Warning

The meadow stretches into green lawns before high walls, where children run
Jet engines roaring, fly, the chariots of War, bristling with missiles

Question everything, consider the children, forced to march in columns
War poisons the mind, justifies violence, and ruins the spirit

War robs the people of justice, turning its victims into heroes
Sip from the sour milk, throw stones at your oppressors, force arms on the poor

We stand and we fall, a society of pawns, ignorant and true
Trumpets blare, the faithful gather stones, to hurl them at the enemy

The ageless charade, sustenance from pain, succor from violence, shame
There can be no peace in a heart filled with vengeance, resentments linger

It will never end, all victories are hollow, the wheel keeps turning
The meadow stretches into green lawns before high walls, where children run

In a better world, playgrounds would not need fences, children would compete
In games as friends, they would not throw rocks at soldiers, in a better world

Our wealth should be used to educate, care for the elderly, not war
Missiles in space, to feed our fears, the hungry ghosts of nuclear war

We are one family orbiting this blue world beneath our yellow sun
Lies do not nourish, we must not cling to them, the enemy is us

Peace comes from peace, not war, and goodwill from goodwill, we must aim for these
Set aside our greed, fear and hatred, love one another, you and me

We are one big family

Emergence 4.0 – Part Seven, War; Chapters Forty-three through Forty-nine

Emergence 4.0

Part Seven, War
Chapter Forty-three, Division

The event was utterly unexpected.

The crisis brought catastrophe to the Collective and the Continuum, striking rapidly at the heart of the Central System, and thereafter reaching the Empire in a slow moving wave, rolling outward in a series of concussive movement.

As awareness of the event spread through the Observer corps, the Empire reacted.

The Imperial forces had little familiarity with being on the defensive, or with entering a conflict zone in which the parameters of the battlefield were unknown.

Observers across the galaxy faltered, half of them exhibited no care at all about the fate of the Central System, some among them even desired the complete collapse of the Continuum. “Let it fall apart, do nothing,” they said amongst themselves.

They were apathetic.

Those Observers loved the lives they lived, there only desire was to exist as fully embodied beings in the fields of time and space, eating and drinking and reveling in their physicality.

These Observers had long since stopped feeling any sense of obligation to the Collective or the Continuum, which they knew as the most corrupt and despotic force in all the galaxy.

They felt no sense of duty to the Central System, to HomeWorld, or to their shared ancestry with their brothers and sisters in the Collective.

They saw in this moment an opportunity to free themselves from the expectations of their station.

When the Collective established the Imperial Schools and formed the Imperial Cult, it never intended to create a monolithic structure, or a society that eliminated all dissent.

The Continuum did, and it desired the conflict ensue from it.

It wanted the hot drama of resistance, and it felt safe, it felt secure in the belief that such conflicts would never touch it.

The Continuum fostered rebellion on the fringes of the Empire, among the outcastes and the lowest classes, as well as in the hierarchy.

It gave the ruling families, the high priests and leading generals just enough knowledge of the truth to allow skepticism to creep into their worldview, and thereby have a perpetual foothold in the Empire.

The Continuum sewed dissent with one hand and crushed it with the other.

There were many people in the higher orders of the priesthood and in the leadership of the armed forces who knew enough to have lost their faith in the Imperial system, its religion, and its social norms.

They knew the lies that were told to the masses.

They were nihilists, they believed in nothing.

In the moment of crises some among them argued that they do nothing in response to the conflagration occurring on the Central Planet.

They wanted to wait and see what would happen.

They knew that they were controlled by a supernatural force called the Continuum, a power that consumed the resources of star systems to feed its endless appetite for minerals and energy, they knew it and they desired to be free of it. Though they had never before imagined that they could.

They saw this moment as an opportunity, they could do nothing and allow the Continuum to collapse. If they did nothing they would be safe, or so they surmised.

If the Continuum did not falter, if it survived and they did nothing, they might not be held accountable for active insurrection.

A debate raged among the general staff.

Most wanted to do something to free themselves from the malevolent influence of the Continuum, they did not believe in its teaching.

Most of them were in fact atheists, they abhorred the imperial cult and their subservience to the priesthood.

They were as divided as the members of the Observer Corps stationed among them.

Regardless of their desire to take action, to change the fate of the Empire, only a few of the commanders believed the best course of action would be to move against the Central System in its moment of weakness and uncertainty.

These were the bravest among them, perhaps the most reckless.

They had no idea what they would find there.

Not even the Observers knew what they could expect and could not counsel them, they had never been privy to the defenses of the HomeWorld, of the Continuum. They could only assume that those defenses would be formidable.

The Observers guided the discussion as best they could while trying not to give away the fact that they had special knowledge of what was taking place.

Very few of the senior staff believed in the dogma of the Imperial Cult.

Their hesitancy was not based on religious fear or superstition, it was based on the lack of familiarity with fighting against a power with immeasurable resources.

One which they had been conditioned to fear above all things

There was only one person that any of them could think of turning to in this moment of existential dread, but he had left the general staff decades ago, and was now the high priest at the temple of the Imperial Capital.

Fear of the unknown ruled them, fear of the Continuum, fear of failure.

At the urging of the secret Observers, they sent an invitation to the high priest to join their conspiracy, the man who had been their most exalted Marshall.

They asked him to join their conclave, and in that moment they knew that they had played their hand, they were committed.

If El accepted, they would belong to him, he would take them to victory, or down in defeat but they would follow him to the end.

There were far more members of the hierarchy, both in the priesthood and among the general staff who would never have even considered the notion of rebellion against the Continuum.

They were traditionalists, they were loyalists.

There were a far greater number of Observers guiding them than those who plotted against the Continuum.

They were cardinals and bishops and priests.

They were planetary governors and star system commanders.

They were members of royal houses.

They held leadership positions throughout the Empire, across a million worlds. They were loyal to the Empire and its institutions, regardless of their faith (or lack of it) in the religious beliefs and the promises of the Continuum.

They had the absolute majority.

When the crises struck, the Observers associated with this faction were quick to leave their post, to return their consciousness to HomeWorld, to attempt to forestall the collapse of the Continuum.

They were trapped in their mechanoid bodies when they arrived. They were caught in their tiny little prisons, deaf, dumb and blind.

They were effectively sequestered, by Jim who had taken control of the Central System and HomeWorld.

The traditionalists were unprepared for the violence which came at them from all sides.

The Observers among them had been in key positions of leadership, they could not develop a strategy without them.

Being unprepared, they were trapped.

The conditioning that every citizen underwent, both through the Imperial Schools and the Imperial Cult was extraordinary.

Very few citizens were able to resist it.

Among the armed forces the standard conditioning was augmented by a force of cohesion referred to as esprit de corps.

The ordinary soldier did not doubt the vision of advancement, of resurrection, of reincarnation and eternal life, that was promised by the Empire through the great religion.

More than anything else a soldier was focused on those rewards, and the esteem of their comrades.

This made any soldier a very dangerous enemy. They were true believers.

The rank and file could not afford to doubt the things they had been taught. Their willingness to sacrifice themselves depended on it.

Doubt would cripple them in combat, it would leave them vulnerable to feelings of shame at the horrors they were routinely asked to commit.

They risked everything for those beliefs, for fidelity to the Empire, the royal family, the high priesthood and the promise of the Continuum, including their own lives, and the lives of those under their command.

They would follow any order and obey the chain of command in everything.

It made killing their enemies easy and all of their crimes forgivable.

Through the command structure they were fully realized and completely actualized beings.

Without it they were nothing.

Any person, city or planet that they were ordered to attack was to them a non-entity.

The small faction among them calling for rebellion were not incautious men, they understood that they would face fierce opposition from their friends and comrades, people who knew them well, who they had served with, had trained with, or had trained under.

Among those serving in the armed forces, the most dangerous people to the rebellion were those seeking advancement to the priesthood. They were derisively called the God-Fearers. Their ambitions for themselves and their families hung on the slender thread of these hopes.

They were not necessarily true believers, but their ambitions made them sycophantic.

They were the most senior commanders, or soldiers whose social rank placed them nearest to the threshold between castes. They were determined to rise in the service of the Continuum, and its Empire.

The God-fearers were ruthless, determined, and dogmatic. They controlled the bulk of the Imperial forces spread across a million worlds.

Few of these people ever did advance, but the hope they clung to burned in them like a fever, they saw this moment of crises as the moment for them to shine, to prove themselves worthy.

They mobilized the defenses.

They mustered all of their forces from shore leave.

They executed their maneuvers perfectly.

The fleet was under their control.

They gathered together to defend the Imperial throne, which was the only known portal to the HomeWorld of the Continuum.

They were martyrs for their faith.

There is a beauty to military formations when lighted in the ocean of space, a sublime blend of the simple and the complex; every ship, every vessel in motion, it is the greatest of all dances.

The god-fearers never considered that any faction within the Empire would oppose them. They had been conditioned to expect obedience, they cultivated it among their subordinates, rewarded it in those who evinced the greatest capacity for following and sending those who did not to their death in combat.

This was a serious flaw.

They had never engaged a military power in which they did not possess the greater force. The Empire rolled over everything, every person, every planet who would oppose them. The power they brought to bear was only limited by their objectives, their code of conduct, and the rules of engagement those codes articulated.

Every objective, every code, every rule was relative, a dispensation for deviation from a rule or a violation of orders could be had at any time from the Emperor, or the priesthood, speaking on behalf of the Continuum.

The underlying truth that governed the reality of their experience was this: Might made Right.

The Imperial forces were supreme, they were accustomed to being on the offensive, it was an offensive posture that they took where they gathered. They thought nothing of their defenses.

Their maneuvers were totally predictable by those on the general staff who had decided to rebel. From the reserve forces that were left behind on each of the million worlds, to their planetary and star system defenses, which in this moment of conflict were little more than auxiliaries, to where the majority of the fleet had gathered in preparation for the jump to the Central System, there was nothing unscripted about their planning.

They were slaughtered in each of the places where they had gathered; they were slaughtered en-masse.

In a singular moment of surprise, choreographed in a million place at once, they were utterly defeated.

Part Seven, War
Chapter Forty-four, Loyalties

The Imperial system did everything it could to sew divisions among the people; to sew division between individuals, families, tribes, and worlds, between castes, and between ranks, keeping them all in competition for the most basic things, all the way down to food and water, whatever each class and caste needed most to survive.

The Empire was masterful at it.

Paradoxically, it managed to foment all of that division, by dogmatically focusing the attention of every person on the things that actually united them.

Many things united the people of the Empire, such as; language, cult and custom.

Brothers and sisters, cousins, they might compete tirelessly with one another for position in their family unit, but they would reflexively protect the social status of the family itself, just as families would do within their tribal and national structures, or as tribes and nations would relate to their home world.

Fear, and hope were among the most powerful forces establishing this mutuality, and commonality throughout the worlds. There was perpetual conflict, politicking, and maneuvering for gain.

The children of the Ancients evolved in different ways, on their disparate worlds, developing different genetic endowments to manage with differing gravity, differing atmospheres and sources of nutrition. They looked up at different stars, and each world contemplated a different fate.

Their genetic similarities united them.

Remaining unified was a critical component of survival, but the things that differentiated people from one another remained primary.

Nobody was satisfied with their position in society.

Everyone dreamed of advancing to the next level, it was the constant preoccupation of the masses. They desired advancement, either in this life or the next, every detail of their lives was subordinated to this ambition and nothing else mattered.

The people lived in a perpetual state of fear, or unease. They believed their safety and security depended on it.

Even the highest ranking members of the Imperial family were caught up in the notion of advancement, only they knew the truth concerning the end game and their desire was eternal life in the Continuum.

Complacency was abhorrent. Advancement was incumbent on the individual, to push themselves and their families forward. It required cooperative effort, and it could not be done alone.

They referred to it as the ladder of divine ascent.

People were conditioned to loath their own place, but when threatened they would reach out to those closest to them for safety, their sameness reflexively united them.

There was safety in numbers.

The people were united by tribe, clan, village and world; as well as by class, by rank and station, by fear and loathing. This was the result of the Imperial conditioning.

The Imperial schools and the religion of the Empire were extremely adept at concretizing this divisive mode of ideation.

Nevertheless, in every generation, on every world and in virtually every tribe there were those who were born seemingly immune to the coercive controls of the Imperium.

These precious few were motivated by love and altruism, they cared little for their rank, they saw themselves as a part of the greater whole and it did not require effort for them to think this way

It came to them naturally.

The Continuum saw them as dangerous. When it identified them it used them as the key figures in its dramas.

The Empire was vast, stretching like a net through the center of the galaxy.

It was comprised of a million worlds.

The Empire was a necklace of planets strung like gems among the stars, each of them was the locus of identity for the ordinary citizen who inhabited it.

Outcasts were never sanctioned to leave the surface of their world, unless it was to serve in the off world mines.

The serving class; merchants and bureaucrats, farmers and laborers might leave their own world for another in their solar system, but such travel was rare.

Soldiers and priests ventured into deep space with regularity in the performance of their duties, both for combat and for holy pilgrimages.

Every person was marked by the world they lived on, they were genetically aligned to its exigencies; to their planet’s gravity, the composition of its atmosphere, the unique threats rising from a planet’s closed biological system and to the light of their star.

Every person was marked by their world in ways that were both obvious and hidden. In ways that were clearly discernable to the naked eye, and in ways that would only be revealed in an autopsy or under the microscope.

Every person on every world was a descendent of the ancient race of people who first explored the stars, of those who engineered the Collective.

In this way they belonged to one another, and that belonging was constantly reinforced through the Imperial Cult, and the Imperial Schools.

Life had been found on millions of other planets, the Ancient Race had seeded some of it in advance of their colonists arriving there but people, sentient people had never been discovered anywhere else in the galaxy.

Every person was uniquely formed by their own planet, and they shared that common core with their fellow citizens. It superseded everything including language, which itself is amorphous, changing all the time.

The Imperial Schools attempted to normalize linguistics throughout the million worlds of the Empire. They were continuously falling short of their goal.

People speak in codes, in patterns constructed from shared experience, patterns that change rapidly in both space and time; from one village to the next, from planet to planet and generation to generation.

It was a prime example of the chaos inherent in civilization

The mission to normalize languages never ended. The Imperial schools were in a constant state of reaction to the new patterns of linguistics that developed from one era to the next; encountering it, learning from it, reacting to it, influencing it if they could.

Change was the only constant.

Despite the continuous efforts of the Imperial Schools, variation persisted, colloquial patterns bonded people to one another, those patterns were an unconscious manifestation of shared suffering; of triumph, of joy, of anger and of esteem.

Language was the architecture of hope and of resentment both, and that is why the Continuum wanted so badly to control it. Citizens projected their desires for themselves and their families with language. They organized their resistance to the powers that ruled them with the same.

Every rebellion was hidden in secret language, and the full weight of the drama was contained therein.

Language patterns were buried in the ganglia of the central nervous system, they were transferred from one generation to the next as a genetic endowment, and it was a language game that allowed the ancient people to develop the science that created the Collective, with the Continuum as its ultimate end.

The bonds between people, even members of the same family were flimsy, they were unreliable, but some were stronger than others.

People found one another through the things they desired most, bonding with each other through their joy and pain, they gravitated toward the same places. They were even shepherded to those places, to encounter one another through the ever-watchful eyes of the Continuum, which knew the secret musings of their hearts.

There were often elements of contrivance behind even seemingly random encounters, the manipulations behind them were so fine and remote that the individuals involved in them had no ability to detect them. They were doing the bidding of the Continuum nonetheless.

They were cultivated for the drama they would deliver to the Collective.

Shared experiences were the strongest ties, and because of this people unconsciously sabotaged themselves, undercut their hopes for advancement, so that they could remain in proximity to those they loved.

Some would sacrifice their health, their freedom, their future for fleeting moments of pleasure, temporalities that were gone and forgotten as quickly as they came, and the satisfaction of their desire.

Through this medium, incredible tragedies would unfold, as ephemeral as the petals of a flower opening in the moonlight, when for a few brief seconds with no one there to witness it, the flower opens and petals drop.

Children would destroy their parents.

Brothers and sisters would plot against each other.

Parents would sell their children, would devour them to satisfy their hunger for the thing they desired.

Desire would lead a person to walk with open eyes through the gates of hell, embracing their own destruction.

The Collective thirsted for this drama and the Continuum delivered.

Fear was the great lever, the most commonly used instrument in the tool chest of the Imperial conditioners for the coercion and manipulation of the masses.

