albatross

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental. Copyright © 2022 by Jawann Fleet All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. First cover edition November 2022

PROLOGUE

- they were perched atop the seven-story darkly amber scraper .. it was the holiday weekend .. and the beginnings of cackling and sizz pyrotechnic offshoots were beginning to permeate from beyond whereupon Luna Faulknen gripping the binoculars had spotted Him trudging along. The Chancellor.

LUNA FAULKNEN: (exclaiming) Ahhh here were go again .. and so it starts!

THE CHANCELLOR

- ‘Ahhh yes .. and so the chancellor appropriately garmented in a coin-black robe this nighttime incarnation steps out from the void into the hubs main square .. and bearing as usual his noted loud-speaker for the exclamation.

THE CHANCELLOR: (clears throat before announcing) Ahem. And so now we have here in the midst of our pyromania .. with all the spectators gathered here (scattered denizens across the twenty-six skyscraper board rooftops) and the main square illuminated for the gladiatorial festivities .. I'd assume you guys play it safe now/not looking to get too dirty or ruffled like the pristine Luna for instance (beam lights transition to her .. as the spectators gasp confirmingly .. she blushes) but uhhh I have faith here that the lot of you will have yourselves a rather good time and uhhh'll make it worth your while.

(The Chancellor exits stage left hopping off and back into an adjacent scraper and descend downstairs towards the non- illuminated basement this godforsaken night for reasons God knows what.)

However back above hilltop the spectators stare and begin to murmur and quip idly amongst themselves in awaiting .. .. ..

ALBATROSS

Even though residents didn’t necessarily need any forewarnings, advisory boards still popped up directing the inhabitants to avoid lakes, ponds or puddles with the magenta-hue as this kink usually served as a precursor to Their proximity or pending emergence.

And when Quela had returned back to the adobe for respite .. even though she wasn’t an assembler she knew that the process of ‘granite-assemblage’ (physical structures .. attempts to create walkway arches over the ponds) was mostly mundane, arduous labor .. and unforgiving.

Anatomically the ‘winged-serpents’ come equipped with a nozzle-suctioning piece which allows them to practically suck the noxious juice right out of the boysenberries and spores.

Census bureau had noted that population [re]swell had appeared to completely stagnate .. but this might have been mere surface-level illusion .. (as a lot of the top-level operators still hadn’t returned back to obsidia even in spite of post-ordinance civility and attempts now by the multinationals to repair and restore order.)

Two of the spectators Wynston Albach and Joshy Helle.

JOSHY: Who Boone?

WYNSTON: Yeah what of him?

JOSHY: I don’t know .. I haven’t combed through the asylum records yet.

WYNSTON: Yeah.

JOSHY: Yeah I mean I respect the lad, I get it .. see his thoughts were to get at it (The Syndicate) while in it’s infancy stage with leader turnover (Xorniquet Tills relinquishing power to the initiate sects and whatnot) but he found that Tills left a strong foundation in place behind him .. was able to repredicate itself almost instantaneously and for his ‘defiance’ they made Boone a nice little priority of theirs right out the gate haha.

- You had others like Keira .. Keira who continued on blindly in circumnavigation around the hub .. for one that was a potentiality risk for her and two it was just awful to watch .. made many of the administrators speculate upon means at alleviating her plight .. [JOSHY: (pondering) hmmm, perhaps we could give her sonar reverb .. like echolocation in the alterplane for instance..]

the operators self-imposed exile wasn’t too damaging a contingency since in this guise most couriers weren’t needed anyways .. heck with the return to civility most [gate lock] schema was still (and perhaps permanently) deactivated.

THE CORRESPONDENCE

JOSHY: Oh yeah about that see .. so even though the top operators were out of town for a bit and had left The Syndicate in the initiates hands we’d still received word of an ongoing correspondence between an associate and a high-ranking level member of the *lizards* sect [Kolpe?] .. hey matter fact might have to check in with The Chancellor to see if that even fits within circuit-parameters.

Alright then .. and so once summoned The Chancellor appears re-again ascending upwards from the depths .. sniffling alittle and bearing in his clutches The Book.

Spectator 67: What is that a bible?

The Chancellor: (grips binoculars looking upwards at the denizen disdainfully) No it is (holds up the document) The Book!!!

