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Shrouded Purpose © John H. Evans, January 2024

“Jagdeeth, what’s going to happen to us?” asked Zmundra as she looked out of the window one dark night in second-summer.

“Huh?” queried Jagdeeth from the klenzrum as he wiped himself down with a sixcloth.

“I mean, where are we headed?” she tried to clarify, her chin resting on her hands. “People are making so much these days. The factories work constantly. The stuff goes to the warehouses.” Her forearms felt the chill of the stone as they lay along the windowsill.

“It’s for the infrastructure,” replied Jagdeeth. “Everyone knows…”

“That’s been said so often,” said Zmundra as she watched another fatruck chug up the highway, laden with copper or whatever. “Has it lost all meaning? When does the stuff leave the warehouses? I’ve been watching day and night. I’ve never seen loads taken away.”

“You haven’t watched continuously,” Jagdeeth reminded her. “They do it when you’re doing other things.” Zmundra was annoyed by this flawed answer.

“What are you saying to me?” she asked, annoyed. “Are they scheduling their journeys to fit in with my ever-changing timetable?” Jagdeeth finished, put his sixcloth in the sixbin and came over to her.

“Dear Heart, you’re worried about nothing,” he said soothingly. “We know that our government cares deeply for us. Virtually all of us are safe and well. Whatever way they do things, you know they put our best interests first.” He stood on her left side, stooped and kissed her head. She turned her eyes to look at him. He was trying his best to make her comfortable. However, he wasn’t completely addressing her doubts.

“Maybe there’s a tunnel?” he ventured. “The outward trips could go underground for a few kilometres.”

“Why would they do that?” asked Zmundra.

“Because of traffic!” replied Jagdeeth. “The highway congestion around here is bad enough already.” That much was certainly true.

“I’d like to see the tunnel,” said Zmundra, her gaze returning to the thousands of bright lights that stretched across the local, urban area. “Is there any way that we could get in there?”

“It’s very unlikely,” said Jagdeeth. “The government keeps the warehouses locked down tightly. We might be an enlightened society these days but there are still a few wicked folks around.” According to the media, that was correct. However, the criminals shown on screen these days seemed less genuine than previously. It was almost as if they were actors. Many people had remarked on this trend but no one had investigated, as far as was known.

“We’re no criminals,” said Zmundra. “We know it and so do they. We’re trustworthy. If they deny people like us the right to monitor, aren’t they insulting us without actually saying it?”

“The common good is most important,” said Jagdeeth. “Remember the bad old days? We don’t want to go back to the wars, divisions and disasters, do we?”

“No,” said Zmundra.

“And the infrastructure is getting fixed, isn’t it?” said Jagdeeth.

“Yes,” said Zmundra. “Plenty of projects are going ahead, apparently.”

“Hey now, not just ‘apparently’,” retorted Jagdeeth. “Every day, there are dozens of reports. It’s not just replacements and repairs but also expansions and improvements. Things are looking good for us, for the entire world!” He sounded very positive as usual. How did he stay so positive? Zmundra couldn’t keep pace with him on that score. She often had to pretend and agree with him, for the harmony of the relationship. It was quite taxing sometimes. She stuck with it because she saw the benefits. Jagdeeth was exceptionally supportive. She was very lucky. Perhaps the whole world was improving on a spiritual level, as many others had already claimed. That was impossible to measure but easy to believe, given the general improvements in recent decades. Meanwhile, she kept watching the fatrucks go past. Each one carried at least twenty tonnes. Every hour, around the clock, at least thirty fatrucks went to the local warehouse. Only empty fatrucks left the place. Every day, several thousand tonnes of heavy material went into the building. Nothing ever seemed to leave. Either the warehouse was much, much bigger than it looked or the material was being smuggled out. No reports were made about it. No one talked about it except her. What was going on? Was there a secret plot in progress? If so, what would happen to everyone when the plot was revealed? Zmundra kept watching silently until Jagdeeth called her to bed. He wanted to talk about trivial matters but she wasn’t keen and only said the minimum. He was slightly affronted but he knew her well. This was her nature. He knew not to take it personally.

Jagdeeth slept easily. Zmundra lay awake for over half an hour, thinking deeply.


