hautrev

The truth is I am a fraud. I live on the surface in a family with children, with friends, with animals. Underneath the tumultuous world of hautrev is once again sucking me in. I find it hard to keep up my commitments whilst listening to ever increasing wailing and moaning. It's my own fault, I allowed hautrev in after many years without it, loving the feeling of hearing the sounds of other people's lives was comforting at first.

Was it because I was listening for something specific that I heard more, I heard everything. It could drive me insane, I know this, elderfem was very clear on this subject. She wanted me to hide it, harness it and then when the time was right use it for the destruction of the Charter system. It was she who arranged for my journey to Dromdrevc, my art was seen by some minor politabub at her request. Elderfem manipulated the whole deal, none of them saw it, those stupid men with their colours and gowns, none of them saw in me their endworld.

I am searching for more, I am looking for refugees from the wars of concavity, I am looking for my co-conspirators. How did I survive and they didn't? They could be on another planet, wider and wider I fling my mind open trying to catch a phrase, a word that means I have found them.

Hautrev appeared three years ago, I so wish it had come sooner. I have had inklings about certain people, in the media, singers, poets. We were a creative bunch. Piotreya was the inventor, creating vast circuitry, when a new, for earth innovation comes on-line I wonder if she was there. Japan would suit Piotreya, she loved the order in Dromdrevc, she seemed to like the rules, it contained her. Yandryl, sweet, little Yandryl, I read poetry extensively, just to see if I can find him. I imagine him placed in the wrong family on earth, suffering not only for his art but for his size and wit.

They didn't have hautrev, we could all mindspeak, but they couldn't hear thoughts, only the messages intended for them. Elderfem called it an irritation, she called me an irritation, something that had to have a purpose. She consulted with the wirdmal, man of many words, and he found the endworld vision. Elderfem interpreted it as me being the cause for the wars. She was wrong, Pio, Yan and I merely knew they were coming and made plans to escape, using the limited power of concavity.

People were banished from Zylmor using the pod system, Pio tweaked it a little so we went further and we went to specific, very specific places. She explained that the banished arrived on planets as minormals and fems but not as newborns of the species, they were found wandering in wastelands or forests and were questioned extensively. Using her skills she had us arrive as newborns into newborn facilities at appropriate times for the gestation period of the planet's fems. Sounded complicated to me, then, now as I look back on my earth life I am amazed at what she achieved.

My earthmother, the nurturer of my young body, knew I wasn't her baby. I didn't realise this until hautrev came upon me and I read her thoughts. All became clear to me, not matter what I did, she knew. Instinct, she must have had a honed instinct skill in those days, later after years of prescription mindblowing drugs she had little left. Pio had thought of everything except a mother's instincts.

Maybe if I had Pio's brain I could reign in hautrev, look in specific places, use the telecommunications on earth. I can't though and am left with wave after wave of weltschermz, the whole earth seems sad, depressed, dying. Sanity is hard to hold onto when the ebb is rising, I will try one more sweep then get on with my chores for the day.

Talenkynic remembers Zylmor

The tension inside the bubble of Dromdrevc was exhilirating. After years of painting portraits of politicians and rulers I was alive. My natural artform of landscapes, based only on images created by others on Zylmor or still images captured by what you would think of as photographs but with more depth was despised in the city. My family lived on the far continent in the open, I communicated through mind-talk weekly, mother complained about the dust, father moaned about poverty and my sibs, Tessina and Zeuteronomy chatted about friends I had known, at the time of the genocide I had been exhiled from them for seven of your years and had grown from the child prodigy of eight to an almost fully developed female of fifteen. The last year had been particularly fraught with anxiety to escape as my time of captivity was over as soon as I reached sixteen. Credit-bars were delivered monthly to my life-parents as payment for the enslavement of their youngest child. As a small child Dromdrevc was awe-inspiring, a giant atmospheric bubble guarded against the elements, tall towers of housing units, business blocks and in the centre, a tower of shiny metal that reached up to the very tip of bubble, it was in here, the Royal Campus that I was to live and work. Work, I discovered was not to use my natural talent of reproducing vast canvases of landscsapes from memory or mythology, but was to catalogue an ever increasing number politabubs and the ruling charters. Charters were families who could prove their lineage back to the beginning of time, there were usually three or four clans living in the campus, they were a vain bunch, each portrait was proudly hung in the main concourse and because of their jealousy, repeats were frequent. One man-crown had a portrait booked every season, every colour found in Dromdrevc had been used in his costumes, each one more extravagant than the last as his girth also expanded. It was in his chamber I first heard about the Concavity, and the Galymonter people who yearned the power of Concavity. Galies as they were known had come from the neighbouring planet of Prusson, at first wanting to trade and as the polit-bubble was on seasonal break the Charters met with them and thrashed out a trade route between the peoples but their vanity made them show off the Concavity Orb, and exaggerated the properties of the laws of the index of refraction, with the wave velocities over-rated. I had never believed in the power of the concavity orb and had joined with other non-believers, we met in the concourse only three of us at a time and discussed possibilities. We were the brightest minds on all of Zylmor, punished we felt for being so intelligent by enslavement as children. We pondered on if this was to knock our inquisitive minds to an imaginary block as the tasks we were given numbed us. Piotreya, an inventor of vast electrical circuits spent her time making and changing light sources for the Charters and Yandryl was poet and playwright, he voice could lift you to the highest peak, he wrote ditties for the politabubs and their families so instead of being stirred by his words we slept by them. We had all completed our formal education in our early years while our sibs were still studying, attaining levels of expertise we had mastered at three or four. The Charters did not like us meeting together, so we kept the meeting light, with fake linguistics to suggest a frothy impromptu tryst rather than the reality of theoretical discussions on propulsion, experimentation and the politabubble. Each of my portraits contained a symbol of rebellion to inspire the unruly. Piotreya linked systems together until she had voyeuristic control over the whole subsystem within the bubble ans within each ditty that Yandryl created was one phrase that did not fit but was code for our mini rebellion.