Microstory 635: Justice of the Free

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Perhaps one of the most controversial aspects of our great galaxy is our justice system. Or rather our lack there of. Our ancestors decided long before Fostea was seeded that they didn’t want to be told what to do. Too long had they lived under the boot of the establishment, which regulated everything from business to health. Honestly, the bureaucratic nonsense sounds exhausting, and many modern-day Fosteans can’t understand how anyone lived like that. Still, and this may be an unpopular opinion, a lot can go wrong when anyone is free to do whatever they want. Though, most would argue that no one is truly free as long as they are opposed by others. Everyone suffers consequences for their actions, but those in power always exercise more autonomy and discretion. You have every right to cause harm to someone else, for whatever reason. What you must also remember, then, is that they too carry with them this same privilege. Up until now, however, these adjudications were processed on an ad hoc and individual basis. People enacted their revenge against those who had somehow wronged them, only if they had the power to do so. No single body has ever been responsible for such a thing, but Lightseers see things a little differently. We too believe in natural—rather than arbitrary—justice, but we believe that only the Light of Truth has the right to make these decisions. Since light obviously can’t presently vocalize its thoughts on any given matter, we lowly humans take the next best thing; Sacred Savior Sotiren Zahir. The taikon prophesies that he will take his place as First Judge, creating a new institution of justice, called The Court of Light. It will be signed to bring justice upon all who are free that he believes should not be. And he will hold this position until such time when the Light of Truth can manifest itself in a more comprehensible form.

Microstory 634: Sores Upon the Disloyal

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One thing I’ve not mentioned before is the unfortunate presence of The Blind Ones. Once a sect of Lightseed, these people broke away from our religion to form their own. At first they only believed themselves to be unworthy of The Sacred Light. But then their terrible thoughts formed a tumor, and became cancerous. We needed to remove them from our ranks, and so they were exiled. We thought they would eventually destroy themselves, but they have managed to survive in the sludge of their own twisted beliefs. The Blind Ones do not call themselves that for pure metaphorical reasons. Their system is based on a series of levels. Rising up requires becoming more devoted to their lies. They literally hide themselves away from light. In fact, they’re based out of a tidally locked planet—not unlike Oirpelne—called Derkaz, living primarily on the darker side of the terminator line. These areas are dark enough to shroud the environment, but also warm enough to survive. The concept is to rid oneself of light sources little by little, until reaching the ultimate darkness: actual blindness. They undergo a surgery that removes their eyes from their bodies, so that they will never be able to see again. It is then that they can travel beyond Derkaz to recruit others. Of course, this technique is amazingly inefficient, causing their numbers to have plateaued about a century after their beginnings. They are angry and bitter about our great truth being discovered by more and more people each day. They consider themselves to be of the one true religion, even though we know that honor to be ours. It is for this reason, however, that they are convinced that many artifacts from our past also belong to them, including the Bow and Crown of Bertok. In retaliation for what they think to be the theft of these items, a group of Blind Ones attacked one of our transport ships, ultimately killing everyone inside. What they didn’t realize was that this ship was also carrying a particularly nasty virus that they accidentally released upon themselves. The disease didn’t manifest itself until the attackers had returned to Derkaz, spreading it across nearly their entire population. Most Blind Ones broke out in festering sores within two days. They didn’t die, but their spirits have faded, and they are no longer a threat to the Light.

Microstory 633: Steal the Bow and Crown of Bertok

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In the explanation for a later taikon, we’ll get into more detail about what kind of person Eido Bertok was, and how he impacted the cause. One thing to understand about the situation, however, is that there is a difference between Fosteans and Lightseers. Not everyone in this galaxy believes in The Light, even though we were all saved by it. We were all brought here out of our hellish prison in the Lactean galaxy, and we all benefit from what our new home has to offer. We don’t really understand why not everyone reveres our great founder as much as we do, but maybe that’s part of it. Maybe it’s our responsibility to remind these nonbelievers of that light of truth, and once we do, we’ll find some kind of paradise of freedom. Though no exact endgame to these taikon is given anywhere in the Book of Light, many suspect that paradise of freedom to be the goal. Even though not everyone is a Lightseer, there are those who appreciate our beginnings on a more historical and academic level. They admire Sotiren Zahir, even whilst ignoring his sanctity, and strive to learn from his teachings in other ways. It was one group of these people that managed to create a museum of ancient relics from those early times. Two of these artifacts once belonged to Eido Bertok. There are many representations of Bertok in Fostean art, but nearly all of them depict him with his signature bow and crown. Though he was not as involved in the military efforts as Eido Ivanka, he was a bit of a fashion guru. He wore an ornate crown, and carried an empty bow with him wherever he went, no matter the occasion. They were part of him; extensions of his self. Taking them away would be like removing someone’s soul. It simply cannot be done without inflicting permanent damage. Upon Bertok’s death, his descendants kept them on display in their Clan Hall for decades. Due to a terrible turn of events involving a disgraced and nearly exiled family member, and a clerical error, these items were eventually passed into the Museum of Galactic History on Merek. They have been sitting there, collecting proverbial dust, ever since. Until now. Under orders of Eido Ivanka, the museum was raided; the bow and crown retrieved, along with a few other important artifacts that belong in the hands of true Lightseers. Now they sit behind locked doors at a secret location, waited to be bequested to Bertok’s replacement.

