Wallafess VIII

The sun is beginning to set as we return to the Race Free Zone. Wallafess guides me to a small hill near his shack, where he has lawn chairs and warm bottles of fithp-made beer waiting. He lies down on one, looking rather comfortable, and pops off the lid with a deft movement of his fingerclaw.

A: Want one?

Q: No thanks.

A: Suit yourself. It's good stuff; I was actually one of the first to try it.

Q: Was this back when you were with Daniels and Joshi?

A: Yep. We made for an odd trio, but it was a good one. I didn't really have anywhere left to go, so they let me live in the house they were building in Nigeria. Got my own room, which was nice compared to the literal prison I had before. At first, I just went with a Race-style sleeping mat, but human beds grew on me, and your plumbing is just amazing.

Nigeria was definitely an interesting time. I did odd jobs during that time, like the other males in Africa. Construction, technical support, that sort of thing. Difference was, I had a house to live in, while the others were in the Free Zones. Back then, there were more of them, you gotta remember. Australia's patch in the outback was the biggest, but the ones in the Arabian Republic, Mali, and Darfur were all pretty sizeable, and that's not counting the smaller ones sprinkled between, like this one. Those guys were living in crowded prefabs or repurposed apartment buildings, and here I was, with a fucking porch.

He sips his beer.

Getting off-track, aren't I? Yeah, it was nice back then, living with them. Good to have friends again, even if they were definitely oddballs compared to the ones I had before the war. Chris and I used to chill on the porch sometimes after a long day of nation-building and diplomacy, sharing a blunt, shooting the shit. Never thought when I signed up to be a soldier that I'd instead be, like, the exact opposite of that.

Still, not everything was golden. I might've been spared a lot of it, but I knew that everything was gonna be peachy for us surviving troopmales. Rebuilding people's houses doesn't exactly make them forget just who knocked those houses down in the first place.

Q: Did you witness the various hate crimes against the Race troopmales?

A: No, not really. The aftermath, sometimes. The occasional male found in an alleyway, beaten to death or even stabbed. Bullet holes in the walls of their shacks and apartments. Nasty signs.

The sight of a poor Hallessi hanging from a street light by his guts in Riyadh really stuck out to me. Someone had written something on him in his blood, along the likes of 'Remember Mumbai'i'.

The real kicker? He was a mechanic, who'd never been in a thousand kilometers of Mumbai'i. Many of the guys who'd surrendered were non-combat, smoothscales, or had already defected and fought for humanity. Almost all the males responsible for those fuckers' pain had already died long ago.

That's when my job started changing, from construction worker to guard. Much of the land we'd conquered or hit during the war had already been rebuilt by year two, at least in the nations that let us directly work, but that didn't stop the violence much at first. So a lot of us switched to different jobs, like guards or police. I was ideal for the job, you gotta remember. I'm a fit Rabotev with combat experience. Couldn't be bribed with ginger, was stronger than the other two species, and I knew how to fight.

Q: How often did you see combat?

A: Like, twice, and both times consisted of me just shooting in the air to scare off some drunk jackass who walked up the gates with a gun. I think the very fact there were more guards did a lot to dissuade things. And, well, things were calming down. The bad winters were getting less bad, the world was close to done with rebuilding, and quality of life was improving everywhere. I ended up focusing on the ginger trade more than I did hate crimes or terrorist threats by 2024 or so.

Still, there were spikes. The rainforest stand-off between the Fithp Nation and Brazil somehow caused people to come after us, for whatever reason, and we had the occasional trouble maker. Both us and the fithp had 'that guy' we talk about when it comes to human hate crimes, the one who sets the bar for everything that came before and after. They had Lizbeth...

He pauses for a moment, then takes another swig of his beer, grimacing.

And we had Wáng.

-/-\-

Wang VI

Once again, Wang's face becomes expectant, and he lets out a single sigh.

A: We have spoken enough about the times that came before. For that, my friend, I will forever be grateful. Now, let us delve into my legacy, for that is why you are really here, and to claim otherwise is preposterous, considering that there are many others with similar stories you could have interviewed.

Q: Very well. After a year in the Corps, as well as two months of freelance medical work in your home nation, you began to travel abroad. Was that with the express purpose of killing nonhumans in mind?

A: Yes... and no. I actually continued my medical work, you know. Africa, India, the Middle East... where the aliens had wreaked havoc, I worked. I didn't even charge my patients; I was funded entirely by donations of food and medical supplies. I must have helped thousands of people, from burns to life-saving operations.

