Mana from Heaven

Backstory: Padavanas is a sitter for my account and uses my probes vigorously in our section of the galaxy. Apparently one of our neighbors (Imhotep of the planet Kemmet) noticed one of the probes that passed through his system and thought it would be a good idea to reach out a friendly hand to his neighbor.

Hello,
I am Imhotep, Architect of Kemmet. I see that you are curious about my world and I would welcome an opportunity to get to know each other. I am always open to making new friends with honorable people such as yourself, and would welcome the chance to count you as one of them.

Imhotep


Such mana from heaven should never be ignored...

My dear Imhotep, what a genuine pleasure to make your acquaintance. I confess that is not myself, but rather my HIVE-mate Padavanas (who delights in the use of probes on all his neighbors) who has expressed such a keen interest in your people. But now that you have extended a hand into the cold void, I can do nothing but grasp it warmly and hold it tight.

You are very generous in your correspondence... I read it several times, each sentence containing a faceted jewel for my enjoyment. I do hope I am able to provide a missive of equal interest and entertainment for you.

So... you style yourself as an Architect. There is my first intriguement, as it speaks highly of a more refined hand in the crafting of worlds. It is so rare to find an artist’s eye in this galaxy of reavers and warmongers. So few appreciate the subtle dance of influences that contribute to the weave of our existence. I myself am an avid student of that weave. Each thread, a soul bound to the warp and weft of a culture and thus serving as an anchor for other souls... such a delicate snarl of life. Tug a single thread and the entire fabric trembles. Cut it and worlds unravel.

I am curious, however, at your expectation that I am an honorable being? I also wonder if you deem such a quality to be admirable or even noble. I cannot, in good conscience, speak to the accuracy of your deduction... words are pretty things and I delight in them, but they are frail foundations for a relationship. If I confirm, in words, my honorable nature, what have I given you? Nothing of value, though it may give you pleasure and comfort... for a short while. It shall be our interactions together that shall validate (or defame) our honor, and I eagerly anticipate that unfolding of discovery.

Friendship is another matter, a concept fraught with expectation. Are you seeking an ally in your architectural efforts? Or are you merely hoping to unshroud the mystery of a fellow leader? I have my HIVE-mates, of course, but to call them “friends” would be to devalue them, for they are my soul extended across the galaxy. I have my projects, planets and cultures where I engage in my research on sentient spirit and fortitude and – while I admire and respect several of them greatly – I do not think I could say we are friends.

You see, Imhotep, I am what you might regard as your antithesis... your nemesis, to invoke a literary term. I am a Deconstructor, an Anti-Architect. I am a student of misery and a cultivator of “the final whisper”, the mewling whimper a planet makes when it is abandoned by its people. I am in the business of despair... and business is quite good.

I have several active projects and, to be honest, I wasn’t seeking additional research opportunities. But as I say, your correspondence so intrigued me, that I made room in my daily schedule for Kemmet.

Thank you so very much for seeking me out, Imhotep... it is a rare delight to have one’s joy delivered so eagerly to one’s doorstep.

With warmest regards,
Tesseract

And thus it starts.

Indeed. And continues...

Interesting. You say that it's your Hive-mate Pandavanas who relish in sending probes to his neighbors. However the probes that arrived were clearly sent from your planet Omicrom and were of Terran design, not Xen. You say that you are/were not interested in Kemmet and yet More probes were sent. Such a duplicitous nature of statement and action highly suggest one with a great affinity of deceit and deception.

And Yet, for some reason I am intrigued. I will acquiesce to the validity of your statement that it is rare to find one with the eye of an artist in a galaxy of warmongers. Something so rare should be treasured. And the finite population of those treasured few should stand together in such enlightened camaraderie as opposition to the warmongers, rather than submit to their whims and mentality. You claim to have the eye of an artist and yet have deemed yourself a deconstroctor. The nature of such statements are an oxymoron. Thusly you have presented yourself as quite the enigma.

