she heard low voices from the trail above.  She froze, next to a good portion of steep wall, and listened intently.  Quiet footsteps, and then another low mutter, too faint to distinguish any words.  When she could no longer hear footsteps, she continued.    After the next switchback, the trail rose more steeply, even having broad stair-steps at a few points.  The trail rounded a ridge and continued deeper into the canyon, much further than the first switchback.  Here the path was built on the steep jagged slope of some ancient avalanche, overgrown with vines and a few stubborn trees and punctuated with massive boulders.  The cliff wall high above was broken, and Rona knew that the trade trail would ascend to the Upper Forest there.    She continued trailing them cautiously, wary of the increasing light as the trail rose higher.  The roar of the waterfall was closer here, making subtle noises unhearable.  The trail wound around boulders and crossed the path of a small rivulet before switching back again.  The trail reversed directions four more times before Rona caught another glimpse of the others.    There was a bridge across the trench dug by the little stream here, and when Rona saw it up ahead, she also noticed a man crouched in the shadow just beyond.  He was holding something up to his eyes, a short object pointed toward the cliff on the opposite side of the great cleft.  Rona froze in place, and slowly flattened as she slid back around the tree she had just passed.  Just in time, as the man turned the viewtube in her direction. On the ground already, she concealed herself fully.  Heart pounding, she waited for twenty breaths before peeking again.    The man had put away his viewtube and was relieving himself over the edge of the trail.  Rona relaxed slightly.  When he was done, he picked up his pack and continued, as did she.    After three more switchbacks, the trail was nearly high enough to be exposed to the full light of the sun.   The trail was rapidly shortening between the switchbacks as it grew close to the top of the cleft.  Rona spotted her quarry crossing the rivulet again - two men, this time, not looking her way.  She stayed in the shade of boulder until they disappeared, then followed.   Now that she knew where they were, she closed the gap a bit, stealthily moving from vantage point to another.  So when they stopped, she stopped as well, and found a friendly clump of vegetation to hide behind while she watched them.    The two men had found a deep niche alongside the trail, and were busy setting up some sort of equipment there.  One of them strung a wire across the path, drove a spike into the rock on the downslope side, and attached the wire to it.  He then lay the wire on the path and concealed it carefully under gravel and dust.  The other end went into the niche, where Rona could not see from her angle.  The other man was doing something else in the niche at the same time.       After a bit, Rona noticed something very unusual - a hint of movement in the air further along the trail, a slight blurring quite unlike anything she had ever seen before.  Blinking, she studied the optical effect intently.    Suddenly, the blur opened from the center, revealing a man standing in the path near the niche.  Rona nearly gasped at the unexpected sight.  The man was large, very large, and bore the ritual scars of the Z'Krol.  He shrugged off the robe he was wearing, which she could see clearly from the inner side as he lay it over a nearby rock.  It was an eerie and disconcerting sight to see him appear from seeming nothingness.  He disappeared into the niche.    After a short time, the man stepped back onto the path and wrapped himself in the transparency cloak again.  Rona could see that it was a long robe, brushing the ground, with a fitted hood that covered everything but the man's eyes.  He pulled the robe closed in the front and fastened it, and was virtually invisible once again.  Only his eyes were visible, and only when they were briefly turned in her direction.  Then the slight blur was the only sign of his presence, as he moved away further up the trail.    Soon afterward, a blur drew Rona's attention in that direction again.  The process was repeated, although this was a different man.  After a brief interlude, he too donned his transparency robe and moved up the path.    Rona tried to interpret the situation as best she could.  A group of at least four Z'Krol warriors, encroaching on the territory of the Sky People, setting an ambush on the path; while two of them were using some sort of invisibility magic to conceal their invasion into the Upper Forest.  She could think of several possible objectives for a raiding party such as this, and it stirred her blood with anger.    Determined, she set a course of action.  She would bypass the ambush site, cross the Upper Forest, and head for the final ascent to the home of the Sky People.  That path would be guarded, she was sure.   Rona looked for a place to ascend to the next level of the trail, making sure to stay out of sight.  She soon found a promising-looking crack, unstrung and stowed her bow, and started to climb.    The crack soon dwindled to nothing, and Rona was forced to climb on the open rock.  To make matters worse, she was fully exposed to the sun and quickly found herself flagging from the exertion of climbing.  She found a somewhat secure foothold where she could rest for a few minutes, and take a drink of water, before continuing.    After a few more grueling minutes, she reached the trail, where she found a bit of shade under a tree and gratefully shed her pack.  She wiped her face with a cloth, and restrung her bow.  Just as she lifted her pack, she heard the scuffle of footsteps from down the trail.    Even though alarmed, she finished putting the pack on and buckling it securely, then picked up her bow and calmly nocked an arrow.  There was nowhere to hide here.  The two men from the ambush site rounded the turn as she stepped out into the trail, drew and fired in one swift motion.  Her aim was true, the arrow striking the first man in the middle of the chest, but his leather breastplate stopped most of the impact.  He was more surprised than hurt, but bellowed once and staggered back, his companion cursing and ducking for cover as Rona nocked another arrow.    A long moment passed while Rona tried to get a clear shot at the warriors; and they scrambled back, one fumbling for weapons and the other trying to pull the arrow out of his breastplate and his flesh, and both trying to find cover.  The unwounded one finally rose, bow in hand and murder in his eyes.  Rona's arrow left her bow a split second before his did, grazing one arm and cutting a bloody furrow on the way by.  His arrow she barely avoided, twisting to the side as the breeze from its passing tugged at a stray strand of hair.  Time seemed to slow to a crawl as she shifted her balance and drew another arrow.      Again Rona was quicker than her opponent.  This time her arrow struck true, piercing his leather leggings and the thigh beneath.  His concentration was not broken, but his arrow whistled through empty air as the girl lowered and flattened her profile.    The other warrior came charging then, holding a sword and a shield high as he leaped past his comrade, his pierced breastplate apparently abandoned, and sprinting toward Rona.    She immediately whirled and fled, ducking instinctively as another arrow flew through the space she had occupied just an instant before.  Accelerating to full speed in a few steps, Rona ran for her life, the pounding footsteps of the warrior growing louder behind her.    Encumbered by the pack on her back and the bow in her hand, Rona could hear him getting closer.  Eyes on the trail ahead, she reached the next switchback only a scant few yards ahead of the warrior and cut the corner as closely as she could.  She gained a couple of steps with the turn, as the man's greater bulk took him on a slightly more rounded trajectory.  The man's companion was limping along some distance behind, and Rona caught a glimpse of him drawing bead on her as she raced up the trail.  The arrow passed behind her as she pushed herself to run faster than she had ever run in her life.    The trail turned again and wound upwards into the cleft at the top of the mountainside, the slope more gentle here.  The race continued; the warrior's longer legs giving him the advantage on the straighter parts, while the scout's agility gave her better ability to maneuver around the frequent twists and turns.  Even so, he gained a couple of paces on her as they ascended the narrowing valley, not letting up his chase in the slightest.    Time stretched for Rona, each pounding step she ran calculated and executed perfectly.  Ahead, she knew, there would be the others, the cloaked ones, and they would likely be on or near the path itself.  Her eyes scanned incessantly, alert for any visual abnormalities that would give away their presence.  The trail broke the crest and she was suddenly on the massive plateau of the Upper Forest.  The path smoothed and began curving to the left;  Rona immediately saw the disadvantage for her on this stretch, so instead of continuing along the trail, she picked a spot before the curve and plunged into the woods, the warrior still in hot pursuit.  She heard a startled shout from behind her, which the warrior responded to with a brief, hoarse yell of his own.  He sounded a bit out of breath.    Forests were Rona's element, but this one was unfamiliar to her.  The underbrush was more prevalent than the deep forests of the lowlands, the tree cover more sparse.  She was forced to plow through some bushes, using her bow to push branches aside, and leap over others, to maintain her scant lead over the onrushing warrior.  Little by little, however, she increased the distance between them.    The terrain was fairly level here, but soon her path crossed a trickling stream in a rocky little valley, where she took her opportunity to suddenly change directions and dart eastward, upstream.  Here she was able to use her agility to great advantage, bounding up, onto, and over rocks and boulders; scurrying along brief ridges at full speed, over fallen logs and gravelly slopes; as swift and sure-footed as any creature of the wild.  She heard him falling further and further behind, but she didn't stop running until she couldn't hear him anymore, and she didn't stop moving until she had covered another quarter-mile or more, picking her path more carefully .    Finally she dared to stop, hidden behind a great tree in peaceful sunlit copse.  Panting shallowly, drenched in sweat, sporting numerous cuts and scrapes from the plants she had ran through; but alive.  Alive, and free.  She took out her waterskin and guzzled nearly the entire thing, and drizzled the rest over her face.    After a brief respite, she continued her journey, going quietly and cautiously, leaving as little mark of her passage as she could.   This was her specialty, and she did it to perfection.   Only a master of tracking could hope to follow the trail she left, and that only with great time and patience.  She made her way toward the crevice in the upper cliff that she knew was the trade-trail's route to the homeland of the M'Chal.    A drifting ghost would perhaps have disturbed the serene forest more than Rona did passing through.  It was a beautiful place, full of exotic-looking flowers and sturdy vines climbing the boulders.  The trees themselves were a mix of narrow- and needle-leaf, with a few fruit trees interspersed, some laden with nature's bounty.  She took a few moments to harvest a handful of dark red cherries and ate them as she walked.    Perhaps an hour later, she intersected the trade-trail again and took to it after a cautious assessment.  The ascent to the M'Chal lands was sure to be watched closely, she knew; therefore, she abandoned trying to conceal herself.  She unstrung her bow and strapped it into place, donned her sun hat, and trotted up the trail.    The path rose to the base of the cliff ahead.  Ahead of her, a man rose from behind a crag and stepped out into the trail, holding a spear.  Her heart pounded in trepidation, but Rona slowed her trot, approached, and hailed him.  "Bright morning, guardian."    The man nodded back to her.  He wore armor of hardened leather and blackened metal, and a helm painted with feathers.  "Light upon you, traveller.  Who are you, and why do you come to our lands?"    "I am Rona, exile of the Bilobi.  I seek refuge in your lands, if you will hear my plea."  She lowered her eyes to the ground between them, joining her hands in a gesture of supplication.    There was a moment of silence.  Rona peeked up to see the man waving some sort of signal to someone behind him, then turning back to her.  "I am Tol, of the M'Chal.  Your request is granted, Rona, exile of the Bilobi.  You may enter our lands and plead your case. "    She let out a low sigh of relief.  "My thanks, Tol."  She paused, and looked back along the trail behind her.  "There are other travellers here, however, whose intentions are not so peaceful..."    "Oh?" Tol stepped closer, beckoning for his companion to join them.  "Tell us."    "A raiding party, I'm quite sure they were Z'Krol.  Four of them, I believe.  Two were cloaked in some sort of ... transparency.  I don't know, it looked like magic of some kind.  They went ahead, leaving two to set an ambush on the second leg down of the switchbacks.  The two that stayed were not cloaked, but hidden in a crevice.  I tried to sneak past them by climbing up the cliff, but they must have saw me, and they both chased me.  I stuck an arrow through one's leg, but the other chased me into the Upper Forest before I lost him."    Tol's face grew darker with every sentence, and his grip tightened visibly on his spear.  He nodded brusquely to her.  "My thanks."  He turned to his companion that had joined them, a slightly shorter man, similarly equipped.  "Signal the strike team."  The man hurried back toward their outpost.  Tol turned his gaze back to Rona, then down the trail.  "We will teach these scum to stay away from our lands," he growled.    Rona nodded, a savage smile creeping across her face.  "I would be happy to help in any way I can."    The signal was sent via heliograph to the top of the cliff, and in a matter of minutes, a pair of gliders launched above and sailed above the forest.  Rona watched with keen curiosity, having only heard stories of the manmade wings of the Sky People.  They were large, triangular shapes with the human occupant controlling them from a framework below the wing.   The scouts circled a few times before a band of warriors swiftly descended on ropes to the guardpost.    "We have a group of foragers out in the berry-bushes," Tol explained, as his comrades assembled with an impressive array of weaponry.  "We will send some to inform them of the danger and guard them, while the rest of us go to the trade-trail and seek these invaders.  I will lead this effort.  You are welcome to accompany us."    "Gladly," Rona answered.    Soon the teams were ready and they set off; four of the warriors angling off to the northeast toward the berry pickers, while the other seven, and Rona, trotted down the trade-trail.