* * * * *


“Do you ever wonder how the seven designed their dance?” asked Zmundra the next morning. She was meeting a friend at the open-air reephreshe, as she tried to do every Cvonday.

“Well, it wasn’t a conscious decision,” said Luoxidd with a quizzical tone. “They kinda drifted along like that.” She gestured briefly at the sky, where all seven moons were visible together for the first time in three years.”

“Scientists are discovering more and more evidence of dead moons,” said Zmundra. “Those seven murdered at least fifteen of their brothers and sisters. Their remains lie scattered all over the world. Some are big, others small. It’s possible that one lies plastered across the face of Moon Gremthron.” She pointed at Gremthron for half a second.

“Sure, but this is very ancient prehistory,” said Luoxidd. “Our geophysical surveys are uncovering all manner of fascinating old things. It’s part of the race to improve infrastructure and enrich society.”

“It just shows that the seven-fold dance wasn’t always happening,” said Zmundra. “Just imagine the upheaval of those early, early days. Cratered mini-worlds were colliding with us and spilling their shattered bodies hither and thither. Fiery spurts of rock were scorching the land from pole to pole. The wind was heat-blasting everything to blackened cinders. It was utterly unsurvivable!”

“Er, yes,” agreed Luoxidd. “Harshly poetic. What made you think about it now, on this bright sunny day?”

“What’s wrong with it?” shot back Zmundra. “There was a time when such thinking was normal and commonplace. Something has happened to society and I’m not happy about it.”

“I’m not exactly sure,” said Luoxidd. “I believe that it started sometime in the last century, around the time when we established the world government. People’s appetite for untrammeled individual rumination diminished. I think that it’s because our efforts are being better directed and our needs are better met across the board.”

“Hmm, then why am I still thinking freely and widely?” asked Zmundra. “Could it be that I’m immune to the mind-sapping disease?”

“It looks that way!” replied Luoxidd. “You’ve always had an unconventional outlook, though.” Zmundra paused and sighed quietly.

“Whatever good that does,” she said. “Anyway, life goes on. How’s your husband coping with his job?”

“He’s pretty happy,” said Luoxidd. “There’s never a shortage of trade. He’s in the Volduar Chompery kitchens on Third Canal Street. Every day, there are thousands of customers. They come from the factories and foundries. We’re talking about the ones who dislike their works canteens.”

“Yes, the fussy eaters,” said Zmundra. “You mentioned them before, in passing.”

“So, he normally comes home tired but proud of his work,” continued Luoxidd. “Meanwhile, I keep house and do childcare. It’s good that I don’t need to work. I think that I’d collapse if I stretched myself so thinly.”

“Same here, only without the childcare,” said Zmundra. “Jagdeeth and I have been unlucky so far. Maybe one or both of us have a fertility problem?”

“Making babies is so unpredictable,” said Luoxidd. “Don’t waste time worrying about it.”

“I hate to say this but I’ve been having doubts,” said Zmundra. “I never was the most maternal type. Now there’s a vague anxiety growing in my mind. I’m wondering if we have it too good these days.”

“Come on, Z!” scoffed Luoxidd. “Enjoy it! War is gone. Famine is almost gone. Disease is in retreat worldwide. Politics are in consensus. Social problems are melting away. Corruption seems to be going extinct. The reclamation of funds has made healthcare better than ever. We’re the luckiest generation! We’re having a wonderful life.”

“I know, I can’t argue with progress,” said Zmundra, abashed. “Maybe I’m just one of those people who do better in tough times.”

“This may be a weird suggestion but why not ask your doctor for help?” suggested Luoxidd. “There could be an anti-depressant suitable for you. A small dose every day should keep you even-keeled.”

“I’ll look into it,” said Zmundra, fully aware that she wouldn’t. “Perhaps people like me should accept that times have changed. We don’t fit into the new society.”

“You’ll be fine in the end,” Luoxidd reassured her. “You’ll adapt. Say, why don’t we have a stroll? Yuphlux here is fast asleep so we won’t be disturbed.”

“Alright, let’s go down Makkems’ Avenue,” proposed Zmundra. “We can come back along Hawla Way.”