Microstory 632: Beginning of the Conquest

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With young Vrasim Kappel fully capable of taking over the responsibility of integrating the Dodulkori refugees into the greater galaxy on the Lightseed front, Eido Ivanka was free to move on to more pressing matters. The Book of Light, in main text passages, speaks of someone known only as The Instigator. This person, and this person alone, is capable of deliberately starting the process of a taikon without necessarily any provocation. The Book does not say who this person is, or how they will show themselves, but only that they will become apparent over time. Eido Ivanka, after having been freed from her silent prison in the Anter system, took this role automatically. It is unknown if she knew she was meant to be the Instigator, or if she was just following her instincts, and turned out to fit the bill. While most taikon should be discovered incidentally, rather than started, there are a few taikon that require this instigation. One of these is in regards to the beginning of the conquest. Unlike the twelfth taikon, the thirty-second was never lost, but it has remained hidden to anyone who might be at risk of revealing its secrets to unfitting nonbelievers. It speaks in great depth of what must happen in order for the Lightseers to take over the galaxy...and quash all rivals. Though all Lightseers are aware of its existence, only the elite; the Highlightseers, are ever given the full text. Otherwise, the enemy would know all our plans for domination, and our tactics would be useless. It is these Highlightseers, along with Ivanka, who are responsible for carrying out the instructions for the grand conquest. The first step is a declaration of war for all to hear. The second...is to steal back the bow and crown of Eido Bertok. His replacement is going to need them later.

Microstory 631: A Child Made Wise

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Vrasim Kappel was a refugee of the Dodulko War. Throughout his whole, yet short, life, he had known nothing but war. The foxhole he and his family lived in was in such a dangerous part of the world, that the only times they ever left was to forage for food, of which there was little. No one in his family had been educated, and since they were nowhere near a safe school, neither was Vrasim. He didn’t have very much knowledge, he wasn’t particularly intelligent, and he hadn’t accumulated any life experience. He was, in all meanings of the term, a child. So people were shocked when he suddenly became a leader to his people. It started out small, as he would give unsolicited advice to people nearby who were trying to navigate their new lives in civilization. They had all spent so much time in their little sheltered bubble, that they didn’t understand how things were meant to work in the galaxy at large. No one really had any money; they had always just stolen what they needed, so they needed someone to teach them the basic concept of economics. They didn’t have very advanced technology, or sometimes even running water. Somehow, Vrasim Kappel automatically knew how these things worked. He helped his fellow Dodulkori figure out things that most people in the galaxy take for granted. And he did it without having been taught these things himself. They called it a miracle, we Lightseers call it the fulfillment of a taikon. A child, through no logical course of action, has been made wise. Vrasim would later go on to become the primary voice of his people, and of those who once opposed them. Ye, as the light shines upon us, it shines upon others. All who accept this light, will see.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 22, 2137

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There were only seven of them now. Well...eight, if you counted Dar’cy, but she was only sixteen months old. Marcy didn’t necessarily count since she wasn’t part of the original group, and her expiation was already complete. Mateo didn’t really even count either, because he certainly wouldn’t have to do an expiation for himself. At least he assumed he wouldn’t. Maybe the last one would be a sudden death round where he had to stop himself from being taken out of time. After today and tomorrow, there should only be five expiations left. Hopefully only four, though, since he had always really hoped Arcadia would not go so far as to take Leona from him. It wasn’t really clear, though, and he didn’t want to put any ideas in her head.