   The Z'Krol, it turned out, had decided to vacate the area completely.   A thorough search of the area where Rona had been chased found only a few tracks, and further investigation down the trade-trail found no sign that the raiding party remained in the area.  The flying scouts continued their patrol as midday crept into afternoon; after posting guards at the top of the lower trail, the teams of warriors returned to the guardpost.  The foragers joined them there as well, a group consisting of boys, giggling maidens, and more serious matrons, bearing baskets laden with ripe berries.     Further back in the cliff wall, an ingenious system of ropes, baskets, and counterweights allowed the foragers to relinquish their burdens and ascend the long stairs to their home, Rona and the warriors in tow.  The stairway itself was cleverly constructed, carved into solid stone for the most part, with some sections supplemented by solid, well-maintained plank bridges.  Gleaming metal poles connected the levels between switchbacks at regular intervals.  Rona puzzled over their function, until she finally had to ask her escorts about them.  The poles were used as effective shortcuts for the downward descent, it turned out.

   The air changed as they climbed, and Rona felt a bit light-headed at times as she adjusted to the altitude.   Clouds were forming above the lowlands, a sign of the daily afternoon rain. A pleasant breeze kept them cool as they reached the top of the stairs, and the panorama of the homeland of the Sky People spread out before them.  A craggy landscape full of jagged spires of black rock, the terrain was bewilderingly mazelike to Rona's unfamiliar gaze.  The party was hailed by another mixed group, those who had been raising the lifts at the top of the cliff.      The foragers took up their baskets and wound their way eastward toward their village, seemingly simultaneously bursting into song as they began to walk.  Their voices echoed from the rocks around them, giving joyous praise for the bounty and beauty of summer.  Rona could not help but smile for the exuberance and vitality of these people, and found herself humming along to the song as she learned it.      Soon the paved trail crossed a ravine over an elegantly shaped bridge of pure black basalt, and ascended a ridge until they were overlooking a picturesque valley.  Dominating the skyline, a tall outcropping of the black rock rose perhaps another thousand feet above their present height, and at its peak, several columns of sparkling crystal scattered the sunlight in a million different directions.      Nestled into the base of the steep spires, a large village was built.  Houses were mounds of earth with doorways and chimneys; several larger structures were also built into the ground, with sturdy-looking roofs.  Below the village, a swath of terraces displayed a bounty of vegetation, and at the bottom of the valley a lake of crystal clear water lay like a splendid invitation.  There were people everywhere, and little goats darted here and there, chasing children or being chased.  People farming, swimming, flying kites, and a host of other activities.   Rona estimated the population of the village as perhaps a thousand.    The harvesters were met by a flock of children and baby goats partway down the slope, squealing in delight and trying to sing along with the summer song, some babbling excitedly, and all trying to finagle a sample of the harvest from the baskets.  Laughing matrons hugged their children, and some of the goats bounced around their humans in obvious delight.  There was an infectious feeling of celebration in the air as they brought the song to a final chorus and began dispersing into the village.

    Tol and a pair of the other warrior leaders escorted Rona to the largest structure in the valley, in the middle of town.  The aboveground portion of the building was impressive in its solidity, constructed of massive slabs of basalt and a large metal-bound gate at its entrance.   Rona's people had a similar structure, a fortress to retreat to in times of great peril.    Up a broad flight of stairs they ascended to the top of the edifice, where a stone watchtower rose, as tall as a tree.  There was a a pleasant little table beneath a broad awning beside the tower, and there they could set down their weapons, and Rona gratefully shed her pack and equipment belts.    They sat down on pillowed chairs and were brought refreshing juice by a lovely young dark-haired girl.  The breeze was perfect, the temperature was comfortable, and the juice was delicious.  They enjoyed the ambience in silence while they awaited the eshtale.      After perhaps twenty minutes, three people approached and ascended the stairs toward them, two men and a woman.  The men were mature, older warriors in their prime. Dark-haired and sun-bronzed, they were typical specimens of the Solbanian tribes.  The woman, however, was quite different indeed.  Her hair was shockingly blonde; her skin was somewhat tanned, but still pale.  Her face had a delicate quality to it, almost childlike.  She was dressed in a light, flowy white dress that looked eminently comfortable, and a matching white sun hat.  She also bore the rod of an eshtale.    The two warriors split to either side and the woman approached between them, as Rona and the others rose to greet them.  Rona stepped away from her comfortable seat and stood before them.    "Greetings, Rona."  The woman's voice had a melodic quality. "I am Raebessa.  Welcome to Crystal Tower."  She was a bit taller than Rona and had intense, light blue eyes.  Rona abstractly noted that her ears were slightly pointed.  There was something familiar about her that Rona could not quite place.     Rona tore her gaze away from Raebessa's mesmerizing eyes, and bowed her head in gratitude. "My thanks, eshtale.  I seek refuge among you, as I have been exiled from my homeland."    Wordlessly, the fair-haired woman reached out and cupped Rona's face gently, and then embraced her quickly.  "You are welcome here," she whispered in that moment.      At the woman's touch, a tingling, almost electric shock cascaded through Rona's body, leaving her momentarily breathless.  Raebessa stepped back, a sweet, secret smile pulling at her lips as their eyes met again.  "Let us sit, now, and you can tell us all about it."

   Rona related her story to them as the afternoon wore on.  The warriors were particularly interested in hearing about the camoflauging robes, and what Rona had observed of the raiders' tactics.  When all the questions had been answered and various repurcussions and extrapolations discussed, the hour was growing late and the smell of cooking food began wafting from the village around them.  They concluded their meeting and dispersed.      Raebessa bid her tribesmen farewell, then turned to Rona.  "I will inform the elders of our decision to accept your request for refuge. You can stay with me, if you want.  I have a spare room in my little temple for guests."  She waved in the direction of the spires above the village and smiled shyly, "And I'll bet you could use a hot bath."    "Oh, now that sounds delightful!" Rona exclaimed.  With no further ado, they picked up Rona's equipment and headed up the wide walkways toward Raebessa's home.

   An amazingly short time later, Rona was soaking in a luxuriously warm bath, set in a large bowl carved into the black stone of the hillside.  The bath was fed by an ingeniously designed system of trenches and switches to bring water that had been heated by the sun in pools in the rocks above.  The bath was above a small private garden nestled in the boulders behind the house that Raebessa referred to as her temple.    The house itself was carved into a short spire.  There was an elegant but comfortable sitting area in the entry room, a kitchen on the garden side, and a pair of side rooms that contained niche beds and storage shelves.  The main room was also Raebessa's bedroom, it turned out; it was a beautiful space surrounded on every wall with polished crystal ornaments, statuettes, and sparkles from every direction.  There also hung several paintings of an erotic nature that had made Rona blush at the sight, and the enormous round bed in the center of the room had given her no doubt about the kind of activities that went on there.    Raebessa had shown Rona the room she would be using, explained how to draw the bath, and given her a massive fluffy towel and a robe before leaving to address the elders.   The place was so peaceful and her hostess so sweet, that Rona felt immediately comfortable.  Now she relaxed in the warm water gratefully, feeling the soreness and exhaustion seeping out of her in the elemental luxury.  She drifted into a reverie for some time.    When she opened her eyes again, it was to the sound of a door closing and light footsteps on the mosaic-stone walkway leading through the little garden.  The sun had set and twilight gloom was deepening.  Raebessa appeared through the vine-and-flower-covered trellis and set a basket and a lantern down on the little table there.  She glanced up at Rona and smiled brightly.    "I brought us some dinner!  My grandmother made some of her koshgal meat pies, and I am so blessed to be in her good graces today!" Raebessa giggled and went back into the house.      Rona extricated herself from the bath, reluctantly, but also realizing how great her hunger had grown.   She dried herself off on the great towel as Raebessa returned to the table and set out utinsels. Rona watched the fair-haired woman curiously as she slipped on the light robe and tied the belt closed; then she descended the short stairway to the cozy tea-table.    Rae pulled out a chair for her. "Here you are, dear... well, then, you do clean up nicely, don't you?" Her eyes roamed over Rona's face and form for a brief moment before their gaze met.  There was a sparkle in her eyes that Rona could not attribute entirely to reflection, and she found herself quite lost for a long moment.  Rae's lips parted slightly and she leaned forward a bit, before catching herself with a small shake of her head and a throaty chuckle.      "Some hostess I am, getting distracted... sit, sit." Rae giggled again. Rona complied, and Rae opened the basket to release a mouth-watering aroma from the freshly baked goodness within.    It was perhaps the most delicious meal Rona had ever eaten.  The combination of her hunger, the struggle and portentiousness of the day, the strange but serene surroundings, her enchanting hostess - all conspired to fill her senses. It was almost like being intoxicated, but instead of numbness she felt actually more alive than she could have dreamed possible.   She devoured the meat pie, the seasoned sweet potatoes, oil-and-spiced tender greens, the mushroom soup and salty crackers, and the berry tart; all in rapid succession.  A glass of sweet plum wine set off the flavor of the tart nicely as Rona finally leaned back from the table with a contented sigh.      Night had fallen completely, and the stars shone brightly above.  The spires, the rocks around them, the temple, the plants, and her hostess all seemed aglow with the gentle light.    Rae pushed her own plate away and delicately dabbed away the tart crumbs from her berry-darkened lips.  "Oh, summertime." She laughed, a silvery tinkle blending with the trickle of water and the chirping of various insects around them.  "It is my favorite season, and the food has a lot to do with that."    "I can only agree," Rona rubbed her belly contentedly. "I haven't met your grandmother yet, but I already know she's amazing."    "Yes, she is," Rae agreed with a chuckle.  "Amazing enough to land an Aelven lover many years ago..." She stroked the tip of one ear.    "Oh!" Rona exclaimed.  "Tell me about her?" she suggested.    They spent some time talking about Raebessa and her family.  Her grandfather was a wandering Aelven adventurer by the name of Enobosil,  who had come and lived among the M'Chal for a number of years.  He had become quite smitten by the gorgeous young Wiusa, Rae's grandmother, and she with him; their exceptional love bore them a child, a rare happenstance indeed for the two species.  That child was Rae's father, Norbosil.    Enobosil was a scholar, a scout, and a mage, come to the region to investigate the numerous ruins in the mountains to the east.  While he was careful in his planning and preparation, the missions he took deep into Hobgoblin territory were dangerous.  Some of the more daring warriors of the M'Chal had joined with the Aelf for these excursions, and they had some successful trips, coming back with scouting reports, mineral and biological samples, cultural analysis, and even some valuable loot.  Then, the party did not return from one of these summer trips, and none were ever seen again.    Wiusa was heartbroken, of course, but moved on to start a family with others after a while.  Norbosil was slow to mature, so much so that even his ten-years-younger sister reached puberty before he did.   He became a hunter of uncanny ability, spending much of his time in nature.  He was loyal to his family, though.      Norbosil and Rae's mother Mivana become lovers, and then oath-bonded, and Rae was born soon after.  She was also slow to mature, although not quite as much so as her father.  She was now, she informed Rona, twenty-nine years old, although she appeared no older than Rona herself at eighteen.  She was already eshtale, she explained, because she had pledged herself to the Goddess of Love and been given the power of Peace.  This ability was certainly very convenient for someone whose job, quite often, was to settle inter-domestic disputes and cool hot heads; and that she could offer counsel and comfort to the suffering made her even more valuable in the position.    As the priestess talked, Rona started to understand why her community trusted her implicitly.  Rae was so open, enthusiastic, and overflowing with love and gratitude for her tribesmen and family, that Rona was quite caught up in the tale; until she suddenly realized she was having trouble focusing her eyes, and smothered a yawn.    Rae took her by the hand then, and led her back to the room they had set her gear in.  A cozy bed was set up in a deep niche in the back wall.  Rona sank into the fluffy mattress gratefully, Rae obligingly tucked the blankets around her, and she fell asleep even as the priestess quietly closed the door.

