Torigen

What follows is inspired by The Wasteland and The Hollow Men by T.S. Eliot. It is also, in a small part, inspired by an issue I read of Sandman many years ago. In it, Morpheus� sister Death is depicted in the future, ushering out the last of life in this

 

            Torigen rises above the Europian landscape, a vast citadel of stone, metal, and light. It is a circular city set around a large Spire that emits plasma from the top. This plasma is actually atmosphere, generated by the Environmental Engine beneath the city. The compounds and elements necessary to maintain an atmosphere for the people of Torigen are emitted from the tip of the Spire to spread across Europa. The elements are attracted to other spires located elsewhere to ensure a proper spread of air and atmosphere. It is an amazingly simple design, belying the complex terraforming that originally occurred to insure Europa’s habitability.

            The Spire is more than just an atmosphere generator, though. The Spire also holds the matrix for the Overseer, the computerized sentient that oversees all mechanical operations of the city and acts as an adviser to Torigen’s leaders and elite. All of the histories of Torigen and civilizations before it are held here. It is said that one can find information within the Overseer’s databanks that date back to the earliest times of the Ancient Terrans, beings that called themselves simply “humans”.

            One can easily walk from the outskirts of Torigen directly to the spire if one wishes. Torigen is the only citadel on Europa. There are no others to war with. Extraterrestrial life has not ventured into this solar system for over two-billion years, at least not to any degree to be noticed. A system with a dying sun is certainly not worth conquest and is considered too unstable for vacationing. A dying sun that won’t Nova is not even worth a tourist attraction to watch.

            And so Torigen is left alone.

            But to walk straight to the Spire would be to miss a great city, indeed.

 

            Torigen was built for one purpose. It was to house those Terrans who wanted to end their existence with the Sun that birthed them. It was designed in form and function to not only burn bright and brilliant in expulsed Coronal Mass, but to actually help attract it. Buildings were made with minerals and metals that would seem unusual to build with, as they were designed to flare dramatically when exposed to the Coronal Mass. The fires of Torigen were to begin at the outskirts of the city and follow the spiraling lines of the streets, igniting buildings into different colors, taking on sparks by the various sculptures and murals its citizens designed for the purpose, and end by finally devouring the Spire in the center, erupting into one fount of light and fire, carrying the souls of its citizens to the stars.

            Only the Torige, the last race to evolve from Earth, and some say perhaps the apex of Earthen evolution, inhabit Torigen. They built the city an aeon ago, a deeply spiritual gesture on the part of a deeply spiritual people. Every street was lined with murals and sculptures depicting in some way belief of the Torige that all life came from the Sun and will return there. One could not walk to any part of the city and not hear some song, sung or played, paying homage to the sun or the sea.

            The songs were solemn and haunting, resembling whale songs in form. The Torige were themselves descended from early whales, evolved to slender bodies, capable of walking upright on land. They were slender, but thick skinned, evolved on a world with warm temperatures. They required little body fat to warm them, but the thick skin provided them excellent protection from ultraviolet light (and consequently many other kinds of radiation as well). Because of the shared ancestry with the whales they knew, they were able to discern the “whale song” as more than just sonar waves. They could “hear” the song as a series of syllabic phrases and because of this were able to determine the subject of the song. Because of the respect they had for the whales, they carried as many of the whales as would go with them to the oceans of Europa.

            To walk the streets of Torigen is breathtaking. One can see every kind of art that has been practiced by the Torige in the aeon that they have been on Europa. Multiple schools of art are presented. Various interpretations of spirituality and history can be seen. One can see when the emphasis of creation was placed with the Oceans and the whales received most of the honoring in art and spirituality. One can see the slow transition back to sun-worship where even the whales, who even on Earth managed to stay deep and cool from the sun’s increasing heat, pay homage to the great star. The sciences of the Torige are also present in the arts, as they considered the learning of the sciences as integral to complete spirituality. Aspects of Torige life are depicted here, their studies, work, devotions, and social relationships. Mating unions, rare in the later days of Torigen, are shown in their most ritualistic glory. Everything is presented in slow pace, created with the great care that can only be paid by a being whose life span covers millennia.