“My grandfather,” Marcy began as they were eating breakfast, “was a runner, along with his later wife, Agent. While she went on to produce the web broadcast for the City Frenzy, he kept running it. And he never stopped. Everyone who had tried that crazy race kind of had their own thing. Some were also dancers, while others were into martial arts. Some did parkour, while most were just trying to get through it as fast as possible. There were even a few walkers, who made the organization a lot of money, because people kept watching long after the majority of the racers were done. Alexi Lanka was different, though. He had a lot of anger, from his upbringing, from some trauma, and likely some neurological imbalances. Running gave him a way to clear out his energy, so he didn’t have enough left over to do something he regretted. When he hurt his leg in the last competition Kansas City ever did, his family feared for his temperament. If he couldn’t run, what would he do with himself? How would he behave now?

“Well, things ended up better than anyone thought. His physical therapist happened to enjoy gardening in her freetime. She decided to sort of step outside her purview, and get him into it as well, even though he hadn’t shown any particular interest in something like that before. As it turned out, gardening was a million times better at handling Alexi’s anger than any amount of exercise ever could. He took to it passionately, and no matter what he did with his life, it had to do with plantlife. He worked at an arboretum, and on a farm, and at a nursery, and all kinds of other places. During his time in between jobs, he even made frequent trips to South America to help protect the dwindling rainforests.”

“I guess we’ll be gardening then,” Aura said.

“Yes,” Mario agreed, “but under what exact circumstances?”

“She’ll probably force us to plant poison ivy, hemlock, and other horrible things,” Darko presumed.

“Nothing so ridiculous,” Arcadia explained, having been there for God knows how long. “You’ll just be doing what he did.” She lifted her bag from behind the log and set it in between her legs. “I have some seeds for you, and you are going to plant them. Then I’m going to bring someone in who can adjust the speed of time, so the plants grow faster.”

“You can’t just do that yourself?” Mateo asked.

“I cannot,” Arcadia answered. “I’m immortal, I can teleport, and I can manipulate memories. That’s it.”

“But you’ve done so much more than that. You created that merge point which Leona and Brooke got stuck on the other side of.”

“That wasn’t me. Whenever I need something like that done, I extract someone to do it for me. Ya know, I guess I can do that too. Immortal, teleporter, memory manipulator...time extractor.”

Maybe Mateo could use this knowledge against her one day. She wasn’t acting like she had slipped up by telling him, but that she couldn’t see it becoming a problem for her. Maybe it never would.

Arcadia continued, “Mateo, you remember after the Gilbert expiation, when we briefly met in that other dimension?”

Oh, he hadn’t told anyone about. They had made a pact to never talk about the expiation when they all went back in time in other people’s bodies, and changed their own histories. “Uh...y—yeah,” he stuttered.

“Oh, right, that was meant to be a secret. Sorry.” She seemed a little sorry. “Well, to those of you who’ve never been there, we went to The Garden Dimension. This is where we keep samples of every plant that has ever existed, in any reality. Time travel can often have an unnoticed effect on biological evolution, and a few people don’t really like that part of it, so they protect these specimens.” She presented a few random seed pouches from her bag. “I asked the Horticulturalists to come and give you a workshop on a few of the more unusual breeds that don’t exist anymore, but they declined.”

Darko scoffed. “They declined? When has that ever stopped you.”

“Oh, all the time,” Arcadia told him. “I rarely force people to do anything. From what you see, I’m a big control freak one hundred perfect of the time, but that’s not who I am normally. These expiations are important to me, but they do not define me. This is only the third time I’ve done them.”

Mateo believed that, but didn’t say it out loud. “So those seeds are from that other dimension?”

“Yes,” Arcadia said, slapping her knees and standing up. “We’re gonna see how they fair on a different planet.” She nudged that bag with her foot. “Choose whichever ones you want, and where you want to plant them. There are some documents in here too, which give you a rundown of what plants can survive next to which others. You wouldn’t want a black kudzu right next to a North American minkle, would you? Am I right? Up top.” She held her palm in the air, and she wasn’t going to let them go until someone didn’t leave her hanging.

Mateo broke down, as it was painful to watch her frozen there—dumbfaced—and gave her a pity highfive.