   The next day, Rona started to become acquainted with the community of Crystal Towers, with Rae as her guide.  The priestess was not eshtale this day, and they were free to wander about.  Rae was well-liked by her tribe, and greeted cheerfully wherever they went.  The children especially were happy to see her, and they engaged in numerous games throughout the day, frolicking and laughing.  Along the way, Rona was gifted some clothing and adornments by other women, so she soon was wearing a comfortable sun dress and fancy sandals.  Rae was complimentary and supportive to everyone they came across, leaving the women beaming and the men grinning; or sometimes, blushing and stammering.  It was a relaxing and enjoyable day, full of tales and laughter and enough introductions to make Rona's head spin.    Night fell and once again they dined together in the garden.  Afterwards, their conversation took a more serious tone, as Rona told Rae the full story of the altercation that led to her exile, and of her journey to the M'Chal.  Speaking of the events of the last several days moved Rona to tears, as even then she was still trying to fully comprehend the sudden life changes that had taken place.  Rae was very understanding and sympathetic, and when Rona cried, she cried with her; and held her until the tears stopped flowing.  Rona slept well again that night, at peace with what had happened.

   The next day Rona spent with the warriors, getting a grand tour of the town's outposts and defenses, and an overview of the aerial abilities of the M'Chal.  From the gliding wings to the rope-jumpers, the M'Chal were masters of their mountainous environment, and Rona could see numerous new skills and equipment that she would like to learn.   A training regimen was decided upon to best complement her abilities, and Rona went back to the temple feeling inspired and hopeful that she could quickly become a valuable asset to her gracious hosts.    That evening, after dinner, Rae led Rona up into the rocks behind the temple; up a steep winding stairway to a small basin at the top of one of the towers.  The view was spectacular from here, the waxing moon above lighting the towers around them with its gentle glow.      They looked at the stars for a while, taking in the serene beauty of the landscape along with the sweet-smelling herb they smoked out of a sparkling crystal pipe.  It was quite heady stuff, and as Rona gazed at her companion's silhouette, recognition dawned on her.  "You were in my vision!" she exclaimed, and then had to explain what she was talking about.    Rae seemed very interested in the vision, asking several questions about one detail or another.  The sriwi'ani in particular she was curious about; and when Rona had answered her questions as best she could, the priestess sat down close to her and whispered in her ear.      "A few are friends of mine.  Look, up there."  Rae pointed up into the sky, tracing a line.  "They are watching, much of the time."  She giggled. "They seem to find us amusing, or at least entertaining.  Especially our love lives.  We mammals do things much different than they do."      Rona laughed. "I can only imagine."  She thought she saw a blurring of the stars where Rae was pointing.  The priestess's body was warm and soft and neither of them felt inclined to separate while they watched the night sky.    After some time, thirst drove them to descend to the garden for more plum wine.  Rae filled their glasses full and toasted her guest with a sparkle in her eye.  "To you, Rona, a beautiful addition to the Crystal Towers!  I am blessed by your presence."    Rona blushed a bit and lowered her eyes modestly.  "I am the blessed one, priestess, to have found my way to your light."  She raised her eyes to Rae's again, and they both drank deeply.    Rae's face was slightly flushed, and she stood on her tiptoes and inhaled deeply.  She exhaled slowly, keeping eye contact with Rona, and smiled, her full lips glistening in the moonlight.  "I think it's time to go inside for my light show."    The light show turned out to be spectacular.  Rae lit lanterns in the corners of the main room and dialed knobs underneath them; these little machines rotated the lanterns slowly as they unwound, the cylinders around the lamps pierced with holes to let the light shine through intermittedly.  The result was a myriad of sparkling from all the crystal ornamentation in the room, rainbows and colors and shimmering reflections in every direction, constantly changing in a bewilderingly complex array.    Rona found herself sitting on the edge of the great round bed, sipping the delicious plum wine, bedazzled and relaxed and utterly lost in the moment.  It was somehow perfect when Rae sat next to her, intimately close, her long smooth legs brushing against her own.  Rae's skin was warm and the electric feeling rushed through Rona again as she turned her gaze on her fair hostess.  Rae wore only a filmy short nightgown now, and Rona drank in her ethereal beauty.  Her hostess smiled languidly and caressed her face lightly, then kissed her tenderly.    Rona's entire being seemed alight then, the sensations and emotions heightening as her body responded to Rae's gentle touch.  The priestess's hands caressed here and there, stroking her neck, her hair, her arms; brushing against Rona's erect nipples, down her ribcage and gently across her soft abdomen.  Rona rose to her caresses, body yearning, as the passion flared from a spark to a roaring inferno.      Soon the scant clothing had been discarded and they made sweet love together, with a seemingly insatiable hunger.  Despite her inexperience, Rona was instinctive and enthusiastic as she explored Rae's beautiful body with her fingers and her lips, delighting as the priestess's breath came in gasps, and little moans of pleasure; and as her dripping womanhood grew warm and swollen, the kisses and caresses grew ever more heated.    Time seemed to stand still for them as they brought each other to peaks of pleasure and finally to writhing, moist climax; then, they cuddled together in an intimate embrace, sweaty, covered in each others' juices, and utterly satisfied.  As Rona lay spooned against the priestess, her arm draped over her lover's ribcage, feet tangled together as if in tribute to their ecstasy; her last thought put a smile on her beautiful lips as she drifted off to sleep.    She was home.  

[lunaracarberry]

Storm Season, a poetic tribute to my summer love last year.

[lunaracarberry]

#tattoos #inkedgirl #symbolism

[lunaracarberry]

A Touchy Subject

   Abortion has long been a flash-point of conflict in America.  Like many so-called "political" issues, it's not something that many will bring up in casual conversation.  Many people wish to avoid conflict and stick to discussing such things with others who they know share their views.  

   My own opinion of abortion is mixed.  At one side, I can see the horror and tragedy of ending a human life before it has even begun.  On the other hand, I sincerely believe that some people would have been better off dead; both for their own sake, and that of society in general.  

   Too blunt?  Too honest?  That's my point.  Truth is often considered too shocking to be openly stated.   It needs to be said, though.  Nobody in our society starts out well when they were unwanted from the start.  The father is often the one that doesn't want the child, but sometimes it's the mother. Sometimes it's both, and I think we all know that those unfortunate souls born into that circumstance, have VERY little chance of having anything resembling a happy life.  

   So if the parents do not want the child, then abortion should be an option. There is enough misery in the world already without adding another abused, neglected, fucked-up life.  My belief is that the soul will incarnate elsewhere, in better circumstances.   Better the brief tragedy of an aborted fetus than the ongoing disaster that is the life of an unwanted child.

   There are some who hold the somewhat extremist view that human population needs to be reduced greatly in order to preserve the environment and the sustainability of our civilization.  I considered that viewpoint long ago and discarded it, for the simple reason that I could not justify the mass eradication of population by human action.  Who would decide and what would the factors of the decision be?  

   I suspect that is why athiestic and liberal mindsets support abortion rights so strongly, and it is a coldly logical argument.  Population reduction (or at least a lack of increase), by individual decision and individual action, does make sense to me.  As a libertarian-leaning person, I agree that in this - and almost every other aspect of life, for that matter - individual freedom of choice is the correct path.  While I wouldn't want to encourage abortion, I don't want that option to be taken away from people either.    

      There are a a lot of details to the medical procedure that I would rather not know.  I don't want to think about it any more than I want to dwell on the suffering of so many who are already in the world.  There are moral and philosophical questions that every person must answer for themselves, and abortion is one of them.  

   More questions are already beginning to arise as parents are now starting to be able to find out if the child has defects or inherited flaws, and deciding to abort because of this information.  Again, I think freedom of choice is the correct path.

  This is a potentially slippery slope, however!  For example, recent genetic research has discovered the genes triggering transgenderism.  If my parents had access to this information, I wonder, perhaps I wouldn't have made it out of the womb alive?  These are real risks.  Giving people freedom of choice is always a risk, though.  Still a risk worth taking, in my opinion.

[lunaracarberry]

Winner (Pt. 2)

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   The robotic taxi driver took Anthony back to the airport quickly, efficiently, and quietly.  He didn't ever really care to converse with an AI any more than necessary.  The vidglasses let him summon, direct, and pay for the taxi ride without ever speaking, a fact for which he was especially grateful at this time.  The Winner calmed and composed himself from his heightened and agitated emotional state, and was ready to face other humans again by the time the car stopped in front of the terminal.  A flight to Miami and another to the island, and he would be home.  Home, where Vanesha would be waiting so patiently for his arrival.      The taxi door opened and the Winner stepped out onto the entryway.  The AirGuard stationed at the door nodded slightly to him as he passed with mirror-helmed head.  Of course the guard knew who Anthony was, and Anthony knew the power of the eye-targeted laser weapon the guard was wearing.  So he nodded politely in return.    The terminal lobby was busy with people coming and going.  A young man walking in front of Anthony suddenly froze into place, and an eerie dark glow surrounded him.  A short distance away, the Winner noticed another dark glow emanating from an athletic-looking girl, also frozen into place.  Anthony chuckled as he switched over to Observant mode immediately so he could watch the duel.  Some people stopped to watch as well, while some continued through, disregarding the encounter entirely.    The virtual duel was short and to the point.  Swords flashing, they confronted each other, the virtual crowd forming a ring around them as they clashed.  The man wielded a gigantic two-handed sword that was easily as tall as himself, decorated with glowing runes.  The girl bore a rapier and a dirk, so she was hard pressed to evade his attacks at first, retreating and dodging with every whirl of the great blade.  She made a few probing attacks where she could. Then with a spin, a quick lunge inside the man's guard, and one solid, accurate thrust the rapier was through the man's throat.  She spun away, pulling and cutting through a wide swath of neck on the blade's exit, and skillfully deflecting the man's dying slash with her dirk enough to dodge under the last swing.  He collapsed, throat spurting blood.  The girl came to attention, then bowed to her fallen opponent.  The duel ended and the black glow receded.    As the virtual scene faded, the two players unfroze from their postures and approached each other. They both bowed ceremoniously, then began talking and laughing together like old friends.  Still in Observant mode, Anthony watched as their personas reverted to their regular Virtual Identities, not very different from their Duel VI's.  The man was dressed in a barbarian's fur loincloth and the girl was herself still, but instead of a combat harness she wore only a bejeweled thong. Anthony smirked.  Perhaps they would be playing a different virtual game soon.    He continued his stroll to the airplane.

