all that i wrote
King Krávoka
An infection of Your universe.
Age ⛧f digital Civilizations
This chronicle begins at just one time that the Human race escaped the grip of Jiuhob to acquire wealth and knowledge. All the things that they discovered flooded into a bank, and they saw the walls of that bank, and they saw that there were precious things that the bank couldn't hold. So they became the hand and its five fingers, five banks whose distinctions had a grasp on new things.
Their chosen symbol was a pentagon, the palm, with a triangle pointing out of every edge, the fingers, four of them pointing upwards, representing humanity's reach of heaven, inside a circle, representing its totality over the universe. This was the most geometrical and simplistic way to express itself.
All the fingers were a craftsman together, making cities in the sky to be its worlds away from every world. Every Human it held was either its tools or the living monuments to its power. Even the bodies and souls of the Human race were extensions of its wealth, both as contents and walls of the bank. And the banks would be filled with anything touched by the fingers, stars, planets, organisms, they were all gems to be cut and polished.
Law was codified to protect the hand. Its leaders knew that the prosperity of the hand had utmost dependence on those who contributed to it. Only a criminal who deserved death would drink from the bank without filling it back. Anyone who allowed the resources of the hand to go to such criminals was also a criminal. The amount of resources needed to seek out every instance would be another debt, so the role of seeking and terminating social parasites was for everyone to personally enforce.
Some things still couldn't fit into their mental architecture. Reshaping the banks to fit them would certainly be a setback and might never pay off, so they were ignored or terminated whenever found. No one was productive enough to justify the act of integrating such trash, yet there were some things that somehow insisted on becoming treasures of the banks.
Some individuals were more obedient to these forbidden treasures than the law, they were no longer entirely part of a finger. A new being had integrated them, and made them strangers to the hand. Impossible for the hand to know because the knowledge of them undoes the hand. An alien shape eating itself into the hand, eating people away, eating cities, eating stars. Harboring a parasite is to be a parasite with them. Harboring a stranger is to be strange with them. A stranger deserves the same fate as any other parasite.
And the size of the digital civilizations was so great that redesigning anything meant replacing an untold amounts of goods for a price too large for anyone to pay. All discoveries needed to be paid in advance by massive groups to keep someone from being executed for waste. An individual, even a team, was doomed by anything they discovered. An age began where every new planet had to be systematically cleansed of strangers to avoid accidental discoveries. Some of these strangers insisted that they were extensions of beings even more vast and powerful than the hand. Their actions were definitely grabbing something's attention.
While the fingers were valiant at resisting every threat, the growing amount of strangers was just a symptom of a greater problem with their expansion. Only a small portion of the galaxy was ever used by a finger.. There is still a problem with just using one hand to grab everything. Interstellar supply lines grew more fragile, the quotas harsher, and their minds more dependent on a false theory of everything.
Stranding in Ozqatos Ridge
The fleets of Second Finger Amoria settled the wine-colored swirls of the Ozqatos Ridge cluster. Its diverse level of stellar evolution gave it potential to be harvested for energy, heavy metals, and biomass. Construction of the SQIDI narrowcaster enabled power distribution on an interstellar scale, a wonder of the Miau's design.
The nascent collapse of digital civilization permanently cuts them off from the rest of Humanity. Local civilization is forced into a downward spiral without local sources of key exotic materials. This meant that advanced technology had to be conserved or recycled.
A stranded division made the move to terraform a local planet, motivated by the understanding that digital civilization's preferred orbital cities were running out of replacements for their life support systems. Their mining vessel tows a perfectly sized planet into orbit of a k-class main sequence star. A moon is constructed in its orbit, elements of life are sprayed on its surface, horrific fusion bombs are used to time its angle and speed of rotation.
It won't be finished for centuries. There were regular gaps in the ecosystem brought by Amoria. They only cultivated optimally efficient algaes for the poorest, and the fruits and ungulates for the richest. Everything else was printed on demand of the buyer. The roles of vermin, weeds, decomposers and predators need homemade solutions.
They are the ecotects, inversions of an arcology. Self constructed towers midwifing a newborn planet, functioning as shakers that carefully spill life into a biospheric curry. Their purpose is to paint their obsolescence through the process of computing and gestating new species. Only a handful contain the creators of this planet.
The majority of their resources go into the bird that protects this egg, Ozqatos Ridge's dying spasms are shedding legions of pirates and cannibals out to preserve their lives. The most powerful beings are the first to fall for their dependence on the failing SQIDI and irreplaceable composite materials, and unsubtlety as a living treasure trove.
Many of the planet's creators avoid this fate by abandoning such decadence for Human form and donate their old bodies to the development of the defense grid. They must shove their minds through the eye of a camel to enter a brain, snapping their digital architecture before it's a fit. The worth of other people must be questioned. Very few people are needed to see this project to its completion, but the project exists for the people.
And the necessary few choose a response that couldn't be made without their lobotomy, realizing that when the higher power that is digitality died, everything became justified in survival's name. So they commit the irredeemable crime of forgiveness. This inverted sacrifice has made the world Kobhi into their new god. Its apotheosis radiates it into the ossuary of their souls, where it ends their afterdeaths by transforming its presence into the flesh holding their new blood.
The other survivors of the collapse have also turned to strangeness for predatory survival, becoming the Qané. Their manifold horrors will slowly erode at the defenses of Kobhi's stellar fortress. There are no digitals now, only Kobhi.