These expiations were actually kind of fun, and people were seemingly rather into it. It might not just have been that they were a little lighter; not so intense, but also that they had more of an obligation to help someone who wasn’t one of them. Fail your family, then okay, they’ll forgive you. But if you fail a stranger who who was trusting you...that  can hurt. People crowded around the duffel bag, and started looking through the seed pouches, all of which came with example photos. Leona immediately snatched up the descriptions, charts, and graphs that explained just what the plants were, how they needed to be tended to, and what problems could arise if they were too close to others. The two she found most interesting had actually developed a symbiotic relationship between them. The cotton fandin would carry the seeds of the lakwheat, along with its own, through the wind. In return, the lakwheat’s thorns would protect the cotton fandin from certain animals that eat it, but don’t propagate it. Of course, those two needed to be planted near each other, which Marcy was more than happy to do.

A few hours later, everyone was really happy with what they had created. They now had a large dedicated garden, probably about the size of a three school buses next to each other. Right now, it just looked like a big patch of dirt and straw, but Arcadia was evidently bringing in someone who was going to help. With the snap of her fingers, a woman appeared. She was wearing one of those chain things that connected her wrists to her ankles. One of the primary security guards that Mateo had encountered over the decades was escorting her.

“What the hell is this?” Aura asked, noticing Marcy becoming particularly protective of her child.

“She’s who we need to speed up time,” Arcadia replied, not seeing a problem. “I assure you, she is perfectly harmless in those things.”

“Obviously she can’t be harmless, or she wouldn’t be in them at all, or here,” Mario pointed out. “If she can accelerate the garden’s time, she can use it against someone. What did she do? Who is she?”

“Well,” the woman said, “who I am is standing in front of you, so you could just ask me directly.”

“Okay,” Darko said, “who are you?”

“My name is Jesimula ‘Jesi’ Utkin, and I only want to help. I’ve only ever wanted to help.”

“You look familiar,” Leona said. “Why can’t I place you?”

Jesi nodded in understanding. “Our friend manipulated your perception during that Easter Island showdown; the one where you killed Keanu? I was there. We were all there. Dozens of copies of each of us were there.”

“Oh,” was all Leona said.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Arcadia said. “I won’t let her harm anyone, least of all the baby.” She nodded to the guard, who began removing Jesi’s chains. “She’ll do her thing, and then she’ll leave. If she tries anything, anything, I’ll be right here.” She addressed Jesi. “I’m also not alone. I have some help tucked away, and they’re not as nice as me,” she warned.

As Jesi was preparing to use her time powers, Mateo’s mind drifted to Horace and Paige. They probably knew who she was, and had dealt with her a long time ago. Would they be comforted knowing where she was now? Where were they now? That was something he felt he deserved to know. No, that wasn’t enough, he needed to see them, to make sure they were okay. Proof of life.

Jesi approached the garden with her arms raised. Everyone else instinctively stepped back. She developed a semitransparent bubble that was warping the space around it, then she made it grow until the target area was completely covered. They watched as water formed inside of the bubble, providing nourishment for the seeds, and then the seedlings, and then fullgrown plants. They started to rise in the air, spreading out, covering every square inch with colored beauty.

“That’s enough,” Arcadia ordered.

Jesi popped the time bubble, and lowered her arms. Then she presented her wrists to the guard so he could take her away, feigning humility. Mateo didn’t know exactly what she had done to deserve to be locked up, but she admitted to being part of Paige’s kidnapping, so she was certainly no angel.

“All right,” Arcadia said to the guard. “Take her away.”

“Wait, one last thing,” Jesi pleaded.

“What is it?”

Jesi looked at Mateo, for some reason. “Don’t worry about the 2025 pathogen,” she said. “I took care of it.” What?”

“The guard pushed a button on his remote, and they both disappeared.

Now they were all just staring at Arcadia. “Okay, get back to work,” she demanded. “You have to nurture and protect these plants until the end of the expiations. If anything significant happens to them, Alexi is never coming back.”

While the rest of them were tending to the garden, Mateo pulled Arcadia aside. “What was she talking about, with the 2025 pathogen?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Arcadia said.

Fine. He could deal with that later. “Listen, I need to see Horace and Paige, to make sure you’ve not killed them, or something.”

“I promise that I’ve not.”

“Still...I need you to do this for me.”

She nodded. “Very well. But not now. Tomorrow will be better; for you, for me, for them. And it will fit nicely with your last charity expiation.”

“Very well,” Mateo echoed.

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The Puzzle of Escher Bradley: Chapter Two

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Tyler and Cheryl Bradley stand at my two flanks. She’s calmed down by now, and he’s fully surrendered to my authority. Neither, however, believe that they’re standing in front of a house right now. I can see it plain as day. The grayish hue, the bay windows in one of the rooms upstairs. The perfectly trimmed hedges, evenly spaced along a cedar mulchway. The purplish door, that actually isn’t a door at the moment...because it is ajar.

