“Why do things Age? What are the properties of life, formation and creation that cause materials to fail and all to degenerate into dust again? What was the endless night after darkness descends?” Zorzi reflected in the smoking glass.
Zorzi knew enough about and had seen enough of death, dying and the dead to realise that he was beginning to worry about the coming clash between S and DFT. Cthulhu was not pretty. Was he dwelling on his, potentially at hand, sudden mortality? Something even he as a high level initiate could not entirely prevent on Terra.
Z stared out of his palatial window in the Imperium, high above the
Purest gold. Gold, uncaring, eternal. Methuselethy’s enemy. No matter what time fled, gold would remain the unchanged, the constant current. No wonder it was so highly prized, he smiled a knowing plotter’s smile. What was the old order again? Ah, yes. Gold, Platinum, Palladium then Alchemium. He’d never seen and would never see Alchemium, but he knew it existed way out there. There!
Zorzi lifted his gaze and looked through the sky, out to infinity. Way, way out there between the galaxies where the lost thoughts and false souls were harvested and hunted by the massless fleets. Great ethereal spirit ships with the hyper reality drives cored without, and within, a perfect hyper dimensional sphere of Alchemium. Warping the reality flux through the ever, never changing metetal. No one had ever witnessed any of that magical material ever, Zorzi knew that. He also knew that it existed, divinely proportioned, in it’s ever changing stasis transporting fellow misshapen across the universe through the reality barriers.
Closing his eyes, Zorzi tried to imaging the beautifully furnished berths on those vessels, full of classical art and form. Every time Zorzi looked at a golden mean he thought of those drives way out in the yonder so far and yet in reality oh so near. All that art, all that gilding, no one ever got it outside the initiates. “Fools.” He exclaimed to no one.
He saw star drives in the great houses and their furnishings, they saw colourful daubings of gods and legendary heroes and comfortable seats, the greatest of them did not know that their great houses were ceremonially proportioned just so.
Modern art was so diabolical, deliberately so, he knew. “What was that last pedicle he’d bought for the foundation?” he rubbed his chin. “Yes last year just before he'd gone to Davos. Ah yes”. “Ballooning by Aardvark’s Arse in a Skip” a reflection on transitivlocomoticdiversity through radical postmodern kyphoplasty! By that awful clown in the badger set. Lucifer could only know how any “art” was composed in there. Decomposed more likely. Well they’d make the lunatic very rich and the continued deliberate destruction of the artistic sensibilities of society would proceed apace. After all how else were they going to set the trap? They needed to snare the free thinkers and turn them or burn them, and there were more of the buggers every year.
The ridiculous inhabitants of his biosphere, and it was his not theirs, had no idea why gold was so precious. They believed gold was the basis of the one true sound monetary system. They’d believe anything, and they did. “Ghhruu”, he snorted. Time for a clean out and a cull, very soon.
Firstly though there was the very near at hand struggle between S and DFT, The Floating City or the Teutonic Zionists. Their battle was long and the Chinese Emperor was back. Time was short.
Zorzi remembered back to when he was still being instructed on the True History of the inhabitants of these Circling Isles. How 10,843 years ago the process to reacquire all Terra’s gold had been restarted. Slowly and surely over the millennia the work progressed accumulating more and more. Plundering the treasure houses of Emperors, raiding the stores of Kingdoms and seeking, seeking the buried places where the objects and treasure lay hidden. Soon their work would be complete. Oh there were other families looking who remembered, but Zorzi was sure that this time they would win.
They’d have all the gold again, not for wealth of course, though that was part of the population control and bait.
No the gold would be formed into the sacred solids of divine proportion and once again they could build the star drives and return to the galaxy.
The red light over the head of Ceasar blinked twice, DFT had gated in. Combat was at hand. S would be waiting for him in the
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Voyoy cheeky, leave us a deadletteredroped..