But, my work also brought me close to the Free Zones, and the Fithp Nation. Close to those who had caused all that pain, close to my targets. As a doctor, I had goodwill, goodwill of all things, in the eyes of the aliens. Compared to the other people, I could more easily move in and out of the Free Zones.

Q: And that's how you accomplished your first killings?

A: Yes. I'd mend broken bones for the elderly and clean out infected wounds on children during the day, and then I'd kill those responsible for said wounds at night, travelling inside the Free Zones' gates with the other doctors and high-grade personnel.

Like a lion hunting gazelles, you must single out the targets. I'd head to their holes in the walls, drinking ginger ale and pretending it was some alcoholic beverage, idly watching the lizards move about, lapping ginger and otherwise engaging in debauchery. When one went to leave, all alone, I'd follow. Usually, they were too drunk or high on the spice to notice me.

When they were alone, and none could witness, I'd strike.

Sloppy business, but enough to hide suspicion. I wore thick gloves and tear-resistant sleeves, so their claws and teeth would not harm me, and I'd merely deign to kill them by hand. I was monstrously strong in my youth, having spent much of my time exercising, and they are weak. If that half-starved woman Joshi could break a Fleetlord's ribs, imagine what I can do?

It was routine, after a while. I'd grab them by their thin necks, squeezing hard enough that they could make no sound. I'd pull them into a nearby alleyway, and I'd hoist them into the air and bash their heads against the unyielding walls, over and over again. Their skulls usually cracked after the first or second blow. I'd hit them against the wall seven or eight times, until their scaly little braincases were just mush.

That's just for the Race males. For the Hallessi, I could grab their reedy throats with both hands and simply twist, snapping their necks in one motion. The Rabotevs were tougher; I'd often stun them with a brick before I could effectively start to break their skulls.

With all of their bodies, I'd dispose of it in the trash, then pour bleach all over the gloves and throw them in as well. Then I'd return to where I had been doing field work, and use the showers there to wash off, and if someone questioned me, I could just say it was blood from a patient, which was actually true half the time.

Again, I must stress this was my early, sloppy work, filled with anger.

Q: Isn't anger at the nonhumans what drove you?

A: No. I myself believed it was rage that drove me, for I could scarcely feel anything else. Blinding, consuming fury, like hot iron in my veins. But I realized that the rush of the slaughter was ephemeral, that it did not relieve my anger an iota.

My anger was simply that of a wounded man who had lost his family. An anger that many others felt. I eventually managed to find therapy for it, and finally it seemed as though I could feel happiness again.

Q: But the killings continued.

A: And why would they not? Does an exterminator hate the cockroaches? Does a doctor such as myself feel boundless rage at a tumor? My gradual recovery from the pain merely marked a change in method. I no longer felt the need to get up close, to feel the rush of the kill. It became like the rest of my work- clinical. No longer vicious beatings, but a calm and collected measure to demoralize and destroy the aliens.

That, dear friend, was when I began to broaden my horizons. Poisoning. Arson. Oh, I continued up-close killings, but that remained a clinical matter. Isolated murders stoke fear, showing them that nowhere is safe, especially if you make a display of it. Writing warnings in their blood, selectively removing their organs... I would even leave half-eaten body parts at the scene. Not all often, of course. Their flesh tastes disgusting. But it was enough to transform me from a lone killer to the Devil incarnate in their eyes.

Ppistihassalotashak. The One Who Eats in Darkness. That was the name they came up with for me in their news. I must admit, I felt a bit of pride in that moniker. It means I was accomplishing my duty.

But, I suppose every day must have its dusk. And mine began when I began to hunt the fithp.

Q: Because of tightened security due to Lizbeth and her disciples?

A: No, I actually tried beforehand. It's merely that trying to kill a four hundred kilogram beast that is never alone and has more advanced technology is easier said than done. I felt a sense of despair then. The Race was becoming more wise to my methods, which made killing there much harder, and I had no luck with the fithp. Either the killings would stop, or I would be captured or killed, which would stop the killings regardless.

Then, I saw an opportunity with the liberalization of my nation. With the Party less than a malignant spirit, we had begun to elect officials in earnest, and a new wave of politicians were being born. And, more than perhaps any other nation save for perhaps the Americans and Indians, my nation hated the aliens with a burning passion that had not subsided.

So I moved back home, and ran for office on the grounds of abolishing the Free Zones, abolishing the Fithp Nation, and military action against their worlds. It was quite a popular movement. Many of those who lost loved ones with the dam or Chongqing rallied behind me. Polls were showing I had a chance of becoming President in 2028.

