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is quite impossible to set them on fire.”

“Which explains why you dared to have a fire pit in the trunk of a tree outpost.”

“Yes,” he laughed, “We aren’t so foolhardy as we may seem. Appearances can be deceiving.”

“The exodus of the Zards from Nunami is almost guaranteed by the mortal’s natural curiosity and delight in the calamities of others,” I said, “But how do you plan on leveling the town before the remnant raise the alarm and the mass of the people return?”

“Atomic anionizers,” he returned.

“Which are what? They sound like they are beyond my level of understanding.”

“Not at all,” Wagner told me, “Do not be fooled by the technically complex sounding name. An atom is the smallest form into which matter can be broken down into while still retaining its identity, and an anion is a positively charged ion, or in other words, an instance of an atom in which there are more electrons than protons, resulting in a charge of negative electricity. An atomic anionizer is just what its name would imply: a device that morphs normal atoms into atoms with an extreme negative charge by emitting massive amounts, to the tune of many millions of moles, of solitary electrons into the air through a bombing device.”

He went on, explaining the consequences of the weapon, “An atom, and therefore all matter, which is made up of atoms, is engaged in a constant revolution around the nucleus, in the same way in which our solar system revolves around our sun, and our sun around the black hole in the center of the galaxy. This revolving motion is the basis for the formation of all matter that we know of, both in its smallest form, like the atom, or its larger forms, like the galaxy. The electrons emitted from the atomic anionizer are drawn into an orbit around the nuclei of the atoms of all the matter near which they are detonated, much like the way planets catch satellites and space debris into revolving rings around them. This addition of electrons gives the atoms such a powerful negative charge that the poles of the atom, which regulate its rotations in much the same way that the earth’s axis, or poles, regulate its rotations, are thrown from their natural equilibrium, causing the poles to reverse. This, in turn, changes the direction in which the atoms rotate, and in the brief instant in which the force of the revolving movement, or gravity, is not strong enough to retain the atom’s shape, it lapses, bringing the materials they make up crashing down in disarray.

“We will plant some of these ‘atomic bombs’ inside the city of Nunami, and when they go off, the buildings themselves will implode and tumble to the ground. One hand-sized capsule can easily level almost ten square miles, and we have enough of them to bring the Zards to their knees, with plenty to spare for any circumstance.”

“Wouldn’t the bombs kill those who set them off, though?” I asked him anxiously.

“We have electron deflecting suits that negate the effects of the anionizers.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“And well you should be,” he grinned, which, as out of place as it would seem, looked completely natural on his countenance, “For you and I shall be among the bombers. Our meeting must end here, though, my dear Jehu, for we each have things to attend to in preparation for the attack on Nunami. I will see you soon, until then, farewell.”

“Farewell, Wagner,” I replied, and we each stood and bowed as we prepared to depart, each to our own occupations.

With that our council ended, and, in the company of Bernibus, I was sent to another area of the fortress to be measured for an anti-electron suit, in order to protect me from the effects of reverse revolution. We didn’t converse in the beginning of our walk, for my mind was too busy subconsciously thinking over what Wagner had said to have any conscious meditations.

We walked through the fortress towards the northern section, which held the technological rooms, so as to get an anti-electron suit in the making for myself. Realizing that the fortress has been little described, I will do so now. It was broken into six different sub-divisions, each branching from the only entrance, which was in the center of them all, the different divisions connecting to it through long, narrow defiles, or gorges, like the one at the entrance. This was for security, each area being independently contained within the whole. The six areas, or departments, as they were called, were as follows: the Northern was the technological and industrial research and production facilities; the Eastern was the residential department, containing also the civil services, such as medical care and distribution centers; the Southern was the agricultural and other food production areas, though there was little besides agricultural, for the Canitaurs were strict vegetarians; the Western was for mining minerals and other raw materials to be used by the other departments. The other two departments were below the others, being differentiated between by the names Left and Right, the Left being the governmental offices, and the Right the military headquarters, providing protections both civil and foreign (this was, incidentally, the beginning of the expression of the terms Left and Right to denote ideological preferences, but I digress). Uniform in all the fortress was the architecture, it being a strange mix between elegant and gentle arches and curves and brute practicality, for while the ceilings were high and open, and the walls wide, they were rendered homely by their plain surfaces and the absence of small triflings, conditions that were necessitated because of its identity: an impregnable fortress containing a highly organized and self-sufficient governmental society, each citizen having a particular duty for the common good, and each kept from an unfarcical personal identity by the means of a statist society.