   On the flight to Miami, Anthony watched a few shows that he liked.  The vidglasses provided all the entertainment, the ear-shields folding into place to block out the sound.  Most of the people on the flight engaged in similar reveries, their glasses glowing the universal dim red that indicated they were inglass.  There was a five-hour wait at the Miami airport for the connecting flight, so Anthony took a nap in a sleeping-cubicle.      The rest of the trip home was uneventful.  At mid-morning, the taxi dropped him off in the bottom garage of his home, where he took the elevator up to the mansion proper.    The elevator door chimed softly and opened.  The lounge level was the traditional way to enter the house. Vanesha, of course, was there; posed against the side of a couch, elegantly dressed in a shimmering gown of rich green satin.  Gold necklace and bracelets set nicely against her dark skin, and her hair was wound in a crowning, complicated-looking ensemble.  She turned her head to look at him, her perfect lips curving to a smile.      "Welcome back, darling." She approached him and he took her in his arms, breathing her in, closing his eyes.      They kissed for a long, precious moment.  Anthony finally let go, opening his eyes and staring into hers, the deep green still so enchanting.  "You are so beautiful this morning."     She smiled, but he turned away from her, still holding one hand.  "Vanesha, there's something we need to talk about."    "Can it wait until after breakfast? I'm famished.  Rafael's been baking something magical, and the smell has been driving me crazy!"    He laughed. "Of course."

   Rafael served up a fabulous meal of airy coffeecake and fresh berries and cream, which they eagerly devoured.   Then they went out to the garden balcony and sat on a bench in the shade of a peach tree.  The tree was flowering for its second harvest of the year, and the bees were happily buzzing around.  The energy-field which moderated the temperature in the growing-space was turned off for such ideal weather, and the mellow breeze from the ocean rustled through the leaves and vines.    "What did you want to talk about, darling?" Vanesha's melodic voice was measured and unconcerned.    "I have made my mind up about something, Vanesha," Anthony began. "You have been such a ... perfect girlfriend, really.  No man could ask for more.  You're beautiful, and smart, and fun, and so sweet...." he sighed softly and looked away.    "What is it, darling? Please tell me."  Her eyes were wider, luminous, as he turned back toward her.     Anthony licked his lips nervously.  This was really the most difficult part, just as he had known it would be.  "Vanesha... I'm... I'm not the right man for you."  There, he had said it.  She drew back slightly.       "Well, we do have an agreement..." she said, hesitantly.     "Yes, but it's just that.  It's an agreement.  It's not love," he said flatly.    She turned her head, and exhaled sharply.  She stood and turned her back to him, her exquisitely shapely body tensing.  "But I DO love you, Anthony!" she declared. "You're kind, and generous, and ... and... you're a good man!" Her voice shook.    He rose and put a hand on her shoulder, gently turning her toward him.  "Vani...listen to me.  I am generous because this is all just a stroke of luck.  I am kind because fate has made it possible for me to be kind.  I did nothing for this wealth. "    She looked at him, with confusion written into her expression. Her eyes glistened with tears, dangerously close to falling.  "So what?  I don't care that you got your money by winning the Lottery.  It's what you do WITH that money that matters.  You have made this perfect life for me.  I have everything I could possibly want.  You treat even the servants with dignity and respect!"    Anthony smiled slightly at that.  "And that's the way it should always be, Vani.  Life has been too good for me to treat anyone badly. Especially you." He sighed and drew her close into a full-bodied embrace for a long moment, then stepped back, holding both her hands as he spoke.    "Vanesha, I'm going away.  I'm leaving you the house and everything in it, and enough money to live on for a good long time if you play your cards right. Something I could never manage to do myself.  There will be salary and GovMed packages for the staff to fulfill their contracts as long as they want them." He studied her face as his words sunk in.    "But... but where are you going?" She asked, barely louder than a whisper.  A rogue tear escaped and rolled down one of her cheeks.  Anthony caught it at her mouth, a tender kiss made salty-bittersweet.    "I'm entering the Lottery again."     Her perfect lips formed a perfect "o" of utter surprise, then her face melted into despair. "NO!" she wailed vehemently. "No no no no no!"    Anthony gathered her in to him again as she started to cry. "Shhhhh...it's okay, Vanesha... it's okay... listen, I made a lot of bad decisions, and there's not much money left.  I have enough left to take care of the people I need to take care of, and that's what's important to me.  All of this was free to me, Vani, it was all free... the last thirteen years have been like, like overtime in a sports game.  Bonus time.  It's been a blast.  But all things must come to an end... and this is my time to move on."    Her face pressed against his now-damp shirt, her voice was muffled.  "But why, Tony? Why didn't you tell me?  We could have planned, or saved, or ... something, other than this!"    He held her tightly, shaking his head. "I have been blessed to have you in my life, Vani.  But your heart does not belong to me, now or ever.  You will find love, real love... "  His own tears began to fall, and for a while, he could speak no more.

   After a while they separated, Vani going to wash her ruined makeup and Anthony to change into some more leisurely clothes.   They spent a languid afternoon boating, swimming, and sunbathing - a perfect Caribbean day.  They stuidously avoided the subject of his decision, although Vani did ask some pointed questions regarding some recent investments Anthony had discussed with her.  His preparations had been thorough, however; and she found his answers, if not satisfactory, at least well thought-out.  He was leaving a legacy in forward-thinking technology, although not everything had worked out, and there were some gambles whose cards had yet to be dealt.    Late afternoon found them strolling the beach barefoot, holding hands as they returned to the house.  They enjoyed a wonderful dinner at sunset, mellow orchestral music filling the long silences.  Vani did not smile as much as she usually would, but Anthony caught her staring at him intensely more than once.  She had dressed in one of his favorites, a short, sheer black dress that left very little to the imagination.  She made no illusions of her intentions; as soon as he put down his dessert spoon, she was there in his lap, her lips even sweeter than the chocolate confection.

   Later, after a couple glasses of wine and a lot of cuddling, she fell asleep in his arms.  He pulled the sheets up over her exquisite body and wandered around the house, still restless.  Even as spectacularly appointed as it was, the place felt empty to him.  Anthony had never been an overly gregarious man, so isolation did not particularly trouble him, even at a time like this.  He considered the various gadgets and games he had accumulated, all the endless entertainment of the modern world.  There were a couple of different virtual-reality machines, other, more conventional gaming interfaces, holo-TV, a sound-immersion chamber, a fully equipped gym, a swimming pool, a basketball court.  Everything a man could ever want to pass the time.  There was even a Virtual Love Hut in a room by itself.  Anthony paused at that door, and looked inside at the sleek black machine.  He walked over and opened it to expose the plush mattress-like interior.  He smiled ironically, shaking his head slightly.  Who would have ever guessed, six years ago when this was the newest thing, that it would already be a virtual antiquity.  He sighed a little and pushed the Close button.  A good portion of his ill-fated fortune had sunk with the company when the latest VR tech had rendered it obsolete.

   He finally settled for a simple walk on the beach, feeling the night breeze and watching the twinkling stars.  Everything seemed so clear, so intense.  Life was almost overwhelmingly beautiful at times.  The image of the phoenix was superimposed across his subconscious recollection, fluttering at the fringes of his perception.

  The mystery, in those moments, gave everything else in the universe a humble insignificance.

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   When Anthony arrived at the Party Castle at sunset on day sixteen, he was ready for some serious distraction. The messy work of wrapping up a large number of loose ends had left him feeling frayed himself.  Now, it was time to seek a taste of the sweetest oblivion.      The taxi dropped him off at the ornate double doors at the front of the fanciful structure.  The doors swung silently open as he approached.  Mirrors lining the entrance hall reminded Entrants that there were observers here.      The main gallery opened up directly from the entrance hall, a grand staircase spreading down to the stadium-like dance floor.  Around the sides were comfortable booths, a couple of which were occupied. Other than them, the main gallery was empty at this early hour.      Anthony picked a table at random and sat down.  Cueing a menu with a quick glance, he ordered up a rum-and-cola and a fresh water-pipeload of high-grade opium-laced cannabis.  Psyllocybens and various synthetics were available as well, he noted, at quite reasonable rates.      The Party was a vast improvement from the first time Anthony was an Entrant, and something on which he had been quite willing to spend some of his fortune to change for the better.  The Castle itself was built on his funding, as a secret donor, but had been very successful without any further intervention on his part.  The Party was financed daily by philanthropists of all ranges of income, and by the Entrants themselves.    A waitress gracefully arrived on skates with his drink and his smoke.  She was polite and beautiful.  Anthony tipped her handsomely on the payment menu as she glided away down the ramp, causing her to pirouette and wave, smiling merrily before she rolled on.    He lit up the water-pipe and drew in a long, smooth hit of the intoxicating smoke.  He was already feeling it by the time he blew it out a few seconds later.  A blissful haze began to rise.

    The Party grew, as it inevitably did.  The music started to bump and the holographic lights made a fantastic show.  Smoke roiled and glasses were tipped, mesmerized dancers and professional partygoers made the floor a delightful chaos.  Anthony descended into a semi-stupor.  Finally, as he felt himself giving in to the soporific effects of the opium, he called a robo-chair and was luxuriously transported to his room in the south wing.  

   The next days were full of feasting and entertainment, as the Castle had a myriad of pastimes; everything from a well-equipped electronic gaming venue to a traditional mini-golf course.    Many things were free to any Entrant, including basic lodging and food.  Anthony splurged a bit on higher-class fare and rounds for the house, and enjoyed himself thoroughly.      There were escorts of any stripe on call for a price, but he didn't avail himself of any of their personal services.  It seemed an unecessary extravagance, seeing that there were VR cubicles in all the paid rooms, in which sex was free and potential partners endless.   It didn't make him forget Vanesha, but it served to dull the pain.  

   On day 22, Jacob showed up at the Party with a beautiful young lady in tow.  Alerted by his vidglasses of Jacob's presence, Anthony sought him out and invited him over to the table he had adopted.   "So this the first time you've made it?" Anthony asked.      Jake nodded. "Yeah, figured I'd come see what it was all about.  Last week, so what the hell."    "What've you been up to?"  The waitress, Tami, skated up right then and set down their drinks.  Anthony winked at her, and she blew him a kiss as she rolled away.      "Quite a performer," said the young lady who was with Jake, as she was the first to tear her eyes away.  "I'm Elizabeth, by the way.  He's my dad." She laid a gentle hand on Jake's shoulder.    "Oh, nice to meet you, Elizabeth.  Brave of you to come along." Anthony nodded and smiled to her.    "That's my girl," Jake said, with obvious pride. "A toast, I think." He lifted his glass of dark ale.  "To courage..."  They tapped glasses and drank.    "So where've you been the last couple of weeks?" Anthony questioned again.    "Out in the mountains, enjoying the full magnificence of early autumn..." Jake sighed in contentment.  "God, I haven't been able to take a trip like that since I was a kid.  It was really great.  All thanks to you, man, that hundred creds sure came in handy."    Anthony tapped glasses with him again. "S'cool man. Glad you're having fun."    Elizabeth was staring at him oddly.  Her vidglasses glinted occasionally in the shifting light.  "Why are you doing it?" she abruptly asked.    Anthony looked at her for a long moment.  "Honestly?  Because I feel like I've done as much as I can do.  I have spent a fortune, in wise and not so wise ways.  I've spread my good luck to the corners of the globe, and beyond."  He shrugged.  "When I entered the first time, I was entirely resigned to death.  So every day that I've lived since then is a gift... every breath, even..." He trailed off and sipped at his drink.      "A gift from whom, do you think?" Elizabeth pressed.    "Whether I won because of divine intervention, or quantum randomness, or whatever.  I'll leave it for the philosophers to debate.  I think it just makes sense to share it.  And now that it's all gone, most of it, anyway... I feel like my task is done, and that I can finish my interrupted date with infinity."    Elizabeth was wide-eyed. "Fascinating..."    Jacob finished his beer.  "You guys need to drink faster," he proclaimed as he set the glass down.    They laughed and played along.