“Fine,” said Luoxidd, getting up and grabbing the handle of her sprogulator. “With the smooth suspension of this thing, Yuphlux won’t wake up for hours. That’s what I call progress!” Zmundra nodded, got up and then led the way. The reephreshe bill was already paid. They walked briskly down the wide street that was lined with well-planned factories. At first, there were small ones that were barely more than workshops. Then, the plants became larger and taller. The two women had to stop fairly often to make way for fatrucks that were moving products to warehouses and then returning empty for more. It was reassuring to see such disciplined industry, using the latest methods and not causing undue pollution. In some buildings, there were powerful flashes of light as metals were smelted.

“Wow, I had no idea!” exclaimed Zmundra as she looked into one factory halfway down the avenue.

“What’s that?” asked Luoxidd.

“They’re using a very advanced machine in there,” said Zmundra, pointing at the large doorway in the centre of the building. “I saw it through the gap. It was at least four metres tall and walking around on two legs.”

“Oh really?” said Luoxidd. “I guess they need all the help they can get, shifting that heavy metal around.”

“Why haven’t we seen that in the media?” wondered Zmundra aloud. “Surely it’s something to boast about!”

“We can look it up later,” said Luoxidd. “Right now, we should move along and not obstruct the traffic.” She indicated for Zmundra to cross the driveway before the next fatruck came along. The two women trotted forward, taking care not to jostle Yuphlux in his carriage. Zmundra glanced back at the gateway for a moment. The guard there was watching them. It appeared a little odd but then women with sprogulators weren’t common on this avenue. The walk continued. Nothing else unusual caught their eye, except perhaps the lack of frowns. Everyone seemed happy or at least content. A few were exuberant. It was like the last day of school when all the pupils were anticipating a fun vacation.

“It’s pretty amazing, actually,” said Luoxidd. “Here we are, meandering through the currents of global betterment. I’m more and more optimistic lately.”

“That would be the pimmiop drink talking!” said Zmundra with a wry smile.

“It certainly helps,” agreed Luoxidd. “Are you feeling the general zeitgeist, though?”

“It’s hard to resist,” said Zmundra. “I know that I’m a doubter, a contrarian, but a lovely day in a prosperous world casts a golden glow upon our vista.” She swung her right arm around flamboyantly to emphasise her point. Luoxidd laughed a little. They continued onto Lyricist Lane and then Oupsett Grove before turning into Hawla Way. This part of town was somewhat quieter although the sounds of Makkems’ Avenue could still be heard in the distance. Madgafronds grew from the roadside and formed a crisscross arch above that provided shade. Luoxidd and Zmundra ambled along, alternating between looking around and watching Yuphlux sleep. The walk was relatively peaceful until a few fatrucks drove by, moving swiftly despite being fully loaded. They made a deep rumbling that vibrated the road. Two sounded their warning blowers, which made Yuphlux squirm and grimace but he didn’t wake.

“What are they doing here?” asked Luoxidd. “There are better roads for large vehicles.” Zmundra shrugged and looked behind her. She did a double take. Several more fatrucks were approaching at speed. These were also heavily laden. Occasionally, they honked to alert other road users. This level of freight traffic was unusual enough to make Zmundra start counting.

“Eighteen, nineteen, twenty,” she said. “I think that they all have the same cargo.” They kept coming. The two women moved away from them, closer to the houses.

“Forty-seven, forty-eight… what the hell?!” said Luoxidd. “Should we go left at the next junction? There might be a problem here.” They hurried along to Hovlosh Close and watched the convoy from a safer distance. Zmundra kept a tally while Luoxidd looked out for details and clues. The drivers seemed emotionless and in control. They were not raving or panicking as might have been expected. They were controlling their wagons very well, almost like stunt drivers in movies. Some residents started to watch from their windows or front gardens.

“Two hundred and fifty-four!” said Zmundra as the final fatruck roared past.

“I guess that someone made a special order,” commented Luoxidd. “They must be building a mega-bridge or whatever.” She looked over at the nearby residents but they appeared to lose interest and go back to their previous activities.

“I’ve never seen such a huge convoy, even when they were erecting the Gargantaplex twelve years ago,” said Zmundra. “Those fatrucks were tightly coordinated too, as if they were computer controlled.”

