The Rain on Our Shores

“Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space," or so they say, with some variation. Line that’s caught on like wildfire for its poetry in our overpopulated polices. I myself fell for it, even though I know better now, that wherever you trudge you take your inner world with you; so it's best you mind that it has nooks of solace since out in space the internal is even more pronounced, you and yourself constantly in mirror with one another and no hint of hypnosis from distraction. Each to each, but for me that lotus has always been a semblance of intimacy with a new person, before it spirals back down to the ordinary...yet not long enough to hit that plateau before it snaps and flowers out into what many write tomes about.

It’s this mindless meandering about that brings on bouts of melancholy that pushes me to keep trudging on into the outer worlds hoping this time it’ll be something different. At least out in that gray area beyond the reach, where our mores lose slight focus, it can be slightly freeing from watching too much what we do, and perhaps even a slight respite from the bondage of well ordered norms - to let out your being, restrained oddities, into the vast and temporal - in order to center yourself.

Everyone needs this, in one manner or another, otherwise they’d implode or even worse, break to fit the mold. I think I’m more self aware than many of my kind so I do what I can to live by the best use of this knowledge. Which sometimes can get me in trouble - the noticeable disregard for our laws - and have gone on many expeditions for this reason as well, just to get away till things resolved themselves or quieted down.

In this state I found our ship. Not a big feat these days, since the announcement. Even military, unable to handle the task at such a short time frame, allowed it to be outsourced to private entities, and anyone with the ability to bring ships to orbit saw it as their chance to cleanse their spirit, having as big of a hand in the expedition as possible.

The first stop being on the base of the red planet, although appealing to most on our island, seems to always leave me with a little sense of unease. Yes we’re from the same seas, but the split having taken place so long ago has quite actively accentuated the differences more so than we like to admit. Perhaps being our outward colony, detached from the happenings back home, at least not in any applicable manner, allowed them to evolve away. And maybe that's what space does, bringing out an animal side in us, due to being alone too long, but their trajectory definitely took a turn towards the much baser aspects of us. They still partake in eating flesh of the wild beasts and in all manners of debauchery reminiscent of the old gods, along with quite substantial remnants of the old superstitions.

Some don't mind it, especially after a tiring journey there, as it’s become an unwritten habit of sorts, of most crews, to visit the parlors and let loose in the piercings of the chemical light as it claws their space-numbed naked flesh; while also giving over to their unsaturated primal urges at the cost of the androids especially manufactured and adept at recognizing and adjusting to how deep into frenzy a client is able to safely enter.

Being of the mind to be at home here in theory, for some inexplicable reason it still unnerves me seeing how far they’ve moved from our pursuits towards the eternal and more into the immediacy of flesh and senses. Perhaps it’s the creeping fear we rarely entertain back home that maybe that’s all there is. Our temples stretched high to the gods now relics of the past, having given way to new notions of all pervading force and a source of energy, yet harder to observe; although those having a sense of It imply of Its power being greater than anything imagined by a human mind.

Regardless It has shaped our pursuits, and has given us peace for what was decreed by the seers, but as to how we’re going to convince our sister planet to cease existing for the benefit of future is beyond me. For now we’re keeping track on collecting all the artifacts that could give away our existence. It's no surprise therefore, having the ability to see time as a whole and not in any linear fashion as is common, and will be common after we're swallowed by the waves - more precisely our most attuned elders being able to, the seers, and tasked with maintaining a harmonious continuation by gleaning anything contradictory that would require a sacrifice on our end for the greater benefit - that we knew something of sort would come, but perhaps not to this scope. Yet as the information, due to its complexity of causation, is slowly being decimated in the city and analyzed, there is very little question and a strong majority on what needs to happen. Our abilities to disappear entirely; and although it's foreseen that our existence will still be known down the years as a legend of sorts, refereed to as Atlantis, perhaps it was deemed an acceptable allowable, or perhaps a form of vanity, or perhaps even just a natural condition of not wanting to be entirely forgotten.