From the lower, governmental offices we went up a flight of stairs that wrapped round and round a tower-like tunnel, and soon reached the departmental portal. Once there, we took the northern tunnel, which opened into a large hall that stretched on almost endlessly, with hordes of tunnels branching off to the various agencies. There were a great many Canitaurs working busily, preparing for the attack on Nunami and its possible results, which, though long prepared for, had a few last moment components to be finished. Walking down the central through way, we went to the far end of the hall, which, as it was a walk of at least two miles, afforded plenty of time for observation and reflecting, two things that I am naturally given to. Accordingly, I turned to my companion, Bernibus, and offered in an almost philosophical way:

“Your society seems to be flourishing, though I am not surprised, as you all seem vigorously industrious. I am amazed, however, that no one shirks from their job, no matter how menial or trifling.”

“We all have our assigned jobs, and all know that one slovenly job may cost us dearly,” he said.

“I suppose I am prejudiced by my conceptions of personal liberty, but it is contrary to my conscience that the state should have more duty than to enforce the individual liberties by common force.”

“But we are at war, and we must do as we do, or be trampled underfoot.”

“If all states went no further than justice permits, namely the protection by common force the rights of individuality, liberty, and property, than there would be no room for conflict between states, and hence, no war.”

“Yet it is our ideologies that bring war, besides, do not the ends justify the means?” he asked.

“Your ideologies may cause conflict, yet it seems that your behemoth states facilitate it into war. About the ends and the means, I don’t know: I am no philosopher,” I answered.

I sighed and was silent for a moment as we walked along, then, after a moment or so, I said quietly to myself, “I’m not much of a kinsman redeemer, either.”

We continued on through the hall without further conversation, and I paid little attention to my surroundings, so that while my eyes saw and my mind displayed, my subconscious was not present in the effort, and thereby no memory was retained. This may seem to be the plot of an unimaginative writer to escape the use of that faculty, but as these are nothing but my written memories, and I make no claims of producing good fiction, I will leave that hall primarily to the minds of the reader.

Soon after, we arrived at our destination, which was very nearly at the end of the hall, and entered to find that we were expected and a space open for my fitting, which was soon accomplished, and my suit promised to be at my quarters the next morning. That would be just in time for the departure of the raiding party, which was set to cut out and embark for Nunami a little after that, in order to be in place in the hidden treetop posts surrounding the city before nighttime, as the operation was to begin at midnight. At first I thought that the attack was pushed forward in haste, but as I came to realize that my coming had been prophesied and a great amount of time had been spent preparing for this day, it seemed only natural that they should want to bring the hostilities to a close after such a long time. There were other considerations as well. The weather, for one, had to be dry and not at all windy for the fire to be safely attempted, and also the possibility of the Zards making the first offensive could not be ignored, for they had knowledge of my arrival and may have felt forced to act to prevent the very type of thing that we were about to attempt.

Chapter 7: Down to Nunami

When I awoke the next morning I found Bernibus and Wagner conversing quietly in the corner of my bed chambers, and as I first opened my eyes I saw Wagner looking at me with a blank, glazed expression, while Bernibus’ was one of apprehension, apparently on my behalf. It seemed odd to me, but as Wagner became livid again quickly after his split-second lapse and gave me a hearty “Good morning”, I thought nothing more of it. After his greeting, he continued:

“The day is ripe for victory, my friend, and the time is come for battle. We both have some preparations to complete, and so must separate, but we will meet again at noon in the entrance hall. Farewell until then,” and with that he quit the room.

I looked at Bernibus, yet before either of us could speak, we heard a low, hollow grumbling, like the shaking of some building or foundation. He looked in my direction for a moment with an alarmed countenance, before I said defensively, “Tis but my stomach.”

“Then we must get you some victuals,” he laughed, “And I have just the thing to satisfy you and keep you so for a day or more: some mirus. It is our traditional energy food, for though its taste is bitter, its after-life is pleasant.”

“And what is food except a servant to the body?” I said, “Let us eat.”

“Very well,” he replied.

And eat we did, for it was brought by a food service Canitaur on a tray, and I was surprised to see that it was a mixture of broccoli, spinach, and mushrooms, with a flavorless, glowing sauce. He was right, incidentally, for it was both bitter before and pleasant after its consumption.

“I know of the solids, but what is this sauce?” I asked of him.

“Carbon” he replied.

I looked at him and questioned, “Pure carbon? I have never heard of its having this use

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