Twilight Mirage 60: The Restitution of All Things Pt. 1

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Episode description[edit | edit source]

For the hundreds of days after the Miracle of the Mirage, the sky above the planet Moonlock was filled only with dust and color. While the occasional landed by and the odd satellite or station came briefly into view, the world was not--like many others in the system--a harbor for fleets or a rest stop for caravans. Perhaps, those on Moonlock thought, it was the planet's frightening proximity to Volition. Or maybe it was the tension of relationships on the surface, an awkward arrangement of Qui Err communities, NEH colonists, and of course, the militant "Particulars" who prowled the wastes looking for erratic phenomena to capture or destroy. It was not a particularly friendly world, Moonlock. So why should its skies be? 

But today, thousands of ships hang in orbit above the planet's capital city, the Sky Reflected In Mirrors. It is the Argosy, Spliced, flotilla of the NEH and the Church of the Self. And at the center of the fleet, is the Restitution of All Things, flagship of Our Profit, and current home to Fourteen Fifteen, errant member of The Notion.

As Fourteen Fifteen goes about their business as a newly recognized citizen of the Hegemony, a twisting, clandestine ship slides past the many hundreds surrounding the Restitution: It is the Bolero Smooth, the awarding-winning vessel of Waltz Tango (Cache). And in its hold, deep in thought, is Grand Magnificent. He knows he has to rescue someone. But will it be his friend, or himself?

This time on Twilight Mirage: The Restitution of All Things Pt. 1

I'ma try to swim from somethin' bigger than me

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Opening[edit | edit source]

Deep in the heart of the Restitution of All Things, flagship of the New Earth Hegemony’s fleet, Our Profit walked slowly; one foot, directly after another, down the snow-covered lakeshore of the Center Centra Diplomatic Retreat. In just a few hours, guest would begin to arrive. Some she knew well, and some were strangers. Some she could trust, and some moved like serpents in grass. Our Profit knew too well that those first two categories did not map up cleanly with the latter. No. things had never been that simple. But that didn’t matter really. She didn’t need sycophants in this moment. She only needed leaders, who could dream.

Our Profit had arrived like a storm, just over a month ago. With her exposure of the Rapid Evening and the lighting of Profit’s Star, which blinded their crystalline sage, she was the bolt’s spark. With her fleet’s strength of number, she was the whirlwind, overturning unspoken agreements and presumed alliances through show of force alone. For her assiduous believers, she was the cool rain, and now, with the Splice, she knew she could be the rising tide of the Quire System too.

Though it had been a year since the Miracle, it was, paradoxically a millennium ago now that Our Profit first learned of the Twilight Mirage, and its wondrous powers. And it was all the way back then that early tests of the sunset hued aether, which held the system aloft, led her and her scientists, and her poets, to envisage the Splice. An endless web of creativity, a collective dream world, that disrupted the very ideas of real and virtual. A network turned nation, spread across all of the galaxy. Freedom for minds and freedom for bodies and, maybe, if the poets were right. Freedoms for souls too. But to get there, she had to start here. Diplomats in the lake-house, walks on the shore. And her words, crafted into a thunder that could promise the future.

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