NOVA INTERIT.US ~ Chapter One
[Section 1.1] - Here begins the story of Nova Interit.us
Skip to Section… 1.2 / 1.3 || 2.1 / 2.2 / 2.3 / 2.4 / 2.5 / 2.6
Nova Interit.us
[THE YUNIPTER ENCRYPTION]
⤗ ؏ ⤟ ক ⥈ ঔ ☙ অ ⥉ ᐍ ড ზ ᐂ ଓ ⇺
And how is it, when he speculates upon his coming castles in the sky, his most roseate desire is to be but an indistinguishable particle of the sunset, like clouds and vanish invisible as they, into the starry stillness of all-embracing space.
~Percival Lowell, 1888
⥈
[RECOUNTED BY DEIMOS ROBERTSON, GRANDSON OF STEVEN ROBERTSON, CAPTURED VIA HOLOSCRIBE IN YEAR 2127. YUNIPTER ENCRYPTION METHOD, NFT FILE no. <03.15.063/D9.X4.P2>]
The Great Event
⥈
The story he told us happened in 2063, no doubt based on the encrypted file number. Middle of March.
…
He had found himself face down in mud, lifted his head and choked on silt up his nose and in his mouth, then he almost threw up. Finally, a clean inhale. While running and looking back, he’d just tripped on a huge root exposed by erosion. Now out of breath on hands and knees, he noticed how still the forest was despite the cacophonous downpour. It got louder, and thicker, and that dog barked twice in the distance. Hard to say how far away it was.
In these few seconds he caught a glimpse through the depth of mayhem, like looking between a mind portal when you see something critical. He turned and saw a giant felled tree, a dead and hollow shell used up by years of rot. He crawled and rolled under.
They're not too far back now if I can hear that hound through this deluge. I can't make it further without some rest.
He knows this, he felt it in his lungs and throughout his aging body.
The warrant-contractors were still tracking him, but he had a real chance now with the storm. And with this semi-subterranean compartment? If they tracked off further to his right there’d be no way to see him hiding here. Cold and wet, bathed in mud.
Right? No other options now. I’m flipping the coin again.
“And here I am damn it! Chance or fate?” He said it under his breath, waiting on hope.
Seconds later, maybe minutes, he heard footsteps splashing around on the other side of his hollow hiding spot. The sound was coming from his right. He’s still completely hidden.
Then, looking out from under his respite, thirty meters through the woods and to his left the old man saw the other hunter with a rifle. The contractor slowed to a stealthy walk, panning around with a raised barrel. As she lowered the muzzle, she then turned and gazed directly at the fallen tree.
But over it.
The rifled contractor held up her arm and shook an open hand in the air. Stillness, but for the rain. Then it got even louder.
Signaling back with a quick thumbs up, the soaked gunman pointed east in reply to her partner just beyond. At that moment a large Norwegian elk-hound raced behind the her, and the small pack of three continued on through the drenched woods, hiking toward the looming hill in the near-distance.
They’d lost him. Possibly.
The man remained inside his hollow dead shell, looking around. Thinking. Distracted by the mold, the internal decay, wet and dripping all over with webs of dead insects. He wasn’t the only one hiding in there. Yet he felt safe for about three seconds, knowing how ephemeral and false the moment was.
⥈
The traditional name of the hill—that feature to the east—had been called Mars Hill. For a brief period it was renamed Musk Mountain. A strange outcropping, it’s a large hill on one side, a steep mesa on the other, and the back third is a gradual slope rolling north. They also called it Observatory Mesa since the early 1900’s. The man who named it was convinced of a civilization on our neighboring red planet. Percival Lowell moved his entire livelihood from Boston to build his home and observatory there in 1894. Along with his wealth and studies, he also brought strange beliefs and esoteric knowledge from his travels in faraway lands.
The area later became an important locale for astronomy, hosting many early discoveries. This was long before any rockets or ships. There was a naval observatory and a few others in the area, an astronomy hub for celestial monitoring and astrogeological research. It's where they tracked the precession of our equinox, and documented many other astronomical processes.
The exposed burned remains of historic telescopes are still up there to this day, along with other buildings in decay like most of the shuttered town below.
Back in the late-2020’s, SpaceX did a lot of astronaut training for the Mars missions around the town. Just like NASA did in the late 1960’s and early 70’s when they prepared for the original moon landings. The terrain is ideal.
But NASA weren’t the ones who established the moon colonies. Supposedly. And some people didn't believe the Mars colony was real either. Percival would be ashamed.
‘Just as then and now again.’
I still don’t know what to think. I’d bet the Moon was a popular destination at some point.
Anyway, their city council renamed it Musk Mountain after his first rocket landed on Mars (the planet) in the early 030’s. It was a stupid and divisive issue for the locals. Years later—after he departed in the super class diaspora—his hero status declined, to put it mildly. Then his companies collapsed. (Supposedly, again. It' was hard to say anything about a person’s financial status after they left earth and transferred their assets to the OrbitBank.)
People couldn’t stand the name Musk Mountain then, if ever. It was again renamed to Mars Mountain back in ‘042. Kind of a throwback I guess. But that’s a whole other story.
Mars Mountain is still that big hill west of the town.
…
Just as then and now again.