Alas, that is what destroyed me.

Q: You believe it was the election that allowed you to be discovered? Wasn't Intelligence Officer Drefsab already making considerable ground in the investigation?

A: Ah, but it is entirely possible he would have encountered a dead end. But the Lizbeth incident had made investigations into anti-alien groups all the more pervasive, and now people who had turned a blind eye were deluded into thinking that they had been wrong to mistrust the beasts. That, I say, is what destroyed me. With that, Drefsab now had INTERPOL and the Fithp Nation's own detectives investigating Ppistihassalotashak. And with that... well, you know the rest.

Q: After all these years, do you maintain your sanity, as you did in court?

A: Of course. I am sane. I know what is right, and what is wrong. I have no hallucinations or delusions about reality. I was a good son, and a good husband. I was a doctor who saved lives. It is simply that my existence is inconvenient to that fool Gao and his silly message of making peace with Home. But, at the same time, I could not be simply executed for my thousands of successes, not when half of China still agrees with me. I get letters from admirers every day. In a billion eyes, I am a hero.

And so they declare me insane, and keep me here.

Q: Do you think you will be deemed insane for the rest of your life?

To that, he simply smiles.

-/-\-

Excerpt from Humanity Supreme, the Manifesto of Lizbeth Brynner

What, one may ask, is the Alien? Is it merely another species of animal that chanced upon sentience? An unknowable force from another star? A potential friend?

The Alien is none of these things. The Alien is competition, in its purest form.

Humanity alone is a species of change. Our knowledge was not given to Us, like an owner gives treats to a dog. Our knowledge was pulled from the earth beneath Us and the sky above Us, by the power of our minds and hands alone. It was earned, through experiments and exploration, through pain and death. Forgotten pet-owners did not give Us the power of the atom- minds like Einstein and Bohr did. Goddard and Von Braun opened the sky, not etchings in stone. Neither was Our knowledge controlled by the powers that be, telling Us where to go and what to do, and what not to do. Our knowledge flourished in the chaos, not the gripping hand of one whom fancied himself the master of his people.

It is for these reasons that Humanity rises above the Alien, for we are change embodied. The Alien is stagnant, content to never look past the stone, content to never advance at the bidding of their Emperor. It is for these reasons that the Alien is doomed, for only the chaotic can survive in a universe of chaos. Whether in a hundred years, a thousand years, a hundred thousand years, the universe will leave the Alien behind to death and decay, while We reign supreme in the cosmos.

And it for these reasons that the Alien must die, before it destroys us in turn.

The goals of the Alien is inherently incompatible with Humanity. In their eyes, the only right universe is the universe where Humanity has either perished or fallen under their yoke. Humanity is not a potential ally to them- it is a threat, a future conquest, and nothing more. This false armistice is an illusion- the Alien seeks peace not because it believes peace is possible, but because it desires a reprieve, because it realizes that it is at Our mercy. We have the Viper beneath Our feet, and now it begs for mercy, so it may strike when We look away.

Negotiation is only a stopgap. As long as Humanity lives free, we will always be a violation of their intellectual Sovereignty- the idea that they are the inheritors of creation, and that all is for taking. After all, how can they claim to be the rulers of the universe, when there remains a beautiful blue world out of their control?

This is not a matter of Nations. This is a fundamental, irrecoverable divide, based in the very bones of our worlds. Nations are capable of change, as they are composed of Humanity. The Alien is inherently incapable of transformation. To lose their intellectual Sovereignty is to destroy themselves, and so they must destroy Us.

And destroy Us they will. Even if it takes a thousand years to wage war upon Us once again, they will do so, and they will not merely attempt to conquer us. They will use their mighty engines, and strike our world until not even cockroaches can survive. The Aliens that defile our world as I write this will spread and spread, in an attempt to either breed Us out, or produce enough populace and capital to resume their conquest and make us their slaves.

This is a matter of Us against the Alien. We cannot ignore an existential threat on our doorstep; the only guarantee of Our safety is to ensure the Alien can no longer pose a threat to us.

In order for Humanity to live, the Alien must die.

- This manifesto was posted online one hour before the January 12th Attack, perpetrated by the xenophobic terrorist group 'Human Freedom'. Though the attempt to initiate a nuclear warhead in the Fithp Nation in Brazil was ultimately foiled by the joint efforts of Nation soldiers, INTERPOL, and the Brazilian Armed Forces, the selected bombings and shootings during the attack ultimately cost the lives of nearly 2,100 fithp.