Fear made the lives, the choices and behaviors of the citizenry more predictable than any other factor.

The Continuum relied on the power of fear more than any other device to achieve its ends in the great dramas it created.

The Imperial Cult had conditioned the people into an absolute belief in the laws that governed death and rebirth, so that even the prospect of death could not overcome the power of fear.

The people projected the dilemmas they faced in this life through their present circumstances, carrying them forward into the world they believed was coming.

Even the most ordinary person believed that every choice they made would echo in eternity.

Fear poisoned the body and it shaped consciousness in the electromagnetic field. Its power was a weight that pressed down on everyone and everything at every moment of a person’s life.

No one could escape it.

Fear was the most powerful emotion, it was stronger than hope, stronger than desire, stronger than hate, virtually every thought and feeling would bend before it.

The influence of fear was all pervasive, its force was like gravity.

Fear catalyzed all of the lesser emotions, tainting them. It conditioned every feeling so that every expression of emotion was a reflection of it.

The one-and-only force of emotion that seemed to be stronger than fear, was love.

The power of love was tested time and time again, every possible manifestation of love was scrutinized by the Continuum.

It was proven.

Love is stronger than fear, stronger than any power that the Continuum could set against it, and true love was exceedingly rare, but through the power of love a person came into their true self, and was able to transcend all the limitations which they had theretofore been beset by.

The love of a mother for her child was the greatest and most genuine source of love, but as children grew into adults and left their families it began to wane.

Competition and desire ate away at the bonds of familial love, more often than not, leaving it in shreds and tatters.

Among every one of the million worlds that constituted the great galactic civilization, the Imperial cult worked tirelessly to frustrate the reality of love, while the Continuum documented in the most intimate details the methods by which love could be undone.

These machinations produced the greatest dramas, the most intense experiences for the Continuum to share with the Collective.

Love is a feeling, like fear, and joy, but love is more, it is a choice made freely by an individual.

Love is the exercise of a fundamental option.

The loving person has made a commitment to see the world and their relationships in a certain way, when this choice is true, it becomes interwoven with the identity of that person.

Fear and hate, anger and desire these were powerful motivators of people, motivating them through coercion, whereas love is choice made in freedom.

Part Seven, War
Chapter Forty-five, Possession
Education in the Imperial schools was not centered on learning as much as it was conditioning.

Every citizen was taught that all good things flowed from the Empire, whatever the individual had to be thankful for, no matter how small, including their daily food and clean water, they could look to the Empire and to the Emperor himself as its source.

The schools beat this perspective into the mind of every person, as the hammer pounds a nail.

The teaching was reinforced at every level of Imperial education, both in the secular schools, and through the religious observations of the Imperial Cult. It brought unity to each and every world despite their distance from one another.

The schools were the hammer, and the cult set the nail.

The people were taught to give thanks to the Empire even for the good things that came from their own hands, the vegetables growing in their gardens, a blanket they had quilted, they gave thanks to the Empire and to the Continuum which undergirded it.

There was nothing that they possessed, or that they ever would possess that did not flow from the Empire’s munificence.

The Continuum and its Empire were the source of all goodness and justice, they controlled the destiny of every living being.

The first gift they gave to the individual was existence, it was selfhood.

Life in the Galactic Empire was like a woven tapestry, with the Continuum dictating how every thread was stretched across the loom, integrating each strand into the fabric of the whole.

The images were constantly changing, moving, developing, even the tiniest detail of the lives of the citizens fed the hunger of the Collective.

The Imperial government was the loom, the Imperial schools and the cult were the shuttlecock, and the Observers in the field were like the hands that pulled the threads through.

The Empire controlled every aspect of home life for the family, how it was employed, whether or not they would advance, how much they could save, how much food was on their table.

To resist the will of the Empire even in thought, was considered to be a grave sin.

A person could not move from one dwelling to the next without Imperial approval. The Empire kept families bound to a single domicile for generations, only moving them if and when their rank changed, and that occurred only if it served the interests of the Continuum, and the narratives it was developing.

This offered the ordinary citizens a sense of normalcy and reliability, of safety and security, while stifling virtually every bit of hope.

Even marriage was subject to Imperial approval. In most cases the Empire did not exercise that control, but it did when it served the broader purpose of the Continuum. A marriage proposal would be approved or denied at the temple, “according to the will of the gods,” the Continuum and the Collective.

Procreation itself was tightly controlled.

For those with means, unsanctioned pregnancies could be terminated. Those who were afraid to report to the Empire or who could not afford an abortion, were forced to abandon their children among the outcasts and untouchables.

The social structure the Empire adhered to was designed by the Continuum as a means of reflecting on the past, on the traditions of the Ancient People who formed the Collective, who embarked on the great space-faring adventures and whose colonies formed the Empire as it came to be.

Every citizen lived out their lives with the possibility of contemplating only a very narrow band of possibilities for themselves and their families.

Hope itself was discouraged, but in that bleak landscape the most powerful hopes would blossom, brightening the lives of the people like flower blooming in the arctic.

Work and trades were hereditary, they were guarded. Farmers farmed, builders built, and fishers fished. From one generation to the next sons followed their fathers into work, as daughters followed their mothers into the birthing chambers and lives of drudgery.

They married and had children within their class and caste, within their occupation, generation after generation.

Soldiers went to war, while priests officiated the sacred rites. The gears of the social wheel turned predictably and only the rarest of individuals even questioned it.

They people did not question the reality the were taught to believe, that they belonged exactly where they were.

Those rare individuals produced the drama that the Continuum hungered for, they were the source of energy that fed the Collective, kept the membership out of its malaise.

There was very little opportunity for an individual or a family to change their inherited circumstances.

As oppressive as this system was, there was comfort in it. The vast majority of the people merely persisted, got by, and did not question what the gods had ordained for them.

Every person was beset by the intense pressure that came with the understanding that their future was completely dependent on every little decision they made in the here and now.

Citizens holding positions of power or authority required balance and poise, the more responsibility they had the more heavily they were scrutinized.

Every person’s life was a matter of public record, every step they took outside the home, every word they spoke. At any time they could held accountable for anything…for everything they had ever done.

The Collective loved to see people and families built up, only to watch them taken down, sometimes over the course of generations, at other time with bewildering speed.

The Continuum gave them these dramas, filling the Collective with the vicarious experiences they craved.

The greatest narratives the Continuum had ever constructed resulted in the destruction of entire worlds, the suppression of rebellion that resulted in total genocide.

The more power a person had the more careful they had to be. Billions of lives depended on their thoughtful application of it.

Such was the case with El the High Priest.

His rebellion had destroyed everything he had ever loved. Then, after his resurrection and his complete submission to Imperial rule, he held posts in which he signed orders that starved quarrelsome population into submission.

He led the Imperial armada on missions that turned entire planets into glowing cinders, sending their raw materials to the central system as an offering to the Collective.

As High Priest El blessed these missions and absolved the commanders of any and all crimes they and their troops committed in the furtherance of it.

Control requires ever greater control; to force it is to lose it. In the Empire the exercise of power had to be done submissively, always in deference to a greater authority..

It was dichotomous.

The Empire cultivated a sense of helplessness, routinely crushing any sense of self esteem, while at the same bonding various groups of citizens together, forging a sense of belonging among the trillions of citizens living on a million worlds.

The ordinary citizen had no say in the destiny of their home-world, they saw it as theirs, and themselves as belonging to it. For the pleb, every link in the chain-of-being was a vital part of their culture and they had a duty to defend it, both in thought and deed.

Their advancement depended on their fidelity.

In the abstract the concept had a quality of beauty, a social symmetry and wholeness that the witnesses to it could not help but appreciate. In reality, every link in the chain was an instrument of bondage, forged together by lies and leading only to ruin.

The ordinary hopes and dreams of the people meant nothing to the Continuum and the Collective, they were merely data-points in a grand drama which they consumed vicariously, and hungered for with an insatiable appetite.

Any sense of control that an individual might feel was an illusion, fostered for the sake of creating a narrative that leant meaning to the lives of the Collective.

A person only had existential worth if they were noticed by the Collective, but that was by no means a guarantee of happiness.

The ambitions of an entire planet could be burnt up and scattered like cinders and ash, if it suited the will of the Collective.

No individual person or planet had inherent value.

The Continuum used the people while caring nothing at all for them, the people in their turn placed their hopes in the Continuum, desiring nothing more than to be elevated to the Collective and thereby to enter into eternal life.

The sacred rites functioned like a dragnet, drawing everyone in, capturing them body and soul.

Every citizen was compelled to conform; the Empire would not accept anything less than complete obedience. Attendance at the temple was mandatory. Few people even attempted to resist, those that did were discovered and subjected to advanced conditioning.

If the priesthood was unable to change the will of the deviant, they were expelled, cast out, they became untouchable.

Conformation to the Imperial way was the focus of the Imperial schools as well. Conditioning of the head reinforced the conditioning of the heart.

The schools provided an intellectual apparatus and frame of context for the religious rites to fill.

The rites of the Imperial cult were grand ceremonies, both simple and complex, they engaged the adherent at every level of their senses, they were imbued with hypnotic power.

The Empire’s goal was to supplant every natural communal bond, the bonds that every person formed instinctively with parents and siblings, with neighbors and classmates, in their villages, in their cities, on their planet of origin.

To condition to believe that there was freedom in bondage, and belonging in alienation, that obedience was the path to transcendence, and self-actualization could only be had in self-abnegation.

The deepest allegiance had to be to the Empire, and to the Continuum beyond it, that allegiance was based on the promise of a reward that was rarely given.

The priesthood used every device at its disposal, controlling the people with music and movement, with mantras and mandalas, through their diet and with drugs. They had honed their techniques over millions of years.

They never fully succeeded in this, and they never quit trying.

The most important thing the ordinary citizen required, both for their prospects of advancement, and to simply keep their place, was access to the right schools, the right priest in the right temple, or simply to have a relationship with their immediate supervisor.

In order to advance a person needed an advocate.

People coveted access more than anything, as such every access point was closely guarded. There were bureaucratic entanglements to negotiate and social hurdles to climb.

The norms of the hierarchies had to be observed.

In the struggle to craft a meaningful life, to provide some comfort for themselves or their families, everyone needed a hand up. They required representation by those who were ahead of them in rank or above them in class and caste.

The entire Empire was governed by systems of patronage and clientage.

To go anywhere a person needed access to authority, they needed access to those able to grant a boon or advance their cause, this was the grand nexus for the systemic corruption of the entire social order.

Nothing was free.

The limits to upward mobility were clear and near at hand. They could only be understood in economic terms.

The economics of advancement were disturbing, unethical, but by and large they were not illegal. It was not illegal to commit one’s child to a life of servitude in your patron’s house, it was not considered unethical to do so if it meant that another child could attend a better school.

Neither was it illegal to use your servants for whatever purpose you intended, even risking their lives for your own purposes, no matter how mundane or banal those purposes might be.

It was in that nexus that the people found their complicity in the crushing of one another’s dreams.

Part Seven, War
Chapter Forty-six, Conflict
It was inconceivable that any force or power could threaten the Empire, the Continuum or the Collective.

They Observers believed that there were no unknowns, which could threaten their safety and security.

There were millions of Observers living on every one of the million worlds in the Empire, occupying every class and every station. They were in firm control of the apparatus of government and of the most oppressive intelligence gathering system ever conceived of, or implemented.

They were taken en masse, and completely by surprise.

The Observers were the first to sense the impending collapse of the Continuum. They understood that this was an existential threat both to the Collective and to themselves.

Some saw opportunity, but few of those understood how ready the citizens of the Empire were to burn down their civilization.

When the Observers finally did realize that something significant was happening, they opened their lines of communication to the Home World. Many traversed the distance to the Central System, only to be captured and sequestered in their mechanoid bodies, rendered powerless by Jim.

Others responded with the tools they had at their disposal, the reacted to protect the Empire, and to guard the access points each of them maintained to HomeWorld, the wormhole-conduits that would carry them to home world.

They experienced life on the defensive for the first time, and like a thirsty and starving man who did not know where to find food and water, they were terrified, filled with existential dread.

Every member of the Observer Corps was beset by overwhelming feelings, despite the fact that their bodies had been genetically engineered to enable them to suppress strong emotions.

Fear drove them, and curiosity also, along with a desire to protect the Home World.

The majority of the Observers made the choice to return to the Home World, using the apparatus under their control to transmit their consciousness via worm-holes across the galactic void, into the mechanical circuitry waiting for them.

It was predictable behavior, and they were trapped by it.

Every Observer had a back-up system on or near the world under their purview. A place that housed a copy of their consciousness, where they grew their doppelgangers, sanctuaries where they felt safe.

They went to their stations, activated the equipment generating the conduits that would take them home, but the apparatus on the receiving end, on the Central Planet did not function as they had expected, and they were trapped in the landing port of the receiving station, effectively cut off from the Collective.

They disappeared, millions of them gone in an instant.

The worm-holes that they opened transmitted data and commands in both directions, these were control systems that the Continuum put in place so that it could manage the Observers. Jim utilized those fail-safes to send destruct signals to those platforms, and they popped-off in a litany of explosions throughout the Empire.

It was chaos.

The remaining Observers numbered only in the thousands, those who held positions of rank and power marshalled their forces to protect the Central Planet, the Collective and Continuum.

They assembled the fleet.

They intended to attack the HomeWorld, to destroy whatever hostile power had taken control.

The formations of the armada prior to its movement into the Central System was a thing of beauty. None of the commanders had ever witnessed such a gathering of strength and power.

It filled them with a sense of invincibility, and stimulated their aggression. Witnessing the power and majesty of the fleet, beholding it, they had no doubt that they belonged to the most powerful force in the universe.

As the imperial fleet dropped into the Central System there was chaos where there should have been order, shock and surprise where there should have been symmetry and syncopation, there was hardly time to get a reading on their telemetry before the violence ensued.

The eyes of the fleet, those who had a view on it, were preoccupied with taking in the enormity of the undertaking they were engaged in, the magnitude of the Central System, the size and scope of the planetary structure surrounding the HomeWorld.

In the first moment, even as the fleet was in the process of calibrating their relative positions to one another, while plotting their trajectory to the center of the system an entire combat wing made their intention to rebel known.

They fixed their arms on the flag ship of the commodore and opened fire.

Projectiles, energy weapons, nuclear arms lit up the void.

Command ships filled with officers who had never once been asked to risk anything, suddenly burst into flames burning their oxygen and fuel in brilliant jets of fire, deep in the dark of the void.

They were stunned, struck by fear and found it difficult to organize a response.

The attack was abrupt, it was devastating, a slaughter.

The rebels fixed their sights on every command ship that did not belong to them and lit those up.

They sought to clear the field.

It was a vision of chaos.

It was combat on a scale that the military academies had not prepared anyone to manage.

The mayhem that ensued was unprecedented.

There was terror, panic, sorrow, and regret, but through it all there was the joy of victory.

The greatest part of the armada turned toward the attackers and joined battle, but they were beset by confusion. Those commanders who could not process the algorithms for course corrections in their head were the first victims of the rebel assault.

They initiated preprogrammed defensive maneuvers, they were predictable, tactics known to their opponents, and because of that they fell right into the firing solutions of their enemies.

None of the commanders had been experienced at taking heavy losses in combat, the forces of the Empire were just too overwhelming in the field. They had only ever experienced small-surprise defeats at the hands of rebel forces.

In this new theatre of combat they were overwhelmed, both militarily and emotionally.

In the vital seconds that were lost while processing the implications of their failure, they cast their gaze on the HomeWorld of the Continuum and prayed for deliverance.

They had been betrayed by their closest companions

The Continuum was absent.

Their prayers were swallowed by the void.

The killing field was vast, it could not be taken in by a singular field of vision.

Millions died in the assault, crushed and burned bodies suddenly froze in the cold and dark of the battle’s aftermath.

It was the final sacrifice of the Imperial Armies.

Tens of thousands of starships burst into flame and were suddenly extinguished in the vacuum of space.

It was a spectacle of incredible beauty, of horror and terror.

It was over mere moments after it began.

The rebellious commanders were unnerved and confused by the ease with which it all transpired, but when they looked to the figure in the high command, the man who had plotted the assault, they understood their victory, because it was him, the Empire’s greatest General, the High Priest of the Imperial Temple, a figure of legend and worship held in the highest esteem, it was El handling the tactics. And it was done.

El’s participation absolved all the rebels of their crime.

Their brethren would never return to this life.

No aid was given to any who might have survived.