These words echo like a voice from another time. Laying there still under his hollow cover, he begins planning. Thoughts drift with the rain.
What’s my next move? They’ll probably stick together, right?
He figured the best option was to see which way they skirt around Mars Mountain. The facing side of the large incline was bald, and they would’ve seen he hadn’t gone up that way.
The soundscape of white noise shifted. It was abrupt. Heavy rain became soft. The audible change felt sudden and unwelcome. The dog barked again, barely audible now.
They’re far enough, sounds like.
He climbed out with minor struggle. It was the first time in a decade his back didn't grind with pain from getting off the ground like that. The current adrenaline high made him feel the need to defecate. This was easy to hold back, thinking about the men who wanted him dead. He remembered being able to see their warrant code-chain on his holoscreen security cam, just before they breached the downstairs entrance. This had been approximately nineteen minutes ago.
WANTED| ᐂ 忮 ᐍ |DSW
Definitely a D-Scan Warrant. They’re warranted to kill me.
When his wristband flashed a warning the holoset immediately projected and he zoomed in. Two men were checking the holographic biometry of somebody. It was a miniature 3D hologram of his exact body morphology, and then his face appeared before them, the triangular eye rotating above the data. They pointed at his features and less than a minute later the heavy pounding began. Raeyla had rushed into his room with her eyes wide and welled with primal fear.
Now in his moment of chaos—tripping and hiding—he could barely recall their frantic rush down the stairwell. With some help from Raeyla before parting, he’d escaped the building undetected. This was maybe twenty, thirty minutes ago? It felt like days.
And then it came; the elation of still being alive. Tears mixed with rain, pouring thick from on high, and juxtaposed with a longing for her—his offspring— knowing her dread of being left alone to survive without him. Unless he too could survive.
A blue chunk of sky broke the wet nimbus blanket overhead. The sun wanted to shine through. Early sunset colors of bright orange painted the clouds above, woven through a canopy of pine branches. It was surreal. The view made him forget what year it was. This only lasted for about five seconds. Then his mind cleared. The nootropics were wearing off.
If the hunters kept going and traversed around together, maybe he should climb up the hill before they come back this way. Gain some higher ground and recon. There was plenty of cover on top of the hill. And he’d be able to see back down into town. Spot the patrols and random checkpoint locations. Maybe then he could plan his way home and decide if it was safe. The night patrols would be starting soon.
“Home.”
He scoffed at the thought of it. The comfort of previous ‘homes’ he can remember from years long gone.
Back in town on the other side of Mars Mountain, they were sure to gather for a candle ceremony and pray for his most fortunate fate. But they wouldn’t be investing in false expectation. So many had gone missing in recent years.
I need to get over the hill and back down into town. Hopefully they stashed my packs in the tunnel lockers. I have supplies and a chance to survive down there. And a way out.
He wouldn’t be able to stay at the Allen house any longer. And not for the gossip over him and Daeja Allen. Any one of the remaining households would demand the grand sacrifice if he ever returned. He’s marked now.
But he still had the Promise with Allen house.
The Promise was a two day protocol. After the second night, both Allen sisters would wait until nightfall and travel down into the tunnels. If his packs were gone they’d light a palo santo candle and pray for his survival. Otherwise, they’d take his things back up and divide supplies between the Allen elders.
⥈
As you know, we still promise today just as then, “I give to all my promise of stoic assurance, to lend my hand, if healthy, to you in times of need. I feel your gratitude and mine in tithe. To be retrieved if not returned, a hand not to be taken in grant, nor for granted.”
…
He caught himself daydreaming in the colors above the trees. The contractors who hunted him were now out of sight, around the base of the questionable mountain.
They might backtrack anytime. At least a few hundred meters away by now, right? It’s now or never. Another gamble.
If he were to take the main trail he'd be easily seen. But the same would’ve been true for them. They must’ve taken the north trail around. He’s almost certain. Otherwise he’d be able to see them. Right?
Walk slow. Be like the rain. Let this dim light aid your path. You have dark clothes on. That’s good with these wet trees.
All the trunks have soaked bark darkened like lacquered wood, glowing and looking forever wet.
This west slope was left mostly bare from an infamous fire way back in ‘038. But that was not the big one. The historic tragedy they called the Moon Fire? That one burned most of the town some years later in ’045.
But nothing seems that long ago to him, really. Time is strange. He felt that soft sense of DPTD, the quick dream-like place where ideas and memories blend together. Di-Polar Temporal Dislocation is a disconcerting experience, a perspective that feels wise but momentary. You can learn things from it. But it only happens when coming down from the nootropic supplements. This is typical of nootropic induced temporal dislocation phenomenon.
Can I make it up the hill fast enough? My body is still fit, and I’m supplemented.
⥈
DPTD is often a great moment of clarity, used for thinking and digging into one’s own consciousness. Hopefully, if one doesn’t get the headaches, or drift too far. In which case you might have an allergy to the Solidrosol solution.
…
He knew this was the moment, his only chance to make it through the clearing and up the west face of Mars Mountain.
Climb the hill. It’s now or never.
“Why am I running?” Speaking aloud to himself, he must not be seen. Heading up the hill would make him a target if anyone were looking.
Clarity returned.
Go now.
Off to a good start. Looking forward to chapter 2