-/-\-

Drefsab I

A relatively difficult-to-find individual, I eventually am able to arrange an interview with the intelligence officer near Bujumbura. It is a warm, lazy day in the Free Joint Republics of the Congo, Rwanda, and Burundi, with a blood-orange sunset dominating the sky.

My interviewee is far from lazy, however. I find Drefsab quietly laying down in the grass near the Ruzizi River, watching the water with a pair of binoculars. He does not look away as I sit down near him.

Q: Thank you for your time, Intelligence Officer Drefsab.

A: It is of no issue. What have you come to ask me about, then? I admit my experiences are... broad.

Q: I was hoping to inquire about your investigations into xenophobic terrorism post-war.

A: Very well. First, you must understand how I was assigned to the job. I had served as an intelligence operative in the war, primarily to gather information on the enemy, but also to help thwart insurgent efforts in our occupied territory. It was during this time I earned my distinction as an effective officer.

Q: Many regard as the single most savvy Race operative during the war. Why do you think you are referred to as such?

A: When you go to war, you prepare for war. That is a common saying among my people, even though millennia may pass between wars. It is a rough translation, of course. There is a hidden weight to the statement, one that only a fluent speaker understands. It is not some literal adage; it is an idiom we apply to all tasks. When you are to do something, whether it be wage war or replace a broken window, you must prepare to do so. You consider all possibilities and angles.

And so, as I was ordered to understand the enemy and their operations, I prepared for my duty. I could not think like a troopmale, as his goals and training would be different from an insurgent; I had to think like a human. Consider their views, their way of approaching things. Other officers were content with interrogating the captured soldiers about objective matters. Troop movements, weapon capabilities, the like.

I aimed to learn of their motives, and the culture that produced such motives. I asked myself what I would do if a technologically advanced foe was invading my own home. What could I use? How far would I be willing to go? To find answers, I studied the propaganda posters we found on walls and buildings across the planet, and listened to civilian radio.

The internet was most useful to that task. I trawled through message boards and news sites, sifting through what you would call the cesspool of your cultures. I studied anti-alien websites, and researched the vocal lunatics, the ones who made outrageous falsehoods about us.

As a result, I became good at finding potential terrorists in occupied territory, and telltale signs of planned attacks. It is important to not overestimate the enemy, but you also should not underestimate the enemy's stupidity. It was astonishing how many attacks were foiled because some addled nitwit posted a picture of himself with a gun and mask on the internet.

There is movement in the water. Drefsab pauses, then jots something down in a journal laying open near him.

In addition, I also experimented. I was in charge of the first and only Race attempt at cyberwarfare, when we managed to bribe a young hacker with warm showers and soft beds for his family, and coordinated with specialists on our nascent propaganda efforts. Alas, many of these efforts were in vain, and even our counterinsurgency campaigns were falling before the sheer scale of human resistance in Africa and the Middle East.

Nevertheless, I had warranted the Fleetlord's attention. I served directly under him during the Manhattan Conferences, and when the Free Zones were established, I was essentially put in charge of their security. Many of the guards were hand-selected by me.

Therefore, when the killings began, I was on the case.

Q: How did you investigate the case?

A: Like how a human detective would handle the issue. I took photos of the crime scene. I collected evidence, corroborated with human forensics labs, and questioned potential witnesses. It was through such work that we came to the unsettling conclusion that instead of isolated cases, we were looking at a lone killer. At that point, it should have been easy to identify the murderer, but it was not. The issue at my clawtips was that Wang was very meticulous in his murders. He often washed down his gloves in bleach before disposing of them, and his work as a field surgeon meant that few people would suspect him.

Thankfully, he was not perfect. Security cameras would, on occasion, capture him in part, which eventually allowed us to develop a rough estimate of his size and proportions. We screened those entering and leaving the Free Zones based on that estimate, which is where we ran into the next issue. Chiefly, the human nations were not keen on us detaining their workers. It took two years and nearly three hundred deaths at one man's hands before they allowed us to screen those moving in and out.

It was our luck that Wang would actually agree to questioning and came off clean. A troubled background that could indicate a hatred for the Race, but there was scarcely a soul on Earth who didn't have that, and he had never been caught smuggling even ginger, let alone weapons. That alone may have delayed the investigation for years.

Still, we drew closer. We realized his pattern of traveling from Zone to Zone, and we managed to increase guards in where we predicted he would move next. It was during that time that I crossed paths with INTERPOL. They, too, had been investigating the murders, though out of a concern that they were related to Humanity Supreme.

