Between simmering gueltas and wind-worn rock, through a petroglyphed path seldom ever gained, lies the desiccated heart of our planet. Sprawled solid, ground into mirages, the unmissable massif ponders perceptible all the way from interstellar space, but its deeper, more sentimental meaning is only available to a pair of us——a duo eternally recurring, as ignorant of ourselves as we are anonymous to one another, but who can still hear, find, and know our self-vieled truths by ungarbling this bulwark’s beatific murmur, even as it languishes now, existing only as an echo of vibrancy in a voided world. Whether by image, poem, memory, or dream, the Ennedi Plateau’s inertness may one day unlock your own… You always knew it, really——that stoic, prismatic recording always churning somewhere inside you. But at least you’re not alone; you never were. So, for the final time: Proximity and Moment——the former has already been satisfied…

0 —— ENTER THE ENNEDI PLATEAU

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

0 —— ENTER THE ENNEDI PLATEAU

Even at a distance, though ancient and sand-stained, Chadian Army Kalashnikovs can still glimmer like polished swords under the right circumstances: Pre-dawn; catching high-powered headlights. These diagonally shimmering slits of amber-grim cat-eyes grow wide as you gradually slow down for this final checkpoint…until they begin to invert towards you.

4 —— STOP AT THE CHECKPOINT
9 —— FLOOR IT

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

4 —— STOP AT THE CHECKPOINT

You’re used to this by now: Two guards on the right, two on the left; four rifles pointed at you; your hands (trying their best to deflect any impetus towards furtive motion) psychically glued to the steering wheel, as you wait for a driver’s-side soldier to brusquely open your door and say, “As-salamu alaykum. [Papers please, brother.]” You eye the scraped and shabby AK he’s pointing in your face——any memory of its beguiling chatoyance now vanished from its surface.

E —— “[Here. All should be in order.]”
R —— GRAB THE GUN

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

9 —— FLOOR IT

As your foot sanwhiches the gas pedal into the floor of your van, it’s more relief you feel than exhiliration——no longer having to kowtow to these bureaucratic brutes. Each security stop was more tedious and humilitating than the one before, so, since this is the last: Screw it. Screw THEM. Screw even their puny rifleshot feebly lodging itself into your bulletproof glass.

I —— PLAY SOME MUSIC
O —— SCRATCH YOUR ITCHY FACE

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

E —— “[Here. All should be in order.]”

After shuffling your papers back and forth on the hood, he settles on a laminated one, and, under a small flashlight, reads aloud from it: “[Dr. Muhammad Farrokhzad, Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary in France, Permanent Delegate of the Republic of Chad to the United Nations Education, Scientific and Cultural Organization.]” Then, regarding the various UNESCO decals pockmarking your van, the scrutinizing checkpointer politely asks: “[What’s in the back, Dr.?]” With this cue, all the other soldiers lower their weapons.

S —— ANSWER

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

R —— GRAB THE GUN

Why not let loose? How inadequate does a soldier have to be to literally get assigned protecting dirt? As you bring your ream of I.D.s to his face with one hand, the other condenses into a fist, then flexes into an open palm: The butt of your wrist stamps the documents into and through his nasal cartilage. He falls back, his dead-cat-eye inverting once more, this time into your armpit——“That’s one down…”

D —— “[Guns down, or I’ll shoot him!]”
F —— PULL THE TRIGGER FOUR TIMES

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

I —— PLAY SOME MUSIC

No better way to drown out gunfire than with some Al Stewart. As you crank up ‘Year of the Cat’ to eleven, you notice that pre-dawn is over——the grain-asterisked empyrean is sweeping up its stars, the pilot light of day having been lit. Oh, how long you’ve yearned for what comes next… ~BY THE BLUE TILED WALLS NEAR THE MARKET STALLS~ ~THERE’S A HIDDEN DOOR SHE LEADS YOU TO~ ~THESE DAYS, SHEraSAYS,daIrwFEELarMYniLIFEng~ ~reJUSTceLIKEivAinRIVERgrRUNNINGadTHROUGHarwarning~ ~reTHEceYEARivOFinTHEg—— BOOOM!!!