 

            As Mesoguar walked up to the great gates of Torigen, there were no songs to greet him in his coming. The statues that marked the entranceway to the city (a function more of aesthetics than utility) stared down at him in silent accusation. “Why am I not ash?” The murals that lined Torigen’s white wall were haunting and emptiness seemed to have been added to the murals that washed the buildings.

            This was not a day to stroll along the spiraling roads to the Spire. The city was too quiet. The shadows seemed longer. It was more than the red light dimming away. It was as though something strange and alien had taken residence here. It was a heavy feeling that Mesoguar could not place or describe. It weighed him down, crushing his body and spirit, weighing down his footsteps and drawing both his head and countenance down.

            He paused a moment, then fixed his sight on the Spire and walked there at a quick pace. It might have been his imagination, but there seemed to be something else in the air as well. A spark, energy. It was chaotic and restless, and Mesoguar suddenly had the feeling that the streets were not the place that he wanted to be. Not this day, perhaps not any day.

 

            The plasma-covered needle of the Spire reached up to the lower atmosphere of Europa. Far below this point was an open rooftop that overlooked Torigen and much of the Torigen Continent on one side, and the sea on the other. It was here that Overseer stood and watched not the land or sea, but the sky. The sun was quickly losing the last of its red light and settling into its White Dwarf state. To the right, Jupiter rose, mocking them with its explosions. While the sun would still provide minimal amounts of light for a time still while it settled into its final resting state, it gave no heat to them anymore. What heat it was giving was simply the remnant of the coronal mass expulsion. The heat now came from the explosions on Jupiter’s surface.

            “How long do you think that it has?”

            The voice did not speak, not in any means that Overseer could detect with the myriad array of sensors at her disposal. This was a voice she heard not externally, but internally. It was a mental voice from a being that was more thought than form. Overseer knew it was familiar to her, but she could not recall it. Perhaps it was stored away in partitioned memory? It would take her a while to find it. Psychic ability was not unique.

            She turned to see a shadowy sinuous form that was vaguely Terran in design. It had no eyes she could discern or any mouth for speaking. It likely did not need them. It probably was not used to manifesting itself into any kind of physically-seen form. This was probably the most advanced that it could project.

            “A few decades by my calculations, probably,” she said. “But that is only an estimate. When the scientists have time to study and calculate, then we shall have a better idea.”

            The black wisp twisted and moved to the platform edge. It seemed to be looking over the city. She wondered if it was able to hear all thoughts at once, or if it had to concentrate to hear even a single one.

            “Why do you not simply destroy the city? Drop the environmental protections and let them go?”

            “My duty is to maintain Torigen.”

            The black wisp twisted again and came closer to her. It brought its head level with her own holographic image. Blackness stared at her and she stared back unblinking.

            “Are you aware of what they have become already? It has been, what, a matter of days?”

            “My duty is to maintain Torigen.”

            “My duty is to maintain Torigen,” the black wisp mocked. “What kindness is there in allowing them to die out slowly, wallowing in their own misery?”

            “It is not for me to dictate their birth or dying.”

            “They could leave.”

            “It is not for me to dictate their coming and going. The Torige will do as they will, and I will oversee the city and advise them when the seek me.”

            “And how many have sought you today? Yesterday? How many of them are going to seek you when you have failed them?”

            Footsteps along the stairwell leading up to the roof platform answered for Overseer. The black wisp vanished. When Overseer turned, she saw Mesoguar walking up to her.

            “Greetings Overseer,” he said, giving a small bow.

            “Greetings Mesoguar,” she said. “Your meditations are complete I trust?”

            “There are no answers in the caves,” he said. “The answers I need are among my people.”

          …to be continued