This chronicle begins at just one time that the Human race escaped the grip of Jiuhob to acquire wealth and knowledge. All the things that they discovered flooded into a bank, and they saw the walls of that bank, and they saw that there were precious things that the bank couldn't hold. So they became the hand and its five fingers, five banks whose distinctions had a grasp on new things.
Their chosen symbol was a pentagon, the palm, with a triangle pointing out of every edge, the fingers, four of them pointing upwards, representing humanity's reach of heaven, inside a circle, representing its totality over the universe. This was the most geometrical and simplistic way to express itself.
All the fingers were a craftsman together, making cities in the sky to be its worlds away from every world. Every Human it held was either its tools or the living monuments to its power. Even the bodies and souls of the Human race were extensions of its wealth, both as contents and walls of the bank. And the banks would be filled with anything touched by the fingers, stars, planets, organisms, they were all gems to be cut and polished.
Law was codified to protect the hand. Its leaders knew that the prosperity of the hand had utmost dependence on those who contributed to it. Only a criminal who deserved death would drink from the bank without filling it back. Anyone who allowed the resources of the hand to go to such criminals was also a criminal. The amount of resources needed to seek out every instance would be another debt, so the role of seeking and terminating social parasites was for everyone to personally enforce.
Some things still couldn't fit into their mental architecture. Reshaping the banks to fit them would certainly be a setback and might never pay off, so they were ignored or terminated whenever found. No one was productive enough to justify the act of integrating such trash, yet there were some things that somehow insisted on becoming treasures of the banks.
Some individuals were more obedient to these forbidden treasures than the law, they were no longer entirely part of a finger. A new being had integrated them, and made them strangers to the hand. Impossible for the hand to know because the knowledge of them undoes the hand. An alien shape eating itself into the hand, eating people away, eating cities, eating stars. Harboring a parasite is to be a parasite with them. Harboring a stranger is to be strange with them. A stranger deserves the same fate as any other parasite.
And the size of the digital civilizations was so great that redesigning anything meant replacing an untold amounts of goods for a price too large for anyone to pay. All discoveries needed to be paid in advance by massive groups to keep someone from being executed for waste. An individual, even a team, was doomed by anything they discovered. An age began where every new planet had to be systematically cleansed of strangers to avoid accidental discoveries. Some of these strangers insisted that they were extensions of beings even more vast and powerful than the hand. Their actions were definitely grabbing something's attention.
While the fingers were valiant at resisting every threat, the growing amount of strangers was just a symptom of a greater problem with their expansion. Only a small portion of the galaxy was ever used by a finger.. There is still a problem with just using one hand to grab everything. Interstellar supply lines grew more fragile, the quotas harsher, and their minds more dependent on a false theory of everything.
Stranding in Ozqatos Ridge
The fleets of Second Finger Amoria settled the wine-colored swirls of the Ozqatos Ridge cluster. Its diverse level of stellar evolution gave it potential to be harvested for energy, heavy metals, and biomass. Construction of the SQIDI narrowcaster enabled power distribution on an interstellar scale, a wonder of the Miau's design.
The nascent collapse of digital civilization permanently cuts them off from the rest of Humanity. Local civilization is forced into a downward spiral without local sources of key exotic materials. This meant that advanced technology had to be conserved or recycled.
A stranded division made the move to terraform a local planet, motivated by the understanding that digital civilization's preferred orbital cities were running out of replacements for their life support systems. Their mining vessel tows a perfectly sized planet into orbit of a k-class main sequence star. A moon is constructed in its orbit, elements of life are sprayed on its surface, horrific fusion bombs are used to time its angle and speed of rotation.
It won't be finished for centuries. There were regular gaps in the ecosystem brought by Amoria. They only cultivated optimally efficient algaes for the poorest, and the fruits and ungulates for the richest. Everything else was printed on demand of the buyer. The roles of vermin, weeds, decomposers and predators need homemade solutions.
They are the ecotects, inversions of an arcology. Self constructed towers midwifing a newborn planet, functioning as shakers that carefully spill life into a biospheric curry. Their purpose is to paint their obsolescence through the process of computing and gestating new species. Only a handful contain the creators of this planet.
The majority of their resources go into the bird that protects this egg, Ozqatos Ridge's dying spasms are shedding legions of pirates and cannibals out to preserve their lives. The most powerful beings are the first to fall for their dependence on the failing SQIDI and irreplaceable composite materials, and unsubtlety as a living treasure trove.
Many of the planet's creators avoid this fate by abandoning such decadence for Human form and donate their old bodies to the development of the defense grid. They must shove their minds through the eye of a camel to enter a brain, snapping their digital architecture before it's a fit. The worth of other people must be questioned. Very few people are needed to see this project to its completion, but the project exists for the people.
And the necessary few choose a response that couldn't be made without their lobotomy, realizing that when the higher power that is digitality died, everything became justified in survival's name. So they commit the irredeemable crime of forgiveness. This inverted sacrifice has made the world Kobhi into their new god. Its apotheosis radiates it into the ossuary of their souls, where it ends their afterdeaths by transforming its presence into the flesh holding their new blood.
The other survivors of the collapse have also turned to strangeness for predatory survival, becoming the Qané. Their manifold horrors will slowly erode at the defenses of Kobhi's stellar fortress. There are no digitals now, only Kobhi.