[The Spectators glare on in amazement awaiting the ‘referendum’ (though this is a dictatorship in essence) as The Chancellor alternates between adjusting circular bi-focal optics pivoted on face and crumpled sheets of the rather worn, ‘ancient’ text in his hands which he’s wrestling with at the current juncture .. before the ‘aha moment’ when he locates the appropriate decree, elongated coarse index finger scans the page .. glides over the appropriate text, Chancellor signals to his assistant for his loud-speakers.]

(The assistant promptly runs on stage to the illuminated hub main square and hands him his loud-speaker before darting off hastily left-field.)

And The Chancellor clears his throat for the exclamation.

The Chancellor: Ahem.

Decree-143 of *the initiates handbook* explicitly states that during the festivals gladiatorial or otherwise or during the hub illumination period that initiates are prohibited from communicating with the upper-clans until a respite or period of lull ensues .. as it stands all gains from the correspondence must be relinquished back to The State as is.

[The declaration draws the ire of some of the spectators who wish to see ‘flow’ and continuance from the sects even if by means slightly nefarious .. however The Chancellor as can be seen has no concerns with such discontent as he’s already pouncing back left-diagonal to another scraper this twilight-incarnate.]

Halifax Nyseth (from the near-fringes) had begun to recall scapic oddities near the pond that solstice.

A PITY

[ .. or like Jasper Catlow traversing the hub same route after route on an almost endless loop .. that or he’d find himself as stanchion-posit/pebble-assembler for the bridge-builders at bay ..]

- One of the 'stingers' for instance had tagged Taran Cartheen .. the result of her trek of folly circling around a magenta-puddle.

TARRAN TYRELL: [reflecting on the hit] Yessir you have a few of ‘em for picture of it .. a few loopy cyber-yellow honeybees floating around in the second-plane alterrealm.

THE CHANCELLOR: [inquiring] Loopy huh?

T. TYRELL: Yessir.

THE CHANCELLOR: I’d reckon .. do you think the second-plane is rougher than the first this incarnate?

T. TYRELL: [quickly deliberates before responding] Na .. not at all, for instance in that sweltering heat, the anguish of being a bridge-builder .. imagine.

LURERS

- Due to the highly stationary nature of bridge/pebble-assemblage it was important to coat the ‘lurers’ with highly enticing pigment/pheromones combination-components to keep the stingers ‘occupied’.

THE NEW INTENTIONS

- And since even without top-clan interference The New Syndicates intentions were hard enough to decipher the initiates tried to consume bytes of the entheogen to artificially induce mosaics which could provide some sort of feedback.

- Yeah cause at that time you had the multinationals attempting to restore the city order-sector(s) (obsidia residents still reported occasional brownouts) .. The Beach was still washed out and desolate with some advisory-zoning placements to deincentivize the curious orbster on trek .. this left The Ridge .. .. which at the current moment was a barren husk of huts .. (that on a tri-planar scale) far removed from the bustling mini-high level manufacturing gray-market center it was at ordinance level-peak.

UNEASE

- or picture Monte Lavanchy’s raven-black orb fluttering the skeletal desolate metropolitan arena.

Oh yeah Taran Cartheen is now out of play we might add .. Taran is now on the outskirts away from the hub of illumination .. she is flanked by several spectators with small cam(eras)(corders) and one of them bearing a microphone inquires.

SPECTATOR #243: So Taran .. what did, does the sensation feel like?

TARAN: It feels like a stinging sickling .. paralysis .. inner electrocution .. blackness.

- the infrared hatch was a quionic powered implement .. the quion was more than just a mere electromagnet powering mechanism though .. it allowed for plane deformation/morphology to catch live prey-hawks on the transfigured realm and orbs on the first plane but it should be noted though that the mechanism is wholly untested with results of the apparatus still remaining to be seen.

The hookah was peppered with trace dosages of the entheogen .. Trinity Wescott however couldn't understand for the life of him why some orbsters still opted for this mean of inject stating that in the arena already smog-filled as is (though in the post-ordinance guise the gaseous atmospheric fume levels had tapered off) why some would voluntarily subject their respiratory to such harsh vapors just to obtain some biofeedback but that was just him though.

You had about sixty-percent of the denizens atop and beginning to sip on chilled nutcrackers.

You had Finn Alessandro and Damien Cartheen fortifying the hordes into swarms like locusts.

Trinity Wescott despite his cynicism towards the ordeal older brother Baen is already viewed as something of a legend within the under-circuit .. had reportedly been brought on by Boone to help assist in topographic-thermal mapping methods to help keep track of swarm hotspots.