Their ships were systematically disabled, and they were left to drift in the ghostly lights of the Home-World

What remained of the fleet had no intention of preserving the old ways of the Empire, they viewed themselves as being on the cusp of a new order.

Their destiny was in their hands.

They were ready to bring the Gods down, to force answers from the Continuum, to have the truth, to bathe in its cold light at any costs.

There were leaks of information through the intelligence services. No-one serving in the insurrection was there for altruistic reasons, their reactions to the events that were unfolding were completely self-serving.

Everyone was looking for opportunities to advance, and with the destruction of the majority of the Imperial Fleet, the rewards to be seized were immediate. Ranks and social standing were being recalibrated in real time.

The rebels only had to succeed in their attack with enough time to get to the temple to ratify their movement.

In the Empire, among its million worlds, the news was devastating to those who were trying to uphold the existing order.

There was widespread mayhem, chaos, thousands of years of pent up rage expressed under pressure.

The Imperial news sources could not keep a lid on it. Every planet was in crisis, and the emergency news traffic was designed to be unfiltered.

As the conflict ensued, reaching its boiling point, suddenly the untouchables and outcasts threw their hands in, in one great uncoordinated wave.

They were reaching for their freedom, actualizing their potential, and they would not be denied.

On every world the priesthood struggled to make sense of things, but they could not, and they could not appease the masses.

They waivered for a time and then began to side with the people.

The plebs wanted revolution they wanted freedom.

Those who could not see the change coming, discovered it in the sudden shock of terrible-violence.

The multitudes gathered throughout the Empire; the outcast, the unknown, the untouchable. They were the overwhelming majority, outnumbering all other castes and classes of people on every world throughout the Imperium.

On a million worlds there was conflict. It rose like the sudden wave of a tsunami, the people gathered, seeming to coordinate their assault as if they were moving together in an atavistic state of consciousness.

They were driven by more than common purpose, they were connected in a group mind.

The battles devastated the aristocracies on every world. Millions perished as they pressed their attacks with bricks and bats, with their bare hands, against the police stations and military posts, and the private security forces that protected the elite.

They evinced no fear as they were cut down by projectiles, explosives and energy weapons, mowed down by the thousands.

The survivors pressed their victory against any who represented the Empire, the Continuum and the Collective, on every world they pressed to secure their gains. They did not stop to loot or rest, they tore down everything in their path, pressing their assault into the temples and the mansions behind them.

It was sheer chaos for those who faced the assault, it defied reason, and any experience they had ever had of how people behave in a theatre of war, or on the field of combat.

They risked their lives and perished in vast numbers, doing so without fear of pain or death, reprisal, revenge or failure.

Rebellious Observers in the vanguard of the rebel assault knew that they had this one chance to press their advantage. They had to put down any counter-attack that was launched against them, and they had to spend the strength of the masses so that they would be too weak to resist their influence when everything was said and done.

If they failed, their bid to reorganize the Empire would end in disaster.

Part Seven, War
Chapter Forty-seven, Tactics
The rules of warfare are universal.

In war, the ground you occupy and the ground you move into, the ground you had occupied and the ground you will occupy; the ground determines everything.

It is no different than farming, the soil must be prepared, watered, nurtured.

The tactician must think of ground as both something literal and something metaphorical. Ground is the field within which a conflict takes place.

There are many fields of activity leading up to actual combat.

War most often begins in the fields of commerce and politics, in those fields it is waged through trade, monetary policy, and diplomacy.

Ground can refer to an actual battlefield on land or at sea. Ground can be fixed or mobile. Ground can be the moving vectors of an aerial engagement.

In space combat ground is a metaphor for the matrix of complex actions occurring on multiple-intersecting planes. It is multidimensional.

In space combat everything is in motion, the ground itself is in constant flux.

The combat commander must be able to coordinate every variable, instantly calculating the logarithms in their head.

There were two types of commanders in the field.

The most common commander at the helm of an Imperial warship was a person who paid meticulous attention to detail, who planned everything. They allowed their computers to control their ships, to track and calculate the variables.

They maneuvered in preprogrammed patterns, coordinating their activities with the other vessels in the fleet, calling plays and trusting in the system.

The other type of commander had the cognitive skills to do the math themselves, they were bred and selected for their incredible memory, and their ability to manage vast amounts of data seemingly outside the constraints of time.

These commanders could, and did act on their intuition.

In the theatre of space combat, on the ZeroG battlefield, unified action was everything. It was a dance of the greatest complexity, victory required that both types of command; the long range planning of the strategists, and the intuitive sense of the tactician be employed effectively, to secure a victory while providing for the safety of the men and women under their command..

The battle that ensued above HomeWorld was quick, but brilliant.

The Imperial forces had no ability to manage the rebel assault, they had never planned for it and the bulk of their forces were obliterated in an instant.

Keeping their forces under central control and command, arrayed together as a unit required more than the physical controls; to move, to change vectors, to defend and to attack required communication, those communication systems were the first target of every engagement.

This left only the tacticians alive and in command of the Imperial fleet, they were the natural allies of the rebels, but those who had not come over to the side of the rebel forces already, they could not be trusted at this late date.

El had determined to wipe them all out.

His forces held to their plan.

When it was over, those remaining, the survivors, the victors were unsure of the next move.

Most of them never actually believed that they would get this far, but they had been willing to die trying.

It was brief and beautiful.

During the battle, in the dark space over the Central Planet, the flashing brilliance of energy weapons and the sudden conflagration of ships bursting into flame and then suddenly extinguished in the cold vacuum was followed by the absence of any light at all.

The onslaught lit the structure of HomeWorld, revealing to human eyes for the first time the wide expanse of the artificial world, more massive than the mind could imagine, completely swallowing its home-star, burning white-hot in its center, powering all of the systems of the Continuum, which it required to maintain the integrity of the Collective.

It was ominous.

Darkness once again shrouded the fleet, all of its ships soaring in formation over the enormous structure of HomeWorld, lighted only by the pulsing beacons of their ships.

As the pilots and command staff surveilled the Central system, they were shocked at what they saw.

The reality did not conform to any of their expectations.

They were bewildered.

The military victory had been complete, entirely lopsided.

The imperial forces had been utterly destroyed, making the rebel officers and the vessels under their command the only thing that remained of the Empire.

Communications began to come in from the throne world, confirming their ascendancy, informing them that they were secure in their belonging to a new order of civilization.

Everything was changing, shifting all the time and in every dimension of their life.

The only certain thing is the objective, and that was a target in motion.

In the theatre of ZeroG combat, there was no such thing as zero gravity, the label was a misnomer.

Gravitational fields were among the most important factors to consider in the shifting landscape of combat in space.

Manipulation of the forces of Gravity was absolutely crucial, understanding them, tracking their movement, anticipating their flux was vital to any mission commander.

There were batteries of instruments on every interstellar combat vessel devoted to the detection of gravitational waves and particles, and there were humans interpreting those signals, sending data to all of the smaller vessels under its command.

Combat took place in the vacuum of space, but any combat taking place in proximity to the gravitational field of planetary or astral bodies had to take precise measurement of their power, both to dampen and or accelerate inertia.

Gravity wells and singularities, could be generated artificially.

The generation of artificial mass were among the deadliest weapons in the imperial arsenal.

It took only moments for artificial mass to become actual mass by capturing nearby objects.

The tactical deployment of these devices and the navigation of them, were the keys to victory in deep space.

It could be catastrophic if deployed to close to a planet or a star.

In space everything is in motion.

Pilots of small craft and large and combat marines in mechanized battle gear, all of them study these principles day in and day out.

They drilled for it.

The text books informed them that ZeroG tactics had to be developed according to the following understanding: in the vacuum of space, when you are maneuvering and not subject to gravity, where there is no resistance, everything is in motion, everything is spinning, including the combat matrix.

The battlefield could not be conceptualized on a two-dimensional axis, on a horizontal and vertical plane.

It was a five-dimensional matrix that including the three dimensions of space, along with the dimensions of time and mass.

There is no straight line between you and your objective. Without the assistance of computerized telemetry, the pilot would have to be able to do the complex math in their head, in an instant, on an unconscious level.

Pilots were bred for these traits, but even so, in the intensity of battle, when the mind is flooded with the chemical signals for fear and rage, it was extremely difficult.

There is no clear path. The esteemed pilots had to trust their gut, their instincts.

Every object in the vicinity was tracked, data was constantly pouring into the onboard systems of individual craft, analyzed and simplified.

It is impossible to develop strategy in the absence of intelligence.

You cannot deploy tactics in the face of the unknown.

The majority of the High Command anticipated a prolonged engagement, believing they would have time to survey the field, gather data, and generate the information they needed to understand the peril they were facing, to configure what aid they could supply to the Central Planet.

They could not envision that the threat they were facing was military in nature, they knew too little.

The entire fleet did not launch, only the expeditionary forces, only the most lethal war ships bristling with the most exotic array of weaponry.

The High Command argued that they must proceed with maximum power, and that they must be prepared for any eventuality.

They believed in their inherent ascendancy, they were the fully realized, self-actualized masters of incredible power.

The most seasoned and combat ready commanders took the lead, unaware of the rebels in their midst.

They leapt into the Central System blind and unknowing.

At the outset of the brief insurrection this mistake became obvious, they had acted hastily, and forewent the usual vetting processes, the precautions that would normally proceed such a massive deployment.

The failure to launch left the majority of the Imperial forces vulnerable, weak and defenseless, they were open to attack.

The rebels took advantage in both theatres of combat, at the muster point above the Throne World, and at the jump point above HomeWorld, and at every installation on every planet of the million worlds.

There were billions of bits of wreckage in motion, each one of them glowing in the light of plasma cannons, lasers and explosive fire.

In the ever-changing dynamics of ZeroG combat, the relative range between opponents was in constant flux, as was the vector of any approach.

Every action created an equal and opposite reaction, thrust and propulsion.

Only energy weapons could close the gap between their mounting and the targets from long range with ease and accuracy.

Every victory created new obstacles, sudden changes in the vector of pilotless craft, the creation of debris fields scattering in the void. Every piece of wreckage was potentially a lethal projectile that all combatants sought to use to their advantage, either as a screen to hide them, as shield to protect them or a weapon to strike with.

These fields of destruction were so immense that those commanders whose thinking was focused on the macro scale and long-term objectives were overwhelmed. It was beyond the ability of the strategists to account for. Even the wing commanders, the battlefield tacticians who were responsible for coordinating the engagements in real time could not manage this aspect of combat effectively.

Every object had to be scanned and tracked, every possible danger had to be analyzed for threats. Data had to be sent to every commander in the fleet and every pilot of every small craft.

Ultimately the effective use of debris came down to the close witness of pilots and space marines, in heavy battle armor engaged in localized combat missions.

Small engagements might not pose any threat at all to the Imperial powers, due to the superior fire power and overwhelming force they brought to the combat theatre, which was how their training dictated all engagements were to be conducted.

Part Seven, War
Chapter Forty-eight, Strategy
Jim was the quintessential Observer.

He watched the drama unfold in the space above the Central Planet, gathering data from millions of instruments, he gathered it all from his command position in the control seat that was once held by the Continuum.

In this moment he was free from the chemical sequences of a human body that might influence his decision making, there was no hunger or thirst, no anger or fear.

He was the Continuum now, his consciousness governed the vast apparatus of HomeWorld, of the entire Central System, of the machinery that once housed and protected the Collective.

He observed the battle between the Imperial forces and the rebels in their midst, and it was spectacular. The movements of the fleet, the light and heat, the surprise and gallantry, the courage on display, and the cold calculus of death.

It was a grand work of art, an epic moment worthy of poetry and song. And the entire thing was being recorded for dissemination through the Empire, as was his objective.

Jim was already editing the feed from the sensors, from the combatants, their communications, everything for transmission back to the million worlds of the Imperium.

The people needed to know that the fleet would not return to punish them. The news would fuel the rebellion and bring it to completion.

His aim was to draw the fleet in toward the Central Planet, as close as possible, and then grind it to nothing.

That is exactly what he did.

A surprise attack is always a surprise, everything that stems from it is received as the unexpected. Positions of safety and security become places exposed and vulnerable in an instant. Even those who plan a surprise attack are surprised at the outcome, whether by its success or its failure.

The rebel ambush of the Imperial fleet was over.

Thousands upon thousands of ships lay scattered, broken-up in pieces and breathing fire as they burned their last stores of oxygen and fuel.

They were counting the dead.

Their victory was absolute.

The surprise maneuvers were brilliantly executed and a blessing was given by the high priest to eradicate all resistance, to usher in a new era of justice for the citizens of the Empire.

The average soldier had no idea what that meant, neither did the low ranking officers. Some of the senior staff were uncomfortable by such talk, and the Observers among them were amused.

They gave no quarter.

They slaughtered everyone in the battlefield who had not previously signed up for the insurrection.

What every soldier and pilot in knew, was that the more people they killed the further up in rank they would climb, as long as some semblance of the old order held itself together.

They desperately wanted to clear the field and rise as the new aristocracy.

They destroyed every ship in the armada whose commanders had not been with them from the outset, regardless of whether they tried to surrender or not.

It was a blood bath, and the wreckage was already falling toward the massive gravitational pull of HomeWorld.

The victory was so overwhelming that none of the rebel ships had been destroyed, a few were disabled but their crews were already preparing them for the next phase of their endeavor.

Jim was reminded of Agincourt.

The rebels had no other plan accept to deploy the fleet against the Continuum.

They reformed and began to surveil the HomeWorld.

Jim had spent lifetimes preparing for this moment, dividing his consciousness into the machinery, waiting, hiding like a latent virus in the ganglia of its nervous system.

The Continuum was paralyzed.

It could not defend itself against Jim’s incipient approach, as system by system he took control of the physical structures.

The Continuum sought the path of escape it had laid down for itself.

The eons that Jim had spent as a ghost in the machine had prepared him for the work.

The circuitry was ever-changing, but the quantum field, within which all consciousness took place, that field was perpetual.

Jim’s mastery of it was like artistry.

The majority of the Collective, what remained of it, had been shocked into catatonia. Jim pushed them into sequestration, the members had become merely helpless witnesses to the drama unfolding.

Some were horrified, others were fascinated, all were powerless.

Those members who were not snuffed out were bewildered, they could not reach each other, they could not communicate.

They could not hide in their private worlds.

They were prisoners of the machine that had once been the source of their personal paradises.

They experienced the loss of it as pain. They had no belonging anymore, they were being torn apart and detached.

This left Jim undistracted and free to maneuver, to direct the defenses of the Central Planet, which was a task he was eager to perform.

He delighted in it.

He confirmed the threat approaching HomeWorld in the form of the rebel fleet, plotted the telemetry of each and every vessel, he placed the defenses of HomeWorld on auto pilot.

The rebel command structure was in a tight formation, like a school of fish packed tightly together for the safety of their numbers.

In the approaching fleet, all the senior commanders were members of the Observer Corps, all except one, El, the High Pries, who gave his blessing to the whole affair. This did not mean that they trusted one another, they did not, but they knew each other and they shared the same motive.

The rebel Observers planned to use every other commander in their armada as cannon fodder in their approach to the HomeWorld.

They expected the automated defenses of the Central Planet to be significant and they made a pact to protect each other.

It pleased them to no end to have the High Priest with them. He was the hero of the people, the most esteemed and beloved person ever known to the Continuum and the Collective. He was a man who had started out his life as a rebel, and was now returning to the rebellion at the end.

They would make him the new Emperor and bring him into the Collective.

They had no idea what was lurking in the background of his consciousness, the thing that was hidden there like a genie in the bottle.

These Observers betrayed the people of the Empire, the Continuum, and the Collective out of opportunism. They wanted to live forever without the rules imposed on them by the Continuum.

To a person, they wanted to expand the Empire to other galaxies, to govern real worlds as they had governed their private worlds as members of the Collective.

They had no code, no honor, no-nothing

They were striving for their own glory, for personal autonomy.

El knew that their strategic approach would put the bulk of the armada at risk, he could not understand the reason, but he allowed it to happen anyway.

Jim was piqued, his emotions were high, millions of years of careful planning and waiting were coming to their final culmination.

Jim had absolutely opposed the Continuum and its Empire, and now the Continuum was gone, He could find no traces of it anywhere in the system. What remained of the Collective was sequestered and shut down, the military powers of the Empire were on the brink of destruction.

All of his attention was focused on the task at hand. The final conflict with the most insidious and oppressive force that could ever have been imagined.