   Some time later they were joined by another Entrant, a man in his early thirties, short and of mixed-race heritage.  Grinning merrily, he alit on an empty chair. "Hey, what's up, Anthony."    "Evening, Harrison," the Winner replied.  "Lose any time to sleep today?"    Harrison laughed jovially.  "Yeah, man, a few hours.  It's not such a bad thing, I guess."    "No, it makes the awake time a lot more productive, I've found... need a drink?"      "Nah, that's cool, I'm sticking to weed until midnight today."  Harrison said.    Anthony nodded to the other two at the table.  "This is Jacob and his daughter, Elizabeth.  He's the Entrant."    "Harrison.  Nice to meet you guys." He shook hands with them both.  "I'm in it to win it.  Anthony's my inspiration." He chuckled.    Anthony cracked a half smile at that.  "You never know."    "Been living it up though, just in case.  You guys want to play some Rocket Race?  Game's a blast." Harrison was already fidgeting, as if he couldn't stand to sit still for more than a few seconds at a time.    They looked at each other.  Elizabeth shrugged.      "Sure, let's give it a try," Jacob said.    "Great!  Meet you guys over there."  Harrison rose and strode away purposefully.    Anthony finished his drink.  "Nice guy.  A little spastic.  He was stoked to get some espresso money. Likes to drink the stuff, but couldn't pay off his student loans by making them.  Kind of a classic story in this establishment."   Jacob shook his head.  "A shame, that whole system, wasn't it?  Glad my kid was wise enough to stay out of that trap."    "Yeah, me too," Elizabeth murmured.  She swayed a little in her chair.  "Life's tough if you make the wrong choices early on..."    "That's for sure." Anthony stood up and gestured.  "Game room's that way."      "Alright, let's do this," Jacob said.  He stood and offered Elizabeth his arm.  "C'mon, kid."    She rose a bit unsteadily and took it, and they made their way out.

   Rocket Race turned out to be quite entertaining indeed.  Like most high-end arcade games, the modules were comfortable and the controls easy to learn.  They were quickly racing as a team through a fantastic asteroid field, competing against seven other teams from around the world.     An hour and a half of frenetic action later, they returned to the table for another round of drinks.  Harrison also ordered a fresh pipeful of high-grade sativa, which they all passed around gratefully.  They relaxed from their heightened competitive state quickly.  The beat of the music sank into them and the light show was bedazzling, especially to Harrison, who soon excused himself and joined the dance party on the floor below.    Anthony gave the pipe a stir and handed it to Elizabeth.  "Think there's still a couple of hits in there."    She what-the-hell shrugged and lit it up, passing it off to Jacob.  She blew it out slowly, eyes lingering in the laser-lit smoke cloud.  "Nice.  I'm glad I can do this legally now."    "I'll bet," Anthony said.  "Definitely one of the things that went right during the Liberation.  Now even you cops can be responsible users."    She nodded.  "It's true.  Heaven knows something had to be positive, especially in the beginning..." She trailed off, glancing at her father.    Jacob bore a stoic expression, but Anthony knew what he was thinking about, having looked over his credit and financial history in his vidlasses. "A desperate time, for so many of us," said the Winner.  "The Lottery....a necessary relief valve."    "The desperation isn't over," Jacob said quietly.  Elizabeth looked like she might cry for a moment.    "It will never be over completely.  It can't be.  That's the price of freedom."  Anthony said.  He ordered another round of drinks with the quickmenu.  "I just wish there would be more second chances.  I got a hell of one, a second chance I really didn't think I deserved.  But there're people that deserve to have something... miraculous happen.  People like you, Jake."  Anthony triggered the table's holo field.  The table glowed green, then a textscreen shimmered into view above it.    On section A of the virtual document were listed Jacob's creditors, as listed on his official Entry documents, and at the end a total: One hundred and forty thousand, two hundred and eight-one credits.  Section B authorized the transfer of the balance of nine thousand, seven hundred and nineteen credits to Jacob's bank account.  At the bottom, a simple line designating payment from the account of A. Miller, requesting permission with the virtual buttons "Allow" and "Deny".    Jacob sat staring, his jaw growing slack.  Elizabeth squeal-gasped and covered her mouth with both hands, eyes wide.      Jacob finally looked up at Anthony, face lit from the glow of the holo.  "You could totally live on this, man.  Why don't you just ...keep it?"    "Because you deserve a miracle too," Anthony said firmly.  "Now sign it, and get on with your life.  You shouldn't be here."    Jacob paused, and looked at his daughter.  Hands still over the lower half of her face, she nodded encouragingly.  He turned his eyes back to the document, then reached out and poked the "Allow" button.  There was a moment, then the "Transaction Completed" sign flashed, and the holoscreen faded.    Tami set the drinks down in front of them, timing it perfectly.  She set Anthony's down last, and rolled up close to him.  Caught slightly off guard, Anthony looked up at her, at which point she slid down to sit on his lap and gave him a lingering kiss.      "You're amazing," he said, somewhat breathlessly.    She laughed and effortlessly rose.  "You deserved a real kiss for that.  Meet me in VR later?"    "You're on," he replied with a wink.    Away she rolled.    "Who says altruism doesn't have its rewards?" Elizabeth was the first to break a short information-assimilating silence.      "I certainly can't deny it now," Anthony said with a chuckle.  He raised his glass.  "To liberty."  They tapped and drank.

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   The day of the Final Appointment finally arrived, and Anthony arrived at the Gambling Room by passing through a long, dark hallway.   A pair of skeletons were mounted on either side of the black door; a final, grim reminder that ending was nigh, for most.   Anthony opened the door and entered.  Inside was a large room, shaped like the interior of a pyramid-shaped bubble.  The roof-walls glowed soft white, giving the room a serene, surreal ambience.  In the center of the room was an ultra-plush modern chair, pure white.    A final command with the Glasses morphed the ceiling into a crystal clear night sky.  The replica unfiltered by atmospheric distortion, the stars were like jewels around him.  Anthony took off the Glasses and set them on a small table next to the chair.  He sat down.  The chair was incredibly comfortable, and became more so as it fully adjusted to him.  He relaxed and tilted the chair back, enjoying the view.    After a minute, the virtual button appeared in front of him. It was labeled simply, "Accept".    Anthony was well aware of what happened when one pushed that button.  A random whole number between one and one million was generated by the mimic-quantum computer, and then another number.  If the two numbers were the same, there would be a confetti storm, and the joyous braying of horns.  If the two numbers were NOT the same, the Entrant would sink into unconsciousness in a matter of seconds, and the the life processes would be carefully, painlessly, seamlessly shut off.    The events of the past days ran through his brain, then the past weeks, months... years.  Anthony focused on breathing evenly until his pulse slowed and his mental whirlwind calmed to stillness.    The stars glowing around him, he considered the seeds he had planted, the stairs his fortune had helped build.  Soon the energy-nets would begin to be deployed; and mankind would have, for the first time, a way to harness, filter, and direct the light of the Sun for the planet as a whole.   Soon the arcania of wormhole technology would give humanity the ability to move water from the places with too much to the places with too little.  There was a threshold here for this oft-confused, self-destructive, frequently insane race of bipedal sentients... a threshold that would lead to those stars that dazzled him so.    Anthony Miller was a Winner, no matter what happened next.

   He pushed the button.

[lunaracarberry]

Winner (Pt. 1)

Winner ----------

   Anthony Miller was a Winner.  He was one of the first Winners, as a matter of fact, and his story was immortalized in the spacious waiting room of the Lottery building.  He glanced over the platinum plaque bearing his name and a holo taken on his winning day.      A console tablet below the display gave vital statistics (name: Anthony Wayne Miller; age: 27; place of birth: Holmesborough, Pennsylvania) and gave the reader options.  Anthony tapped "bio", and scanned over the piece.      The familiar words seemed even more profound to him today than they had when he had written them thirteen long years before.  Born to an unwed mother, raised in abject poverty in the slums of Holmesborough, did poorly in school for a variety of reasons.  Partied hard in highschool, partied even harder after dropping out.  Worked a variety of low-paying jobs, never very successfully, eventually became homeless and fell into the morass associated with homelessness.  No job, and no way to get a job; scarce food and exposure to the elements; these were his lot.  In short, a perfect candidate for the Lottery.    After winning, the bio continued, Anthony retired to a peaceful Caribbean island to "celebrate indefinitely".  He smiled wryly at that.  "Indefinitely" was likely going to have to be changed to a finite ending, thirty days from today.    "Now serving ... number 2072." The smooth, hypnotic female voice was still the same.  The message also came up on the message screen of his vidglasses.  Those didn't even exist the first time he had come to this place.     Anthony was number 2093, so he would probably be waiting for another hour and a half.  They liked to give you plenty of time to think.      He wandered around the waiting room, looking at other Winners' displays, until his number came up.  Like most who came here, he had already made up his mind.  He was going to enter the Euthanasia Lottery.

   Standing in an elevated, force-shielded control nodule, the shapely front desk secretary was dressed in a flirtatious mockery of a lab technician.  She nodded and smiled as he approached.  "Doctor Phelps will see you now, Mr. Miller.  Door number seven, on the left side of the corridor."    "Thanks." Anthony nodded brusquely and entered the hallway.  Door number seven slid silently open as he approached, and he entered the plush office.      It was dim and cool inside, and a silent fan made several large potted plants wave dreamily.  It reminded him of his terraced patio back at the island, and an unexpected pang of homesickness made him falter for just a split second.    "Good afternoon, Mr. Miller."  The doctor was a fit-looking man of middle age, with dark hair and a carefully trimmed beard.  His suit was impeccable, matching Anthony's in quality.    "Good afternoon, Doctor."  They shook hands, and Phelps beckoned Anthony to sit in a comfortable leather chair in front of his office desk.      Phelps took his seat and tapped the holodesk display active.  "So, Mr. Miller, you've come back to enroll in our service for a second time."  It was a statement rather than a question, but Anthony nodded anyway. "On your initial survey, you indicated that the main reason you have decided to enter the lottery was because of a financial difficulty.  Just like the first time.  So you've spent your fortune, then?"    "Yep.  I'm on the last dregs of my bank account.  It'll be over before Christmas,"  Anthony said glumly.    "But it's only September," the doctor noted.    "Planning ahead's never been my strong point, but once in a while I get it right."    "Also the anniversary of your first interview here.  Why come back to Philadelphia to go to one of our clinics?"    Anthony shrugged. "Had good luck the first time."    "I see.  Well, what other options have you looked at?  Can't you sell some of your assets, maybe change your lifestyle?  You don't have to do this."    Anthony shrugged again.  "I... have got pretty used to my lifestyle.  I really don't want to change.  I would rather end it at the top, flying high, than fall back to earth.  I've been there and done that, and I ain't going back, no way, no how."    Phelps looked at him levelly for a long moment.  Finally he nodded and clicked something on the display.  "All right, then, Mr. Miller, it sounds like you've thought this through pretty thoroughly.  Again."  He clicked again and opened a drawer.     An old-fashioned folder contained the required documentation, which Miller summarily signed and dated.  The deal was done, the appointment was set, and Miller walked out to begin what would likely be his final thirty days of life.