“It’s bizarre but at least there were no crashes,” said Luoxidd. “Thank Heavens for good drivers!” She bent down to stroke Yuphlux and check his clothing. Sometimes he wriggled out of his bootees but today he wasn’t so restless.

“Let’s stick to small roads,” said Zmundra. “We don’t want to meet any other convoys that might show up.” Luoxidd agreed and the two women went home down narrow, leafy paths and lanes. It was slower but much calmer. At home, both scanned the media for local traffic news. The convoy wasn’t mentioned anywhere. Road conditions were reported as being normal throughout the entire region. Clearly, something strange was going on. They realised that they might never be able to explain it. Zmundra secretly decided that she wanted to investigate, but how?


* * * * *


“Hello dear,” said Zmundra when Jagdeeth came home that night. “Take a seat and I’ll bring you a drink.” She stared into his eyes as usual. A little longer than usual. Jagdeeth smiled nervously. She smiled too but slightly later than usual. It was as if she had to remind herself to smile.

“Right, yes,” said Jagdeeth. “Just give me a few minutes. I want to take off these clothes and have a quick body wipe. I feel a bit icky, if you know what I mean.” He went over to the klenzrum. He had a sudden feeling that something wasn’t right. There was an ominous atmosphere. The shadows seemed larger and darker. He put on the bright lights and swiftly disrobed. With practiced ease, he grabbed disposable cloths from the dispensers and wiped himself thoroughly. The gel of the onecloth absorbed the bulk of the dirt. The twocloth mopped up most of the remainder. The threecloth finished the job on the larger body areas. The fourcloth tackled the smaller, smellier areas and this was followed up by the fivecloth. The sixcloth made sure of cleanliness and also added perfume and antiperspirant. All these cloths were large in area and impregnated with appropriate chemicals. They were thin yet strong due to modern fibre technology. They could be mostly recycled. After use, Jagdeeth put them in the normal storage bins for later collection. He appreciated the clean routine, especially now. What was going through the mind of his stay-at-home partner? Had her friends been giving her ideas? He looked around for clues but there were none that stood out. He shrugged and went back to the lounge. The atmosphere hadn’t improved but at least Zmundra was trying to be friendly.

“Hey, looking good!” she said, eyeing his body. “What would you like? Sulgin juice? Lounki?”

“Hot Lounki with plenty of sordion, please,” replied Jagdeeth. “The job takes it out of me.”

“But it’s making you lean and lovely,” said Zmundra as she sauntered to the kitchen. “You know I didn’t like your pudgy phase.”

“Yes, well that’s over,” said Jagdeeth as he sat down on the flexaton couch. “Now is the time of the buff, busy hubby.” He wanted to put on a robe but the weather was hot and it would be out of character. He looked around but saw no clues as to what was going on. He activated the kaleidovir and gazed at its soothing patterns. That nearly always calmed him down. He relaxed on the couch and that was when the shadow force thrust itself into his mind.

“Out of nowhere!” he thought as it crushed his freedom of action. “Holy Host, I’m screwed!”

“Did it get you already?” asked Zmundra as she came in with the Lounki. “Good, no hanging about. We can get on with things now.” Jagdeeth could hardly do anything as she put the drink within his reach.

“It’s establishing itself within your body,” explained Zmundra. “It’ll let you move around again in a few minutes. It’ll restrict you, though. You won’t be able to call for help or wander off. It’ll change your attitudes too. Just wait and see.” Jagdeeth could barely hear her. He was enthralled by an irresistible sensation of ancient experience and alien, instinctive reasoning. Whatever this was, it loved silence and darkness. His mind seemed to have been invaded and occupied by vast, black space. His spirit felt unwelcome here, like a stain on a pristine canvas. He was being tolerated for the time being but he could tell that things would change fairly soon. He wanted to panic but the invader force kept him motionless. The silence and calmness cooled his temper. He started to fall in line with what it wanted. In effect, it was acting like a kaleidovir only with no discernable patterns. It was impossible to fight so he simply had to sit out the occupation of his being.

* * * * *

YOU WILL COOPERATE OR ELSE PAY THE PENALTY.

What penalty?

[I SHOW THEM.]