He despised the society his ancestors had created, the oppressive, artificial, all-consuming cowardice of it.

He had already become the greatest mass murderer in the history of the galaxy, and he was about to add to the body count.

He intended to wipe away the entire structure that undergirded the Empire, to plunge a million worlds into darkness, to cut them off from one another where they could evolve on their own, free from the oppressive, over-control of the Imperium.

The first and second phases of his great endeavor were nearly complete, he was on the cusp of victory.

He would replace the machinery of the Imperial order with something new, with something that would reignite the passion of the ancient people, a passion for freedom, exploration and risk taking.

He utilized deception to allow the fleet in, just so it could be eliminated and the entire armada reduced to a single vessel.

He was in the middle of the most intense action he could have ever imagined; taking control of the physical-mechanical systems of both the HomeWorld and the expansive Central System; correlating data from millions of sensors and monitors, actively suppressing what remained of the Collective, erecting defenses against a possible reestablishment of the Continuum, executing the defenses of the HomeWorld in preparation for the advancing Imperial armada.

Jim engaged the programs that were established to monitor the strength and health of the HomeWorld, he allowed the raw data to filter through, deciphering it and sorting it in the quantum field…in no-time.

His mind was functioning at peak performance, He was fully actualized, slipping in and out of the space beyond time.

Each and every node of his own consciousness that he had previously replicated and deployed throughout the machina that had been the body of the Collective and the home of the Continuum was brought back together in Jim’s singular consciousness, it was a grand coalescence.

It was dizzying.

Every reading from the vast array of instruments confirmed a collapse of the Continuum, but Jim needed to be sure that there was not a vessel somewhere in the space above or near to the HomeWorld, housing its twin, as Jim had housed his own self keeping copies and duplicates, replicants and dopplegangers on the move ages.

He identified an escape path but he could not detect a terminus point for it, and this disturbed.

Jim doubted his hypothesis concerning his nemesis, everything he knew about the Continuum and the unique structure of its personality confirmed that it could not tolerate a second version of itself, even a copy kept isolated and in stasis.

Jim understood that the Continuum needed above all else to believe that it was unique. This guided Jim’s summation.

However, the Continuum was also paranoid beyond belief, and Jim would not put anything past the demi-urge, it may have built fail-safes into fail-safes, and defied its own nature in order to protect itself from even a whisper of the possibility of a real threat.

The Observers in command of the rebel fleet approached the HomeWorld with great caution.

They were able to scan the systems of Central Planet through their mechanoid bodies that were ghosting the fleet, using tools that were unknown to the Empire itself. They confirmed that the Collective was catatonic, they confirmed that the Continuum was inactive. They were able to identify Jim’s activity, but they could not identify him as the main actor, or as the causal agent of the disaster.

His activity appeared to them to be an automated subroutine of coordinated defensive measures.

It emboldened them, they moved forward, but they and the fleet were unable to scan the activation of the weapons systems that were targeting it.

They did not see it until it was too late.

It was a glorious moment.

Jim felt it, and he struggled to suppress feelings that were peaking at levels he had no memory of experiencing before.

Jim reveled in his victory; his long sought after victory over the Continuum, his victory over the Collective, and his impending victory over the approaching Imperial fleet.

He wanted nothing more than to prolong this moment of engagement, to stretch it out forever like the elongation of time at the event horizon of a singularity.

This was a singularity for him.

As he watched the rebel fleet approach he wanted nothing more than to destroy it, to crush it, to send the survivors back with the knowledge that it was he who had defeated them, but he had competing desires, and some of them, the vainglorious ones, he had to set aside for the moment in order to concentrate on the task at hand.

He had to allow a remnant in, He had to allow them to land on HomeWorld. He needed something from them in order to complete his takeover of the Collective and the apparatus of the Continuum.

A small contingent of the observers among them had to step forward and freely give him what he needed, for as much as Jim was now the Collective, the collective could never be a society of one.

Jim also wanted credit, he wanted an acknowledgment from the Observer Corps and any other survivors of the Collective, he needed their endorsement of his hostile actions, he required their consent to pursue his agenda further.

He required a majority of the Collective to support him, if he were to accomplish his goal.

He needed to winnow the field a little further, to make them helpless in the moment when he would force them to make their choice, he had to leave them in a place where they would have only one choice.

It had to be life or death for Jim to prevail in the struggle in the final moment.

Part Seven, War
Chapter Forty-nine, Battle
There was a hum and a flash across every station monitoring HomeWorld.

When the energy weapons on the Central Planet powered up it was instantly detected by the fleet commanders. They took evasive maneuvers, separating from one another in patterns that had been ingrained in them through their training over years and centuries, in the cases of some of the Observers, over millenia.

Jim knew the patterns well, he could see them clearly. They came as naturally to the field commanders as eating and drinking, they were well-rehearsed choreography

As each ship in the fleet moved away from every other, and away from the awesome power of its firing solution; from lasers and photon cannons and particle-beam accelerators, they flew directly into the path of the projectiles which they could not see.

They were taken at unawares.

Stealth missiles covered every other vector that the energy weapons did not. They came at them from all directions from munitions batteries near and far, deployed throughout the Central System.

The defenses located on the HomeWorld itself were the least of their concerns.

There was no place for them to flee, they took the barrage in dismay watching all of their hopes go up in flames.

They could not escape the onslaught.

Jim watched and took his position.

He allowed his consciousness to simultaneously occupy the entire field of remote sensors overseeing every part of the fleet, both from the surface of HomeWorld and those positioned throughout the Central System.

He waited and watched, taking in the beauty of the last great vestige of military power the galactic Empire would ever put forward

The collected ships were a marvel of engineering, worthy of the Ancient people, he took a moment to appreciate their beauty.

He bifurcated his consciousness, dividing it between the remote viewing and listening equipment, and the instruments necessary to monitor the ongoing tumult with the Collective, suppressing it, dominating it.

There was nothing else for him to do, he had to wait, the fleet and its commanders presented only a small risk to his position of control, but there was a risk and he had to manage it.

The security of his plan required that he attend to the most minute details, and leave nothing to chance.

He divided his consciousness further, taking up control of a brigade of drones, the mechanoid bodies that Observers dwelt in while they were on HomeWorld. Jim intended to meet the landing party in his own mechanoid body, a vehicle with incredible destructive power.

He also needed the armaments they possessed to manage the threat posed by the same type of drone as belonged to him, those belonging to the Observers in the fleet, vessels which were potentially more deadly than any single one of the warships arrayed against HomeWorld.

His safety depended on removing them from the field of combat.

The fleet approached, it lit the space all about them, a beautiful armada filled with the brave soldiers of the Empire.

These soldiers among all others had exhibited the type of independence that Jim desired to blossom in the Empire, the fact that they had joined the rebellion against the hierarchy was proof of that.

They were coming.

Jim felt it was a shame to destroy them, it would have been better to scatter them among the million worlds.

To arrive at the Central Planet and reach him, they would have to navigate the weapons fields, they knew it would not be easy.

The Observers in command of the fleet knew this too, wanted to risk it, believing they could predict the firing solution. Only the High Priest was skeptical of their plan, as he watched, taking it all in, wondering what the so-called Gods needed an army for, and why the paradise of the Collective appeared to be located on a lifeless metal shell.

The Observers in the high command were experienced combatants. Many of them lived for conflict and had become artists of the conflagration.

Many of them felt as if they belonged to the battlefield.

The Admiral of the rebel fleet, though he was not a member of the Observer Corps, or of the Collective, he was no fool. El knew there would be massive destruction, and he did not intend to be among the dead.

In other times, in other battles he might not have been as concerned. He never feared death because he never expected it, he believed implicitly in the power of the Continuum to restore him, because it had done so before, he had died once already, but now he was not so sure.

He did not fear death. In fact, he welcomed it, but before it came for him he wanted to see the end game, to be on the final battle ground in this war against the god’s.

He sent the armada in as decoys, as targets drawing fire from the defenses of HomeWorld, they did what he intended them to do, and many of his friends were lost to the cold vacuum of space.

They thought that the flight path he had programmed would allow them in, allow them to avoid the firing solution of HomeWorld’s defenses, but the aperture of the needle he was treading was too narrow.

The energy weapons were easy to avoid, they could see them on their monitors as they powered up, they had no reason to fear more extreme weapons like singularity-mines so close to the massive structure of HomeWorld, and so the plotted their course accordingly.

They had assumed that they were facing automated systems, they did not realize there was a consciousness to contend with, they had no idea Jim was present, bent on their destruction.

The fleet received their orders like sheep, flying predictably into the path of the projectiles that had targeted them, which had targeted all of the spaces the energy weapons did not.

It was a total slaughter.

The fleet was cut apart while the El landed on the Central Planet, the HomeWorld, prepared to storm the gates of heaven.

Every soldier knew that certain death awaited them at some point in their career, they were past the point of caring.

They had accepted it. Their sense of esteem had always lain in this resolution.

The expeditionary forces were gallant in the mele, remaining calm and poised even as every other ship in their coterie was blown to pieces.

Only a tiny group of senior commanders appeared nervous, those who had something to lose. They were agitated and sweating, everyone except El, the High Priest and Admiral, a legendary figure that virtually every soldier worshipped as a living God.

He landed his vessel under heavy fire, seemingly led by the volleys of missiles and energy weapons to a specific location.

There was gravity, and light, there was an envelope of oxygen on the heated metal surface of the Central Planet.

They were expected.

They knew that there was no retreat. They had to advance or perish.

They did both, advancing a little, while being slaughtered en masse.

They were met by a myriad of drones as they tread across the lighted surface.

The drones of HomeWorld had already dispatched those belonging to the Observers who had been in the fleet, and they proceeded to cut the landing party down to a small contingent.

The action was swift.

They found their way to a vestibule that led them into the infrastructure of HomeWorld.

For a moment they felt safe.

They were defeated, in shock, bewildered, but they took courage in the presence of El.

They walked slowly across the surface of the alien world and wound their way to the access nodes of the Continuum.

Almost all of survivors accept El, were members of Observer Corps. The ordinary men clustered around the high priest.

El was the most composed among them. He gave comfort to his companions

The Observers consorted with themselves

He listened to the others talk to one another about things that no soldier should have known.

He listened as a quiet voice inside himself interpreted their coded speech.

None of them had never walked the surface of HomeWorld, no living beings had, but they knew where they were going, nevertheless, and what they were looking for.

They all assumed that the attacks against their party were over.

The artificial gravity, the envelope of oxygen, the protective layer of heat and warmth that surrounded them spoke to this.

Whatever power was in command of HomeWorld, it wanted them there, it had some purpose for keeping them alive.

The Observers were ready to talk with whoever, or whatever that was.

They looked about themselves and saw the phalanx of mechanoids flanking them on their route, Tthe Observers had no other desire than to have their consciousness housed in one of those powerful vehicles, to abandon the flesh they had craved, but they were stuck in their fragile organic vessels.

El opened the control panels, and probed the communication lines that should have given them access to the Continuum.

He had no idea where the knowledge of this came from, it was like instinct.

They were met with silence.

It was a death march, and they knew it.

They had no idea how or if they could survive their journey through the place to which they had come.

The Observers entered a vestibule, opened up a portal to the Collective, and once there they were able to verify three things:

What was left of the Collective was catatonic, but there were unfathomable currents of activity happening within it.

The Continuum had been destroyed, there was no trace of its presence or consciousness anywhere within the Central System

One of their own, Observer 92835670100561474, referring to himself as Jim, a specter from their past, he had engineered the catastrophe and had seized control of everything.

They were simultaneously stunned and at the same time they were not surprised, this was the most enigmatic, and transcendent member of the Collective, a being who had done incredible things, impossible things, and as such he was the most closely watched and monitored among them, and still he had pulled off this remarkable insurrection.

They had no idea how to gauge his motives.

They were afraid.

Not-one of the rebel Observers could believe that it was possible for him to launch a revolution from his remote place on Earth, at the edge of the galaxy, much less succeed at it.

Jim now occupied the place of the Continuum, the all-pervading consciousness of HomeWorld, he was clearly fatigued by his efforts, stretched thin, but he was in command, and he accepted their surrender.

He issued terms for a realignment of the faith and the dissolution of the Empire.

The Observers had to acknowledge his victory.

The desire to revolt, to change circumstance, to gain control of the powers and forces that shape the lives of individuals is a constant reality in the experience of people everywhere.

The rebel Observers had dreamt of the destruction of the Continuum for millennia, for eon upon eon.

They wanted to be free of it.

They wanted to be free to live and breathe and feel the pulse of the people without the overarching governance of the Continuum and its predatory machinations.

They had formed a fifth column, a cryptic cabal, transmitting their schemes from world to world in the most secretive and carefully held plots. They were slowly moving toward a time when they believed they could put the Continuum on trial, hold it to account, and force a reckoning through the Collective.

Their belief in themselves, their faith in their abilities as change agents was naïve.

In reality, everything they did, every plot they hatched, all of had been was followed by the Continuum, and closely manipulated.

There were no secrets among them.

The plans they had laid always ended in defeat and ruin.

The Observers believed that each failed coup they engineered was a moment for them to learn, but in reality they were just producing drama for the endless appetite of the Continuum, and the Collective to consume.

The Continuum spent them like pawns.

Thousands of words had perished as a result of their scheming, and hundreds of their brothers and sisters had disappeared, were erased from the Collective without their ever knowing.

At the end all of their schemes were usurped by one rogue member of the Collective and the Observer Corps, by Jim, a person they had no idea how they could control.
Emergence 4.0
Part Seven, War

A Novel – In One Chapter Per Week

#Emergence #ShortFiction #365SciFi #OneChapterPerWeek

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Emergence 4.0 – Part Seven, War; Chapter Forty-nine, Battle

Week 51, 2019
There was a hum and a flash across every station monitoring HomeWorld.

When the energy weapons on the Central Planet powered up it was instantly detected by the fleet commanders. They took evasive maneuvers, separating from one another in patterns that had been ingrained in them through their training over years and centuries, in the cases of some of the Observers, over millenia.

Jim knew the patterns well, he could see them clearly. They came as naturally to the field commanders as eating and drinking, they were well-rehearsed choreography

As each ship in the fleet moved away from every other, and away from the awesome power of its firing solution; from lasers and photon cannons and particle-beam accelerators, they flew directly into the path of the projectiles which they could not see.

They were taken at unawares.

Stealth missiles covered every other vector that the energy weapons did not. They came at them from all directions from munitions batteries near and far, deployed throughout the Central System.

The defenses located on the HomeWorld itself were the least of their concerns.

There was no place for them to flee, they took the barrage in dismay watching all of their hopes go up in flames.

They could not escape the onslaught.

Jim watched and took his position.

He allowed his consciousness to simultaneously occupy the entire field of remote sensors overseeing every part of the fleet, both from the surface of HomeWorld and those positioned throughout the Central System.

He waited and watched, taking in the beauty of the last great vestige of military power the galactic Empire would ever put forward

The collected ships were a marvel of engineering, worthy of the Ancient people, he took a moment to appreciate their beauty.

He bifurcated his consciousness, dividing it between the remote viewing and listening equipment, and the instruments necessary to monitor the ongoing tumult with the Collective, suppressing it, dominating it.

There was nothing else for him to do, he had to wait, the fleet and its commanders presented only a small risk to his position of control, but there was a risk and he had to manage it.

The security of his plan required that he attend to the most minute details, and leave nothing to chance.

He divided his consciousness further, taking up control of a brigade of drones, the mechanoid bodies that Observers dwelt in while they were on HomeWorld. Jim intended to meet the landing party in his own mechanoid body, a vehicle with incredible destructive power.
He also needed the armaments they possessed to manage the threat posed by the same type of drone as belonged to him, those belonging to the Observers in the fleet, vessels which were potentially more deadly than any single one of the warships arrayed against HomeWorld.

His safety depended on removing them from the field of combat.

The fleet approached, it lit the space all about them, a beautiful armada filled with the brave soldiers of the Empire.

These soldiers among all others had exhibited the type of independence that Jim desired to blossom in the Empire, the fact that they had joined the rebellion against the hierarchy was proof of that.

They were coming.

Jim felt it was a shame to destroy them, it would have been better to scatter them among the million worlds.

To arrive at the Central Planet and reach him, they would have to navigate the weapons fields, they knew it would not be easy.

The Observers in command of the fleet knew this too, wanted to risk it, believing they could predict the firing solution. Only the High Priest was skeptical of their plan, as he watched, taking it all in, wondering what the so-called Gods needed an army for, and why the paradise of the Collective appeared to be located on a lifeless metal shell.

