Office of the Executive Council of the Coronia, 30 hours since translocation
First Speaker Saerana sat at her desk in an elegantly appointed office, engrossed in a stack of papers handed to her moments before an unexpected interruption came in the form of a buzzing sound.
"Yes?" Her tone betrayed her weariness and tension. Dealing with a constant stream of interview requests had frayed her patience.
"We have Ravi Ahmad here to see you, from the Democratic Socialists of America," the voice on the intercom informed her before Saerana could see the image on her screen. She sighed in relief, glad that this visitor seemed more professional than some of the others. Perhaps she could spare a few moments for them.
"Let them through. But if they start bombarding me with inane beauty questions, I'll send them back to you, Zera," she said, her exasperation evident in her voice.
Zera chuckled on the other end. "That's an improvement. Last time you threatened to throw them out the window."
Saerana rolled her eyes playfully before Zera cut the feed.
The doors slid open to admit the dark-haired woman, and Saerana noted that she looked serious and businesslike, a welcome change from the usual distractions. As the woman approached her desk, Saerana rose to her feet and extended her hand in a gesture of greeting, which was understood in both of their worlds.
"Good day and well met, herserum," the woman said as they shook hands.
"I must admit, I have a million and one questions for you," she added, acknowledging the curiosity surrounding Saerana.
"I believe everyone who has walked through those doors recently shares your sentiment. Hopefully, your questions will steer clear of what I eat, drink, wear, whom I date, or even my choice of undergarments," Saerana quipped, counting off her daily nuisances on her fingers.
The visitor chuckled. "The paparazzi can be relentless, can't they?"
"Does your press not know how to behave around an elven woman or werman?" Saerana inquired, using the term she assumed would be understood in the United States.
"Werman?" the woman asked, her confusion apparent.
"Yes, males," Saerana clarified, realizing that the term might be unfamiliar.
"Ah, so 'men' is gender-neutral in your language," the visitor noted.
"Precisely," Saerana confirmed, amused by the cultural exchange.
With the pleasantries out of the way, the woman turned to more substantive questions. "I'm sure you're not just here to talk about vocabulary," Saerana remarked, tapping her fingers on her desk.
"Correct. I'm sorry; I'm just not sure how to approach speaking to an Elf. By the way, how are we able to communicate so easily?" the visitor asked, trying to sound composed.
"It's through a tongues spell, refined over generations until it became simple and easy to cast," Saerana explained.
"And how does that not lead to weird lip-syncing issues?" the woman inquired, showing an interest in the magical aspect.
"There's a minor illusion magic that comes with it. It's not really challenging to mask lip movements," Saerana answered.
"That's fascinating! I know at least a dozen animators who would love to know about that," the visitor said with a grin.
"Moving on to the more significant matters, I have some questions about how your society is organized," she said, flipping open her notebook, eager to learn more about the UCA as information about it started to reach the USA.
You claim to have a council-based democracy, correct?" the interviewer inquired.
"Yes, indeed," Saerana replied, her gaze momentarily lifting from her papers to address the question.
She went on to explain, "In the Coronia, every group of a hundred to five hundred individuals elects a delegate to represent them in their district council. These district councils, in turn, send their delegates to the ship council, and the process continues with delegates from each ship council joining the fleet council. Finally, representatives from the fleet council form the Armada council. Should the constituents or lower councils express dissatisfaction with the higher councils' performance, they can initiate a recall through a vote."
The interviewer couldn't help but express her concern, "Doesn't that mean you're always in a state of campaigning?"
Saerana nodded calmly, clarifying her perspective, "In a way, yes. I am here to serve, not to lead. Doing right by my peers is a continuous responsibility."
Curiosity led the interviewer to inquire about taxes, but Saerana's response surprised her, "We don't use money here."
"Excuse me?" the interviewer's astonishment was evident.
Saerana elaborated, not skipping a beat, "Within the fleet, we rely on machine labor and summonings to produce what we need, and those resources are provided freely. Anything that requires trade is exchanged using vouchers obtained through work credit. These vouchers are for one-time use only."