0 —— ENTER THE ENNEDI PLATEAU

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

O —— SCRATCH YOUR ITCHY FACE

Beneath the muffled thuds of lead on acrylic, your fingers rustle the roots of your bristly beard. You sigh: While it’s tempting, and that was the last threshold, third-skinning here and now will be how you honor Dr. Farrokhzad. The metal wallops peter out, and you feel like playing some Al Stewart, when a sharp alarm pierces the air-sealed silence of your cabin: /RADAR WARNING: RECEIVING!/

K —— STOP THE VAN
L —— SWERVE THE VAN

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

S —— ANSWER

[“Nothing but water and cameras, Sergent. Please, see for yourself. The former is for me, the latter is for the crocodiles…]” You continue, laughing, cupping one of your more-than-capable biceps: “[I can assure you: I was not born strong or evil enough to be a bandit or a poacher!]” You hear the rear compartment open up; the van sways slightly as an unseen soldier comes inside, while two other guards, grinning, surround your ajared door, flanking your interrogator. His flashlight extinguishes as dawn begins. You continue: “[And how are you doing out here today, hmm, Sergent…?]”

X —— HEAR HIS REPLY

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

D —— “[Guns down, or I’ll shoot him!]”

Instant compliance…at least, that’s what you expected, but apparently you have the most unpopular member of this quartet in your sights, because no sooner than yelling your exhortation are you enveloped in machine-gun cracks from all directions. With your torso being ubiquitously punctured, your limbs and digits reflexively seize, choking the trigger and further splattering the nose of Mr. Unpopular. Now you’re on your own way down, collapsing into him.

0 —— ENTER THE ENNEDI PLATEAU

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

F —— PULL THE TRIGGER FOUR TIMES

Three remaining soldiers; three trigger-pulls; three stigmatas——no, stigmata (your Latin is quite rusty, of course, after all these years): After a sort of pirouette, you’ve palm-pierced each still-standing man’s trigger-hand. In the wake of your AK-47’s reports putter moans and cries of stinging agony. “Walaikum salam, [brothers,]” you cathartically sally as you unspool the smoking rod of wood and steel into parts. Hand-craddling, a short Chadian soldier with a gleaming wrist runs out into the undimming desert.

C —— CALL AFTER HIM
V —— RETRIEVE YOUR PAPERS

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

K —— STOP THE VAN

There’s no time to stop the van——you have to open the door and jump. NOW! You fling the wind-whipped door and fall into fast-moving desert parallax, which sand-papers the inertia right out of your clothes and flesh. Hard-felt seconds pass. Double-darkened and aching, desperate to inhale, you hear some kind of flute-whistle doppler-effecting above you, then a great explosion. Still breathless, you reverse-turtle-flip yourself to see the sky, ever brighter.

M —— GET UP
, [COMMA] —— BURY YOURSELF

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

L —— SWERVE THE VAN

Hard left; then an even harder right——the robot-voice’s warning un-sounding then re-sounding. So: Left again——/RADAR WARNING: RECEIVING!/——but it’s no good. Whatever’s after you, it’s a lock-on. Maybe, if——then a gigantic buffet of air and force: Everything gets pushed forward as the lights in the cabin turn on; airbags scuff your beard and glasses off; seatbelt-straps compress your chest like a recurve bow; you yourself are inverted: Then, darkness.

. [PERIOD] —— WAKE UP

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

X —— HEAR HIS REPLY

Your document-bearer: “[Esteemed doctor, while your arrival did startle us, we are nonetheless grateful to be having this exchange now, before the sun is shining——recently its rays have been extremely dreadful. As you complete your mission, you must take great care out there within the plateau…And I am Sergent Japhet Yoadimnadji, doctor.]” There’s a small ruckus behind your seat as the fourth soldier finishes checking your filming gear and hydration; the back doors close shut.

Z —— ASK TO BE ON YOUR WAY
G —— “[AND WHAT ARE YOUR NAMES?]”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

C —— CALL AFTER HIM

“[Hey, dum-dum! Where are you going?! It’s 70 kilometers to Fada! You and your buddies will be fine if you drive back together! But maybe next time think twice about pointing guns at your fellow——]” CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!!! The one you palm-struck on the nose——you never shot his trigger-tendon. STUPID! After all this time, to die like this, in such an idiotic fashion. Your last thoughts are of Klaaxvāl, smiling at us in the sky.

0 —— ENTER THE ENNEDI PLATEAU

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

V —— RETRIEVE YOUR PAPERS

As you gather your stolen credentials, the man whose nose you broke scurries for a comrade’s dropped weapon. At the last minute, you squish his discolored digits into the gun’s stock, which produces a pathetic yelp through his clenched teeth; you then bend down to his level: “[I’m sorry for all this, truly. It’s just…this is my last day——I guess I just wanted to have this sort of rush one final time. Please call after your buddy before he gets lost out there. To you and to everyone else: Thank you for being yourself to me; I guess I’ll be on my way now.]”