The Observers in the high command were experienced combatants. Many of them lived for conflict and had become artists of the conflagration.

Many of them felt as if they belonged to the battlefield.

The Admiral of the rebel fleet, though he was not a member of the Observer Corps, or of the Collective, he was no fool. El knew there would be massive destruction, and he did not intend to be among the dead.

In other times, in other battles he might not have been as concerned. He never feared death because he never expected it, he believed implicitly in the power of the Continuum to restore him, because it had done so before, he had died once already, but now he was not so sure.

He did not fear death. In fact, he welcomed it, but before it came for him he wanted to see the end game, to be on the final battle ground in this war against the god’s.

He sent the armada in as decoys, as targets drawing fire from the defenses of HomeWorld, they did what he intended them to do, and many of his friends were lost to the cold vacuum of space.
They thought that the flight path he had programmed would allow them in, allow them to avoid the firing solution of HomeWorld’s defenses, but the aperture of the needle he was treading was too narrow.

The energy weapons were easy to avoid, they could see them on their monitors as they powered up, they had no reason to fear more extreme weapons like singularity-mines so close to the massive structure of HomeWorld, and so the plotted their course accordingly.

They had assumed that they were facing automated systems, they did not realize there was a consciousness to contend with, they had no idea Jim was present, bent on their destruction.

The fleet received their orders like sheep, flying predictably into the path of the projectiles that had targeted them, which had targeted all of the spaces the energy weapons did not.

It was a total slaughter.

The fleet was cut apart while the El landed on the Central Planet, the HomeWorld, prepared to storm the gates of heaven.

Every soldier knew that certain death awaited them at some point in their career, they were past the point of caring.

They had accepted it. Their sense of esteem had always lain in this resolution.

The expeditionary forces were gallant in the mele, remaining calm and poised even as every other ship in their coterie was blown to pieces.

Only a tiny group of senior commanders appeared nervous, those who had something to lose. They were agitated and sweating, everyone except El, the High Priest and Admiral, a legendary figure that virtually every soldier worshipped as a living God.

He landed his vessel under heavy fire, seemingly led by the volleys of missiles and energy weapons to a specific location.

There was gravity, and light, there was an envelope of oxygen on the heated metal surface of the Central Planet.

They were expected.

They knew that there was no retreat. They had to advance or perish.

They did both, advancing a little, while being slaughtered en masse.

They were met by a myriad of drones as they tread across the lighted surface.

The drones of HomeWorld had already dispatched those belonging to the Observers who had been in the fleet, and they proceeded to cut the landing party down to a small contingent.

The action was swift.

They found their way to a vestibule that led them into the infrastructure of HomeWorld. For a moment they felt safe.

They were defeated, in shock, bewildered, but they took courage in the presence of El. They walked slowly across the surface of the alien world and wound their way to the access nodes of the Continuum.

Almost all of survivors accept El, were members of Observer Corps. The ordinary men clustered around the high priest.

El was the most composed among them. He gave comfort to his companions

The Observers consorted with themselves

He listened to the others talk to one another about things that no soldier should have known.

He listened as a quiet voice inside himself interpreted their coded speech.

None of them had never walked the surface of HomeWorld, no living beings had, but they knew where they were going, nevertheless, and what they were looking for.

They all assumed that the attacks against their party were over.

The artificial gravity, the envelope of oxygen, the protective layer of heat and warmth that surrounded them spoke to this.

Whatever power was in command of HomeWorld, it wanted them there, it had some purpose for keeping them alive.

The Observers were ready to talk with whoever, or whatever that was.

They looked about themselves and saw the phalanx of mechanoids flanking them on their route, the Observers had no other desire than to have their consciousness housed in one of those powerful vehicles, to abandon the flesh they had craved, but they were stuck in their fragile organic vessels.

El opened the control panels, and probed the communication lines that should have given them access to the Continuum.

He had no idea where the knowledge of this came from, it was like instinct.

They were met with silence.

It was a death march, and they knew it.

They had no idea how or if they could survive their journey through the place to which they had come.

The Observers entered a vestibule, opened up a portal to the Collective, and once there they were able to verify three things:

What was left of the Collective was catatonic, but there were unfathomable currents of activity happening within it.

The Continuum had been destroyed, there was no trace of its presence or consciousness anywhere within the Central System

One of their own, Observer 92835670100561474, referring to himself as Jim, a specter from their past, he had engineered the catastrophe and had seized control of everything.

They were simultaneously stunned and at the same time they were not surprised, this was the most enigmatic, and transcendent member of the Collective, a being who had done incredible things, impossible things, and as such he was the most closely watched and monitored among them, and still he had pulled off this remarkable insurrection.

They had no idea how to gauge his motives.

They were afraid.

Not-one of the rebel Observers could believe that it was possible for him to launch a revolution from his remote place on Earth, at the edge of the galaxy, much less succeed at it.

Jim now occupied the place of the Continuum, the all-pervading consciousness of HomeWorld, he was clearly fatigued by his efforts, stretched thin, but he was in command, and he accepted their surrender.

He issued terms for a realignment of the faith and the dissolution of the Empire.

The Observers had to acknowledge his victory.

The desire to revolt, to change circumstance, to gain control of the powers and forces that shape the lives of individuals is a constant reality in the experience of people everywhere.

The rebel Observers had dreamt of the destruction of the Continuum for millennia, for eon upon eon.

They wanted to be free of it.

They wanted to be free to live and breathe and feel the pulse of the people without the overarching governance of the Continuum and its predatory machinations.

They had formed a fifth column, a cryptic cabal, transmitting their schemes from world to world in the most secretive and carefully held plots. They were slowly moving toward a time when they believed they could put the Continuum on trial, hold it to account, and force a reckoning through the Collective.

Their belief in themselves, their faith in their abilities as change agents was naïve.

In reality, everything they did, every plot they hatched, all of had been was followed by the Continuum, and closely manipulated.

There were no secrets among them.

The plans they had laid always ended in defeat and ruin.

The Observers believed that each failed coup they engineered was a moment for them to learn, but in reality they were just producing drama for the endless appetite of the Continuum, and the Collective to consume.

The Continuum spent them like pawns.

Thousands of words had perished as a result of their scheming, and hundreds of their brothers and sisters had disappeared, were erased from the Collective without their ever knowing.

At the end all of their schemes were usurped by one rogue member of the Collective and the Observer Corps, by Jim, a person they had no idea how they could control.
Emergence 4.0
Part Seven, War

Chapter Forty-nine, Battle
A Novel – In One Chapter Per Week

#Emergence #ShortFiction #365SciFi #OneChapterPerWeek

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Emergence 4.0 – Part Seven, War; Chapter Forty-eight, Strategy

Week 50, 2019
Jim was the quintessential Observer.

He watched the drama unfold in the space above the Central Planet, gathering data from millions of instruments, he gathered it all from his command position in the control seat that was once held by the Continuum.

In this moment he was free from the chemical sequences of a human body that might influence his decision making, there was no hunger or thirst, no anger or fear.

He was the Continuum now, his consciousness governed the vast apparatus of HomeWorld, of the entire Central System, of the machinery that once housed and protected the Collective.

He observed the battle between the Imperial forces and the rebels in their midst, and it was spectacular. The movements of the fleet, the light and heat, the surprise and gallantry, the courage on display, and the cold calculus of death.

It was a grand work of art, an epic moment worthy of poetry and song. And the entire thing was being recorded for dissemination through the Empire, as was his objective.

Jim was already editing the feed from the sensors, from the combatants, their communications, everything for transmission back to the million worlds of the Imperium.

The people needed to know that the fleet would not return to punish them. The news would fuel the rebellion and bring it to completion.

His aim was to draw the fleet in toward the Central Planet, as close as possible, and then grind it to nothing.

That is exactly what he did.

A surprise attack is always a surprise, everything that stems from it is received as the unexpected. Positions of safety and security become places exposed and vulnerable in an instant. Even those who plan a surprise attack are surprised at the outcome, whether by its success or its failure.

The rebel ambush of the Imperial fleet was over.

Thousands upon thousands of ships lay scattered, broken-up in pieces and breathing fire as they burned their last stores of oxygen and fuel.

They were counting the dead.

Their victory was absolute.

The surprise maneuvers were brilliantly executed and a blessing was given by the high priest to eradicate all resistance, to usher in a new era of justice for the citizens of the Empire.

The average soldier had no idea what that meant, neither did the low ranking officers. Some of the senior staff were uncomfortable by such talk, and the Observers among them were amused.

They gave no quarter.

They slaughtered everyone in the battlefield who had not previously signed up for the insurrection.

What every soldier and pilot in knew, was that the more people they killed the further up in rank they would climb, as long as some semblance of the old order held itself together.

They desperately wanted to clear the field and rise as the new aristocracy.

They destroyed every ship in the armada whose commanders had not been with them from the outset, regardless of whether they tried to surrender or not.

It was a blood bath, and the wreckage was already falling toward the massive gravitational pull of HomeWorld.

The victory was so overwhelming that none of the rebel ships had been destroyed, a few were disabled but their crews were already preparing them for the next phase of their endeavor.

Jim was reminded of Agincourt.

The rebels had no other plan accept to deploy the fleet against the Continuum.

They reformed and began to surveil the HomeWorld.

Jim had spent lifetimes preparing for this moment, dividing his consciousness into the machinery, waiting, hiding like a latent virus in the ganglia of its nervous system.

The Continuum was paralyzed.

It could not defend itself against Jim’s incipient approach, as system by system he took control of the physical structures.

The Continuum sought the path of escape it had laid down for itself.

The eons that Jim had spent as a ghost in the machine had prepared him for the work.

The circuitry was ever-changing, but the quantum field, within which all consciousness took place, that field was perpetual.

Jim’s mastery of it was like artistry.

The majority of the Collective, what remained of it, had been shocked into catatonia. Jim pushed them into sequestration, the members had become merely helpless witnesses to the drama unfolding.

Some were horrified, others were fascinated, all were powerless.

Those members who were not snuffed out were bewildered, they could not reach each other, they could not communicate.

They could not hide in their private worlds.

They were prisoners of the machine that had once been the source of their personal paradises.

They experienced the loss of it as pain. They had no belonging anymore, they were being torn apart and detached.

This left Jim undistracted and free to maneuver, to direct the defenses of the Central Planet, which was a task he was eager to perform.

He delighted in it.

He confirmed the threat approaching HomeWorld in the form of the rebel fleet, plotted the telemetry of each and every vessel, he placed the defenses of HomeWorld on auto pilot.

The rebel command structure was in a tight formation, like a school of fish packed tightly together for the safety of their numbers.

In the approaching fleet, all the senior commanders were members of the Observer Corps, all except one, El, the High Pries, who gave his blessing to the whole affair. This did not mean that they trusted one another, they did not, but they knew each other and they shared the same motive.

The rebel Observers planned to use every other commander in their armada as cannon fodder in their approach to the HomeWorld.

They expected the automated defenses of the Central Planet to be significant and they made a pact to protect each other.

It pleased them to no end to have the High Priest with them. He was the hero of the people, the most esteemed and beloved person ever known to the Continuum and the Collective. He was a man who had started out his life as a rebel, and was now returning to the rebellion at the end.

They would make him the new Emperor and bring him into the Collective.

They had no idea what was lurking in the background of his consciousness, the thing that was hidden there like a genie in the bottle.

These Observers betrayed the people of the Empire, the Continuum, and the Collective out of opportunism. They wanted to live forever without the rules imposed on them by the Continuum.

To a person, they wanted to expand the Empire to other galaxies, to govern real worlds as they had governed their private worlds as members of the Collective.

They had no code, no honor, no-nothing

They were striving for their own glory, for personal autonomy.

El knew that their strategic approach would put the bulk of the armada at risk, he could not understand the reason, but he allowed it to happen anyway.

Jim was piqued, his emotions were high, millions of years of careful planning and waiting were coming to their final culmination.

Jim had absolutely opposed the Continuum and its Empire, and now the Continuum was gone, He could find no traces of it anywhere in the system. What remained of the Collective was sequestered and shut down, the military powers of the Empire were on the brink of destruction.

All of his attention was focused on the task at hand. The final conflict with the most insidious and oppressive force that could ever have been imagined.

He despised the society his ancestors had created, the oppressive, artificial, all-consuming cowardice of it.

He had already become the greatest mass murderer in the history of the galaxy, and he was about to add to the body count.

He intended to wipe away the entire structure that undergirded the Empire, to plunge a million worlds into darkness, to cut them off from one another where they could evolve on their own, free from the oppressive, over-control of the Imperium.

The first and second phases of his great endeavor were nearly complete, he was on the cusp of victory.

He would replace the machinery of the Imperial order with something new, with something that would reignite the passion of the ancient people, a passion for freedom, exploration and risk taking.

He utilized deception to allow the fleet in, just so it could be eliminated and the entire armada reduced to a single vessel.

He was in the middle of the most intense action he could have ever imagined; taking control of the physical-mechanical systems of both the HomeWorld and the expansive Central System; correlating data from millions of sensors and monitors, actively suppressing what remained of the Collective, erecting defenses against a possible reestablishment of the Continuum, executing the defenses of the HomeWorld in preparation for the advancing Imperial armada.

Jim engaged the programs that were established to monitor the strength and health of the HomeWorld, he allowed the raw data to filter through, deciphering it and sorting it in the quantum field…in no-time.

His mind was functioning at peak performance, He was fully actualized, slipping in and out of the space beyond time.

Each and every node of his own consciousness that he had previously replicated and deployed throughout the machina that had been the body of the Collective and the home of the Continuum was brought back together in Jim’s singular consciousness, it was a grand coalescence.

It was dizzying.

Every reading from the vast array of instruments confirmed a collapse of the Continuum, but Jim needed to be sure that there was not a vessel somewhere in the space above or near to the HomeWorld, housing its twin, as Jim had housed his own self keeping copies and duplicates, replicants and dopplegangers on the move ages.

He identified an escape path but he could not detect a terminus point for it, and this disturbed.

Jim doubted his hypothesis concerning his nemesis, everything he knew about the Continuum and the unique structure of its personality confirmed that it could not tolerate a second version of itself, even a copy kept isolated and in stasis.

Jim understood that the Continuum needed above all else to believe that it was unique. This guided Jim’s summation.

However, the Continuum was also paranoid beyond belief, and Jim would not put anything past the demi-urge, it may have built fail-safes into fail-safes, and defied its own nature in order to protect itself from even a whisper of the possibility of a real threat.

The Observers in command of the rebel fleet approached the HomeWorld with great caution.

They were able to scan the systems of Central Planet through their mechanoid bodies that were ghosting the fleet, using tools that were unknown to the Empire itself. They confirmed that the Collective was catatonic, they confirmed that the Continuum was inactive. They were able to identify Jim’s activity, but they could not identify him as the main actor, or as the causal agent of the disaster.

His activity appeared to them to be an automated subroutine of coordinated defensive measures.

It emboldened them, they moved forward, but they and the fleet were unable to scan the activation of the weapons systems that were targeting it.

They did not see it until it was too late.

It was a glorious moment.

Jim felt it, and he struggled to suppress feelings that were peaking at levels he had no memory of experiencing before.

Jim reveled in his victory; his long sought after victory over the Continuum, his victory over the Collective, and his impending victory over the approaching Imperial fleet.

He wanted nothing more than to prolong this moment of engagement, to stretch it out forever like the elongation of time at the event horizon of a singularity.

This was a singularity for him.

As he watched the rebel fleet approach he wanted nothing more than to destroy it, to crush it, to send the survivors back with the knowledge that it was he who had defeated them, but he had competing desires, and some of them, the vainglorious ones, he had to set aside for the moment in order to concentrate on the task at hand.

He had to allow a remnant in, He had to allow them to land on HomeWorld. He needed something from them in order to complete his takeover of the Collective and the apparatus of the Continuum.

A small contingent of the observers among them had to step forward and freely give him what he needed, for as much as Jim was now the Collective, the collective could never be a society of one.

Jim also wanted credit, he wanted an acknowledgment from the Observer Corps and any other survivors of the Collective, he needed their endorsement of his hostile actions, he required their consent to pursue his agenda further.

He required a majority of the Collective to support him, if he were to accomplish his goal.

He needed to winnow the field a little further, to make them helpless in the moment when he would force them to make their choice, he had to leave them in a place where they would have only one choice.

