Untitled blog 1

Amon tells Leo about the New Eperopolis; the giant city that covers the entire continent of what was formerly known as "Africa".

"How do you visit other cities, outside of this, uh, New Eperopolis?" Leo asked. She scooted closer to the bright, crackling fire in front of her. The Pupils of her young, curious eyes were wide enough to contain the reflection of the dancing flames as she looked up at Amon, expectantly. Amon sat down with a subtle groan, adjusting his ageing body to the rough, sandy surface. He flicked his poncho away from his arm and gently poked at the fire with a long stick.

"Well.. It's not that simple. Unless you're in good standing with the right people. You can't just take a plane. Too much risk of it hitting an unidentified Zone." "How about cars, then?" "'We don't drive cars out on the Planes', they'll answer, bluntly." "But.. Why not?" "We just don't!" Amon furrowed his brows and deepened his voice, assuming the role of a typical law enforcing authority. Leo uttered a frustrated sound. Her body jolted in accordance with it, which made Amon chuckle. He continued,

"Cars run on electricity. And as we know, there might be something about electricity and these areas. Even if you'd manage to somehow work around that, without navigational tools, you'd get lost. In the.. Vastness of it. So, transportation, it has to happen through a bureau. And only on special occasions." He look at her from under the wide brim of his hat, deliberately stressing the last two words.

"Tell me about them, those special occasions!" Leo exclaimed. Amon smiled. He lit his pipe and leaned back against the rocky surface of the large boulder behind him. The fire made the shadow of his brim appear darker than usual, almost completely obscuring his face.

"Very well.. I can't tell you from experience. But I can tell it from the perspective of someone who has experienced it. Imagine, huge dusty planes. Barren. It was nighttime. A caravan of 3-5 big vehicles, holding a bunch of people. They were driving in line. Slow. Like mine detectors, they'd have to be ready to divert from the planned route, in case of Changes. And go with plan B. Or C. Depends. It was windy, too. Sand everywhere. All you could see were the lights from the vehicles. Dimmed, slightly obscured by the sandy air. Luminescent green. That's how they detected Changes, you see.."

He paused and didn't speak for a while. Then, after a couple of minutes, his voice sounded from the shadow once again, softer than before. Strangely soft.

.. It was crammed in this vehicle. Silent and crammed. No music. No talking. No one wanted to disturb the security personnel in charge of the trip. Everyone was simply squeezed in against each other, packed like sardines. Oskar was young. Maybe 9 or 10. Mom and dad didn't tell him why. One day he was collecting bits and pieces of information about the Chernobyl accident at the local library in downtown Brooklyn.. The next, all his essential belongings were packed and ready. And he would never see that library again. It was an evacuation. From New York City to somewhere in Tennessee. No one had told him, but he knew it was. Strangely enough, it didn't upset him. He didn't even ask questions, when he was told to get ready. Or when the men in dark uniforms told him to get into the vehicle, rather harshly. He didn't really care. All he did, was observe. Their badges. Their names. The interior of the vehicle. It looked like an armoured personnel carrier. Like the ones at dad's work. Dad would let him sit on his lap while he drove once. The shaking was similar, too. The lighting in here was strange. Luminescent green. Almost like UV-lightning. He recalled that one book he came across, with images of the Domes. Same kind of light. His skin looked like zombie skin in here. "Ozzy, do you want a banana?" Mom whispered as she knelt beside him. He nodded. He felt a little hungry. After all, he hadn't had time to eat before he was sent home from school. Mom was always prepared. The smell of banana quickly filled the room. Oskar wondered if anyone would get sick over the combination of banana and the rather violent shaking. He imagined this someone puking all over the floor. And the chaos that would follow. He smiled to himself, as he bit the tip off his banana.

"Sector 13, this is 2-8 Tango. We've just passed NY Western Perimeter. Entering your zone in T-minus-ten. Awaiting readings from: direction, November Alpha Zebra."

November Alpha Zebra.. N-A-Z.. The Northern Anomaly Zone. Oskar felt a jolt of excitement in his chest and belly. Would he get to see it?

"Mom.. Do you think the NAZ is close to our new home?" He asked in a very low voice, handing the banana peel to her.

