SLAGLands Placeholder
21-03-2006, 19:49
Look at these vast hills of green and wet forest, at this jungle--so unusual to say that such a place still exists. See how far it stretches before the plains of the eastern coast, the mountains to the west, the fields and rolling hills of the north and south. Look over this untouched land and see if you can still tell me that men once lived there.
Look closer. Look for those breaks in the forest, the place where wood gives way to stone and steel. Look upon the stagnant and frozen ruins, the skyscrapers, the arenas, the homes, the offices, the life--an urban Machu Pichu. See the way a face sometimes finds occasion to peek from a home with no roof, to watch some animal wander through the streets, and then disappear back inside? This is where they lived. This is where some of them still live.
See the fallen wires, the factories creating no product but silence. See the satellite dishes firing nothing, toward nothing, accepting nothing in return. Clues. See the forgotten luxury of communication, the signals that may have once fired toward distant lands, toward friendly creatures beyond the moon.
See The Emerald Heights emerge from some lost corner of space and time.
Few who still live in this dead land remember the way it happened. It began with a conflict between machines--a few recall the name "Sakura;" a few others recall the name "Puzzle." A few rare others recall an imposing figure with a blonde beard, a sort of Norse deity of wires and diodes. In the beginning, he created. When his creation spurned him, he sought to destroy. Puzzle was his means to destroy.
At least one person recalls the way it ended: a battle, a surge of power, a scream, the death throes of two whose link to that most potent of networks--SlagNet--was insoluble. Things stopped. Things that didn't stop exploded. There was, quite literally, nothing left.
A real goddess tried to intervene; not many recall Her name, but a few recall a shimmering golden visage, like a waterfall at sunset. From a distant island, She did everything within Her power to save the land She was sworn to protect. And when She realized nothing could be done, She left, leading those who would follow Her to a place where they could not be touched, where they could not be found. Where there was peace.
Look again at this land. Look again at The Emerald Heights of The SLAGLands.
Look at that proud capital. Is that not movement?
Look closer. Look for those breaks in the forest, the place where wood gives way to stone and steel. Look upon the stagnant and frozen ruins, the skyscrapers, the arenas, the homes, the offices, the life--an urban Machu Pichu. See the way a face sometimes finds occasion to peek from a home with no roof, to watch some animal wander through the streets, and then disappear back inside? This is where they lived. This is where some of them still live.
See the fallen wires, the factories creating no product but silence. See the satellite dishes firing nothing, toward nothing, accepting nothing in return. Clues. See the forgotten luxury of communication, the signals that may have once fired toward distant lands, toward friendly creatures beyond the moon.
See The Emerald Heights emerge from some lost corner of space and time.
Few who still live in this dead land remember the way it happened. It began with a conflict between machines--a few recall the name "Sakura;" a few others recall the name "Puzzle." A few rare others recall an imposing figure with a blonde beard, a sort of Norse deity of wires and diodes. In the beginning, he created. When his creation spurned him, he sought to destroy. Puzzle was his means to destroy.
At least one person recalls the way it ended: a battle, a surge of power, a scream, the death throes of two whose link to that most potent of networks--SlagNet--was insoluble. Things stopped. Things that didn't stop exploded. There was, quite literally, nothing left.
A real goddess tried to intervene; not many recall Her name, but a few recall a shimmering golden visage, like a waterfall at sunset. From a distant island, She did everything within Her power to save the land She was sworn to protect. And when She realized nothing could be done, She left, leading those who would follow Her to a place where they could not be touched, where they could not be found. Where there was peace.
Look again at this land. Look again at The Emerald Heights of The SLAGLands.
Look at that proud capital. Is that not movement?