- as anarchistic as The Syndicate is it sometimes amazes that it runs so well .. heck even now their appears to be infighting between Finn Alessandro (purported head) and Damien Carthen over control of the diffuse swarming-agents.

*to restore The Syndicate to paramilitary-level swarm capabilities .. one that could even challenge secluded low-level sects off the mountainous Ridge (of course this is not referring to the established clans)*

TESTING METTLE

And just being honest here despite some success at triangulating Boone Takach in spurts neither Finn nor Damien appeared up for the task at hand of reconstructing the organization .. honestly they both favored individual dueling bouts but getting ‘bytes’ of stingers to coalesce for even rudimentary causes was not either members expertise so as thus they would need (a strong-minded stringer) somebody else to help them achieve the matter at hand.

THE SEARCH

And the realization .. that such a tip-off prompted a hub-wide (pretty much exhaustive) inclusive search for this person(s) of interest ..

THEY RETURNED

Ok so The Harbor was nested on the outskirts of The Hub some 4.3-km out the cities borders and at this time with the festivities ongoing amidst stilled waters not much activity was occurring outside the main holds .. then enter the two albatrosses flowing in from the banks .. a sight which in itself still wouldn't render much intrigue unless you had quionic-imbued alter sensors to shift the realmic scape contour to see aha it's the dear mates Waldon Lugisla and Zamar Lorenstein on return assignment from the golems sect (currently still in the state of semi-luxurious exile like their peers) and though they arrive here with different intentions than before (not having to perform any chaotic extractions this here incarnation thank God).

Though Zamar Lorenstein quips that 'a few of these initiates probably wouldn't mind it though .. cause I don't know if it's as scathing an extreme as the [obsidia] basin ordeal was but I've heard apparently that this circuit was a cesspool for initiates as well.'

Waldon: (inserting) Dog eat dog world huh?

Zamar: Dog eat dog. Crab in the barrel. Whatever ya wanna attribute it to.

Waldon: Yeah without us [the overlords in place and the council jurisdiction] it's been ugly around here hasn’t it?

Zamar: Yeah and you got that crazed ass chancellor down there haha he don't know what the hell he's doing he's a snorting son of a bitch I tell ya .. more whacked out than the entheogen-filled populace he's supposed to be governing.

Waldon: Yeah cause then you had Boone?

Zamar: Ah-ha Boone right!? Yeah I remember he was supposed to be some sort of savior-figure right?

Waldon: Yeah.

Zamar: Yeah well talk about being in over your head.

(The two orbsters approach the clustered settlement of scrapers though by this time almost all the rooftops are occupied somewhat by denizens and spectators Zamar signals to one of the side ones featuring an at best dubious trio)

Zamar: (signaling) Hey let's hover over these heathens for a bit why don't we I wanna see what's going on here .. .. ..

ELEMENTAL PROTOCOLS

The Herds ‘mission impossible’ was to trek 162.1-km from inner-town to wilderness essentially to note that the upper-clans were currently monitoring realmic dissonance and strife courtesy of Epenstein of course though due to elemental boundaries, spatial-chasm regulations and protocols between shivas, hydras and orbsters all they could do was ‘monitor’ the situation .. the mission was suppose to be an impossible trek for The Herd but they pulled it off and showed a high level of proficiency though commodity Orion Mattix is supposedly switching sides to the ruby spectrum/Syndicate (and we reckon that despite his treason that he’ll be nicely compensated for his services) .. .. ..

And furthermore why Orion Mattix even got the nod over other candidates Eusser Turnels and Fenris Foxwell ..

- well mostly it boiled down to affiliation (some inner-realmic politics at play here too) as in terms of mere aptitude Fenris is seen as pretty much equal to Orion however Fenris and his lot (The Circle amalgam) are currently engaged in a semi-brutalistic gauntlet of near gladiatorial proportions against an initiate clan which The Syndicate notedly sponsors (that would be the siphons sect) as such due to such an engagement Fenris is virtually blacklisted from certain arenas and spheres. Eusser despite just being a step down from the other two in tier is a member of the souls consortium, another branch which The Syndicate pretty much vehemently opposes .. meanwhile The Herd is pretty much neutral in relations (though they lean towards the emerald-spectrum on most dealings and transactions) as honestly the branch isn't distinguished enough within the hub or even outside the border/city-straits to summon much animosity from their peers though They even had to admit that their recent exploits through transrealmic scapes and bounds virtually unscathed was pretty impressive a feat of circumnavigation in and of itself for the youngsters which further predicated their willingness to harp on the opportunity to recruit the rather reticent asset into their ranks.