   Outside, the afternoon sun had made the park-like exterior of the building blissfully warm, reminding Anthony again of his tropical home.  Several visitors were relaxing on the grounds, most of them looking like they would be more at home in a slum alley.  Anthony felt more than a little bit out-of-place in his thousand-credit suit, but he wanted - no, needed to connect with some of his fellow lottery entrants.  Since only Entrants were allowed to use the Lottery park, anyone he approached here would be part of a very exclusive club, which he had just re-entered: a club of the condemned.    He took a meandering path through a grove, searching for the right person with whom to converse.  A split second of focus on the quickmenu icon and a short menu dropped, and he turned the IDscan function off.  He wanted to actually hear these people's stories in their own words, instead of having all their data at his pupil-tips.    The ground rose slightly in the center of the grove, where a very natural-looking granite outcropping gave birth to an obviously man-made spring.  Sitting on the mossy bank was a woman, late middle age, looking thin and somewhat frail.  Her hair was blonde, turning grey. She glanced up at him as he approached, and he nodded politely.     "Hi."     "Hello," she said.  She wore an elegant long dress of emerald green and silver trim, and modest jewelry.    "My name is Anthony Miller," he said.  He approached and extended his hand.  She shook it, a bit timidly.  There was not much to her grip.      "Wanda.  Wanda Selvin," she replied. "Day three."    "First day for me."  Anthony sat down on a convenient rock.    She  looked at him speculatively.  "Taking it pretty well so far, eh?"    He nodded, "Yep.  Been planning it for a while, so minimal drama."    "Me too," she said.  "The planning, anyway.  I'm afraid I was a bit dramatic on the first day, though.  Just, you know, ..." she trailed off.    "The relief?" he said quietly.    "Yes, that's it!" she exclaimed. "The relief was ... more overwhelming than I expected."    He nodded understandingly.  "So from what are you escaping, if you don't mind me asking?"    "Cancer," she said quietly.    Anthony winced a bit at that. "You have my sympathy," he said, after a moment's pause.  "Your govmed account's used up, then?"    She nodded glumly, eyes downcast.  "'fraid so.  I never made much in the way of income, and didn't have anyone else contributing to my account."  Her fingers ringless, she also had no vidglasses, unless they were the expensive super-stealthy ones like the ones Anthony was wearing.  A standard MePhone adorned her left wrist.    "So you been to the Party yet?"  he asked.  The Party had not existed in its current format the first time Anthony had been an Entrant.    "Heh.  Not yet, no." She looked up at him again, curiously.      "I know I'll go eventually.  Dunno if't'll be tonight, though."  He was deliberately undecided about the Entrant's Party.      "Yeah, me too," she said.      "So you got somewhere to stay?" He asked.    "Still have my apartment where I've lived for the last twenty-two years."      "Wow, that's a long time to live in a place.  You like it, huh?"    She nodded, and a hint of a smile came to her face.  

   Wanda described the dwelling and her garden, and the neighborhood in which she lived.  Anthony listened and asked a few questions.  To an Entrant, things that had formerly seemed irrelevant now could hold great significance, and things that had once been of utmost importance could become trivial.    After a while, when she realized she was starting to ramble, Wanda caught herself and turned the query on Anthony.  "What leads a young man like you to the Lottery?"     He smiled wryly.  "Financial ruin."      "Aww.. really?"  She said, with a tone reflecting concern and sympathy.  "Damn, that's too bad."    "Well, it certainly wasn't part of my life strategy," he said matter-of-factly.  "But taking risks sometimes has some ... costly penalties.  I've taken quite a few too many bad gambles in the last several years."    Wanda nodded slowly, eyes glued on his.  "Bad luck blues," she murmured, the name of a famous song which had turned into the Lottery's theme music.    "It's been a good run, though.  I've enjoyed a very fine quality of life since the first time I won."    A silent moment as comprehension of the statement transformed her expression from concern, to surprise, to confusion.  "Wait, you're a w-..."    "A Winner.  Yeah."    "Then how did... what did you...," she trailed off uncertainly.    "I spent it.  I spent it all, well, most of it, anyway."    "Wow."    "Yeah, wow.  Like I said, it's been a good run."  He took out his MePhone and clamped it on his left wrist, the micro-genetic-detector sensing its user immediately and activating the device, which attached itself and unfolded the keyboard.  "Listen, I've put enough aside to let me give out some gifts.  Let me give you a hundred credits."    "Really?" Acts of charity between Entrants were common, but a hundred creds was a hundred creds.   "Yeah."  He authorized the amount and extended his left hand.  She pondered for just a second, then extended her own left palm.  The exchange confirmed and verified when their palms met.    "Do something fun."  He stood up.    "Thank - thank you." She seemed somewhat at a loss for words.    Anthony nodded amiably and wandered off.

   Down from the mini-ridge the trail descended to a tranquil pond with a moderate population of ducks and a backdrop of reeds, nestled close to the Lottery building.  On a wide paved pathway beside the pond, several benches were strategicallly placed.  An old man sat in one that was out in the sun and close to the water, in a meditative pose, eyes closed.  He was dressed in simple black robes, no Glasses.  Anthony did not disturb him.    Further along the perimeter of the pond, one of the grape-vine-covered benches was occupied by a middle-aged fellow of average size, gaunt and faded and tired-looking.  A small cooler sat by his feet, and a couple of empty bottles.  He was holding a beer bottle and staring vacantly out at the meandering waterfowl.  He stirred himself from his reverie as Anthony approached, however, turning his head and nodding. "'Sup."     "Hey." Anthony replied.  "'Sup."    "Day four," the man answered.  "Want a beer?"    "Sure, why the hell not.  I'm Anthony, by the way."    "I'm Jacob.  Call me Jake." They shook hands, then Jacob opened the cooler, opened and handed a nicely chilled bottle to Anthony, who opened it and took a swig.    "Ahhhh...." The Winner looked at the label.  "That's some good shit."    Jacob smiled wryly.  "Yeah. What the hell.  Sold my Glasses so I could have beer money for the week."    "Rough, man." Anthony shook his head sympathetically. "Pretty bad off, eh?"    Jacob nodded, his face falling a bit. "Yeah.  That's why I'm doing it, though.  Too much debt, too many unlucky breaks..." He shrugged.  "Way it goes sometimes, y'know?"  He took a drink, almost reflexively.    "Yeah, I hear you, man.  I hear you.  Makes you wish for the old days a little.  Bankruptcy was a nice option."      Jacob snorted laughter. "Yeah.  The old golden days, huh."  He shook his head.  "What a ride that was.  But I always knew it wouldn't last.  There was no way it could last."    Anthony nodded his agreement.  "We were a deluded and dazzled country," he quoted from a famous Liberation speech.  "I think things are looking up now, though."    Jacob raised an eyebrow at that, and let a long moment go by.  "Yeah, I suppose so," he finally said.  "My kids are on firm footing, got a grandkid on the way.  They have a future.  At least the world I'm leaving isn't totally going to hell in a handbasket anymore."    "Heh, that's the spirit." Anthony tapped bottles with him and took a long, satisfying draught.

   "So what's your story?" Jacob asked, after they had put sizeable dents into their brews.    Anthony was gazing absently across the pond.  He shrugged.  "Failed investments, a few too many trips to casinos... man, I had it made for a while.  Made some bad choices along the way, though.  Now I'm broke, or close enough to broke that it doesn't matter."    "Ain't you got anyone to live for? Family, anything?" Jake asked bluntly.    Anthony glanced sidelong at him, then shook his head.  "Nope.  Parents're dead, no siblings, no children.  I've been filthy rich and I really don't want to live any other way.  Just feeling, I don't know, hollow?"  He grimaced and finished the rest of the beer.    Jake nodded slowly, like he was trying to make sense of Anthony's response.  "Sounds like the opposite of most Entrants."    "Oh, it is, undoubtedly.  A polar opposite." Anthony laughed. "Polar opposite of the first time I entered the Lottery."    Jake looked quizzically at him. "So you withdrew?  You had to wait the year to re-enter?"    "No.  I won.  Now I'm back."    "Wait, what?" Jacob looked suitably stunned.    "It's true.  You can look me up in the Hall of Winners." He tapped his phone and keyed in the commands.  "Listen, Jake, it's been nice hanging out with you here.  Please accept a gift to repay your generosity."    Jacob nodded. "Uh, okay..." He keyed the acceptance on his own phone.  "Wow, thanks!  A hundred creds?  You sure?"    "Yeah, man.  Buy yourself some more beer, or whatever.  Have a good time."  Anthony closed the phone.  "Maybe I'll see you at the Party next coupla weeks?"      "Yeah, maybe so.  Thanks again!"  Jacob offered him a hearty handshake.  "Want another beer?"

   Further along the path, a slight incline rose from the pond-basin.  A dense grove grew around and above the path there, creating an eerily silent, arched tunnel picturesquely lit by stray green-tinged rays.  It was hauntingly beautiful.  The trail rounded a long turn, then opened up onto a small, perfectly manicured meadow.  A pair of sturdy hemp-mesh porch swings were hung on either side of the path, one of which was occupied.    Anthony sat on the left swing and took a couple of drinks of beer.  The young man on the other swing was engrossed in whatever he was watching or reading on his tablet-computer.  He was white, average height, in nondescript clothes, with no visible Vidglasses, but a pair of normal eyeglasses.  Faded scars discolored the right side of his face.  He eventually looked up and noticed Anthony.  He waved tentatively.  "Hi."    Anthony nodded back to him.  "Good afternoon."    "Is it already?" The young man looked at his watch. "Huh, yeah, guess so..."    "You must have something good distracting you there."  Anthony leaned back in the seat and took another swig.    "Sure do.  Nothing like a good book."  He held up his screen to show text.    "That's old school.  What genre?" Anthony asked.    "Fantasy.  That's my biggest regret, I think... so many good books to read..." He trailed off, looking melancholy.    "I think almost everyone has regrets here," Anthony said.  "What day you on?"    "Day One."    "Me too," Anthony replied.  "I'm Anthony."    "I'm Evan.  Nice to meet you, Anthony.  I'd say congrats, but that just seems wrong."    "Ha.  It probably is.  It's a strange thing, this Lottery... stranger than most of the things in those books you like, I imagine."    "Yeah, I'd say so," Evan replied. "Life makes a lot more sense in books, if you ask me."    "Hmm." Anthony nodded speculatively and took a drink.  "Definitely simpler."    "Simpler, yeah.  More meaningful, too," Evan said.    Anthony cocked his head at him quizzically. "You don't think your life is meaningful?"    Evan chuckled wryly.  "Hell, no.  I guess that's the main reason I'm here.  'Cause it doesn't really matter.  Just another lazy suburban kid, headed nowhere.  Why bother?  I'm just going through the motions anyway."    Anthony thought about that while he took another sip.  "You remind me a lot of myself when I was your age."    "What happened?  You must've done something right along the way, huh?" Evan seemed at least a little bit interested.    "I got lucky, that's all.  REAL lucky," the Winner replied.    "Oh, nice.  So why'd you wind up here?  This is a game for poor people."    Anthony shrugged.  "I made a lot of poor choices, and cumulatively, they have finally outweighed the good fortune.  So here I am again."    Evan blinked, not quite comprehending.    "Part of the reason I came back was because I had good luck the first time I Entered.  I'm not predicting Winning for a second time, but you never know, right?"  Anthony finished the beer in a series of gulps.    Evan shook his head, disbelief written on his face.  "Wow."    "Well, you know what they say.  Truth is stranger than fiction."  Anthony stood up and stretched.  The afternoon sun was warm on his face, although his micro-tailored smartcloth suit was of course keeping his body at a perfectly comfortable temperature.  He opened the phone as he crossed the path.  "Here, have a gift.  Life's short.  Do something ridiculous and fun."    Evan's face was an "o" of surprise as he saw his screen light up with the credit transfer.  "Wow, really?  Wow!  Thanks!"    "You're welcome, guy. "    "Are you trying to get me to withdraw?  'Cause I'm not going to, not even for a hundred creds."  Evan seemed suddenly suspicious.    Anthony shook his head. "No, of course not.  Who am I to point fingers?  I'll leave the pro-life arguments to the preachers and the psychiatrists."    "Well, okay.  Thanks."  Evan answered.    "Sure.  You going to make it to the Party?"    Evan shrugged.  "Maybe.  Dunno if I want to have TOO much fun, though.  Might dissuade me or something."    "Up to you.  It's good for moral support.  And immoral support too."  Anthony quipped.    "So I hear." The young man chuckled.    "Alright, see you around, then." Anthony gave him a fist-bump and strolled away.