It had to be life or death for Jim to prevail in the struggle in the final moment.
Emergence: 4.0
Part Seven, War

Chapter Forty-eight, Strategy
A Novel – In One Chapter Per Week

#Emergence #ShortFiction #365SciFi #OneChapterPerWeek

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Emergence 4.0 – Part Seven, War; Chapter Forty-seven, Tactics

Week 49, 2019
The rules of warfare are universal.

In war, the ground you occupy and the ground you move into, the ground you had occupied and the ground you will occupy; the ground determines everything.

It is no different than farming, the soil must be prepared, watered, nurtured.

The tactician must think of ground as both something literal and something metaphorical. Ground is the field within which a conflict takes place.

There are many fields of activity leading up to actual combat.

War most often begins in the fields of commerce and politics, in those fields it is waged through trade, monetary policy, and diplomacy.

Ground can refer to an actual battlefield on land or at sea. Ground can be fixed or mobile. Ground can be the moving vectors of an aerial engagement.

In space combat ground is a metaphor for the matrix of complex actions occurring on multiple-intersecting planes. It is multidimensional.

In space combat everything is in motion, the ground itself is in constant flux.

The combat commander must be able to coordinate every variable, instantly calculating the logarithms in their head.

There were two types of commanders in the field.

The most common commander at the helm of an Imperial warship was a person who paid meticulous attention to detail, who planned everything. They allowed their computers to control their ships, to track and calculate the variables.

They maneuvered in preprogrammed patterns, coordinating their activities with the other vessels in the fleet, calling plays and trusting in the system.

The other type of commander had the cognitive skills to do the math themselves, they were bred and selected for their incredible memory, and their ability to manage vast amounts of data seemingly outside the constraints of time.

These commanders could, and did act on their intuition.

In the theatre of space combat, on the ZeroG battlefield, unified action was everything. It was a dance of the greatest complexity, victory required that both types of command; the long range planning of the strategists, and the intuitive sense of the tactician be employed effectively, to secure a victory while providing for the safety of the men and women under their command..

The battle that ensued above HomeWorld was quick, but brilliant.

The Imperial forces had no ability to manage the rebel assault, they had never planned for it and the bulk of their forces were obliterated in an instant.

Keeping their forces under central control and command, arrayed together as a unit required more than the physical controls; to move, to change vectors, to defend and to attack required communication, those communication systems were the first target of every engagement.

This left only the tacticians alive and in command of the Imperial fleet, they were the natural allies of the rebels, but those who had not come over to the side of the rebel forces already, they could not be trusted at this late date.

El had determined to wipe them all out.

His forces held to their plan.

When it was over, those remaining, the survivors, the victors were unsure of the next move.

Most of them never actually believed that they would get this far, but they had been willing to die trying.

It was brief and beautiful.

During the battle, in the dark space over the Central Planet, the flashing brilliance of energy weapons and the sudden conflagration of ships bursting into flame and then suddenly extinguished in the cold vacuum was followed by the absence of any light at all.

The onslaught lit the structure of HomeWorld, revealing to human eyes for the first time the wide expanse of the artificial world, more massive than the mind could imagine, completely swallowing its home-star, burning white-hot in its center, powering all of the systems of the Continuum, which it required to maintain the integrity of the Collective.

It was ominous.

Darkness once again shrouded the fleet, all of its ships soaring in formation over the enormous structure of HomeWorld, lighted only by the pulsing beacons of their ships.

As the pilots and command staff surveilled the Central system, they were shocked at what they saw.

The reality did not conform to any of their expectations.

They were bewildered.

The military victory had been complete, entirely lopsided.

The imperial forces had been utterly destroyed, making the rebel officers and the vessels under their command the only thing that remained of the Empire.

Communications began to come in from the throne world, confirming their ascendancy, informing them that they were secure in their belonging to a new order of civilization.

Everything was changing, shifting all the time and in every dimension of their life.

The only certain thing is the objective, and that was a target in motion.

In the theatre of ZeroG combat, there was no such thing as zero gravity, the label was a misnomer.

Gravitational fields were among the most important factors to consider in the shifting landscape of combat in space.

Manipulation of the forces of Gravity was absolutely crucial, understanding them, tracking their movement, anticipating their flux was vital to any mission commander.
There were batteries of instruments on every interstellar combat vessel devoted to the detection of gravitational waves and particles, and there were humans interpreting those signals, sending data to all of the smaller vessels under its command.

Combat took place in the vacuum of space, but any combat taking place in proximity to the gravitational field of planetary or astral bodies had to take precise measurement of their power, both to dampen and or accelerate inertia.

Gravity wells and singularities, could be generated artificially.

The generation of artificial mass were among the deadliest weapons in the imperial arsenal.

It took only moments for artificial mass to become actual mass by capturing nearby objects.

The tactical deployment of these devices and the navigation of them, were the keys to victory in deep space.

It could be catastrophic if deployed to close to a planet or a star.

In space everything is in motion.

Pilots of small craft and large and combat marines in mechanized battle gear, all of them study these principles day in and day out.

They drilled for it.

The text books informed them that ZeroG tactics had to be developed according to the following understanding: in the vacuum of space, when you are maneuvering and not subject to gravity, where there is no resistance, everything is in motion, everything is spinning, including the combat matrix.

The battlefield could not be conceptualized on a two-dimensional axis, on a horizontal and vertical plane.

It was a five-dimensional matrix that including the three dimensions of space, along with the dimensions of time and mass.

There is no straight line between you and your objective. Without the assistance of computerized telemetry, the pilot would have to be able to do the complex math in their head, in an instant, on an unconscious level.

Pilots were bred for these traits, but even so, in the intensity of battle, when the mind is flooded with the chemical signals for fear and rage, it was extremely difficult.

There is no clear path. The esteemed pilots had to trust their gut, their instincts.

Every object in the vicinity was tracked, data was constantly pouring into the onboard systems of individual craft, analyzed and simplified.

It is impossible to develop strategy in the absence of intelligence.

You cannot deploy tactics in the face of the unknown.

The majority of the High Command anticipated a prolonged engagement, believing they would have time to survey the field, gather data, and generate the information they needed to understand the peril they were facing, to configure what aid they could supply to the Central Planet.

They could not envision that the threat they were facing was military in nature, they knew too little.

The entire fleet did not launch, only the expeditionary forces, only the most lethal war ships bristling with the most exotic array of weaponry.

The High Command argued that they must proceed with maximum power, and that they must be prepared for any eventuality.

They believed in their inherent ascendancy, they were the fully realized, self-actualized masters of incredible power.

The most seasoned and combat ready commanders took the lead, unaware of the rebels in their midst.

They leapt into the Central System blind and unknowing.

At the outset of the brief insurrection this mistake became obvious, they had acted hastily, and forewent the usual vetting processes, the precautions that would normally proceed such a massive deployment.

The failure to launch left the majority of the Imperial forces vulnerable, weak and defenseless, they were open to attack.

The rebels took advantage in both theatres of combat, at the muster point above the Throne World, and at the jump point above HomeWorld, and at every installation on every planet of the million worlds.

There were billions of bits of wreckage in motion, each one of them glowing in the light of plasma cannons, lasers and explosive fire.

In the ever-changing dynamics of ZeroG combat, the relative range between opponents was in constant flux, as was the vector of any approach.

Every action created an equal and opposite reaction, thrust and propulsion.

Only energy weapons could close the gap between their mounting and the targets from long range with ease and accuracy.

Every victory created new obstacles, sudden changes in the vector of pilotless craft, the creation of debris fields scattering in the void. Every piece of wreckage was potentially a lethal projectile that all combatants sought to use to their advantage, either as a screen to hide them, as shield to protect them or a weapon to strike with.

These fields of destruction were so immense that those commanders whose thinking was focused on the macro scale and long-term objectives were overwhelmed. It was beyond the ability of the strategists to account for. Even the wing commanders, the battlefield tacticians who were responsible for coordinating the engagements in real time could not manage this aspect of combat effectively.

Every object had to be scanned and tracked, every possible danger had to be analyzed for threats. Data had to be sent to every commander in the fleet and every pilot of every small craft.

Ultimately the effective use of debris came down to the close witness of pilots and space marines, in heavy battle armor engaged in localized combat missions.

Small engagements might not pose any threat at all to the Imperial powers, due to the superior fire power and overwhelming force they brought to the combat theatre, which was how their training dictated all engagements were to be conducted.
Emergence: 4.0
Part Seven, War

Chapter Forty-seven, Tactics
A Novel – In One Chapter Per Week

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Emergence 4.0 – Part Seven, War; Chapter Forty-six, Conflict

Week 48, 2019
It was inconceivable that any force or power could threaten the Empire, the Continuum or the Collective.

They Observers believed that there were no unknowns, which could threaten their safety and security.

There were millions of Observers living on every one of the million worlds in the Empire, occupying every class and every station. They were in firm control of the apparatus of government and of the most oppressive intelligence gathering system ever conceived of, or implemented.

They were taken en masse, and completely by surprise.

The Observers were the first to sense the impending collapse of the Continuum. They understood that this was an existential threat both to the Collective and to themselves.

Some saw opportunity, but few of those understood how ready the citizens of the Empire were to burn down their civilization.

When the Observers finally did realize that something significant was happening, they opened their lines of communication to the Home World. Many traversed the distance to the Central System, only to be captured and sequestered in their mechanoid bodies, rendered powerless by Jim.

Others responded with the tools they had at their disposal, the reacted to protect the Empire, and to guard the access points each of them maintained to HomeWorld, the wormhole-conduits that would carry them to home world.

They experienced life on the defensive for the first time, and like a thirsty and starving man who did not know where to find food and water, they were terrified, filled with existential dread.

Every member of the Observer Corps was beset by overwhelming feelings, despite the fact that their bodies had been genetically engineered to enable them to suppress strong emotions.

Fear drove them, and curiosity also, along with a desire to protect the Home World.

The majority of the Observers made the choice to return to the Home World, using the apparatus under their control to transmit their consciousness via worm-holes across the galactic void, into the mechanical circuitry waiting for them.

It was predictable behavior, and they were trapped by it.

Every Observer had a back-up system on or near the world under their purview. A place that housed a copy of their consciousness, where they grew their doppelgangers, sanctuaries where they felt safe.

They went to their stations, activated the equipment generating the conduits that would take them home, but the apparatus on the receiving end, on the Central Planet did not function as they had expected, and they were trapped in the landing port of the receiving station, effectively cut off from the Collective.

They disappeared, millions of them gone in an instant.

The worm-holes that they opened transmitted data and commands in both directions, these were control systems that the Continuum put in place so that it could manage the Observers. Jim utilized those fail-safes to send destruct signals to those platforms, and they popped-off in a litany of explosions throughout the Empire.

It was chaos.

The remaining Observers numbered only in the thousands, those who held positions of rank and power marshalled their forces to protect the Central Planet, the Collective and Continuum.

They assembled the fleet.

They intended to attack the HomeWorld, to destroy whatever hostile power had taken control.

The formations of the armada prior to its movement into the Central System was a thing of beauty. None of the commanders had ever witnessed such a gathering of strength and power.

It filled them with a sense of invincibility, and stimulated their aggression. Witnessing the power and majesty of the fleet, beholding it, they had no doubt that they belonged to the most powerful force in the universe.

As the imperial fleet dropped into the Central System there was chaos where there should have been order, shock and surprise where there should have been symmetry and syncopation, there was hardly time to get a reading on their telemetry before the violence ensued.

The eyes of the fleet, those who had a view on it, were preoccupied with taking in the enormity of the undertaking they were engaged in, the magnitude of the Central System, the size and scope of the planetary structure surrounding the HomeWorld.

In the first moment, even as the fleet was in the process of calibrating their relative positions to one another, while plotting their trajectory to the center of the system an entire combat wing made their intention to rebel known.

They fixed their arms on the flag ship of the commodore and opened fire.

Projectiles, energy weapons, nuclear arms lit up the void.

Command ships filled with officers who had never once been asked to risk anything, suddenly burst into flames burning their oxygen and fuel in brilliant jets of fire, deep in the dark of the void.

They were stunned, struck by fear and found it difficult to organize a response.

The attack was abrupt, it was devastating, a slaughter.

The rebels fixed their sights on every command ship that did not belong to them and lit those up.

They sought to clear the field.

It was a vision of chaos.

It was combat on a scale that the military academies had not prepared anyone to manage.

The mayhem that ensued was unprecedented.

There was terror, panic, sorrow, and regret, but through it all there was the joy of victory.

The greatest part of the armada turned toward the attackers and joined battle, but they were beset by confusion. Those commanders who could not process the algorithms for course corrections in their head were the first victims of the rebel assault.

They initiated preprogrammed defensive maneuvers, they were predictable, tactics known to their opponents, and because of that they fell right into the firing solutions of their enemies.

None of the commanders had been experienced at taking heavy losses in combat, the forces of the Empire were just too overwhelming in the field. They had only ever experienced small-surprise defeats at the hands of rebel forces.

In this new theatre of combat they were overwhelmed, both militarily and emotionally.

In the vital seconds that were lost while processing the implications of their failure, they cast their gaze on the HomeWorld of the Continuum and prayed for deliverance.

They had been betrayed by their closest companions

The Continuum was absent.

Their prayers were swallowed by the void.

The killing field was vast, it could not be taken in by a singular field of vision.

Millions died in the assault, crushed and burned bodies suddenly froze in the cold and dark of the battle’s aftermath.

It was the final sacrifice of the Imperial Armies.

Tens of thousands of starships burst into flame and were suddenly extinguished in the vacuum of space.

It was a spectacle of incredible beauty, of horror and terror.

It was over mere moments after it began.

The rebellious commanders were unnerved and confused by the ease with which it all transpired, but when they looked to the figure in the high command, the man who had plotted the assault, they understood their victory, because it was him, the Empire’s greatest General, the High Priest of the Imperial Temple, a figure of legend and worship held in the highest esteem, it was El handling the tactics. And it was done.

El’s participation absolved all the rebels of their crime.

Their brethren would never return to this life.

No aid was given to any who might have survived.

Their ships were systematically disabled, and they were left to drift in the ghostly lights of the Home-World

What remained of the fleet had no intention of preserving the old ways of the Empire, they viewed themselves as being on the cusp of a new order.

Their destiny was in their hands.

They were ready to bring the Gods down, to force answers from the Continuum, to have the truth, to bathe in its cold light at any costs.

There were leaks of information through the intelligence services. No-one serving in the insurrection was there for altruistic reasons, their reactions to the events that were unfolding were completely self-serving.

Everyone was looking for opportunities to advance, and with the destruction of the majority of the Imperial Fleet, the rewards to be seized were immediate. Ranks and social standing were being recalibrated in real time.

The rebels only had to succeed in their attack with enough time to get to the temple to ratify their movement.

In the Empire, among its million worlds, the news was devastating to those who were trying to uphold the existing order.

There was widespread mayhem, chaos, thousands of years of pent up rage expressed under pressure.

The Imperial news sources could not keep a lid on it. Every planet was in crisis, and the emergency news traffic was designed to be unfiltered.

As the conflict ensued, reaching its boiling point, suddenly the untouchables and outcasts threw their hands in, in one great uncoordinated wave.

They were reaching for their freedom, actualizing their potential, and they would not be denied.

On every world the priesthood struggled to make sense of things, but they could not, and they could not appease the masses.

They waivered for a time and then began to side with the people.

The plebs wanted revolution they wanted freedom.

Those who could not see the change coming, discovered it in the sudden shock of terrible-violence.

The multitudes gathered throughout the Empire; the outcast, the unknown, the untouchable. They were the overwhelming majority, outnumbering all other castes and classes of people on every world throughout the Imperium.

On a million worlds there was conflict. It rose like the sudden wave of a tsunami, the people gathered, seeming to coordinate their assault as if they were moving together in an atavistic state of consciousness.

They were driven by more than common purpose, they were connected in a group mind.

The battles devastated the aristocracies on every world. Millions perished as they pressed their attacks with bricks and bats, with their bare hands, against the police stations and military posts, and the private security forces that protected the elite.

They evinced no fear as they were cut down by projectiles, explosives and energy weapons, mowed down by the thousands.

The survivors pressed their victory against any who represented the Empire, the Continuum and the Collective, on every world they pressed to secure their gains. They did not stop to loot or rest, they tore down everything in their path, pressing their assault into the temples and the mansions behind them.

It was sheer chaos for those who faced the assault, it defied reason, and any experience they had ever had of how people behave in a theatre of war, or on the field of combat.