“I still don’t see it,” Tyler says. “You’re meant to be standing right in front of it now?”

“I am, yes,” I reply. “And so are you. Here, take a look at this.” I step up to to the patio and wait for their reactions.

“Okay, you walked forward,” Cheryl notes. “What does that mean?”

“I’m a least a foot above you right now,” I proclaim, nearly at the point of losing my cool. “You’re looking upwards to make eye contact. You don’t feel your head tilting?”

The other two look at each other, then semi-simultaneously claim that they don’t.

I frustratingly walk in the house, showing a level of confidence against any invisible people who may be living in their invisible house. I don’t have time to check whether anyone else is in here, though, because I’m trying to prove a point. I grab the door and move it to a crack, so I can still hear the people I’m talking to, but they should no longer be able to see me. “How about now?” I ask, with a raised voice.

“You don’t have to yell,” Tyler informs him. “You’re standing right there.”

“Still,” Cheryl adds.

“No, I’m not!” Then I hear a noise behind me, so I release my gun and lift it up in defense.

“What is it?” Cheryl asks.

“Go back home,” I order.

The house is the cleanest I’ve ever seen. I’ve been in empty houses that people were trying to sell before, but they’re never perfect. There doesn’t appear to be so much as one speck of dust, on any surface. It’s not like someone cleaned it extremely thoroughly...but more like it’s impossible to bemire in the first place. The noise continues from upstairs. I need to clear this level first, so I walk around, but keep my head on a swivel. I walk through the front parlor. As with everywhere else, apparently, nothing is in it. There is a mural of purple roses over the fireplace, though, which is an unusual spot of color in this otherwise muted building. I pass into the kitchen, and open a few cabinets and drawers to get a clear picture of what this place might be. Empty, but just as clean as the floors and walls. There’s no refrigerator, and no space for a range or dishwasher. It’s a pretty modern house, so why would they build it without the ability to install basic first world appliances?

I cross back into the foyer, and start walking underneath the staircase, into what would probably be used as a study, maybe the dining room. It’s a little warmer in here than anywhere else. It’s only then that I notice something strange. I quickly walk back and forth, but no, I’m not mistaken. There is no backdoor; just a wall. What kind of suburban home isn't built with a backdoor? Then I notice something odd about the wall itself. It has this shimmery glow to it. Maybe light from an opposite window is dancing on it, but it doesn’t seem to alter as I move. I should be blocking some of that light, unless, that is, it’s not from the opposite side at all. The noise from upstairs gets loud, but I still can’t place what it might be. I ignore the wall for now and continue my walk around the perimeter; all the way through the study, into the living room. I can tell it’s the living room, because there is what’s obviously a television stand on one side. It’s the only piece of furniture I’ve seen thus far. I ignore this too, however, and head for the stairs.

I notice that the couple is still standing in front of a house they can’t see. They can probably still see me, and must be so incredibly confused. What does it look like to them as I’m holding my gun out, walking up to the sky, step by step? Do they see me hovering in the air, or do I just look like a crazy person who keeps lifting his legs, but going nowhere? Maybe I am crazy. Maybe none of this is really happening. Maybe I never woke up this morning. But if I’m crazy, and I’m also out here right now, in the real world, then I’m not the only one. Tyler still thinks their son exists, and is missing, and Cheryl still doesn’t. Maybe we’re all crazy, and maybe I should have never moved from Kansas City.

As soon as I step up to the top landing, the noise stops, but that’s okay. I can tell where it was. I make cursory glances into the other rooms before walking into the right one. There’s nothing in here either, which is normal for this house, but I had hoped to find something. I had hoped there would be some clue that I could follow. If Escher Bradley isn’t in here, and nor is anything else but a TV stand and a mural, then what am I supposed to do?

I check the closet, sure that I would find nothing of significance, but I do. It’s not a closet at all, but an elevator. Or maybe a dumbwaiter. It’s kind of small for the former, but large for the latter. It’s the only soiled part in the whole house. It’s made of metal bars, with painting chipping off, that show the barren rotting wood wall behind it. The floor is grated, but with hexagonal holes, instead of squarish ones. It’s far too dark for me to see below. But if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that there is no way it goes all the way down to the first floor. I would have seen it. The access should be against the corner of the study, but nothing is there. In fact, if there were something there, it would have blocked the entrance to the room. No, this isn’t an elevator, or a dumbwaiter. It’s just a prop. It has to be. Yet this is where the investigation is taking me, so I step in, and press the one button.