   The path led through more of the grove until it came to a wall and split.  A sign said simply "Phoenix" and directed passerby to the right.  Curious, Anthony followed.  An ornate arch in the wall opened up onto a dazzling view; a courtyard, centered by a rectangular pond, lit from below with light and waving fronds of some unidentifiable material, all contriving to a stylized pit of fire.  An icon blinked in the corner of his view, bidding him to enter the enclosure for the full effect.  He stepped forward to the edge of the viewing platform, noticing several comfortable-looking lounge chairs in a lopsided ring around the pond.   When he stepped forward, the animation flared, the fire blazing to a quick crescendo.  It slowly subsided, over the course of a long minute.  As the flames finally died to glowing coals, white and grey smoke thickened hypnotically above.  Then a figure coalesced in the smoke, sparkling...then, suddenly shimmering above the pond was a stunning holo of a phoenix, a breathtakingly beautiful and noble image.  The bird spread its majestic wings, which grew, and grew, and grew until they eclipsed the sunlight, and turned into a misty nebula full of newborn stars.    Anthony stood, transfixed, as the image pulled him slowly through it, then faded gradually until he was looking at the blue sky above.  He blinked and reluctantly lowered his gaze to the reality of the courtyard around him.

   After the powerful artistic experience, and the brews, Anthony felt somewhat dazed.  He decided that he was ready to leave, and made his way toward the nearest gate.

   Outside the Lottery park, Anthony headed for a taxi.  Across the street from the park stood a lone man holding a sign that read "God Wants You to Live".  The man looked like he was well into his senior years, wearing a long white beard and simple white clothing.  Anthony had to smile at himself at the irony.  The protest at his first visit had been far larger, noisier, and vehement.   The country had come a long way in accepting the Lottery; just as it had come a long way in accepting reality in all of its implacable facets.

[lunaracarberry]

Perpetual Change

"The only constant is change." - Heraclitus of Ephesus

   Life is all about change.  Sometimes incremental change, sometimes catastrophic.  Adaptability is a highly prized evolutionary trait, and something at which human beings excel as a species.  Our mental agility, in particular, makes us a "successful" species.  Which is good.  Because no day is exactly like another, for any living being on the planet.  

   There is the need to constantly assimilate new knowledge and master new skills while dealing with this unrelenting onslaught of change.  This can at times be overwhelming, when the pace of change is too fast or too extreme for the mind and/or emotions to keep up.  

   Feeling your emotional ups and downs can be painful, but it is necessary.  I believe that people become addicted to substances, for the most part, because they are trying to hide from their emotions.  So when they are not letting their emotional mind keep up with the pace of life, the substance becomes more and more necessary.  Then it takes a major effort to recover, which usually involves really dealing with all those emotions that have built up... it's a daunting prospect, and not many are totally successful.  

   The key to sanity?  Live each day.  FEEL each day.  No day will ever be exactly the same as the one you're living today.  Savor it, for there is no guarantee that you'll have another.  Love, and be loved.    

[lunaracarberry]

Entitled to Nothing

    Entitlement is the concept of one being owed something by someone or something else.  Entitlement is not real.  It is an utter illusion.

    When one is born into this world, NOTHING is a guarantee.  You could be born maimed or DOA, or condemned by misfortune to a quick and painful death.  You could be killed, enslaved, mutilated, left for the wolves, or thrown into a stewpot. 

    Your parents could be monsters.  Your neighbors could be monsters.  Your local authorities could be monsters.  Your national government could be corrupt and inhuman.   Your society’s accepted religion could be utterly illogical and without merit. 

    The only thing that saves us, as a species, is the concept of free will.  The ability of a human being to rise above circumstance and misfortune, to see through the lies and discover the truth.  That’s how people survive and thrive in spite of bad parents, terrible neighbors, self-serving governments, and control-seeking religious zealots. 

    Live your own life, make up your own mind, and defend fiercely the freedom to do so.  Because we are entitled to nothing, we should all be grateful for what we get, and strive to improve our own lot in life.  All free people, regardless of social status, should work tirelessly to make sure that as many people as possible can experience the beauty of having life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. 

    Caution must be taken, though, for people will feel like they are owed things far exceeding the value of their contribution.  That is at the crux of the growing financial issues of the USA and other countries.  Municipalities, states, and especially the federal government, have accumulated debt that is unsustainable and unmanageable.  Most of this debt is in the form of entitlements, whether it be pension funds, welfare, medical care, or social security.

    I’m not unsympathetic to the recipients of all these wonderful things - agreements were made, contracts were signed, expectations were set.  But in the end, these things are just illusions, fabrications, and totally unrealistic.  Mostly built on the same foundation as a Ponzi, or “pyramid” scheme, many of these entitlement programs are already collapsing, or are in imminent danger of doing so, and taking the governments sponsoring them down as well.

    The time for a grand reorganizing of our government, our systems, our very way of life, is overdue.  It will take a brave bunch of politicians indeed to pour a cold bucket of reality onto the entitlement fire.  I pray that it happens soon enough to preserve our civilization.

[lunaracarberry]

Greed - A Mental Illness?

“We've all seen  the videos and TV shows of people who fill their homes with hoarded items that they just can't get rid of--pets, old newspapers, plastic bottles, books, clothing that they'll never wear, electronic gadgets they never use, etc. This is considered to be part of a mental illness, and these people need help. How is hoarding money not also a mental illness? How many cars can a person drive, how many houses can they live in, how much dust-collecting crap do they really need to fill their homes with? These people fill their bank accounts with far more money than they need or can ever use, and they do it at the expense of other people. It's a sickness, not something to be lauded and emulated.” -quoted from a friend on Facebook.

That makes SO much sense!  I never thought about it that way before... but yeah, gold fever is a thing (also called the “dragon sickness” by fantasy nerds).  Maybe it IS a mental illness.  I think everyone has to conquer these evil urges in themselves, and that most people do, with varying degrees of success.

[lunaracarberry]

Summer, I miss you already.  It’s been wonderful.  Tumultuous, adventurous, CHALLENGING!  I hope to see you again! :)

[lunaracarberry]

Addendum: A Midnight Romance

Just a thought about the traffic control systems of the future.  I speculate that there would be many parallels to the current air traffic control systems, but all done by AI way more efficiently than human drivers and/or .  A main traffic control, and onboard AI as a backup/override to centralized control, would make the overall traffic scheme incredibly more efficient.  

As a "rideshare" driver, this worries me a bit.  I will be out of a job.  There is a solution, however.

The self-driving cars will be owned by someone, and there's no reason why that someone can't be private investors.... as in, people that are going to buy a car anyway...  So if I want to buy a new car, can I buy a self-driving one?  Then, when I'm not using it, can the car go to work FOR me?   Robot slaves?  I'm liking this idea more and more.  #goals  

[lunaracarberry]

A Midnight Romance

A Midnight Romance ------------------------------

   Coleman jolted awake from his reverie at the sound of his phone chiming, a Blendr notification.  He blinked.  He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but had, or nearly had.  Only twenty minutes or so had passed, though, and he still had fifteen minutes before his shower was scheduled.    He swung his feet off the side of the bed and stretched.  The wall reacted to his movement by increasing the light slightly and lighting up the menu icon.  He pointed to bring up the most-used icons and flicked the music player; with a few more waves of his hand, he put on some energetic but ambient music.  Angelica loved this type of music, and it had grown on him in their time together.    Coleman had already set out his best clothes for the date.  He checked it all again.  He had to admit to himself that he was a little bit nervous.  He and Angelica had been hooking up on LoveNet for a couple of months, but they were supposed to meet in person tonight for the first time.    If there was room to pace in his cubicle apartment, Coleman would have paced.  As it was, the room was barely big enough to hold the bed, which doubled as a couch, and a reading chair/gaming station at the end.    A mini-fridge was built into the wall by the door, and drawers underneath the bed and chair held the bulk of his posessions.  It was a tight fit, but the room was affordable even on his minimal income, and the entertainment system was top-notch.    Finally his scheduled shower time arrived, and Coleman walked out the door with his towel and robe.  The door opened automatically when he strode toward it and gestured, and he walked purposefully across the common room to the shower hall.  The door of his designated shower stall recognized him and popped open as he approached.      Fifteen minutes later, he was bathed and refreshed.  Wearing the robe for the walk back to his cubicle, he passed a couple of the other residents, headed toward the bathrooms.  Kaz and Roy were also students, around the same age as Coleman.  They looked somewhat intoxicated.  Coleman gave them a casual nod and "'sup," as he waved his cubicle door open.    He dressed carefully,but chuckled a little bit to himself as he did so.  He didn't think the clothes would stay on long once he made it to Angelica's place.  It was a special occasion, though, and worth a little extra effort.    It was soon time to leave.  Coleman activated the ElectroCab icon on his phone, and walked out of his apartment building to the street.    The structure was not huge, but it held four levels of cubicle apartments, and close to a thousand people called the place home.   Out the carport door, an ElectroCab car was already waiting for him.  He got in the tiny vehicle and the door swung silently shut as the seat belt slid into place.    Coleman had thought about taking a SkyBubble, but the ElectroCab was a lot cheaper.  Angelica knew about his financial status, and it wasn't that long of a trip, anyway. There was no point in splurging for the quicker transportation.    As it was, the drive took about a half hour.  The car guided itself down the mostly deserted streets, wet from a recent rainstorm.  The city lights reflected from odd angles with the damp and the puddles, and the air had a clean, refreshing bite when Coleman opened a window.  It was a beautiful night.    Out in the suburbs, Angelica lived in an older apartment building, one that had actual full-sized apartments.  The car pulled up to the end of a sidewalk between a couple of the buildings, and Coleman got out there.  The door shut and the machine blinked and went dormant.  It would be there until someone to whom it was the closest car needed a ride.    Coleman walked up the sidewalk, knowing that the second stairway to the right was his destination. It was a dimly lit sidewalk, so he didn't see the man in the shadows until he moved suddenly, stepping forward and brandishing something black and metallic.     "Stop right there.  Stay quiet or I'll fucking waste you."  The man's voice was a low, evil snarl.    Coleman stayed still, shocked.     "Get out your phone.  Slowly.  Put it on the ground."  Coleman complied with the man's orders, his fingers moving numbly to the commands.  "Back away, slowly.  Don't run or you're fucking dead."  Coleman stepped back, raising his hands in a show of obedience.   The thief reached down to take the phone.  "Ow!" the man muttered, slapping at his neck.  "What the fuck?"  Looked, unbelieving, at the tiny darts in his hand.  "Oh...shiiii...." without further ado, he slumped and collapsed on the ground like a sack of potatoes.    Coleman let out a long, slow breath that he hadn't realized he was holding.  The police drone uncloaked and descended to hover above the man's body, scanning and sampling.  Then it plucked Coleman's phone out of the man's hand with a manipulation tentacle and passed it over to Coleman.  "Your property, Citizen," it said.  The voice was high pitched, but firm.      "Thank you, officer," Coleman answered, a little shakily.  The whole incident had taken less than a minute.  "You must have been really close by..."    "Couple streets over.  The ElectroCab was tracking you, and it alerted me.  Street units are on their way, stay where you are until we can secure the area."    Coleman nodded his acquiescence.  Just then, a sultry, melodic voice spoke from the balcony above.  "What's going on down there?  Coleman, is that you?"    He looked up to a vision of absolute beauty.  True to her name, Angelica looked heavenly as she came down the stairs, dressed in a wispy white dress that only barely made it out of the domain of lingerie.  Her lovely body, her perfect face and the cloud of blonde hair around it... she was absolutely stunning.  Coleman stood with his mouth agape until she reached the bottom of the stairs, at which point he remembered that she had asked a question.  Before he could speak, the police drone answered.    "Greetings, Citizen.  There was an attempted robbery.  Please return to your domicile until the area is secure."    Angelica took in the scene and the man's body on the ground.  Her eyes widened.  "Oh, my God!  That's Gregory!"    "You know this guy?" Coleman asked incredulously.  "He wanted to take my phone!"    "Yeah, I know him... he's the apartment manager!  What...?"  She shook her head in confusion.    "The suspect has been tranquilized, Citizens.  Ground units are arriving now to secure the area."  The cars pulled up as the drone spoke, lights flashing.