CONTOUR

And we'd be remissed here if we didn't elaborate upon the 'new world' .. see cause when the floodgates had finally closed .. and the waters receded .. topographic shifts and contour of the land had changed leading to the formation of two new states/rivaling powers-regimes (as you know bloodlust and wanderlust being inherent) .. and those being aligned with the spectrums were Alias (emeraldean) and Esper (rubyian) becoming the dominant geographic zones in this here incarnation.

The albatross-guise had become trendy/favorable amongst the lot initiates who'd roamed the harbor now and gliding above sea when not stuck within the alias-straits sipping periodically from the entheogen-tainted muddy waters and swamps.

‘It made her sick actually.’

SYLZIA INSTEIN: Spoiled .. just spoiled .. spoiled brats .. All of them! .. I mean look you’d think now right them having all the resources .. the generators .. the utilities .. the auxiliaries to themselves .. (the town) .. I mean you’d think they’d try and capitalize upon it right? I mean with Array down and the sensors nonintact it’s all up for grabs .. but no they just wanna hang around all day sipping nutcrackers and dirty antidote from the swamps.

The hub had by that time become a series of scattered ponds essentially plotted almost indiscriminately throughout the densely clustered arena and with some swelling and some regressing.

The souls conglomerate perhaps still on a little high from their success in the last incarnation didn’t request even once any assistance or counsel from their higher-ups and in it showed in results here.

- Duels didn’t occur often at The Harbor however those that did were nowhere near as intense or significant as bouts occurring within The Hub straits anyway.

Even in spite of Virtual non-resistance commerce from The Ridges had all but dried up.

‘Boone would be seen as a madman .. a blabbering idiot .. trust me they have institutions (mental, social, penal) to accommodate those like him.’

- Above yonder and over the horizons She watches the sun recede away from the s[h]immering Oceania and taking in its midst the luminescence with it.

.. Acknowledging that The Harbor in itself served as a refuge .. an oasis for those orbsters who lacked the grit or wherewithal to stomach the rather harsh environ of The Hubs knit.

Oh yes we must also give credit where it’s due Finn Jackstadt (though these would falter) helped Boone set up infrastructure (the surveillance operation - the bridge constructs - the infrared post scanning)

ENBILULU’S-MIST

.. When Takach knew

ZANCENT XIBILIA: Boone Takach was depleted by then .. heck and The Syndicate didn’t even need a site-lord for this gambit .. heck they barely needed a stringer (though Orion performed admirably) .. actually the [Wescott] brothers were keener than Takach by that point having picked up on the predicaments futility some incarnations earlier.

THE CONSENSUS

- And this with dawn hanging over the spectators .. and the subjects are eager though some have fallen into slight slumbers though they perked up when they spotted the figure ascending.

SPECTATOR-139: (while wiping small trickles motions from forehead, from the scraper-top) Oh hey look.

They watch in earnest as The Chancellor on rather slow trek along trudges toward the center-mark and bearing in his right-hand the coin-black device of circular motion with it affixed by a golden (no a cyberyellow) chain protrusion.

SPECTATOR-246: What is that .. what’s he clutching?

Others (inquiring): A compass? A pocket watch?

SPECTATOR-79: No I think it’s more like a hygrometer actually.

THE CHANCELLOR: (clears throat before issuing the proclamation) And to all of you dear mates and fellows .. who I would have prepare for the magenta-solstice .. (sound of his voice whizzes off engulfed indeed by the whirring anti-symphony of the hordes some of them even ingesting small trickles off their pelican beaks and nozzles - nozzles now tapped, traced and coated with the synthesis .. .. ..

EPILOGUE

Apart from disillusionment (all she really remembered of the trek was traversal through shrubs which eventually transitioned to moss as they neared the brims) was irrecognition of what was being addressed seeing nothing but gust-stream scatters over the borealis-shield .. and she thought about asking a faun(ic) prober about these instances but ultimately she refrained from engaging .. perhaps choosing to lie in her ignorance .. acknowledging as is that she won’t understand everything moving forward .. and that’s ok.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jawann Lyndell Fleet is a digital author and writer. Albatross is a continuation of The Ordinance and The Revel leave a rating/review if you’d like.

Website: (where you can check out links, excerpts, and news on previous and current works as well as updates on forthcoming ones) www.jawannfleet.com…