I recognize the woven nature of the existence of all of us. And a fabric so delicate should not be so carelessly cut. As you stated, snipping a single thread could unravel worlds, but can actually cause the the entire fabric to disintegrate. And without the fabric intact, the one who made the cut becomes meaningless, vanishing into the void - forgotten.

Once again you are right. I am uncertain of your status as an Honorable being. That too is such a rare thing in a galaxy of warmongers. And I for one will always prefer to assume that those I come into contact have honor and are noble in as much the same way that I try to conduct myself. It is more wise to assume that one is honorable, than to assume the opposite. Because for all of us among the woven fabric of life, it is more costly to us all to assume someone is without honor than it is to assume one is honorable and then see the error of that assumption.



It is so gratifying to find someone who assumes the best in people... makes the task ahead that much more delightful:

My dear Imhotep,

I am a great many things, but I can assure you that “duplicitous” is not to be found in my list of sins. I allow Padavanas to assume the command chair of my world at his leisure. I can assure you that only the most recent wave of probes was issued by my hand, to better understand the scope and magnitude of my new project.

“Enigmatic” however IS a quality that I cultivate and I thank you for noticing. But I am disappointed that the scope of your assessment of artistry only extends to the creative aspects. As an accomplished practitioner of deconstruction, I can assure that there is art to be found therein. The warmonger’s arsenal is limited to the fleets of destruction they employ but, as we both know, it is difficult to fully extinguish the flame of life with such things. The true deconstructionist understands that bombs do not destroy anything of lasting importance. It is the insidious poison of despair, applied with loving persistence, which sows the seeds of doom.

I observe that you deem the art of civilization as something to be preserved. I respectfully disagree. If one assists a butterfly in its torment of emergence, you damage it irrevocably. The anguish of transformation gives it strength. If one cuddles a civilization, then it too is maimed by isolation, feeding upon itself in orgiastic delight. If something is to endure, dear Imhotep, then it must be tested... firmly, harshly, and mercilessly. Only then can it emerge from its chrysalis whole and healthy.

And if the fabric unravels and we are left with a void, then so much the better. The void is the womb of all creation, the blank slate upon which anything can be written. If the galaxy is rendered into a void by my surgical cuts of life threads, then I will stand at the origin point of all creation. What glories do you suppose could unfold from my hand then?

As to honor... well by all means, assume that all you greet are honorable. It is a generous risk on your part and I shall certainly profit by it. Personally, I assume only sentience... and perhaps (as with you) spirit and intellect. I hope for the latter, for then my work may begin. The knives laid out, the pen inked, the paper clean and crisp beneath the quill. As I begin to scratch away, I imagine the paper as the skin of your world, each word a shallow pass with the scalpel, a sweet fillet as we make our way deeper and deeper to the real flesh beneath. A conceit, I will grant you, but vanity has always been my darkest sin and it delights me to wrap myself in such visceral metaphors.

In eager anticipation...
Tesseract

Tess, I eagerly await your every post hoping that the next one will entertain me as much as much as the one i just read.

Go Tesseract

If I could blush, Supax, I would (but I forgot how long ago)... Thank you. I hope you know how much it means to a writer to have an eager audience.

::bows:: I shall never neglect those friends who have supported me as you have.

you have a poetic way with words, something in its self to tresure. but what do you do in your spare time, i feel you wright a good play.

Thank you for your kind words, Green. It's good to know that my words fall gently on the ears

I actually wrote audio dramas for a non-profit radio theatre company several years ago. We produced over 40 half-hour episodes of completely original material. Alas, the company didn't last, but while it was running we all had a blast.

Whatever I do, you can be sure that words and writing will find its way into it... as long as I have an audience (I have a degree in theatre, you see), I will be only to happy to play to them.

i see i hit the nail on the head. shame about your company, good luck in the future.

I know I say this each and every time below one of your posts Tess but damn you are good--real good!