DMAORG - Code of Conduct

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Dema is a vast circular ground divided into three concentric circles of soil and holding in its very center nine cylindrical towers: the towers of Silence. Nobody really knows what these towers are, nor what's in there, but everyone knows that they are the pillar of Dema, and they keep up the Empire that has become their home. Without them, no Dema. And without Dema, no humanity.

The second circle of Dema is the place where the community of Dema lives, itself divided into nine Regions, each managed by a Bishop. The Regions are circled by a first protective Wall armed with four doors, each representing a cardinal point. At the foot of each door, as well as on top of the Wall and all around the facility are posted guards, called Watchers, protecting the community from external threats.

Beyond the Wall, the last circle of Dema. No one knows what it's made of. Some talk about a labyrinth. Others, of a forest. But these are only suppositions, wild guesses, because it is formally forbidden to any member of Dema to set foot in it, for security purposes. The only thing that's certain is that this third circle ends with the Surround, yet another wall but bigger and impassable from any external threat, the greatest protection of the inhabitants of Dema.

Dema org. is located somewhere on Earth, in a place everybody has heard of but that nobody really knows. No one enters Dema with a clear knowledge of the way they took to get there. In fact, human beings don't come to Dema. Dema comes to human beings.

Tyler himself doesn't remember when, or how he got there. What he knows, though, is that he is safe here, and that is why Tyler still wonders why anyone would want to escape. The young man frowns as he heads, accompanied by Riko, to the Centre of Five, his Region.

"It's no one from Five, at least," mumbles Riko at his sides, still nervous.

Tyler wonders why Riko is so sure of that but keeps his mouth shut. He knows they aren't supposed to talk, not that much, but Riko always tends to disobey. Silence is precious, though, here in Dema. Riko should know that.

When they are finally outside of the main building of Five, the two young men join the ranks of other members of the community, all heading like a trail of grey ants towards the Centre.

"Do you notice someone missing?" Riko whispers to Tyler's ear, startling him slightly. Tyler had almost forgotten his presence. He doesn't open his mouth still, simply shaking his head no. Riko should use more discretion. Yet, he continues, his steps guiding him, one after the other in a jolting way, contrary to the smooth flow of the rest of the group. "I hope it's not Ely from Three. I bumped into her at Prayers this morning, she seemed nervous."

"You know who seems nervous?" Tyler thinks, without still daring to pronounce the words. Riko, from Five. Riko seems nervous.

Following the line of other members of his Region, Tyler takes good care in going down the steps leading to the Centre at the rhythm of all his neighbours, right, left, right, left. The courtyard on which he finally sets foot is huge, grey, stripped down. There is nothing else than the Altar in its centre, - where soon Keons will stand when all the members have taken place – as well as small grey cushions on which some are already kneeling. There are always just enough cushions for the members of the Region. Not one too many. Not one too few.

With a sharp eye, Tyler spots a lone cushion at the end of an almost full row and, without a word towards Riko, he picks up the pace to get to it quickly, kneeling down immediately. Usually, he likes Riko's presence, but during convocations like this one, Tyler knows well that he's better far away, even just to avoid his incessant and indiscrete whispers that could draw attention.

After only a few minutes, Tyler's knees are already painful. The cushion he has chosen seems to be thinner than the rest, and it feels like Tyler's knees are in direct contact with the concrete ground. Slowly, he staggers on one leg, then the other just to ease the pain, swiftly turning his head towards the back of the courtyard. The last person from the last row is slowly kneeling down, and his knees barely touch the cushion underneath them that already a whisper takes hold of the assembly like a chill that runs through the spine of the anthill they make up.