Her face lost some of its colour. He observed her as she leaned in, body language stiff and protective. Like a stone wall.

"Oskar.. Not now. Not here. No more-"

"But they said N-A-Z! Mom, I heard it." He unintentionally raised his voice above whisper. A fat man looked down at him. His sunken eyes were squeezed and piercing. Oskar quickly looked away.

"Yes, you heard it. And now, I dont want to hear another word about it. We have a long journey ahead of us. If you want to, there's a window up there. You can do some reconnaissance for us from there."

He hated when she talked to him like that. As if he didn't already understand his role in all of this.. But he did look up. Close to the roof of the vehicle, there was a narrow window. Or, more like a slit. You could hardly call it a window. But he would be able to reach it from the crate below. A beautiful woman was sitting there, blocking his path to it. He stopped in front of her. Looking up towards the window. She noticed him straight away.

"Hi there," She had the warmest smile. Oskars cheeks felt warm. "what can I do for you, darlin'?"

He noticed the golden ring on her finger. Her southern accent. And the fact that she was travelling alone.

"I just wanna look out the window, miss."

He pointed at the slit near the ceiling. Her deep brown eyes followed and she moved aside, so he could climb up upon the crate she was sitting on. He could just about reach. The woman was radiating warmth. A stark contrast to what he could see from the window. The twilight was slowly creeping in, making it hard to see into the distance. But the sand was visible. It gave off a sizzling sound when it hit the fortified glass. This close, it looked more like dust than sand.

"Anythin' exitin' up there?" the woman asked. Voice low. With a teasing undertone.

"Not really.. It's too dark now.." He didn't look at her. But now, his eyes caught something.

A tiny speck of.. Light? He pressed his face against the window, using his hands as shields against the dim, artificial light inside the vehicle. It was faint.. Flickering. But not moving. He could make out.. Three little dots.

"Well, now. Seems like we're entering Nomad territory.."

Oskar flinched briefly. The woman's face was right beside his now. He could almost feel her breath on the side of his face as she whispered. She smelled sweet. Like herbs.

"Nomad territory.." he echoed. With awe in his voice. "How do you know?"

"Nomads very seldom cross paths with transportation convoys. Unless it's unavoidable," she scooted a little closer. "If you look very closely.. You can see that the outer two lights are higher than the middle one," she drew a wide V on the tiny window, tracing the formation of the tiny lights. where the warmth of Oskars breath had left condensation.

"that's a tell-tale sign that it ain't a caravan - but an outpost. The outer edge of a major Nomad camp."

Oskar looked at her, mouth slightly agape. Unable to say a word. For so long, he had tried hard to get his hands on info about the Nomads. Nothing on the libraries. Nothing online. Her eyes met his, briefly, before she looked out again.

"If it's the N.A.Z. you're lookin' for.. You may wanna get your hands on a pair of verry good binoculars. It's far away from here."

He almost lost his balance on the crate. "You know about the-" She placed a firm finger on his lips. "Shush,' She whispered. A mysterious smile playing on her lips. "Intel is to be treated delicately. Like a secret between lovers."

His cheeks flared up again. He did as she instructed and observed the lights flicker in the distance. It was dark now. The hum of the vehicle served as a kind of noise cover. They could easily hear each other, when they were speaking in low voices. But the acoustics of the room muffled their voices to the rest of the room.

"Where's your husband?" Oskar asked. Gaze still fixed on the planes outside.

She looked at her finger, wearing the golden ring. Then at him. Then out the window again. "He's doin' his job." She just said. There was a sadness to her voice, behind the gentleness. Very subtle. But it was there. He caught her gaze again, and held it. "Out there, with the Nomads?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but a violent jerk in the vehicle made both of them lose their balance. As did everybody else. The woman quickly wrapped her arm around Oskar, bracing him against the shaking. Her strength surprised him. He heard the faint static of a radio channel being opened.

"Sector 13, this is 2-8-Tango. We're picking up on some violent activity from 2-8-9-9 Delta. We cannot proceed as planned. Awaiting further instructions, over."