The accordion door closes, and I start moving. But instead of going down, I go up. Okay, I guess I haven’t checked the attic, so I guess that’s what the explanation for it is. Or maybe not, because I don’t ever reach it. I just keep seeing walls and steel beams slowly falling downwards as I continue. The elevator never stops, and I never see any other rooms. It occurs to me that I’m the only one who could even see the house. But perhaps there were parts of it that even I couldn’t see. Perhaps it isn’t a house at all, but that’s just the first obstacle. The government (or aliens) could have built this as a security defense. You can only get into the house if you can see it. And you can only get to the top floors if you can see the elevator. I don’t know. What even the hell is going on? How far up am I going?

Finally, after about a half hour of this, the elevator stops. It looks all too familiar, though. I know that I kept moving, and that I was going ever upwards. Barring any crazy jedi mind trick, or a hologram, I should have gone at least a hundred floors, but I haven’t. I haven’t gone anywhere. This is the exact same room I started on. Goddammit.

The accordion is stuck closed, so I just break it to get out of this wretched machine. I slam the door behind me and leave the room. I hop back downstairs and leave the house. The lead is here. If Escher disappeared, it has something to do with this impossible house. But I don’t know what it is. I can’t figure this out. So I’m just going to leave. I’m going to get in my car, drive back to the station, and ask for help. I have to find someone who sees what I see. I need someone I can talk this through with, or I’m just going to go in circles, just like that stupid elevator.

I walk out of the house and breathe in some fresh, cold air. Cheryl and Tyler are still standing on the walkway, waiting for me. I pass them and start pacing around the yard. “I’m sorry, I say. I didn’t see anything. I mean, I saw some things, but I didn’t see him. It gets more and more bizarre the deeper you go. It makes even less sense beyond you two not even being able to see it. I’m going to go get help, and come back. Or maybe I should just call them on the radio. It’ll be harder to face and convince them in person. I dunno. I’m so sorry, though.” I wait for their response, but there’s none. They don’t move. No, they literally don’t move. They’re standing in the exact same spots as they were before. “Tyler?” I approach them. “Cheryl?”

They don’t answer. But they are moving, ever so slightly. So they’re not quite frozen. Either they’re in a slower time, or I’m in a faster one. I try to touch Cheryl’s shoulder, but can’t. My hand just passes right through her. I’m not really here. Maybe I’m dead, maybe I’m not. But I am not here. I’m in some other world, and it’s just that I can see the real world. I start jogging back up to the house, desperate to get back to the elevator, but then I stop. I have to stay until I find Escher. Though each of the couple believes conflicting things about the boy, two things I don’t doubt is that Escher Bradley exists...and that he’s somewhere here.

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Microstory 630: New Home of the Mourners

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In the midst of the peace negotiations between the two rivals of the Dodulko War, the dust began to settle. People from both sides started realizing what life could be like if they didn’t have to live in bunkers, dark stations, and other fortifications. In the end, they were all just looking for a new home. Unfortunately for them, everything they had was either destroyed, or completely unrecognizable as something any decent human being would want to keep. Luckily, a new planet recently opened up that they could use, and Lightseers were in the perfect position to give it to them. Once all of the Narvalian Gardbirds were destroyed, Narvali could once again become a place of beauty and stability. Highlightseers were debating and discussing what the planet could be used for when someone came to the realization that it already had a destiny. The Book of Light promises that there shall be a “new home for the mourners”. At only one line, the passage for the thirtieth taikon is the shortest of all. No one has ever been sure who the mourners are, where they’re supposed to live, or any other logistical approach to making this happen. It would seem, however, that the present survivors of the Dodulko War are uniquely qualified to serve this function, and at the perfect time. They are certainly mourners, and they certainly need a new home, so why don’t we just give them one of ours? Of course, this does not come free of cost. There is no such thing as a true gift in the galaxy of Fostea. We don’t believe in them. The mourners will have to work for their right to live in this orbital paradise, and they will have to learn to share it with those who were once their enemies. The planet provides many resources, all of which will be welcome across the galaxy, and could fetch them a healthy price. The Lightseers will act as facilitators for these transactions, and take our due commission. As fate would have it, the achievement of this taikon, and the business opportunities, are not the only things we Lightseers get out of this deal. The next taikon was found in a group of Dodulkori refugees, in a child named Vrasim Kappel.