[THEY ARE SHOCKED.]

[THEY CAPITULATE.]

If we must.

Your first command, please.

The sooner we start, the sooner we finish.

[I APPLAUD THEIR GOOD SENSE. WE BEGIN.]


* * * * *


“This thing… is crushing… me,” said Jagdeeth. “I can’t… move.” Zmundra looked at him with concern.

“Weird,” she replied. “I was fine almost immediately. Perhaps I was better suited to it. Try asking for help.”

“How?” asked Jagdeeth.

“Telepathy,” replied Zmundra. “That’s what we’re doing right now.”

“Oh,” said Jagdeeth, surprised. “Alright, let’s… try.” He sent his request into the mysterious inner void. There was a small delay. Something in the void hated him with a passion. Nevertheless, that something felt compelled to provide him with a certain level of freedom and comfort. The void was a paradox. On one level it was empty of vitality and substance. On another level, it had overwhelming power. Now, it withdrew some of that power from Jagdeeth. The controlling force receded steadily until Jagdeeth could think and move easily. The process took several minutes because the force didn’t trust him. It kept prodding him and gauging his reactions. It read his intentions constantly to pre-empt and prevent rebellion. It warned him to keep quiet about the control situation as much as possible. The force had a secret mission. It had just drafted Jagdeeth and Zmundra to help in that mission.

“This is crazy!” exclaimed Jagdeeth mentally. “How in the world can we help this super-being?!”

“Good, you were told not to speak out loud,” said Zmundra. “It wants us to stick to telepathy when discussing this whole business.”

“I admit that it’s very useful,” said Jagdeeth. “I’d just like to know the reason behind it.”

“Try wiping your forehead,” said Zmundra. “Use your hand. See what you find.” Jagdeeth did so tentatively. He looked at his fingers and found a dark grey residue that hadn’t been there a few minutes before.

“What’s this?” he asked. “It’s like metal dust. We have that in the workshop.”

“Apparently, it’s tiny robots,” said Zmundra. “They’re in everyone except us now. The strange force has cleansed us. It’s killed our dose of robots. It’s also killing the robots in our house. However, it won’t go any further. That’s why we must be so secret.”

“They can’t be robots,” said Jagdeeth. “No one can make them that small!”

“The force assures me that they are robots,” said Zmundra. “They were made by larger robots using super-advanced technology from another world.” Jagdeeth was about to express his disbelief when the force put visions in his mind. Zmundra saw them too. They saw a structured, metal world populated by giant machine men who had stupendous technical capabilities. There appeared to be a civil war going on. It raged with bewildering savagery. The most powerful and ruthless were prevailing over the others. The conflict could not be contained. It was spreading from star to star. Great ships were bringing invaders to new worlds. Races across the galaxy were being enslaved or destroyed. Relentless devices reproduced and swarmed. They would only stop when compelled, either by their master or some major event like a complete power drain.

“Are we supposed to take part in this?!” queried Jagdeeth. “I know it looks real but…”

“It feels real too,” interjected Zmundra. “I never dreamt that this would happen to us!”

“No, come on!” objected Jagdeeth. “It’s not possible. We’d be smashed to a pulp.”

“Aren’t you even slightly interested?!” challenged Zmundra.

“We can’t trust any of this,” Jagdeeth pointed out. “We’re under mind control. There’s no conventional proof.”

“Don’t you understand?” demanded Zmundra. “We’ve been under mind control our whole lives. Now, a different being has taken over.”

“Why do we have to do anything?” complained Jagdeeth. “This new force has ridiculous levels of power. It should intervene directly if it wants to stop the robots. We’re just meat puppets, not fit for interstellar war.”

“Yes, we’re weak but we've been chosen,” said Zmundra. “There must be a reason. Maybe it’s because we don’t stand out. We’re undercover agents.” The shadow force indicated telepathically that this deduction was correct.

“I don’t want to be an agent!” protested Jagdeeth. “I just did a day’s work and I’m tired. I’m a toolmaker. I want to give the world the tools it needs.”

“Jagdeeth, you’ve been helping the robots,” said Zmundra. “Your whole life, you’ve been playing your part in arming them. My whole life, I’ve been enabling you. Can’t we just stop this blind march into oblivion?”