Now, the interviewer turned to the topic of immigration, "With such generous provisions of home, food, water, electricity, and more, how many immigrants do you get?"
"It varies depending on the location. Here, we're still working with your government on a system for exchange, so there have been no immigrants yet," Saerana replied.
The interviewer probed further, mentioning Trump, to which Saerana offered a diplomatic response, "I've faced tougher situations before, but I don't particularly enjoy engaging with him. I'd advise being cautious about the company he keeps."
The interviewer reassured Saerana, "I think many of my colleagues share that sentiment."
At this point, Saerana changed the dynamic, turning the tables on the interviewer, "I have a question for you, though," she said, setting aside her pen and leaning forward with a meaningful look.
"Go ahead," the interviewer responded, intrigued.
"What do you think of the view?" Saerana asked, swiveling her chair around to face the awe-inspiring panorama beyond the window.
"It's beautiful. The expanse is more breathtaking than what you see from an airplane," the interviewer replied, admiring the scenery.
Saerana revealed some history about the office, "This room used to be much larger before we divided it into multiple spaces. It was once the bedchambers of the Sky Lord Urthis."
The interviewer acknowledged having heard that the Coronia was previously run differently, referring to its past reputation.
As Ahmad joined Saerana at the window, they observed the endless sea of white clouds below as the Coronia approached California on a slower, more scenic route. The dialogue and the view had made the conversation more engaging and memorable.
"The Atericil fleet traces its origins back to the Mage-Priests of Atericil, a staggering twelve thousand years ago, long before the aeon of strife," Saerana began, her words carrying a weight of history. "But don't expect to recognize those ancient ships or their crews today. In the aeon of strife, the Mage-Priests perished, and the iron masters, who commanded golems, took control. After the iron masters met the same fate, the war-captains rose to power. Eventually, the sky lords, having amassed considerable wealth, grew resentful of the war-captains and overthrew them. That's just part of our turbulent past."
Curiosity piqued, Ahmad inquired, "What happened next?"
"We tried to campaign for change," Saerana continued, her voice tinged with a mix of determination and sadness. "And we succeeded. However, some opposed us with violence. Take this door, for example," she said, tapping on the transparent material that made a metallic knocking sound.
"This is where Urthis, the Sky Lord, was thrown through after they cut off his hands and tongue to prevent him from casting spells," she pointed to a nearby window, which offered a view of the observatory.
The gruesome image made Ahmad flinch, and she shook her head. "I hope such extreme measures won't be necessary in my efforts."
"You're right," Saerana replied, placing her hand gently over her mouth as she considered the situation. "But if you truly seek assistance, I recommend you speak to the people of Verdacora."
"Verdacora?" Ahmad repeated, unfamiliar with the name.
"Yes, the Federal Commonwealth of Verdacora," Saerana clarified. "It's one of the Fae Red Courts. Some of their islands are situated not far from what you know as New Zealand and Chile. They aided us in the past, and I'm confident they'll extend their support to you as well."
With a warm smile, Saerana handed Ahmad a unique card made of thin, silvery metal. The card's etchings formed a three-dimensional map and instructions that shifted as Ahmad turned the material.
"These are instructions on how to reach Verdacora and how to communicate with them," Saerana explained, offering Ahmad the valuable aid. "I hope they prove helpful to you on your journey."
Transcript from Youtube of Adam Savage Tested: How Magic Works
ADAM SAVAGE: "Hey everyone, get ready for some truly captivating news. Today, I'm thrilled to introduce you to a real-life wizard and an extraordinary being - Coluron Zerkug, an actual beetle person."
[Camera zooms out to show Colorun]
COLORUN: "Thank you, Adam."
ADAM SAVAGE: "Now, let's start with the basics. How does a man-sized beetle like yourself stand and breathe? Your exoskeleton must endure immense pressure."