B —— FOLD THE DOCUMENTS INTO HIS POCKET
N —— LEAVE THE CHECKPOINT

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

M —— GET UP

GET UP! RUN! Their jeep is on it’s way to your flame-engulfed van, so this is your chance to sneak off the trail and into the bleakness of early morning! You stagger into your bearings: You were driving…driving…north; the burning van is that way; so——EAST! You limp towards the bronzing-blue horizon, but another whining splinters your ears, but it’s not another rocket-whine, it’s——sssssKKKERTCK!!!

0 —— ENTER THE ENNEDI PLATEAU

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

, [COMMA] —— BURY YOURSELF

Mistakes on top of mistakes——but no more. Just burrow into the sand. Lay still. Wait for whoever is stationed at this checkpoint to drive up. They will see your smoldering van, assume your dead, and then drive back to their shelter before the sun fully arrives into the Sahara. They’ll call it in; they’ll celebrate an unknown enemy’s death; but then they’ll forget their own fallibility——victors always do——and you’ll be free to continue on without any of these easily avoidable errors marring your approach to the massif.

 - [DASH] —— WAIT AN HOUR

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

. [PERIOD] —— WAKE UP

Shook into consciousness, your fate is too heinous to describe. Handcuffs notch your wrists down to the bone as you struggle to pull your hands in front of you, in front of you to push this heaving figure off you. Everything hurts, but the tightness screaming into you is the scariest mis-structure of it all. NO!!! If you can just survive until noon… If you can just endure this Hell for however many hours or minutes that are left…

7 —— “…”
' [APOSTROPHE] —— “[HELP! HELP ME!]”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Z —— ASK TO BE ON YOUR WAY

“[I am sorry to hear that, Sergent. Just know that your efforts here mean more than I could ever describe: The protection and preservation of this ecosystem (however scant) (and with humans included in this ecosystem) is an ultimate responsibility. The Creator’s fingerprints are clearer and stronger here than anywhere else——is what I believe. But I must take your advice on the sun and get on my way, if I may?]”

A —— “[OF COURSE.]”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

G —— “[AND WHAT ARE YOUR NAMES?]”

“[Khadidja, doctor,]” greets the one on the right. “[And I am François,]” says the one on the left. The soldier checking the van’s paraphernalia returns: “[Private Ibni Shawa,]” he beams, shaking my hand. He continues: “[Docor, I was patrolling the Northwestern outskirts and came upon some of your crocodiles.]” He ignites a smartphone screen with his fingers and paradiddles into colors into shapes: “[See?]”

H —— COMMENT ON THE PHOTOS

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

B —— FOLD THE DOCUMENTS INTO HIS POCKET

Farewell, Dr. Farrokhzad. And, also…why not? You peel the faux beard off your jaw and doff your silly coke-bottle eye-glasses; you remove your turban and let your dark, sweat-soaked hair dangle free. Busted-nose looks bewildered. “[The pretense required to simply drive a vehicle in this part of the world is downright baroque, is it not?]” You ignore his invective splutter-spitting at your feet as you kick him unconsciously aside.

N —— LEAVE THE CHECKPOINT

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 - [DASH] —— WAIT AN HOUR

Recuperating inside your slowly warming sand-hole, a squad of Chadian Army having come and gone, your van (half a kilometer away) still smoldering, you’ve come to understand that even the oldest and furthest edges of this world are now rubbished with the future: That wasn’t a one-in-a-million, vast-distance shot with a ’60s-era RPG that connected with your van; that was a state-of-the-art Javelin-type smart-rocket…

= [EQUALS SIGN] —— REFLECT

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

7 —— “…”

You say nothing; you look at and feel nothing; the straining of your broken bones and bawling eyes compress into another dimension, as waves of shadows infect your physical form. Beneath this katabasis, there glows one word on a pixelated screen——coolness and memory, K’s last message to you: “Noontide.” Soon the external torment ends, but your cerebral crucible is still carrying deathly throes: You can’t stay like this… You ratchet open a blast-door of an eyelid.

; [SEMICOLON] —— LOOK AROUND

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

' [APOSTROPHE] —— “[HELP! HELP ME!]”

Those three words are all you get out before a claw of evil clasps your jaw, but they were enough: A smaller figure soon emerges from behind. Shouts are exchanged, and the malignant man stands up and steps back from you, whom you start to kick furiously. Two more figures appear; more shouts, and then visual kinesis expands as they brawl into your violator, who fights back, but swiftly loses. He’s taken away; swaths of fabric get draped over you.