“But the infrastructure…!” said Jagdeeth.

“Yes, it’s being improved massively but that’s a side effect,” said Zmundra. “We’ve been totally duped.”

“This is an almighty shock to the system!” Jagdeeth whinged. “I can’t function in this state of mind. I need a relaxing evening and a good night’s sleep to recover!”

“We’ll get that,” said Zmundra. “It would look odd for us to do otherwise. This force is no fool.” Jagdeeth reached for his drink and took a sip.

“The Lounki’s gone cold,” he muttered. Zmundra sat and stared at him, doing nothing.

“Never mind,” he said, drinking it down. “I presume that there are no nasties in it.”

“Jagdeeth, you’re a mind reader now,” said Zmundra. “Check my memories. I would never put nasties in your food or drink.” Jagdeeth finished his Lounki and then focused on this new skill. The thoughts that he found made him gasp with astonishment. Together, they deepened their relationship more than anyone in the history of the world.


* * * * *


“Do you get the feeling that we’re expendable now?” asked Jagdeeth later that night as they lay in bed.

“Yes but life is short anyway,” replied Zmundra. “In the grand scheme of things, what does it matter?”

“Zmundra, it does matter,” said Jagdeeth. “We’re here on this planet for the experience. We should get as much experience as we can before our time is up.”

“Whatever,” said Zmundra. “Just remember that we’re tiny pawns in the game. We’re not important.”

“You don’t know that,” said Jagdeeth. “It all depends on frame of reference. We appear small and weak but, in cosmic terms, we could be vital. I mean, why did we bother coming here at all if it was meaningless? Why did we choose these lives? We’re not stupid!”

“Well, tomorrow we’re going to attempt a very dangerous spying mission,” said Zmundra. “We’ll probably get caught and go to jail for a while. There’s no way out. This shadow force will do far worse if we refuse.”

“There is one thing we can do, at least,” said Jagdeeth. “We can explore the shadow force. I’ve been doing it a little already, in the last few hours.”

“Alright, that sounds interesting,” said Zmundra. “It’s something we’ve never done before and we won’t have to get out of bed.” With nothing to lose, they moved their minds into the shadow force. They already had a strong link. At first, it was creepy and difficult to tolerate. However, as time went on, it became less like that and more silent and still. They glided further in and the stillness was unchanging. Dominant. Insistent. Imposed from on high.

“Which way?” asked Zmundra.

“Not a clue!” replied Jagdeeth. “Perhaps there’s a method to sense things from a distance?” He attempted a form of remote viewing but there were no landmarks at all. Distances couldn’t be measured or even estimated. The attempt was in vain.

“It’s no use,” he said. “The void’s without form. Nothing stands out.”

“Then all we can do is look within,” said Zmundra. “I’m hoping to cast new light on this illogical place.” In this realm, the couple appeared as luminous orbs. Zmundra concentrated and made her orb unfold and expand in multiplying rings and branches. She spread herself as far as possible into the expanse. Her radiance illuminated some of the surroundings. She was touching hidden features in the shadow force’s mind space. These features were hard to recognise since they were faint, obscure and often alien in nature.

“I’m beyond impressed by what you’re doing!” exclaimed Jagdeeth.

“I think that this was meant to be,” said Zmundra. “I’m connecting so easily here. I can feel more and more of this, what’s it called? Substance, collection of stuff, collaboration, huddle, field of many crops.”

“Keep going,” said Jagdeeth. “This is probably the most fascinating place we’ll ever go!” He could see endless arrays of unfamiliar shapes, colours and patterns. There were also sounds, scents, tastes and textures. It was perplexing, bamboozling. He tried focusing on just a few things but his attention kept being drawn by others.

“These were worlds,” said Zmundra. “Aeons ago, they circled stars in their own little corners of space. There was life but then all life must end. Death is inevitable. There’s no purpose in opposing the inevitable. Instead, they learnt to love it. They embraced it wholeheartedly.”

“Are they telling you this?” queried Jagdeeth.

“Not in the conventional sense,” replied Zmundra. “Their appearances tell the story. But there was more. There were people. They wanted to cultivate death, to send it out wherever they could. They were dead set on it, pardon the pun. They organised. They built up technology. They would stop at nothing.”