COLORUN: "Indeed, our constitution is quite different from regular beetles, and we possess true lungs that enable us to breathe freely."
ADAM SAVAGE: "That's fascinating! I'd love to dive deeper into the biology of your species sometime, but that might be a whole separate video in itself."
COLORUN: "Mmmh, biology is indeed a captivating subject."
ADAM SAVAGE: "Absolutely! However, what I'm most curious about is magic. Where I come from, it's merely a product of fiction, but here it's a powerful force shaping everything."
COLORUN: "There exist twelve fundamental types of magic, with a theoretical thirteenth type."
ADAM SAVAGE: "Could you please list them for us?"
COLORUN: "Certainly. Arcanum, Lyrr, Divinia, Psionis, Aethyry, Lex, Mistrum, Empora, Zarith, Kaet, Yratum, and Ozrith. The thirteenth, Aeonia, is something beyond even the capabilities of the creators of the universe."
COLORUN: "These types include Arcane magic, Light Magic, Divine magic, Mind magic, Nature magic, True speech, Mysticism, Empowerment, Wild Magic, Runic Magic, Superscience, and Inherent abilities."
[Camera cuts to the Wheel of Magics, each English label matched to its corresponding native label]
ADAM SAVAGE: "Fascinating! Let's delve into Superscience; I think I could grasp that concept relatively quickly."
COLORUN: "Superscience involves the creation of technology that defies normal limitations. Take, for instance, a perpetual motion machine. By constructing it to draw in Yratum and accomplish tasks that challenge the laws of nature, it's as if we're impressing the universe enough to grant us a pass. It's quite distinct from what you'd consider conventional science; it's more of a unique, one-off approach."
ADAM SAVAGE: "The idea that the laws of physics can be impressed upon to achieve the impossible is mind-boggling. But you mentioned you were an Arcanist. How does that work?"
COLORUN: "It's the result of years of research and the development of the Elemental theory."
ADAM SAVAGE: "And I assume we share the same definition of theory here; it's not just a mere guess, right?"
COLORUN: "Exactly. Arcane Magic taps into the Arcane planes, where elements and energies exist in their purest and unrestrained form. It's a realm inhabited by Elementals and Energons, and many societies have engaged in resource extraction efforts to access these planes."
ADAM SAVAGE: "So, when you cast a fireball, you're essentially drawing energy and mass from these... pocket universes, I'd say, and channeling that power here?"
[Cuts to an animation illustrating Arcane energy being drawn from Arcane planes]
COLORUN: "Your analogy is quite apt. However, casting spells still demands effort on our part; it's a sort of spiritual fatigue."
ADAM SAVAGE: "Ah, like the concept of 'mana' in video games, I get it."
[Both share a laugh]
[Cuts to an animation of someone getting visibly tired as they cast more spells]
COLORUN: "Not precisely what I'd call it, but close enough."
ADAM SAVAGE: "Interesting! Can machines harness this magic as well?"
COLORUN: "Yes and no. Arcanum responds best to sentience. Machines lacking sentience can produce spell echoes instead of genuine spells. These echoes are less flexible, less scalable, and preprogrammed, which makes them significantly less potent. It's like comparing an artist's work to that of a photocopier. However, a sentient machine can learn Arcane Magic; some can even be purpose-built with the ability, just as some living beings are born with innate arcane powers."
[Cut to a graphic showing a visualization of the flow of Arcanum, highlighting its preference for entities capable of abstract thought. The brain is shown at the center, giving directions and making real-time alterations to adjust a spell as needed.]
ADAM SAVAGE: "Is it possible for someone like me to learn this power?"
[Adam grins playfully at his own joke.]
COLORUN: "Absolutely! I happen to be a teacher on the Coronia, and I can show you the way."
ADAM SAVAGE: "So you're saying that if I take your course, I can shoot fireballs?"
COLORUN: "Indeed, and much more. But it will require dedication and time to master."
ADAM SAVAGE: "Becoming a master wizard is now my dream! I'll be the envy of all my friends and the life of every party!"