Q: How often did you cooperate?

A: Quite often. I was amenable to working alongside humans, unlike many others. A job well done is a job well done, regardless of who performed it. When they revealed concerns that Humanity Supreme had perhaps gotten their hands on an explosive-metal bomb, I allowed them access to the records of EMBs that we had captured from human nations during the war, and in exchange they gave me importance forensic evidence regarding the Wang Case.

When it was confirmed that a EMB captured from Pakistan had been lost during the surrender, we sent the alerts along all official channels available. I immediately alerted the Fleetlord, and in turn he alerted Joshi, while INTERPOL alerted the human nations' leaders. The natural distrust between human, fithp, and Race was washed away in a moment, for all of us feared the implications. A single EMB could easily destroy the fragile balance we had created on this world, depending on where it was initiated, and plunge all five species into panic and chaos.

I suppose it is a great irony. Humanity Supreme had hoped to forever divide man and alien, and to destroy the latter. And yet, I would like to believe that the cooperation between all of us to stop them brought us closer. We had fought alongside each other, but it was chaotic due to the nature of the Schism, and rebuilding was merely repairing the mess we had made.

But here, it was full, honest, and more than just undoing our own mess. We had served as a common enemy to bring the human nations together, and now Humanity Supreme served as a common enemy to unite us fully with the others.

That, in my opinion, was a job well done.

-/-\-

Khosarani I

My next interview finds me speaking through a vidscreen once again, though with a far smaller delay. From the L2 Defense Station, Commander Dunya Khosarani studies me with hard eyes. Over the past four years as one of the leading figures of the Transnational Global Defense Force, Khosarani has earned a reputation as an effective officer, having helped to facilitate the continuing growth of planet Earth's defenses.

She also holds the record for the highest discharge rate.

Q: Thank you for taking time out of your schedule to speak with me, Commander Khosarani.

A: I don't like journalists. Too many prying eyes when it comes to confidential projects. They're meant to be secret, you know.

Q: But you are granting an interview?

A: I don't like journalists, but I know they're important. People need to be able to trust their defenders. What exactly we're using and where they are should remain a mystery for everyone's safety, but the why and the how should be known.

Q: Very well. Commander Khosarani, how did you become involved in the TGDF?

A: During the great liberalization post-war, when my homeland shed the theocracy of old. Suddenly, the sky was open, and I wanted to go up. I was in my twenties, and I had access to free college education as a result. My appetite for study proved voracious, and so I managed to pass the entrance tests for the TGDF.

You have to remember, the qualifications for orbital deployment roles are extensive. It is essentially an astronaut, technician, and soldier rolled into one. I applied in 2023, only a year after the program opened its doors, as did hundreds of thousands of others. By the time we graduated in 2026, only a thousand made the cut, myself included. Those who didn't, if they were still deemed high-value, were placed into ground-support roles.

Q: You mention the post-war liberalization period allowing you to apply. How global was this global task force at first?

A: Not as much as it is now. Every nation who signed the Manhattan Conference and World Armistice, including even the Fithp Nation, are to provide a portion of the funding. If you want to be recognized as a nation, you have to sign that. Free Tibet and Darfur signed up, even though they were still primarily agrarian and nomadic. When Russia broke up, the three pieces signed, even though they were still at each others' throats at the time.

But not everyone could send the same amount of recruits and funding, even proportionately. India was still rebuilding too much to contribute a proper percentage until 2027, despite being one of the world's largest economies, and my nation was a bit short of potential members, considering just how restrictive education had been for half the populace. Thankfully, a few were able to put proportionately more.

Q: How much was initially given to the TGDF?

A: Half a percent of the GWP, which spiked at two percent in 2031 and has been easing down since. We started lower due to the fact that we still needed to rebuild from the damage, as well as the fact that we still had three warships in orbit.

Q: "We?" But the Archangels and the Seraph-class warship were respectively American and Russian-made.

A: The Americans and Russians decided to make them the first contribution to the force, in exchange for a greater degree of control over them compared to other nations, as well as having to not pay their shares for five years. Considering just how much money they pumped into them, as well as the fact America didn't have a south and Russia was shaking apart at the time, it was a good agreement.

But those three weren't going to last forever. And even if they could last, there was no way you could defend a planet with merely three warships. You'd need support vessels, a proper logistical chain, command centers and spacedocks... and more warships, of course. More numerous, more tonnage, more weaponry, more efficiency.