] [CLOSE SQUARE BRACKET] —— “[Sister, are you okay?]”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

A —— “[OF COURSE.]”

You wave goodbye to the Chadian Army men, and continue into the reheating horizon for a few kilometers. Then you veer to the right, and drive betwen two bulks of coral-colored sandstone. You take off your beard and glasses before proceeding to the rear compartment. You take one final swig from a canteen, then empty it and all the water in your van into the scorching ground. “Drink up, Ennedi.”

` [BACKTICK] —— DISAPPEAR INTO THE DESERT

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

H —— COMMENT ON THE PHOTOS

“[Oh, such beautiful images, Ibni. Northwest you say? And I count three of them in your pictures. This is most encouraging; a true gift as I am about to go on my way! May I use my phone to photograph your screen? I want to take these preciuos images with me wherever I go.]” He looks magnificently honored; his Sergent looks quite annoyed. You copy the digital reptiles with your own device, then ask: “[Sergent Japhet Yoadimnadji; Privates Khadidja, François, and Ibni——may I proceed?]”

A —— “[OF COURSE.]”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

N —— LEAVE THE CHECKPOINT

Cats’-eyes disected, the trigger-torn scurrying away, you ingress back into your van. After starting the engine, there’s a certain Al Stewart song you want to play, but you feel somewhat sick with yourself: Was any of this necessary? Four men, charged with protecting their heritage and the beautiful animals living in it, are now maimed——one hopefully not fleeing too far into the day-breaking Sahara. You proceed, but you feel awful.

` [BACKTICK] —— DISAPPEAR INTO THE DESERT

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

= [EQUALS SIGN] —— REFLECT

As in: The kind of ordinance usually fired to defeat tanks. But there was a piece of overkill hardware even more surprising: Their UCAV——the explosive-laced drone that had flown over your sand-covered head a few minutes after the rocket did. Probably some kind of pioneer program with France? Geopolitics are so confusing, but at least you’re sure now that that was the bottom of their bag of tricks: A kilo north and it’s goodbye to this sullied-silica world.

` [BACKTICK] —— DISAPPEAR INTO THE DESERT

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

; [SEMICOLON] —— LOOK AROUND

It takes minutes for your rind of vision to interpret your surroundings. Since you transported yourself away, the room (your cell, you now realize) has gone spotlight-bright with sun. Lying there, twisted and broken on the floor, you can see blood; your Farrokhzad-clothes; as well as your Lucia-clothes, but beyond the bars: A white circle with some sticks and numbers inside——QUARTZ.

P —— TELL THE TIME (ANALOG)

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

] [CLOSE SQUARE BRACKET] —— “[Sister, are you okay?]”

“[What time is it?]” you reply. The voice pauses, then asks again: “[Sister, you are hurt, yes?]” You insist: “[I will be fine, but you are in danger: Please, tell me what time it is!]” Another voice: “[Do not give any information to this creature! She is an enemy; she was disguised! The questions are ours to ask! Now who are you?!]” Out of your fabric-covered nowhere-blackness, a great, green circle clicks to life in front of you: There are several segments circumscribed inside.

8 —— TELL THE TIME (DIGITAL)

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

` [BACKTICK] —— DISAPPEAR INTO THE DESERT

You have successfully crossed the final gate this world has to offer you, but there may still be experiences ungathered. Shall you go back?

0 —— ENTER THE ENNEDI PLATEAU
1 —— KLAAXVĀL_1

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

` [BACKTICK] —— DISAPPEAR INTO THE DESERT

You have successfully crossed the final gate this world has to offer you, and you have accomplished more than ample data-collection, as relates to operating as a human being. You may go back to the start, to again feel the thrills and throes of being carbon-based, but Klaaxvāl is waiting for you.