ADAM SAVAGE: "By the way, would you consider yourself a scientist or an engineer?"
COLORUN: "I am a bit of both, and perhaps even an artist and philosopher. My studies encompass a deep exploration of my craft, and many of my experiences are personal and abstract in nature. For factory-like magic, you'd be better off with Enchantment."
ADAM SAVAGE: "Impressive! Can you show us a lightning bolt?"
COLORUN: "A lightning bolt is quite basic for my abilities, and there are more potent spells available. However, I can certainly conjure one for you. Do you have a target in mind?"
[Adam excitedly jumps up, giggling with glee.]
[Cuts to everyone outside]
ADAM SAVAGE: "I've set up this equipment to measure the electricity you're about to produce and gather some vital data."
[Camera cuts to Adam and his team standing in a secure bunker, ensuring maximum safety.]
[Colorun stands before a large truck, their four arms folded in front of them.]
ADAM SAVAGE: "Ready to witness a truck disappear?"
[Camera focuses on Colorun.]
COLORUN: "Unleash the spark of lightning!"
[Colorun performs intricate hand gestures with their four arms, summoning a massive lightning bolt as thick as their body.]
[The truck instantly explodes from the rapid superheating.]
[For a few seconds, fragments rain down, and a melted half of a tire hits the ground behind Colorun, steaming with residual heat.]
[The lightning has gouged out part of the hills in the distance beyond the testing range.]
[Camera cuts to Adam, who is laughing and clapping with excitement.]
ADAM SAVAGE: "Hahahah! That's one electrifying display!"
[Camera then shows Adam and Colorun shaking hands.]
COLORUN: "I knew you'd appreciate the spectacle. But creating lightning of that magnitude is no easy feat, especially for those just starting their training. It took me a considerable amount of time to wield such power."
ADAM SAVAGE: "I can only imagine! It might even take me a decade just to learn how to cast that single spell, but I'd gladly invest the time to master it."
COLORUN: "Well, with some luck, my colleagues will soon establish magical schools in this country as well."
ADAM SAVAGE: "Well, let me know the moment the first magical school opens up, and I'll be the first to sign up."
ADAM SAVAGE: "Speaking of magic, how do you kill a vampire?"
COLORUN: "Ah, the age-old question. To kill a vampire, you have several options: stakes, garlic, religious symbols, sunlight, running water, keeping them out of homes where they're not invited, decapitation with stuffing their mouths with holy objects, destroying them far from their coffins to prevent their return, using Lyrric magic... It's quite an extensive list, really."
ADAM SAVAGE: "Impressive! And, of course, they don't have reflections."
COLORUN: "Correct, mirrors reveal nothing to them."
[Adam turns to the camera, leaning in with a playful grin.]
ADAM SAVAGE: "Kids, now you know how to stay safe."
ADAM SAVAGE: "Now, what I'm really eager to do is review the data we've collected and process it as soon as possible because, wow, this has been extraordinary."
COLORUN: "Of course, feel free to go ahead with that."
The Vatican, Sistine Chapel 2 hours and 20 minutes after the cracks, 10 minutes before translocation.
"In this somber hour, I beseech you to find solace in introspection. Though the prognosis before us may seem bleak and the celestial signs above may stir fear within, let us not forget that we are the beloved children of the Lord, and His grace shall forever embrace us," declared Pope Francis, his voice resolute as he addressed the gathered multitude.
"Amidst your trepidation, your doubts, and perhaps even a wavering of faith, remember that the most challenging times do not unveil the worst aspects of our nature, but rather draw forth our very best. Witness the outpouring of compassion and camaraderie among people, their differences momentarily set aside to cherish the time they share. Countless hands have extended in friendship, far outnumbering those raised in anger," he affirmed, conviction shining in his eyes, as he believed in the flicker of hope ahead.