Q: The three ships had been enough to destroy or force into retreat all fithp and Race space assets with minimal damage. Why was there such a disproportionate focus on military space assets afterwards?

Khosarani arches a single thin eyebrow.

A: You do realize that a hundred and fifty million people died in an alien invasion, right? Entire cities turned to glass and dust, entire nations washed away in a deluge out of the old faiths, the most horrific weapons in history unleashed? All of that happened because we couldn't defend our orbitals. When we started this program, we had no idea if the Hearth fithp were alive or not. For all we knew, they could have found another stone and were coming our way with a ship ten times larger than the first ship, with weaponry a hundred times more devastating.

And even if we did not need to fear them and the Race, what if there are more out there? Already we know we are just one of fiveintelligent species, all within twenty light years of each other. There are 83 star systems within that range- if we used the same ratio for the rest of the galaxy, there could be as many as six billion other intelligent species out there. Even if we make the math more strignent, where it's just the G and K type systems, or the G and K type systems born from the Thin Disk, the number is still astonishing.

She pauses.

My bad, I forgot about the Precursors. That makes six, even if they are all dead. Two species on the same planet is even more damning. And the age proves that we aren't early birds, either. The Race has had spaceflight for 60,000 years, the Precursors might've taken off a million years ago... there could be some very old civilizations out in the dark.

So, better safe than sorry.

Q: Does that mean you believe Earth may be invaded again?

A: No. Not quite. I like to think that a long time could pass between things like these. We know there aren't any fusion-drive using polities for at least a thousand light years out from here, discounting the Race. And the circumstances behind this invasion were quite specific.

On the other hand, if someone does come here for a fight, they won't be able to get to Earth and invade. They'll be hitting themselves against the most well-defended planet in known space.

For once, a smile crosses her lips.

Even with the six years before the war, we were an incomplete bastion. Some nations were properly fortified, like the US, but not all of them. No orbital control to speak of, and too many defenseless nations.

But now, we are a fortress among the stars. Listening posts in the Kuiper Belt. Cislunar interceptors. Nuclear mines that can fire NEFPs, C-Hows, and X-ray lasers. We have the Home Fleet of 150 ships, with three divisions, each led by one of the Big Three that had liberated our sky. They might be outdated despite the upgrades, but it's more akin to an old battleship to a destroyer in that regard, and the morale boost is quite incredible.

And that isn't getting into the Ow-guns, surface missile launchers, defensive laser arrays...

We do simulations, plenty of them, to determine our defense capabilities. Probe for weaknesses and the like. I can't tell you many due to classified elements, but if you want something the readers will eat up, we also sometimes used fictional enemies in the simulations.

Q: Fictional enemies?

A: Alien invaders from works of fiction. Movies, books, video games. The ones with hard numbers, if only in the manuals that no one reads. We did it as much as from amusement as it was due to their varying strengths and weaknesses, many of which were factors we were considering in our serious war games.

I'm sure some hardcore fans will dispute it, but it's quite interesting nevertheless. We could feasibly fight off quite a few invasions that devastated the world in their stories. It's nice to know the Martians wouldn't even clear their own planet's orbit if they were tangling with us.

She sighs, then looks away, as if at a camera feed.

Of course, there are some issues you can't resolve with a shooting war...

-/-\-

New York Times Article - August 5th, 2026

Peace Once More
Russian Successor States Sign Treaty

ROME - After five years of social upheaval, hostile diplomatic relations, and outright violence, it seems that the three sons of Old Russia will finally make amends.

In a historic treaty signed yesterday in the Church of Santi Luca e Martina, the three successor states of the Russian Federation- the New Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, the Eastern Republic of Russia, and the remaining Russian Federation actual, signed a treaty stating that all three states would recognize each other as sovereign nations, as well as finalizing the border lines between said countries.

"Strife has dominated the hearts of the Russian people for far too long," says New Soviet Premier Grigori Andreiovich Popov. "In an age of ever-growing peace between nations, such pain grows increasingly intolerable."

Popov, who had formerly been the Governor of Sverdlovsk Oblast during the War for Earth, had arguably begun the secession crisis in late 2021 by declaring the district independent of the Russian Federation, citing the deep-rooted corruption that had resulted in the severe economic crisis post-war.

"We had entire nations to help prop up if we wanted to ensure our national security," stated Popov in a 2022 speech, after the Republic of Bashkortostan joined the NUSSR. "And where was that money going? To oligarchs. To crooks. This is secession not as a matter of politics, but of survival."