“And now they’re here,” said Jagdeeth. “This isn’t sounding good!”

“It’s inevitable,” said Zmundra. “They’re simply facilitators.”

“Or fanatics,” commented Jagdeeth. “How is it necessary? Life ends automatically. Nothing more is required.”

“This is their preference,” said Zmundra. “They feel that the universe is better when it’s lifeless. There’s total peace and harmony. There’s no suffering.”

“This isn’t fair!” said Jagdeeth. “This is our universe, our home. We’ve chosen to live here. Can’t they take their death cult somewhere else?”

“They refuse,” said Zmundra. “They are solid, unified. They will not be moved. They have a word for it. ‘Cron’: total solidarity. ‘Uni’: as one. ‘Unicron’ if you will.”

“I suppose that they’ve selected this galaxy as their battleground,” said Jagdeeth. “Do you think that the robots are their enemies?”

“Everyone is their enemy,” said Zmundra. “They’re even angry about us. The robots are indeed troubling them, though.”

“So, we’ve established that this Unicron force is hardcore for death,” said Jagdeeth. “Also, we’ve conceded that we’re at his mercy and we must serve him. There’s not much else that we need to know, right?” Zmundra felt a sudden jolt of emotion. She finally experienced the full impact: she might soon lose her freedom, her partner, her happiness, her good times, all her comforts. It could be devastating.

The Unicron force felt this simultaneously. The sensation was small but unpalatable. Unicron clutched at her with multiple spectral hands and appendages. It held her briefly and warned her not to waver in her purpose.

“In the end, this won’t work,” she said to him. “I think that you’ve met your match here.” Unicron released her. Disdainfully, he pushed the couple out of his mind and back into their bodies.

“I just realised,” said Zmundra as they struggled to adjust. “I was wrong about him and his mission. When he possessed my body, just outside the house this afternoon, I sort of… welcomed him. I agreed with his point about life’s fleetingness and death’s serenity. I was curious about this new direction. I went along with it. I must’ve been naïve. Now, I recognise that our lives are important. I’d rather be here than buried, pushing up zimenongs.”

“Thank Heaven you saw it at last,” said Jagdeeth, yawning. “Now we should sleep. We have a big day ahead of us. He’s making us sleep. I can sense it…” They knew no more until they woke up the next morning.


* * * * *


Jagdeeth opened his eyes slowly. It was his normal time for waking up. He’d trained himself well and didn’t need an alarm like some people. After a few deep breaths and stretches, he got up and considered what he was going to do. He was dismayed to remember that he had a compulsory special mission for his alien overlords. Zmundra was included in the mission too. He turned to look at her. She was sprawled haphazardly on the bed, her limbs at unusual angles to the vertical. Her eyes were slightly open and her headplume was rather ruffled. This wasn’t how she normally looked in the morning, unless…

“You took advantage of me!” she said softly. “You were still asleep but you managed!”

“Since when have I done that?” queried Jagdeeth, concerned. “Normally, I don’t move much at night.”

“You mind-raped me,” replied Zmundra. “I was dreaming nicely and you just showed up, swinging yourself proudly to and fro. You jumped on me without hesitation.”

“Oh, the telepathy!” said Jagdeeth, realizing what had happened. “I’m so sorry!”

“No, don’t be!” said Zmundra. “It was really good, really really good. You won a medal!”

“Well thanks but I don’t remember…” said Jagdeeth before Zmundra shared her memories with him.

“It was as if you were doing it physically,” explained Zmundra. “It wasn’t violent or coercive. You knew exactly what to do. I went from ground level to cloud nine in ten minutes. I was thrashing around spasmodically but you were too focused to even wake up. You pressed ALL my hot buttons until every pleasure nerve had fired off.”

“NNGGHHHH!” exclaimed Jagdeeth as Zmundra’s erotic sensations blazed through his mind. It was electric. He swayed back and forth, then left and right. He couldn’t hold back. His seed flew up and hit the ceiling in rhythmic jolts. When it was over, he took a moment to regain his balance, breath and composure. Then, he lowered himself back onto the bed, to recline next to Zmundra. He wasn’t used to the strength of her passion in this way. Like her, he needed many minutes to recover. However, he’d rarely been so fully satisfied. They lay in silence for a while, enjoying the morning peace while casually exploring each other’s minds.