"I acknowledge the fear that grips our hearts. Yet, whether this marks an end or a new beginning, let us face it with unwavering dignity and grace. Should this be the end, let us strive to exemplify the virtues of Christ in every action we undertake. However, my faith remains steadfast in the belief that this is not the apocalyptic culmination. The Antichrist has not risen, and the ominous prophecies do not foretell the apocalypse's arrival," he declared with unwavering confidence, inspiring his audience with renewed hope and assurance.
"In my heart, I hold a firm belief that this occurrence is a divine sign from Almighty God, intended to guide us towards righteousness by reminding us of His boundless power and eternal Glory. Let us not squander this profound opportunity but embrace it as a chance to unburden ourselves from the weight of sin and the chains of wrongdoing," declared the Pope, his unwavering faith resonating through his words.
"Reject any notion that this is the machination of the Devil, for such darkness holds no dominion over such magnificent events. It is, indeed, a testament to the resplendent Holy Light of Christ, the Spirit, and the Heavenly Father above—of this, there can be no doubt," he continued, glancing momentarily at the vast, ethereal chasms in the sky and the mystical visions they revealed. Among them, a disconcerting figure—a shadow-clad man donning a top hat with luminous, pupilless eyes—unsettled his soul, yet he summoned his resolve and fortified himself with the armor of unwavering faith.
"Whatever may befall us, we shall endure," he proclaimed as the fabric of reality itself began to unfurl, the universe engulfed in its final cataclysm.
"Stand resolute, be steadfast, for God's protection shall encompass us." A heartbeat later, the very fabric of space and time trembled, yielding to the unfathomable force that sundered the cosmos into a myriad of ethereal fragments.
Rome, 3 hours after translocation
The world's fate had taken an astonishing turn, leaving the faithful in a state of bewilderment, panic, relief, and utter disarray. It wasn't an apocalypse, but what followed was beyond anyone's wildest imagination - Earth was seemingly no longer confined to its own realm.
Francis found himself lost in contemplation, his chin resting on his hand as he grappled with the profound significance of this inexplicable event. He couldn't help but wonder if this was the divine hand of the Lord at work. What did God intend for him and the Catholic Faith amidst this bewildering upheaval?
As news spread about contact with enigmatic foreign societies - some locked in conflict with each other - Francis took it upon himself to reach out to media agencies covering these incidents, hoping to gain insights into matters of faith and spirituality.
In one peculiar encounter, a reporter inquired about the beliefs of a feathery, raptor-like resident from Atericil. With its large pupils fixed intently on the human, the creature clacked its jaws open and shut, exuding an air of mysterious wisdom.
"I am a follower of the faith of Xethaquazotl," the creature responded in an otherworldly, crackling voice, gently rubbing its clawed fingers together as its tail swayed back and forth. It seemed both enigmatic and serene.
The reporter, intrigued by this unfamiliar belief system, probed further, "How does Xethaquazotl's faith differ from Yntanae? The latter has garnered much attention, but your beliefs remain shrouded in mystery."
"The chief deity of Yntanae is Ytaliana - the Ascended and Unconquerable Sun, the bearer of mercy. Meanwhile, our principal god is Kxithinti, the master of death and science," the raptorid explained, its words carrying an air of solemnity and reverence. The reporter was momentarily taken aback, blinking as if caught in the midst of something profoundly surreal - a man-sized feathered raptor dressed in human clothes and shoes engaging in theological discourse. Yet, the reporter quickly regained composure, curiosity outweighing any astonishment.
Diving into the essence of their faith, the raptorid elucidated the significance of worshipping a God of Death. It involved vehement opposition to the undead, those who dared defy the natural order of death through dark and perverse magic, distorting the cycle of life and the sanctity of both body and soul. The raptorid clarified that their beliefs did encompass acceptance of certain life extensions, resurrections, and healing, but the undead were an aberration to be opposed at all costs. Their faith also forbade soul theft and destruction, which they deemed a grave offense.