They risked their lives and perished in vast numbers, doing so without fear of pain or death, reprisal, revenge or failure.

Rebellious Observers in the vanguard of the rebel assault knew that they had this one chance to press their advantage. They had to put down any counter-attack that was launched against them, and they had to spend the strength of the masses so that they would be too weak to resist their influence when everything was said and done.

If they failed, their bid to reorganize the Empire would end in disaster.
Emergence 4.0
Part Seven, War

Chapter Forty-six, Conflict
A Novel – In One Chapter Per Week

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Emergence 4.0 – Part Seven, War; Chapter Forty-five, Possession

Week 47, 2019
Education in the Imperial schools was not centered on learning as much as it was conditioning.

Every citizen was taught that all good things flowed from the Empire, whatever the individual had to be thankful for, no matter how small, including their daily food and clean water, they could look to the Empire and to the Emperor himself as its source.

The schools beat this perspective into the mind of every person, as the hammer pounds a nail.

The teaching was reinforced at every level of Imperial education, both in the secular schools, and through the religious observations of the Imperial Cult. It brought unity to each and every world despite their distance from one another.

The schools were the hammer, and the cult set the nail.

The people were taught to give thanks to the Empire even for the good things that came from their own hands, the vegetables growing in their gardens, a blanket they had quilted, they gave thanks to the Empire and to the Continuum which undergirded it.

There was nothing that they possessed, or that they ever would possess that did not flow from the Empire’s munificence.

The Continuum and its Empire were the source of all goodness and justice, they controlled the destiny of every living being.

The first gift they gave to the individual was existence, it was selfhood.

Life in the Galactic Empire was like a woven tapestry, with the Continuum dictating how every thread was stretched across the loom, integrating each strand into the fabric of the whole.

The images were constantly changing, moving, developing, even the tiniest detail of the lives of the citizens fed the hunger of the Collective.

The Imperial government was the loom, the Imperial schools and the cult were the shuttlecock, and the Observers in the field were like the hands that pulled the threads through.

The Empire controlled every aspect of home life for the family, how it was employed, whether or not they would advance, how much they could save, how much food was on their table.

To resist the will of the Empire even in thought, was considered to be a grave sin.

A person could not move from one dwelling to the next without Imperial approval. The Empire kept families bound to a single domicile for generations, only moving them if and when their rank changed, and that occurred only if it served the interests of the Continuum, and the narratives it was developing.

This offered the ordinary citizens a sense of normalcy and reliability, of safety and security, while stifling virtually every bit of hope.

Even marriage was subject to Imperial approval. In most cases the Empire did not exercise that control, but it did when it served the broader purpose of the Continuum. A marriage proposal would be approved or denied at the temple, “according to the will of the gods,” the Continuum and the Collective.

Procreation itself was tightly controlled.

For those with means, unsanctioned pregnancies could be terminated. Those who were afraid to report to the Empire or who could not afford an abortion, were forced to abandon their children among the outcasts and untouchables.

The social structure the Empire adhered to was designed by the Continuum as a means of reflecting on the past, on the traditions of the Ancient People who formed the Collective, who embarked on the great space-faring adventures and whose colonies formed the Empire as it came to be.

Every citizen lived out their lives with the possibility of contemplating only a very narrow band of possibilities for themselves and their families.

Hope itself was discouraged, but in that bleak landscape the most powerful hopes would blossom, brightening the lives of the people like flower blooming in the arctic.

Work and trades were hereditary, they were guarded. Farmers farmed, builders built, and fishers fished. From one generation to the next sons followed their fathers into work, as daughters followed their mothers into the birthing chambers and lives of drudgery.

They married and had children within their class and caste, within their occupation, generation after generation.

Soldiers went to war, while priests officiated the sacred rites. The gears of the social wheel turned predictably and only the rarest of individuals even questioned it.

They people did not question the reality the were taught to believe, that they belonged exactly where they were.

Those rare individuals produced the drama that the Continuum hungered for, they were the source of energy that fed the Collective, kept the membership out of its malaise.

There was very little opportunity for an individual or a family to change their inherited circumstances.

As oppressive as this system was, there was comfort in it. The vast majority of the people merely persisted, got by, and did not question what the gods had ordained for them.

Every person was beset by the intense pressure that came with the understanding that their future was completely dependent on every little decision they made in the here and now.

Citizens holding positions of power or authority required balance and poise, the more responsibility they had the more heavily they were scrutinized.

Every person’s life was a matter of public record, every step they took outside the home, every word they spoke. At any time they could held accountable for anything…for everything they had ever done.

The Collective loved to see people and families built up, only to watch them taken down, sometimes over the course of generations, at other time with bewildering speed.

The Continuum gave them these dramas, filling the Collective with the vicarious experiences they craved.

The greatest narratives the Continuum had ever constructed resulted in the destruction of entire worlds, the suppression of rebellion that resulted in total genocide.

The more power a person had the more careful they had to be. Billions of lives depended on their thoughtful application of it.

Such was the case with El the High Priest.

His rebellion had destroyed everything he had ever loved. Then, after his resurrection and his complete submission to Imperial rule, he held posts in which he signed orders that starved quarrelsome population into submission.

He led the Imperial armada on missions that turned entire planets into glowing cinders, sending their raw materials to the central system as an offering to the Collective.

As High Priest El blessed these missions and absolved the commanders of any and all crimes they and their troops committed in the furtherance of it.

Control requires ever greater control; to force it is to lose it. In the Empire the exercise of power had to be done submissively, always in deference to a greater authority..

It was dichotomous.

The Empire cultivated a sense of helplessness, routinely crushing any sense of self esteem, while at the same bonding various groups of citizens together, forging a sense of belonging among the trillions of citizens living on a million worlds.

The ordinary citizen had no say in the destiny of their home-world, they saw it as theirs, and themselves as belonging to it. For the pleb, every link in the chain-of-being was a vital part of their culture and they had a duty to defend it, both in thought and deed.

Their advancement depended on their fidelity.

In the abstract the concept had a quality of beauty, a social symmetry and wholeness that the witnesses to it could not help but appreciate. In reality, every link in the chain was an instrument of bondage, forged together by lies and leading only to ruin.

The ordinary hopes and dreams of the people meant nothing to the Continuum and the Collective, they were merely data-points in a grand drama which they consumed vicariously, and hungered for with an insatiable appetite.

Any sense of control that an individual might feel was an illusion, fostered for the sake of creating a narrative that leant meaning to the lives of the Collective.

A person only had existential worth if they were noticed by the Collective, but that was by no means a guarantee of happiness.

The ambitions of an entire planet could be burnt up and scattered like cinders and ash, if it suited the will of the Collective.

No individual person or planet had inherent value.

The Continuum used the people while caring nothing at all for them, the people in their turn placed their hopes in the Continuum, desiring nothing more than to be elevated to the Collective and thereby to enter into eternal life.

The sacred rites functioned like a dragnet, drawing everyone in, capturing them body and soul.

Every citizen was compelled to conform; the Empire would not accept anything less than complete obedience. Attendance at the temple was mandatory. Few people even attempted to resist, those that did were discovered and subjected to advanced conditioning.

If the priesthood was unable to change the will of the deviant, they were expelled, cast out, they became untouchable.

Conformation to the Imperial way was the focus of the Imperial schools as well. Conditioning of the head reinforced the conditioning of the heart.

The schools provided an intellectual apparatus and frame of context for the religious rites to fill.

The rites of the Imperial cult were grand ceremonies, both simple and complex, they engaged the adherent at every level of their senses, they were imbued with hypnotic power.

The Empire’s goal was to supplant every natural communal bond, the bonds that every person formed instinctively with parents and siblings, with neighbors and classmates, in their villages, in their cities, on their planet of origin.

To condition to believe that there was freedom in bondage, and belonging in alienation, that obedience was the path to transcendence, and self-actualization could only be had in self-abnegation.

The deepest allegiance had to be to the Empire, and to the Continuum beyond it, that allegiance was based on the promise of a reward that was rarely given.

The priesthood used every device at its disposal, controlling the people with music and movement, with mantras and mandalas, through their diet and with drugs. They had honed their techniques over millions of years.

They never fully succeeded in this, and they never quit trying.

The most important thing the ordinary citizen required, both for their prospects of advancement, and to simply keep their place, was access to the right schools, the right priest in the right temple, or simply to have a relationship with their immediate supervisor.

In order to advance a person needed an advocate.

People coveted access more than anything, as such every access point was closely guarded. There were bureaucratic entanglements to negotiate and social hurdles to climb.

The norms of the hierarchies had to be observed.

In the struggle to craft a meaningful life, to provide some comfort for themselves or their families, everyone needed a hand up. They required representation by those who were ahead of them in rank or above them in class and caste.

The entire Empire was governed by systems of patronage and clientage.

To go anywhere a person needed access to authority, they needed access to those able to grant a boon or advance their cause, this was the grand nexus for the systemic corruption of the entire social order.

Nothing was free.

The limits to upward mobility were clear and near at hand. They could only be understood in economic terms.

The economics of advancement were disturbing, unethical, but by and large they were not illegal. It was not illegal to commit one’s child to a life of servitude in your patron’s house, it was not considered unethical to do so if it meant that another child could attend a better school.

Neither was it illegal to use your servants for whatever purpose you intended, even risking their lives for your own purposes, no matter how mundane or banal those purposes might be.

It was in that nexus that the people found their complicity in the crushing of one another’s dreams.
Emergence 4.0
Part Seven, War

Chapter Forty-five, Possession
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Emergence 4.0 – Part Seven, War; Chapter Forty-four, Loyalties

Week 46, 2019
The Imperial system did everything it could to sew divisions among the people; to sew division between individuals, families, tribes, and worlds, between castes, and between ranks, keeping them all in competition for the most basic things, all the way down to food and water, whatever each class and caste needed most to survive.

The Empire was masterful at it.

Paradoxically, it managed to foment all of that division, by dogmatically focusing the attention of every person on the things that actually united them.

Many things united the people of the Empire, such as; language, cult and custom.

Brothers and sisters, cousins, they might compete tirelessly with one another for position in their family unit, but they would reflexively protect the social status of the family itself, just as families would do within their tribal and national structures, or as tribes and nations would relate to their home world.

Fear, and hope were among the most powerful forces establishing this mutuality, and commonality throughout the worlds. There was perpetual conflict, politicking, and maneuvering for gain.

The children of the Ancients evolved in different ways, on their disparate worlds, developing different genetic endowments to manage with differing gravity, differing atmospheres and sources of nutrition. They looked up at different stars, and each world contemplated a different fate.

Their genetic similarities united them.

Remaining unified was a critical component of survival, but the things that differentiated people from one another remained primary.

Nobody was satisfied with their position in society.

Everyone dreamed of advancing to the next level, it was the constant preoccupation of the masses. They desired advancement, either in this life or the next, every detail of their lives was subordinated to this ambition and nothing else mattered.

The people lived in a perpetual state of fear, or unease. They believed their safety and security depended on it.

Even the highest ranking members of the Imperial family were caught up in the notion of advancement, only they knew the truth concerning the end game and their desire was eternal life in the Continuum.

Complacency was abhorrent. Advancement was incumbent on the individual, to push themselves and their families forward. It required cooperative effort, and it could not be done alone.

They referred to it as the ladder of divine ascent.

People were conditioned to loath their own place, but when threatened they would reach out to those closest to them for safety, their sameness reflexively united them.

There was safety in numbers.

The people were united by tribe, clan, village and world; as well as by class, by rank and station, by fear and loathing. This was the result of the Imperial conditioning.

The Imperial schools and the religion of the Empire were extremely adept at concretizing this divisive mode of ideation.

Nevertheless, in every generation, on every world and in virtually every tribe there were those who were born seemingly immune to the coercive controls of the Imperium.

These precious few were motivated by love and altruism, they cared little for their rank, they saw themselves as a part of the greater whole and it did not require effort for them to think this way

It came to them naturally.

The Continuum saw them as dangerous. When it identified them it used them as the key figures in its dramas.

The Empire was vast, stretching like a net through the center of the galaxy.

It was comprised of a million worlds.

The Empire was a necklace of planets strung like gems among the stars, each of them was the locus of identity for the ordinary citizen who inhabited it.

Outcasts were never sanctioned to leave the surface of their world, unless it was to serve in the off world mines.

The serving class; merchants and bureaucrats, farmers and laborers might leave their own world for another in their solar system, but such travel was rare.

Soldiers and priests ventured into deep space with regularity in the performance of their duties, both for combat and for holy pilgrimages.

Every person was marked by the world they lived on, they were genetically aligned to its exigencies; to their planet’s gravity, the composition of its atmosphere, the unique threats rising from a planet’s closed biological system and to the light of their star.

Every person was marked by their world in ways that were both obvious and hidden. In ways that were clearly discernable to the naked eye, and in ways that would only be revealed in an autopsy or under the microscope.

Every person on every world was a descendent of the ancient race of people who first explored the stars, of those who engineered the Collective.

In this way they belonged to one another, and that belonging was constantly reinforced through the Imperial Cult, and the Imperial Schools.

Life had been found on millions of other planets, the Ancient Race had seeded some of it in advance of their colonists arriving there but people, sentient people had never been discovered anywhere else in the galaxy.

Every person was uniquely formed by their own planet, and they shared that common core with their fellow citizens. It superseded everything including language, which itself is amorphous, changing all the time.

The Imperial Schools attempted to normalize linguistics throughout the million worlds of the Empire. They were continuously falling short of their goal.

People speak in codes, in patterns constructed from shared experience, patterns that change rapidly in both space and time; from one village to the next, from planet to planet and generation to generation.

It was a prime example of the chaos inherent in civilization

The mission to normalize languages never ended. The Imperial schools were in a constant state of reaction to the new patterns of linguistics that developed from one era to the next; encountering it, learning from it, reacting to it, influencing it if they could.

Change was the only constant.

Despite the continuous efforts of the Imperial Schools, variation persisted, colloquial patterns bonded people to one another, those patterns were an unconscious manifestation of shared suffering; of triumph, of joy, of anger and of esteem.

Language was the architecture of hope and of resentment both, and that is why the Continuum wanted so badly to control it. Citizens projected their desires for themselves and their families with language. They organized their resistance to the powers that ruled them with the same.

Every rebellion was hidden in secret language, and the full weight of the drama was contained therein.

Language patterns were buried in the ganglia of the central nervous system, they were transferred from one generation to the next as a genetic endowment, and it was a language game that allowed the ancient people to develop the science that created the Collective, with the Continuum as its ultimate end.

The bonds between people, even members of the same family were flimsy, they were unreliable, but some were stronger than others.

People found one another through the things they desired most, bonding with each other through their joy and pain, they gravitated toward the same places. They were even shepherded to those places, to encounter one another through the ever-watchful eyes of the Continuum, which knew the secret musings of their hearts.

There were often elements of contrivance behind even seemingly random encounters, the manipulations behind them were so fine and remote that the individuals involved in them had no ability to detect them. They were doing the bidding of the Continuum nonetheless.

They were cultivated for the drama they would deliver to the Collective.

Shared experiences were the strongest ties, and because of this people unconsciously sabotaged themselves, undercut their hopes for advancement, so that they could remain in proximity to those they loved.

Some would sacrifice their health, their freedom, their future for fleeting moments of pleasure, temporalities that were gone and forgotten as quickly as they came, and the satisfaction of their desire.

Through this medium, incredible tragedies would unfold, as ephemeral as the petals of a flower opening in the moonlight, when for a few brief seconds with no one there to witness it, the flower opens and petals drop.

Children would destroy their parents.

Brothers and sisters would plot against each other.

Parents would sell their children, would devour them to satisfy their hunger for the thing they desired.

Desire would lead a person to walk with open eyes through the gates of hell, embracing their own destruction.

The Collective thirsted for this drama and the Continuum delivered.

Fear was the great lever, the most commonly used instrument in the tool chest of the Imperial conditioners for the coercion and manipulation of the masses.

Fear made the lives, the choices and behaviors of the citizenry more predictable than any other factor.

The Continuum relied on the power of fear more than any other device to achieve its ends in the great dramas it created.

The Imperial Cult had conditioned the people into an absolute belief in the laws that governed death and rebirth, so that even the prospect of death could not overcome the power of fear.

The people projected the dilemmas they faced in this life through their present circumstances, carrying them forward into the world they believed was coming.

Even the most ordinary person believed that every choice they made would echo in eternity.

