And Suddenly Its Gone

Eli Marke owned a Dream Fulfilment Agency (DFA) on Outworld 742 in Sector 3371. It was simple really, Clients would come to him with a dream map and he’d convert it into a programmable instruction for the DFD (Dream Fulfilment Device), and then they could enter into that world of their Dream, completely controllable of course, and live it out as if it were reality until its completion (no longer than 48 hours). It was quite an art in its own way really, each programmer would have their own style, and no two dream requests would ever turn out quite the same. One of the lesser glamourised duties of a DF is the statistical consolidation of all DA (Dream Accessions) through the agency over the Galactic Period, these were to be compiled, categorised and submitted to the Department of Security; actually they were a fairly good indicator of a person’s danger level to the Empire, Clients with potentially dangerous Dreams were monitored and brought to justice before their opportunity to destroy the Race.

Looking through this Period’s data Eli observed the same patterns as every other time. Below .04% menace level; 37.6 sexuality index; 17.0 Hope index. That’s above average, good, he thought, it’ll be nice to have something positive to report for a change. What was interesting for this period’s Dreaming was an interesting spike in Non-violent Aggression, things like hunting, whaling, fishing; in particular one thread of bird hunting. Whatever blows your hair back, he figured, he was happy to write Dreams for sexual deviants, even repressed murderers; hey that was his job. The Environmental lobby had lodged a compaint with the Department four Periods ago on this issue, bird hunting; the flightless Aves in question were supposed to be somehow mythologically endowed, Life birds, it was suggested – in fact, the ancients had considered the creatures the key to the Race’s ongoing survival, and that should they ever perish so the Race would too; however, most people, like Eli himself, wrote off the pseudo-scientific crap the Environmentalists came up with every time anybody tried to make themselves a living in nature as just that, crap.

Eli capsuled his report off, knowing it would probably not be read anyways, but having now fulfilled his legal and moral duty felt free to cater to even his Client’s peripheral and dark whims.

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Harcourt Fenton Mudd was also part of the Race, an entrepreneur and profiteer without compare, his latest venture involved the hunting and capture, as well as consumption or otherwise sale of a small flightless breed of bird, known only as the “Life bird”. He snickered as he thought of it, the Life bird… too tubby, flightless, with its stout body, stumpy wings, too-large head and heavy hooked bill. His next expeditionary group should be arriving shortly, he waited patiently, sitting on his perch, a shallow flat rock overhanging a small waterfall near the top of a tropical mountain; beautiful place he thought, looking out.

A herd of bipeds rushed by, apparently in pursuit of some form of antelope or deer, he could not tell. It was somehow amusing to watch the poor creatures, futilely giving chase, and on accidentally running into another frightened buck trying haplessly to suffocate it with their maldeveloped upper limbs…

A voice from behind startled him from his reverie and he jumped, “Hey Harry, we’re about ready…” This was his time to shine, hunting is all about believing the right story, so he would sit down his guests and ‘educate’ them.

“… Today we’ll head out over the Macedonian plains, the creatures hide there in amongst the foliage. They appear as foolish, underdeveloped Aves, but the legends have it they are the guardians of Life as we know it; it can never be told how they may react, stories are even told of them morphing to Lion forms and devouring threats of all natures…”

Of course, stories were never told, but they definitely helped the cunning entrepreneur to empty his client’s pockets. He took their money, not their names anyway, it wasn’t as if these were the most ethical types, “knowing” they were aiding the destruction of the Race and participating anyway. Sometimes, thinking about the Race, Harry was even tempted to believe the stories himself…

He dismissed these thoughts hurriedly, and proceeded to lead his clients on their ‘dangerous’ expedition.

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Moishe was an Environmentalist. It had begun to happen; on more and more Imperial worlds, especially the wealthier, young ones had begun to be born neuter, asexual. Politicians spread conspiracy theories against the Imperial throne, Theologians stressed the immoral lifestyles of the aristocracy and their excesses as damaging their gene pool, Scientists clamoured to evidence showing that it was only a natural cycle in the Race’s ongoing evolution, but they, the Environmentalists knew better.