   After taking the suspect into custody, the police took Coleman's statement, affirmed that he was unhurt, and rolled away.  Finally Coleman was able to step forward and take Angelica's hands in his own.  They were warm, and oh-so-soft.    "It seems weird to say, nice to meet you..." The girl giggled.  "I mean, we know each other pretty well already!"  She blushed a little at that, prettily, her long lashes downcast.      Coleman chuckled at that too, but reached up wonderingly, to touch the side of her face delicately.  She raised her eyes to meet his;  and the ethereal quality of that gaze hypnotized him, just like it always had.

[lunaracarberry]

Making the Case for UBI

Universal Basic Income - Is it the right thing to do?

As a counterweight to the last post, here is why I think this semi-socialistic concept might be the way to go.

After some years of thought about the subject, I have to conclude that providing a stable, base income is the only way to provide a financial benefit for the common citizenry that does not also restrict their freedom. 

The UBI would replace any and all kinds of welfare.  It would be up to the individual to spend their money wisely on housing, food, medical expenses, etc., just like they do now with whatever income they have.  

Let's face it.  The human race is entering a competency shortfall, and just about any job available now is going to disappear in the coming decade - and - a- half as automation will replace human workers at an exponentially growing pace.  Jobs are going to be available only to those necessary to develop, install and maintain that technology.  Most of us, myself included, will be left in the dust when it comes to employment.

So rather than have a massive horde of unemployable homeless people, and increasing the misery of the world a hundredfold, it seems logical to start providing some sort of alternative.  It will be lest costly in the long run; I truly believe that.  Putting down the inevitable rebellion that will occur when people have nothing left to lose will be not only extremely traumatic, it could also potentially destabilize a country to the point of dissolution.  Not to mention the sheer inhumanity of war, especially civil war.  Better to bite the bullet ahead of time, and give the disenfranchised a lifeline.

I realize that this is a very anti-conservative idea on its face.  But we have to come to terms, as a society, with the fact that our increasing reliance on computers and technology is making many of us obsolete.  The time when folk could make a life for themselves out of nothing is past, and as a race we must have compassion enough to provide for those who have nothing.  We succeed or fail as a species based on how well we adapt our social structures in the next half-century.  We must succeed and thrive as a civilization, or revert to savagery once again...

[lunaracarberry]

The Liberation

~A Libertarian Fantasy~

Premise: modern first-world citizens have been saddled with an enormous, top-heavy burden of debt and obligation to which they never agreed and had no true representation. This includes:

  ----Medicare / Medicaid - the biggest loser.  Keeping old people alive against the will of nature is ridiculous and extremely expensive.

  ----Social Security - an antiquated system of keeping retired folk from dying homeless in the street.  Designed for paying somebody a stipend for 5-8 years of life after retirement.  Totally unrealistic with today's 30-40 years of living retirees (see above)

  ----the Fed - what the hell IS it?  A cabal of super rich bankers, basically.  They expect us all to pay them in real money for what exactly? Them printing money and then lending it to us on an almost unimaginable scale?  How the FUCK does THAT make sense?  They and their descendants are set for the next BILLION YEARS.  Screw them.  They need to be written off like a bankruptcy. Pay back only the people who actually lent their OWN REAL money to the government.

  ----Foreign Aid - We give billions of dollars to governments all over the world, money which ends up mostly in the coffers of corrupt politicians.  Our government is corrupt and wasteful, but virtually ANGELS compared to most of these governments.  It's global weaning time.

  ----The Drug War.  Bill Hicks said it best: It's not a war on drugs, it's a war on personal freedom.  It's time free people were allowed to make their own choices about what substances go into their bodies.  Common sense must prevail, because the war on drugs is so expensive, so destructive, and SO irresponsibly divisive!  Cops can never actually be part of their communities when they are forced to punish people who aren't committing any real crime.  Too many REAL criminals walk scot-free because there are too many drug offenders clogging the court and prison systems.

The response to these future-killing systems is a mass revolt by everybody smart enough to understand the inherent problems.  What we need is a liberation - from things that we didn't want, never would want, can't afford, or are just plain stupid.

This is the only hope of both saving our civilization AND maintaining our freedom.

Solutions ------------ Medicare / Social Security - these systems can be fixed in the same manner.  What you paid in, is what you can get out of it, adjusting for inflation.  THAT'S IT.  Once it's gone, it's gone.

The Fed and 19+ Trillion dollars of debt - Those super rich bankers who have made monkeys of us all?  Just give 'em the finger, rip up the contract and leave.  Nobody owes them a damn thing.  They'll be fine & can live for the rest of their lives comfortably on .000000001% of their on-paper wealth.  Just have to sell one of their mansions, islands, yachts, whatever.

The Drug War -legalize hemp & marijuana - just drop it.  The free market will regulate those just fine.  Legalize "hard" drugs, have the manufacturers and dispensaries regulated so products are pure & consistent, that will eliminate the most imminent dangers.  Education and rehabilitation will save those who want to be saved.  As we all know, some people don't WANT to be saved.

   Overall? Well, this leaves a lot of people not knowing where their next meal comes from.  This leaves a lot of sick people without life support, medicine, 24-hour intensive care... welcome back, evolution.  It's tough.  But it NEEDS to happen.  

   What happens in the natural world?  If you can't stand on your own feet, death is inevitable unless you have a strong tribe.  Humans are tribal by nature but our own society has mutated to the point that many people HAVE no tribe.  Those with strong tribes have greater chance of success and survival.  

   Our tribes have diversified and evolved; the traditional family unit is still strong, but groups like churches, political committees, gangs, military units, and even fan clubs all have similar bonds.  Friendship, sharing, holding each other accountable for actions and decisions; honor and loss of honor; helping hands and communal projects; all these can be, and are, facets of these alternative versions of the human tribe.

   That is where our true strengths lie.  Those tribes who are able to pull together and make the most of their resources will succeed and thrive, just as they always have.  

   We need a central government to protect us from the threat of other governments, but for the most part it needs to get the hell out of the way and let life take its course.  Altruism is great, but when good intentions are funded with other people's money, the cure is almost inevitably going to be worse than the disease.  

[lunaracarberry]

Shopping Day

    It was Jefferie’s turn to go to the store.  He stepped onto the control pad eagerly and hit the startup button.

    His dad watched absently as he nursed a cold brew at the kitchen island.  The other kids would keep a better eye on him than he could anyway, he reasoned.  Especially the boy’s older sister.

    The big screen faded from the setup visual and faded into the direct view from the shopping robot. 

    There were two modes a shopper could use, the Voice mode and the Browse mode.  Jefferie knew them both, but went immediately to Browse mode.  He liked controlling the robot as it rolled smoothly through the aisles.  He couldn’t mess around much, but it was fun to navigate quickly and smoothly to the items on the list.  The items ticked off on the list as he picked them up, turning the red letters into green with a satisfying “Ding!”.

    One of the 9-year old boy’s favorite parts of the process was filling the reusable containers with stuff out of the big bulk bins .  Although the process was automated, initiating the process was at the user’s discretion, as was its termination, so the shopper could get exactly the amount they wanted.  Much of the store was set up that way, although there were canned goods and bottles of liquid products, as well. 

    The shopping robot rolled through the store with ease, stopping to twirl at an intersection or two along the way.  The boy’s deft guidance allowed him to steer the robot close and trigger the fill protocol with lightning speed.  Since all the shopping trips were timed, the goal was to complete the trip as quickly as possible.  This earned the shopper rewards tokens, which the kids got to redeem for their choice of treats.

    The youngest child, Alba Marie, watched the robot’s progression with wide eyes.  She was only five, and could only use the Voice mode for now.  She had tried to take the Browse Mode test and failed it once already, but she was clearly eager to learn.  The older sister, Shannah, watched alertly as well, if only to be first to point out any errors.

    Completing the shopping trip in a personal record time, Jefferie had earned the privilege of having the robot hit the gong.  The items in the cart were already tallied and needed only the parental unit’s assent for the transaction to be finalized, which he subsequently gave.

    The groceries would be delivered later that day, in neat, stackable boxes that the customer could send back with the next delivery, filled with the reusable containers they had emptied. Each category of the items had its particular shape, size, color, and embossment.  Produce came in carefully packed boxes form-fitted to hold varying sizes and shapes.  Everything that came to the house as packaging was returned to the store for reuse and credit.

~~Speculative musings~~

    Ironically, what I see happening to grocery stores and taxicabs in the not-too-distant future will put me out of work.  Maybe I should start advocating for Universal Base Income?

    Virtual shopping may start as a rare or a high-end shopping experience, but will rapidly become standard practice.  It eliminates so many variables and expenses for the merchant!  Shopping via robot proxy will become as normal as, say, using a chip-enabled credit card is today.

    Tomorrow’s grocery store and driving jobs are going to be for a small number of people who know how to design, repair, and program robots.  Most restaurants are sure to go that way as well.  It’s inevitable.  Safer, cleaner, consistently prepared food will come out of buildings that have perhaps a single human inside them. 

    The reusable container thing has been a dream of mine for many years.  Why aren’t there standardized, sturdy, reusable containers for grocery stores?  It’s the best way to buy and store bulk goods - in a clean, airtight container that can be washed and reused, literally hundreds of times, before needing to be retired.  It is a fantastic way to reduce the amount of packaging we throw away. The same type of thing could be used by fast-food restaurants - pack the meals in reusable, sturdy hinged containers, and pick them up with drones when the customer is done with them.   

There are a lot of ways to improve on our efficiency as a race.  We don’t necessarily have to downgrade our quality of life to make that happen, we just have to be smarter about using the resources we have been so blessedly provided on this miraculous planet of ours.  Change is slow in coming; but when it comes down to it, efficiency will win in the end.