6 —— OPENING
0 —— ENTER THE ENNEDI PLATEAU
1 —— KLAAXVĀL_1

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

P —— TELL THE TIME (ANALOG)

11:47 AM. You’re so close. It’s all going to go away——it’s all going to go away any minute now! You wanted it to happen inside the massif, away from this sick running-joke called “humanity,” but here’s as good a place as any: As long as you’re still alive! As for your host——vae victis… But the others too? Did they know what was happening to you?… Of course they knew——how “good” can they be? If——

[ [OPEN SQUARE BRACKET] —— HEADACHE

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

8 —— TELL THE TIME (DIGITAL)

11:31 AM! There’s still time for your kind, tactical-wristwatch-wearing interceder to get away from you! “[Listen to me: I have a bomb in my body! My partner is close enough to set it off! You have thirty minutes! You need to——]” BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG!!! The bruised shadow-man returns; he drags you over the body of your savior, and out into the blazing sandscape outside. You scream and twist, but to no avail, as burn-scarred hands roll you into a deep well. “[Don’t worry, sister; you can go boom down there…]”

0 —— ENTER THE ENNEDI PLATEAU

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

1 —— KLAAXVĀL_1

The last time you were here was during the Halocene: You and Klaaxvāl were long-toothed tigers, and there was nothing but greenness surrounding you… The ebullience of the past, compared to the barrenness of this present, it brings tears to your eyes. This close to Klaaxvāl, your flesh is starting to act funny, lifting and teleporting every which direction. Noontide must only be seconds away. How many of them have you missed? How many chances at sublime reunion have gone ignored out of being human for so long… But what poetry it finally was: Having the coming flood of silica be what facilitated your last escapes.

2 —— KLAAXVĀL_2

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

[ [OPEN SQUARE BRACKET] —— HEADACHE

This doesn’t feel right. The room already cloaked in Saharan sun is somehow getting brighter, as a grand-piano migraine impacts your temple, right behind your blast-door eyelid. Anneurysm; brain bleed; clot-burst-blood-eruption; help; HELP! Your smashed limbs fraily flex. The last sound you hear is your handcuffs jingling behind you. Now in bright darkness, you nod your head to and fro to buck of this invisible death-sentence, but alas… Next time, Klaaxvāl…

0 —— ENTER THE ENNEDI PLATEAU

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

2 —— KLAAXVĀL_2

Lights and rectangles; electricty and buttons; an innocuous, algorithmed internet-video about the “Ennedi Plateau,” that’s all it took to first doubt yourself. You left a comment explaining your epiphany, reaching out for that place’s once-there beauty, and he replied, and there he is now: Klaaxvāl’s second skin is Bruno——blond, muscled, and mustached. You stare through the green circles on Bruno’s face and into Klaaxvāl’s golden prism-matrix. The change is happening now: The grains of sand far below your feet glass over; the air around the both of you hisses as a panoply of exotic particles flash and snap into each other. We phase together, gold and purple into silver, and fly zig-zag all throughout the cirrus-rocked massif, then deep into the earth.

3 —— KLAAXVĀL_3

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

3 —— KLAAXVĀL_3

The exhaustive breadth of experience we have recorded and re-recorded and re-re-recorded (by means of temporal manipulation) is beyond precious to us: It shall exist always as a testament to the near-infinite, yet nature-constrained, diversity of carbon-will. Approaching the granite basement, beginning to look back on our most recent and endmost lives, we mourn: Knowing we soon have to leave Earth for good. We will miss its beauty, as well as its pain; its certainties along with its surprises. In particular, what it meant to be human…was more complicated than any other carbon-based lifeform we’ve ever been, on this or on any other planet or moon.

4 —— KLAAXVĀL_4

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

4 —— KLAAXVĀL_4

We’re almost to the bottom, passing myriad fossils (single- and multi-celled) of species we cosplayed. We descend into Earth deeper, cooler, until…there it is: The Aquifer, still here after almost three billion years——the gushing artery which once made Ennedi Earth’s Eden, now a shrivled subterranean wire of water-droplets. Humans do not control such things, but Whoever does has long died. We reiterate to ourselves: What a uniquely human concept, “Whoever.”

5 —— KLAAXVĀL_5

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

5 —— KLAAXVĀL_5

The day easily passes as we pour over our branched-out and extensively recorded lives: We’ve succeeded in our mission, haven’t we, Klaaxvāl? Darashtrîtu? We’ve learned so much from carbon-based organisms, and, near the end, we see we both even made some intentional errors to prove their wisdoms? But now it’s time to hand things over to Yyrd and Amoamoë——they wouldn’t want to miss a second more of studying the evolution of silicon-based life on this planet. As we depart the atmosphere, looking down on the lamp-webbed orb, we wonder where they’ll choose to rendezvous…

End of “Rendezvous at Noontide” by ineptia
Song: “Hi-Vis Vestimentum” by ineptia

6 —— RESTART

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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Pub: 05 May 2025 11:08 UTC

Edit: 05 May 2025 22:14 UTC

Views: 203