Tensions had only worsened as the Autonomous Okrug of Chutoka declared independence, bringing everything east of Krasnoyarsk under its influence. For four years, the three large successor states engaged in sanctions, sabotage, and outright skirmishes, with only the officer's rebellion under General Petrikov preventing full-on war.

Despite the dire situation, progress had been gradually made, such as after the snap election in the Russian Federation in 2023, which resulted in the election of upstart Mikhail Nikoleyavich Kuznetsov. Kuznetsov, a veteran of the Soviet Invasion of Afghanistan, agreed to a peace summit with the NUSSR in the contested city of Nizhny Novgorod, a summit encouraged by other power blocs. Another peace summit, this time with the Eastern Republic as well, seemed promising.

"It's amazing how far we can come in such a short time," Kuznetsov said, speaking to a crowd consisting of major world leaders, such as Chinese President Sheng and Herdmistress Mamta Joshi. "We may have differing ideals of governance, but we are, all of us, human. The calamitous struggle of six years past has pulled the wool from our eyes."

Popov himself seemed to agree. During the recent peace summit, he has pushed for a law allowing citizens of the three nations to freely move across each other's borders, citing similar laws in Europe and the North African Defense Pact nations.

"A handful of years ago, the Russian people were one," he said, in his own speech. "Even if the nations are not, why should the people be kept apart? We swore in the World Armistice that the War for Earth would be our final war. There are too many graves, too many empty cities, to defile that promise. The pen, not the sword, must resolve this conflict."

Nevertheless, some are skeptical of the recent developments.

"How many times have we promised that this war would be the last?" said Brazilian President Costa. "We said that in 1918, we said that in 1945, and now we're saying it in 2026. I hope this time will hold true, but that is only a hope."

"The ideology of a nation is a stubborn thing," said Fleetlord Atvar. "Everyone is convinced that they are right, and the others are wrong. In a sharp divide as this, such ideology may prove insurmountable."

Despite some doubts and worries, many remain hopeful for the future. In the aftermath of global cooperative efforts, whose degree of closeness have been never before seen, it seems that perhaps peace will finally win out on Planet Earth.

-/-\-

Keo I

It's a rainy day in Phnom Penh as I arrive at the Theater of Otherworldly Cultures- a sleek, modern building close to the heart of the city, built a manner meant to be evocative of Khmer, Race, and Fithp styles.

Keo Bopha greets me at the backstage of the main theater, where she is currently supervising the placement of a background holoprojector. Keo is a member of a small-but-prominent subculture across the world, known as 'xenoboos'. That is to say, extreme fans of nonhuman cultures. It is quite apparent in her clothing, or lack thereof- she is utterly nude from the hips up, with elaborate patterns painted onto her bare skin in Race-inspired style, all the way to the top of her shaved head. Her fithp-inspired skirt, far wider than necessary, sways as she offers her hand.

Q: Good morning, Playmistress Keo.

A: I greet you as well! She lets out a short laugh. It's nice to meet someone who bothers with the terminology. Too many journalists are disrespectful of us, you know? I've been called some nasty things.

Q: An open mind is most receptive to reality. Now, let's begin with the beginning. What was your first exposure to Race culture?

A: My first? I can't really say- it was so far back that it's lost in a haze of memories. My father was a translator, you see, and he actually specialized in the Race's language, listening to chatter during the war and translating stuff for the news during the ceasefire and armistice. The Race permeated everything I grew up in.

My dad worked at home, and I'd see and hear his work as a child. I saw sheets of paper with that curly writing of theirs scattered over the house, heard him clicking and popping as he read... it was fascinating to hear. The language is so different from ours, in the way they pronounce the words and put them together, but it's something we can comprehend, and it's beautiful because of that.

Q: Did your father teach you Race-tongue?

A: More than that. It was basically a second language in the house. My father used to actually read me children's books and have me try to translate them back into Race-tongue when I was growing up. Then, as I got older, he started to bring in books by the Race. Classics, like Gone with the Wind, as well as stuff they started writing here. Journal of Shistvan, Setting of the Old Sun, all that.

I gobbled that stuff up. It was just so... so fascinating. I used to doodle Rabotevs during school and watch pirated fithp movies with my friends. We used to draw markers on our faces and pretended to be Hallessi and Race, like cops and robbers.

Q: I must admit surprise at its prevalence. Wasn't there still a strong anti-alien sentiment at the time?

