Geometry for Ocelots

by Exurb1a

Space lensed a moment and Lord Mriga appeared on a jade dais before the crowd. He bowed and the crowd bowed in response.

Soon would be the party days, but that evening many of the villagefolk were tired and trudged off to their beds. Johannes was not so tired. He collected the whisky bottle from his yurt and made to his favourite oak tree and climbed to the highest branch. The night was clear and the stars were out in their millions, swaddled in the dust of the Milky Way.

He cried out and when it became unbearable to watch, Johannes went to put the mask back on Giorgi’s face. Giorgi pushed the mask away and ceased coughing suddenly. His eyes were steady. He fell to his knees and examined the dirt with wide, shining eyes. He plunged his fingers into the dirt and burst out laughing. He looked up to the stars. “Oh. . .” he said. “Giorgi. . .” Johannes whispered. Giorgi examined his withered old hands. He began to cry. “I have,” he whispered. “What do you have?” Johannes whispered back. “I have been. . .”

Is there a more opulent society imaginable than one that builds spaceships while its population starves?

No, Hisarya realised. All of them were barren wastelands. Hisarya said, Is this real or a hallucination? The entity said, A question one should ask daily.