On each of the afflicted worlds was a high incidence of bird killing. Apparently some twisted souls found it amusing to steal the life from others, for pleasure and profit. But they’d gone wrong this time, this time they’d gone too far, this time they slayed the sacred bird of the Ancients, the one known as the Life bird, hidden guardian of the Race. Call us mad, he thought, but we know better, and they won’t listen… and we won’t get a second chance.

Moishe felt helpless, and sad. It was tragic that they should be finished, tragic that they should give up all they had fought for and built over the ages. All he could do was voice his fear, try to

convince someone, perhaps something could be done, perhaps if there were an afterlife he would be rewarded for his noblest efforts… No! He stopped himself, Stop thinking so negatively, we are all linked, each thinks he is alone in his existence, but we are all linked, some good can yet be done.

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The beasts in question were supposed to have begun to develop an intellect, though Scientists had been monitoring them for well over fourteen hundred Periods and no further development had occurred, it seemed unlikely that they would or could evolved any further whatsoever. Eli knew it, there was an ice age coming, when the Race died and their atmostpheric technology ceased to function, the planet would be left to its own temperature control once more, whereupon it would suddenly heat up, and as suddenly freeze, likely killing all remaining life. He felt a curious pity, no not pity, more like sadness, as he contemplated the prospect. The eternal Race was going to die, and with them almost certainly all other life… Could they not somehow leave some kind of legacy, some trace of their once glory; salvage something, leave something good behind?

He had read Moishe Enlaughtu’s book “The end of the Angels” about the end times, about now; he had been convinced, he’d even turn away a profit on hunting dreams; though he knew his customers would just go elsewhere, but at least he did what could be done. It struck a chord in him, the book, there was something powerful in that they were all linked; but not only us. No also, us and them, the creatures, the beasts, the Men, in a strange way we would live on into eternity if they too should live.

He believed it could be done. He’d need to take his Dream supplements, which he usually

programmed, and leave them dry with but the raw imaginative code. It was risky, even if it worked the creatures would end up with some kind of tormented consciousness, but it was their only Hope, he decided to give it to them. Taking near ten thousand such capsules he dissolved them in the planet’s largest water body. It would take a long time for them to fully dissolve and diffuse through the water mass, but once they had they would fill the entire system, through Nature’s rain and renewal processes, he might even see it in his lifetime. He only hoped the creatures would yet be alive…

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Eli was an old man by now. He swooped up on his great white wings, his kind were nearly finished now; he searched for one of the beasts, few still survived… There, one caught his eye, he was doing something odd – it appeared that he had grown a dark thick layer of matted fur – he swooped down; No, he realised the creature wore the flesh of another of the indigenous life. They had begun to develop an authentic intellect, they had become ingenius in their survival! He hovered before it. It stood, cowed, and made not a move. Eli spoke: “I dub thee Adam… thy partner, I dub Eve,” as a female emerged from the bushes wearing a covering of stitched together leaves and plants. “My Lord,” responded the male falling to his knees, “I am unworthy of your presence, forgive me for I am but a mortal man.” Eli thought to calm the creature, and perhaps to give it Hope and purpose, that perhaps their kind could be led to prosper in this place: “My child, I have chosen you, you are to lead your people, you are to be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth, and subdue it; and rule over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the sky and over every living thing that moves on the earth grow and multiply, and subdue this land; I now give you every seed-bearing plant on the face of the entire earth and every tree that has fruit with

seed in it. They will be yours for food. And to all the animals of the earth, and to every bird of the air, and to all the creatures that move on the ground – everything that has the breath of life in it – I give every green plant for food. For now I am to pass from this world…”

And he left. Sometimes I think perhaps the beast heard only the part about multiplication and subjugation, and in its excitement forgot the dying Race; but we will never know.