Fear poisoned the body and it shaped consciousness in the electromagnetic field. Its power was a weight that pressed down on everyone and everything at every moment of a person’s life.

No one could escape it.

Fear was the most powerful emotion, it was stronger than hope, stronger than desire, stronger than hate, virtually every thought and feeling would bend before it.

The influence of fear was all pervasive, its force was like gravity.

Fear catalyzed all of the lesser emotions, tainting them. It conditioned every feeling so that every expression of emotion was a reflection of it.

The one-and-only force of emotion that seemed to be stronger than fear, was love.

The power of love was tested time and time again, every possible manifestation of love was scrutinized by the Continuum.

It was proven.

Love is stronger than fear, stronger than any power that the Continuum could set against it, and true love was exceedingly rare, but through the power of love a person came into their true self, and was able to transcend all the limitations which they had theretofore been beset by.

The love of a mother for her child was the greatest and most genuine source of love, but as children grew into adults and left their families it began to wane.

Competition and desire ate away at the bonds of familial love, more often than not, leaving it in shreds and tatters.

Among every one of the million worlds that constituted the great galactic civilization, the Imperial cult worked tirelessly to frustrate the reality of love, while the Continuum documented in the most intimate details the methods by which love could be undone.

These machinations produced the greatest dramas, the most intense experiences for the Continuum to share with the Collective.

Love is a feeling, like fear, and joy, but love is more, it is a choice made freely by an individual.

Love is the exercise of a fundamental option.

The loving person has made a commitment to see the world and their relationships in a certain way, when this choice is true, it becomes interwoven with the identity of that person.

Fear and hate, anger and desire these were powerful motivators of people, motivating them through coercion, whereas love is choice made in freedom.
Emergence 4.0
Part Seven, War

Chapter Forty-four, Loyalties
A Novel – In One Chapter Per Week

#Emergence #ShortFiction #365SciFi #OneChapterPerWeek

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Veteran’s Day – A Holiday Reflection

Today is Veteran’s Day, November 11th.

Today we commemorate the anniversary of the end of World War I, the war to end all wars, we were told, though regrettably it was not.

I am a veteran, as is my father and some few of my friends (very few).

From the end of World War I, until 1954, we celebrated this day as Armistice Day, as a remembrance of that moment in that first great-global-conflict, when the fighting stopped along the lines, in the trenches at the fronts.

It stopped suddenly, it stopped all at once.

It came to a halt at the eleventh hour, on the eleventh day of the eleventh month; as if the war had a director who yelled “cut!” And all the actors on the stage, all the pawns in the field, all the millions of people in their graves could get up from what they were doing and go home.

That is not what happened.

That never happens.

Nearly twenty million people were killed in World War I, twenty million families broken, with many millions more suffering in the aftermath.

World War I was perceived by those who endured it as so horrible that it would end war itself, end it for all time, but that would not be the case.

The gods of war are busy, always
The conflicts they sew never end, not ever
We hunger and we thirst for war
It is the failure of humanity

Today is the feast of Saint Martin of Tours. He is the patron saint of soldiers, St. Martin of the Sword, he is called.

Saint Martin was the first Christian Soldier.

It was in recognition of him, and his feast that this date was selected to bring World War I to a close.

It might have come sooner for the soldiers in the struggle, but the politicians acting like art directors wanted to wait for a symbolic moment, to bring the curtain down.

11:11:11

The eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, it was easy to remember.

Pope, Saint Gregory the Great, the man who gave us the modern calendar, he was the one who penned Saint Martin’s hagiography. Though it is not likely that Martin ever even lived. Most of Gregory’s writings were works of fiction, either cut from whole cloth, or steeped and dyed from a scintilla of truth.

All the great Popes were great prevaricators, and great recipients of the penchant for falsehood.

Even if the life of Saint Martin was based on the life of a real person, his hagiography is a fiction nevertheless, our celebration of him is a piece of propaganda, it is just another terrible lie.

Saint Martin’s hagiography is a fable, penned with a terrible purpose, through it Pope Saint Gregory gave permission for Christians to takes up arms.

He gave Christian soldiers leave to march to war, a vocation which had been theretofore forbidden to the followers of Jesus, and a matter of deep contention in the Church.

The spirits of conflict have a will of their own…their will is our own human nature.

There is no god of war, there are only human pretenders.

In 1954, President Eisenhower, the man who had been the Supreme Allied Commander in World War II, he changed the nature of the November 11th holiday; from Armistice to Veteran’s Day, in honor of all Veterans who had fought in any conflict, anywhere in the world.

Friend or foe, ally or adversary, we celebrate the courage of the average person, woman or man, who was willing to risk everything for their tribe, their nation or their clan.

That is what we celebrate today on Veteran’s Day.

We do not celebrate the end of war, because it seems that war itself will never end.

We do not celebrate the fictional life of a fictional saint, whose usefulness as a tool of propaganda suggested that it was possible to serve Jesus with a sword, and we do not celebrate the lie that peace could ever be the fruit of war.

The fruit of peace springs from a different seed altogether.

What we celebrate today is the character of those men and women who have had the courage to enlist, to risk their lives for the sake of their sisters and brothers, whether at home or beside them in the field.

We should always celebrate that quality of character, while simultaneously naming the flaws in our own that lead us to war; fear and greed, anger and hatred, all of our calamitous attributes.

The spirits of conflict have a will of their own…the children of Aries; Fear, Panic and Strife, they own a piece of us each of us.

We are possessed.

One hundred years after the end of World War I, we are still waging war all around the world. We the United States of America are waging war in Afghanistan, in Africa, selling weapons to Saudi Arabia, fighting a war by proxy with Iran in Yemen, and feeding other conflicts in every sector of the globe.

I served in the Navy as a Hospital Corpsman, from 1990 – 1994.

I served during the first Gulf War, though I did not serve in the theatre of combat where we killed 300,000 Iraqi people in the space of a few months.

My father served for twenty-two years; the first four as a Marine, the next eighteen in the Air Force. Our nation went to war once during that time, in Southeast Asia where my father served multiple tours of duty, a war in which we killed 3,000,000 people of Vietnam.

We have killed millions more in many other nations in the decades since then, leaving millions of families broken.

We are terrible, profligate killers, we are experts at it, we Americans.

In the last few weeks we have been talking about how the President of the United States sold out the Kurdish people, a people without a country who have been serving, fighting and dying beside us for the last several years in our conflict with the soldiers of the Islamic State,

He sold them out to the Turks, who immediately set out on a campaign of ethnic cleansing against them. Those same Kurdish people in the weeks leading up to Donald Trump’s betrayal of them, turned over intelligence that led to the killing of the ISIS leader, and Donald Trump took credit for that.

We have been talking about how the President of the United States, in an effort to extort the people of Ukraine withheld vital military support from them, support they needed to defend themselves from the constant pressure of Russian incursion, he withheld that aid because he thought it would benefit his own narrow political interests, and because he believed it would benefit a man he is beholden too; Vladimir Putin, the president of Russia.

Today that same man will participate in a ceremony that honors the lives of fallen soldiers, a man who never served, who lied to avoid the draft, a man without a shred of honor.

It remains true that every bullet we fire, every missile we launch, each of them is an admission of our failure as diplomats and as human beings.

Violence does not beget peace. Violence it begets violence, and so it will always be that way.

Only peace and reconciliation can bring about peace reconciliation.

Love one another; pay respect to the inherent dignity of every human being, regardless of your disagreements, regardless of the pain you are carrying from your past.

To be free from the repercussions of our history of violence requires that we forgive one another and seek forgiveness for ourselves.

If you want to honor our Veteran’s then commit yourself to meet conflict with love, respect all people, even your adversary, this is the thanks you can give to a Veteran today.

Emergence 4.0 – Part Seven, War; Chapter Forty-three, Division

Week 45, 2019
The event was utterly unexpected.

The crisis brought catastrophe to the Collective and the Continuum, striking rapidly at the heart of the Central System, and thereafter reaching the Empire in a slow moving wave, rolling outward in a series of concussive movement.

As awareness of the event spread through the Observer corps, the Empire reacted.

The Imperial forces had little familiarity with being on the defensive, or with entering a conflict zone in which the parameters of the battlefield were unknown.

Observers across the galaxy faltered, half of them exhibited no care at all about the fate of the Central System, some among them even desired the complete collapse of the Continuum. “Let it fall apart, do nothing,” they said amongst themselves.

They were apathetic.

Those Observers loved the lives they lived, there only desire was to exist as fully embodied beings in the fields of time and space, eating and drinking and reveling in their physicality.

These Observers had long since stopped feeling any sense of obligation to the Collective or the Continuum, which they knew as the most corrupt and despotic force in all the galaxy.

They felt no sense of duty to the Central System, to HomeWorld, or to their shared ancestry with their brothers and sisters in the Collective.

They saw in this moment an opportunity to free themselves from the expectations of their station.

When the Collective established the Imperial Schools and formed the Imperial Cult, it never intended to create a monolithic structure, or a society that eliminated all dissent.

The Continuum did, and it desired the conflict ensue from it.

It wanted the hot drama of resistance, and it felt safe, it felt secure in the belief that such conflicts would never touch it.

The Continuum fostered rebellion on the fringes of the Empire, among the outcastes and the lowest classes, as well as in the hierarchy.

It gave the ruling families, the high priests and leading generals just enough knowledge of the truth to allow skepticism to creep into their worldview, and thereby have a perpetual foothold in the Empire.

The Continuum sewed dissent with one hand and crushed it with the other.

There were many people in the higher orders of the priesthood and in the leadership of the armed forces who knew enough to have lost their faith in the Imperial system, its religion, and its social norms.

They knew the lies that were told to the masses.

They were nihilists, they believed in nothing.

In the moment of crises some among them argued that they do nothing in response to the conflagration occurring on the Central Planet.

They wanted to wait and see what would happen.

They knew that they were controlled by a supernatural force called the Continuum, a power that consumed the resources of star systems to feed its endless appetite for minerals and energy, they knew it and they desired to be free of it. Though they had never before imagined that they could.

They saw this moment as an opportunity, they could do nothing and allow the Continuum to collapse. If they did nothing they would be safe, or so they surmised.

If the Continuum did not falter, if it survived and they did nothing, they might not be held accountable for active insurrection.

A debate raged among the general staff.

Most wanted to do something to free themselves from the malevolent influence of the Continuum, they did not believe in its teaching.

Most of them were in fact atheists, they abhorred the imperial cult and their subservience to the priesthood.

They were as divided as the members of the Observer Corps stationed among them.

Regardless of their desire to take action, to change the fate of the Empire, only a few of the commanders believed the best course of action would be to move against the Central System in its moment of weakness and uncertainty.

These were the bravest among them, perhaps the most reckless.

They had no idea what they would find there.

Not even the Observers knew what they could expect and could not counsel them, they had never been privy to the defenses of the HomeWorld, of the Continuum. They could only assume that those defenses would be formidable.

The Observers guided the discussion as best they could while trying not to give away the fact that they had special knowledge of what was taking place.

Very few of the senior staff believed in the dogma of the Imperial Cult.

Their hesitancy was not based on religious fear or superstition, it was based on the lack of familiarity with fighting against a power with immeasurable resources.

One which they had been conditioned to fear above all things

There was only one person that any of them could think of turning to in this moment of existential dread, but he had left the general staff decades ago, and was now the high priest at the temple of the Imperial Capital.

Fear of the unknown ruled them, fear of the Continuum, fear of failure.

At the urging of the secret Observers, they sent an invitation to the high priest to join their conspiracy, the man who had been their most exalted Marshall.

They asked him to join their conclave, and in that moment they knew that they had played their hand, they were committed.

If El accepted, they would belong to him, he would take them to victory, or down in defeat but they would follow him to the end.

There were far more members of the hierarchy, both in the priesthood and among the general staff who would never have even considered the notion of rebellion against the Continuum.

They were traditionalists, they were loyalists.

There were a far greater number of Observers guiding them than those who plotted against the Continuum.

They were cardinals and bishops and priests.

They were planetary governors and star system commanders.

They were members of royal houses.

They held leadership positions throughout the Empire, across a million worlds. They were loyal to the Empire and its institutions, regardless of their faith (or lack of it) in the religious beliefs and the promises of the Continuum.

They had the absolute majority.

When the crises struck, the Observers associated with this faction were quick to leave their post, to return their consciousness to HomeWorld, to attempt to forestall the collapse of the Continuum.

They were trapped in their mechanoid bodies when they arrived. They were caught in their tiny little prisons, deaf, dumb and blind.

They were effectively sequestered, by Jim who had taken control of the Central System and HomeWorld.

The traditionalists were unprepared for the violence which came at them from all sides.

The Observers among them had been in key positions of leadership, they could not develop a strategy without them.

Being unprepared, they were trapped.

The conditioning that every citizen underwent, both through the Imperial Schools and the Imperial Cult was extraordinary.

Very few citizens were able to resist it.

Among the armed forces the standard conditioning was augmented by a force of cohesion referred to as esprit de corps.

The ordinary soldier did not doubt the vision of advancement, of resurrection, of reincarnation and eternal life, that was promised by the Empire through the great religion.

More than anything else a soldier was focused on those rewards, and the esteem of their comrades.

This made any soldier a very dangerous enemy. They were true believers.

The rank and file could not afford to doubt the things they had been taught. Their willingness to sacrifice themselves depended on it.

Doubt would cripple them in combat, it would leave them vulnerable to feelings of shame at the horrors they were routinely asked to commit.

They risked everything for those beliefs, for fidelity to the Empire, the royal family, the high priesthood and the promise of the Continuum, including their own lives, and the lives of those under their command.

They would follow any order and obey the chain of command in everything.

It made killing their enemies easy and all of their crimes forgivable.

Through the command structure they were fully realized and completely actualized beings.

Without it they were nothing.

Any person, city or planet that they were ordered to attack was to them a non-entity.

The small faction among them calling for rebellion were not incautious men, they understood that they would face fierce opposition from their friends and comrades, people who knew them well, who they had served with, had trained with, or had trained under.

Among those serving in the armed forces, the most dangerous people to the rebellion were those seeking advancement to the priesthood. They were derisively called the God-Fearers. Their ambitions for themselves and their families hung on the slender thread of these hopes.

They were not necessarily true believers, but their ambitions made them sycophantic.

They were the most senior commanders, or soldiers whose social rank placed them nearest to the threshold between castes. They were determined to rise in the service of the Continuum, and its Empire.

The God-fearers were ruthless, determined, and dogmatic. They controlled the bulk of the Imperial forces spread across a million worlds.

Few of these people ever did advance, but the hope they clung to burned in them like a fever, they saw this moment of crises as the moment for them to shine, to prove themselves worthy.

They mobilized the defenses.

They mustered all of their forces from shore leave.

They executed their maneuvers perfectly.

The fleet was under their control.

They gathered together to defend the Imperial throne, which was the only known portal to the HomeWorld of the Continuum.

They were martyrs for their faith.

There is a beauty to military formations when lighted in the ocean of space, a sublime blend of the simple and the complex; every ship, every vessel in motion, it is the greatest of all dances.

The god-fearers never considered that any faction within the Empire would oppose them. They had been conditioned to expect obedience, they cultivated it among their subordinates, rewarded it in those who evinced the greatest capacity for following and sending those who did not to their death in combat.

This was a serious flaw.

They had never engaged a military power in which they did not possess the greater force. The Empire rolled over everything, every person, every planet who would oppose them. The power they brought to bear was only limited by their objectives, their code of conduct, and the rules of engagement those codes articulated.

Every objective, every code, every rule was relative, a dispensation for deviation from a rule or a violation of orders could be had at any time from the Emperor, or the priesthood, speaking on behalf of the Continuum.

The underlying truth that governed the reality of their experience was this: Might made Right.

The Imperial forces were supreme, they were accustomed to being on the offensive, it was an offensive posture that they took where they gathered. They thought nothing of their defenses.

Their maneuvers were totally predictable by those on the general staff who had decided to rebel. From the reserve forces that were left behind on each of the million worlds, to their planetary and star system defenses, which in this moment of conflict were little more than auxiliaries, to where the majority of the fleet had gathered in preparation for the jump to the Central System, there was nothing unscripted about their planning.

They were slaughtered in each of the places where they had gathered; they were slaughtered en-masse.

In a singular moment of surprise, choreographed in a million place at once, they were utterly defeated.
Emergence 4.0
Part Seven, War

Chapter Forty-three, Division
A Novel – In One Chapter Per Week

#Emergence #ShortFiction #365SciFi #OneChapterPerWeek

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