People started talking. Shuffling. It was hard to hear what was being said over the radio from where Oskar was. All he could hear was the static. He didn't feel particularly alarmed. He cast a quick glance at the woman. She didn't seem to be either. He felt strangely safe, knowing that. Her round face was calm, as she looked at the floor. Calm, yet focused. He wanted to ask her about it, but chose not to.

A man in dark uniform stepped into the cargo-room.

"Alright folks, listen up! We're gonna have some layover time here, while we wait for clearance to proceed. There's no need to-"

He was interrupted. By a few angry men. Asking loud questions, talking over each other. One of them was the fat man with the piercing eyes. Oskar heard himself scoff. Involuntarily. The fat man immediately looked at him.

"There's no need to panic!" the uniformed man repeated, louder this time. His shaved scalp was reflecting the green hue in the room. He was wearing shaded glasses and a buff, making his facial expression unreadable. Oskar didn't find that very comforting.

"We've hit an obstacle on the road and will be doing brief maintenance of the undercarriage. You'll be safely escorted outside, where a protective shield will be raised. While you're out there.." He gestured towards one of his uniformed buddies, who pulled out a strange device from a smooth, white package. "You'll be wearing masks and gloves. They will protect you from any sensory interference that could potentially occur, if we happen to be encountering Changes while we're stationary. Do not - and I repeat - do NOT take off the masks or gloves after the rear hatch has been opened. That is a direct order and a matter of safety. For your own sake and for the sake of your fellow citizens!"

He did not elaborate. Oskar ran his palm over the surface of the mask. It was more like a face shield than a mask. Faintly shaded. Locked tight around the head with straps. There was an oxygen device attached to it, making it look a bit like the head of an insect. In the reflection of the smooth surface, he noticed that the mysterious southern lady had disappeared from behind him. He turned around to look for her. But mom took the mask from his hands and started to help him put it on. Her hands trembled lightly as she worked the oxygen device around his neck. Oskar noticed a faint, luminescent green light emanating from the edge of the mask as it activated. It had a calming effect, rather than blinding. He scanned the room in the dark. Looking for the woman again. Everybody was wearing masks now. All he could recognise, were their bodies. Faces were obscured. The southern lady. The fat man. The bald officer. Even mom's. They all looked the same. Like a colony of ants. He felt a tingle of unease and looked down at his feet. The mask was tight around his jaw. It made his skin itch. And he missed dad.

"Now, you stay close Oskar. Dont let go of my hand, okay?" Mom's voice sounded like it came from the inside of a tin can. Oskar squeezed her gloved hand. He didn't feel particularly afraid to go out there. It wasn't that. But.. He felt lonely. He couldn't exactly put a finger on why.. But as the rear hatch opened and he stepped out into the dark.. As he observed the officers working on the dust-shield attached to the back of the vehicle.. He felt very alone. The darkness of the Planes was hovering over him. Like a flood wave, waiting to come crashing down. It cancelled out the chaos of voices and luminescent green heads in motion. They looked like little, moving islands. He looked up, through the thin cover of the dust-shield. The sizzling of the sand hitting it. Just like on the window inside. The surface was soft underneath him. He shuffled around.. It didn't quite feel like sand - or dust. He knelt and placed his free, gloved hand on the ground. Though his sensitivity was dulled, it felt soft.. Very soft. Almost like..

"Ash..?" He said it to himself, more than anyone else. He looked around. No officers nearby. He discreetly took off his glove and touched it again. The soft powder rubbed off on his hand. A small layer of it had attached to his finger-prints. It enhanced them. Almost sunk in to the skin of his palm. He squinted and looked closer. His fingerprints were not only enhanced. They were.. Changing. With the powder. In fluid motions, like little worms. Or a fast-forward of a changing landscape. He tilted his head slightly. Angled his palm differently. Did it do something? Could he influence it somehow? Could he.. A rough hand grabbed his arm, abruptly yanking him to his feet. The bald officer.

"Are you fucking deaf, boy?! Do you want to jeopardise the safety of everyone of us? Put that glove back on and keep it on!"

Joxter contemplates on being a (good) father. Joxkin. Read at your own discretion.

This album runs on repeat in my headset these days, while I draw. But mostly, when I nap. I do that a lot these days.