A: Oh, trust me. Lots of my friends didn't join in, because their parents didn't want them to. Idiots used to repeat stupid stuff about how the aliens were all evil, all out to get us.

But the thing is, I was barely a toddler when the war ended. I don't remember Landing Day, or Footfall. Growing up, I knew the aliens did bad things, but I didn't see bad things. It was an objective thing, devoid of the feelings that the older folks had. Plus, we didn't get hit by the war, not really. A broken damn here and there, but otherwise we had been left alone. Combine that with the whole forgiveness narrative the UN was pushing for, and it wasn't quite as vicious.

I mean, lots of old folk were super racist, but they were super racist against everyone, so...

They were never devils or invaders to me. Without the war to cloud it, I just had my natural curiosity, and they are just so interesting to a kid. The eye turrets, the scales, the way they talk... the fact they talk alone was crazy to eight year old me. Their painted faces reminded me of the masks our country used to do in theatre, you know? Lakhon khol, lakhol pol srey... we used to do them. But they've been dying a slow death, going the way of the dodo or alligator.

I felt the same interest with the fithp, especially considering how ingrained the elephant is. Kids in previous generations only had one species to learn about, but we had four others. And I wanted to know everything I could about them.

Q: What in particular do you find fascinating about it?

A: Oh, the paint definitely drew my eye.

She laughs again, gesturing at her body.

But if we want to be more serious, I'd have to go with the... implied quiet. It's... it's hard to put into words. When the Race write characters, they always assume the best about people. There's scenes, constantly in their books and holomovies, of people offering levels of trust and hospitality you'd never see here on Earth. Just letting random strangers into their homes, helping each other... and it's not something they make a big deal out of, either. It's just something they do.

It's something abstract to us. We know it, but we don't understand it. The idea that there's just some planet out there, where every street is clean, everyone has a home , and every neighbor is a good neighbor, even if they aren't nice neighbors. Not an empty belly or beggar on that 's a sense of community there that we don't get here, a sense that everyone on Home is almost like one big happy family.

Seeing it as an outsider, it's oddly comforting.

The fithp have something else. Not exactly one big family, since they all have their own families. But they have this unique sense of their cultural youth, that gives them such a wry vitality to their art. The sense of being explorers of a brave new world, while also being new arrivals in someone else's house. The fact that they're trying to make themselves a culture has, ironically enough, become a part of their culture. There's also the fact that they are inheritors of someone else's legacy, you know? It's the biggest question for them, something that drives so much of their philosophy and artwork. Everyone wonders about their origins and place in the universe, but God didn't leave us blueprints for a starship.

Q: So what drove you to start this theater?

A: Well... I did often feel ostracized for my interests while growing up. I had friends who liked the same things, but that didn't stop people from calling us weirdos, judging us for what we like.

It's garbage thinking. What, it's suddenly cool to hate cultural exploration and mingling when it's from another planet? Assholes constantly spout trash about how it's 'tainting' human cultures. Know what's my response to that?

Q: What?

A: An 'untouched' culture does not exist. It's a myth. A fairy tale. Mimes a bird flying off. Cultures don't just suddenly pop out of the ground wholesale. It's made from influencing others and being influenced by others. Those Japanese ultranationalists talking about 'protecting their culture'? Where the fuck did they get tea from, hmm? And on that same note, Chinese acting all defensive about their culture seem to forget that the majority of them follow an Indian religion and were influenced by outsiders, from Mongols to Manchus.

Don't get me wrong. It's one thing to shove another culture down someone's throat, or to take it. But the idea that we have to live our lives in these little closed confines of 'culture' is bullshit.

That's why I started the theater, really. To show people like me that there was a place where they could be themselves, and do what they loved. It's not just looking at someone else's culture and saying 'neat'. It's resonating with a way of life, appreciating the beauty and philosophy behind it. Blending it with what you already have. Our plays reflect that. We don't just do Race plays and Fithp plays. We do Race adaptations of human plays, and multi-species projects. We inject Lakota and Khmer and Yoruba into Fithp stories, tweaking and re-interpreting and creating.

Because that's what we do, every day. These seemingly static cultures are founded on creation. It's something that adds to our lives, enriching it and creating more opportunities for more creation in the future.

She then pointedly glances at some of the dancers getting ready for the next showing. I notice that their masks are in a style heavily reminiscent of traditional Cambodian lakhon khol and lakhon pol srey.

And sometimes, it also helps us preserve the past.

-/-\-

You have been reading:

Worldfall, Chapter Nineteen: Ups and Downs