The notion of souls being mortal and susceptible to destruction was deeply unsettling to the reporter. It ran contrary to the Christian doctrine and the beliefs of numerous other religions he knew of. The idea that someone could bring about the ultimate end of another being's experiences and existence was troubling indeed. He couldn't help but assert that what the raptorid referred to as a "Soul" must not be the same as the immortal Soul bestowed by God. In his mind, their deities were surely lesser than the one true God, as the divine didn't require overt displays of power to affirm belief in Him, unlike these deities. The reporter felt compelled to address this matter with utmost urgency, contemplating the writing of multiple papal bulls to tackle the issue at hand.
"Was your God once a mortal like Ytaliana?" the reporter inquired, his curiosity piqued as he sought to understand more about the raptorid's beliefs. Observing the reporter's apparent lack of strong religious conviction, Pope Francis pondered his own response for the forthcoming papal bull. He couldn't help but note that a deeply religious person might have been more shaken by the revelations shared by the feathered being.
In response to the question, the raptorid began recounting a captivating tale of divine intervention. Their God had descended from the heavens during the tumultuous era of the great sundering of the Kemendi, when the Kroatangans laid siege to their cities. The celestial entity had played a pivotal role in pushing back the fungal horde, ensuring their survival.
"What exactly are the Kroatangans?" the reporter inquired further, seeking clarification on these enigmatic beings.
The raptorid acknowledged the mystery surrounding the Kroatangans' origins. They were creations from a distant cosmos, engineered for the sole purpose of waging eternal war against all other forms of life. Each spore contained all the knowledge and desire for unending conflict, making them a formidable and dreadful adversary.
The reporter expressed his astonishment at the horrifying nature of the Kroatangans, and the raptorid assured him that Atericil took stringent precautions to avoid any infestations. The mention of eradicating them through petitions revealed the determination of the raptorid to protect their society from this existential threat.
With the conversation shifting, the raptorid turned the spotlight on the reporter, genuinely curious about his own faith. "What about you? What is your religion? I'm intrigued to learn about your beliefs since you are not a Ynatanaer," the raptorid inquired, tilting its head much like a dog does when listening intently to its owner.
"I'm personally an Atheist," the reporter replied candidly. Pope Francis, understanding that the reporter's lack of strong religious conviction might have contributed to his earlier nonchalant reaction, found the situation quite intriguing.
"I was raised by Buddhists, but in our country, most people are at least nominally Christian," the reporter explained, the raptorid's jaws clacking thoughtfully as they processed the information.
Perplexed by the reporter's atheism, the raptorid inquired further, a hint of disapproval evident in their tone. The curious glances and hushed conversations among the citizens of Atericil added to the reporter's discomfort, making them acutely aware of the potential cultural clash. Seeking to defuse the tension, the reporter clarified their stance, stating that they required more substantial evidence before embracing the belief in deities. They acknowledged the existence of strange magical powers exhibited by the raptorid's religion and hinted at the possibility of reconsidering their position.
The raptorid then probed deeper, suggesting that the problem might arise from the falsehood of the gods in the reporter's world, possibly due to the absence of magic. Pope Francis was taken aback, nearly choking on his drink, but he composed himself, waving off one of his aides when they rushed towards him.
The reporter diplomatically avoided confirming or denying the assertion, conscious of the viewers back home who belonged to various religious backgrounds. The raptorid, however, expressed their pity for a culture unable to perceive and interact with their gods, adding that they found such a predicament even more pitiable than a society with only one deity to believe in.
Just then, a distant noise followed by a series of pings on a square device caught the raptorid's attention. They blinked a few times, sniffing the air, and suddenly emitted sharp barking sounds and bird-like cries, causing nearby feathers to stand on end. After swiftly checking the message on their device, the raptorid returned their focus to the human, wagging their tail excitedly.
The reporter appeared visibly taken aback by the raptorid's sudden display of excitement and communication with their device. Eager to understand, they inquired, "What was that all about?"
The raptorid, still agitated by the message they had received, explained, "I am being called elsewhere. We're having a direct vote on building a new livefleet."