“Well, this has been lovely but we have enforced business,” said Zmundra at last. “You need to request time off work for a start.”

“I have to go in person,” said Jagdeeth. “They won’t respond to telegraphs. They’re too busy.”

“It’s not far,” said Zmundra. “I could go with you.”

“Sure, why not?” said Jagdeeth. Slowly, they rose and performed ablutions. A relaxed, mutual, full body wipe made them feel more presentable. They also changed the bed sheets and wiped the ceiling. Then they dressed and went to the kitchen for breakfast. As they looked out of the window, they noticed that some of the neighbours appeared to be leaving home, perhaps on a holiday. They were loading their vehicles with luggage. They were rushing around as if compelled by pressing circumstances. They weren’t being especially careful, throwing things into the cargo hoppers haphazardly. They were talking to each other urgently but not loudly.

“Why are they all leaving so quickly at the same time?” wondered Zmundra. “Perhaps we should check the official warnings?” They looked at the teletyper but there were no messages about storms, quakes, fires, floods, violence or other emergencies.

“It’s us,” said Jagdeeth. “It’s the Unicron force. It’s driving them away, deliberately or otherwise.”

“We don’t know that,” said Zmundra. “There could be another reason like, I don’t know, a sudden funeral?” At this point, one of the neighbours saw them through the window and screamed. She was petrified. She darted away, jumped into her vehicle and demanded to set off immediately. Her husband complied. Her children were left behind. They ran to follow the vehicle, which stopped after about a hundred metres and let them on board. After that, their journey resumed with considerable acceleration. The other families outside also scrambled to leave. Some belongings were abandoned in the panic. Jagdeeth and Zmundra watched the rapid exodus with dismay.

“We’ve become pariahs overnight,” said Zmundra. “Our lives are falling apart.”

“Let’s not sit and fret,” said Jagdeeth. “We’ll finish here and head out. Unicron needs whatever updates we can find.”

“This is all going to end horribly, I can tell,” said Zmundra as she drank her delgan juice. “I mean, how can we get anything done when we have this evil aura around us?” Jagdeeth shrugged, having no answer. They got ready and set out for Jagdeeth’s workshop. They used his compact ondocycle, which was just large enough for two and could go down narrow lanes with ease. They rode into town on a quiet route, meeting no one while causing numerous animals to flee. Once in town, they went as fast as they dared to reach the workshop without undue delay. They arrived fairly quickly and pulled into Jagdeeth’s usual parking spot. His colleagues were already beginning to edge away. They sensed something awful in the air and couldn’t help but avoid it any way that they could. The couple marched up to the manager’s office. The manager was already leaving, having ‘discovered outstanding tasks at another site’.

“Trechevny, would it be alright if I take a leave of absence?” called Jagdeeth as the manager retreated down the hall.

“No problem, take as long as you like!” yelled Trechevny. “The team can make up the shortfall. Have fun, whatever you do!”

“Thanks boss!” said Jagdeeth with a wave. Trechevny smiled slightly, shuddered a little and then left the building.

“This is humiliating!” said Zmundra. “At least we got you a lengthy period of leave. Let’s continue with this horror tour.” Jagdeeth ran to his workbench nearby, grabbed his core toolkit and then led Zmundra back to the ondocycle.

“There is a tunnel,” he said to her as they walked. “I heard about it years ago. It’s small, not what you imagined earlier…”

“But it will get us there,” she replied. “I read that memory last night. It gave me hope.”

“A little utility tunnel for pipes and cables,” he continued. “And for cute creatures like you.”

“And you,” said Zmundra. “Take us underground, babe!”


* * * * *


I AM FAILING. MY EMOTION IS COMPROMISING MY POSITION. I MUST CALM MYSELF.

I HALT MY ASSAULT.

THE WORLD IN MY JAWS SPEWS MAGMA OVER MY SURFACE.

IN ITS DEATH THROES, IT SPINS BLINDLY.

TEARS ITSELF APART.

CONTINENTS SHATTER.

CRUST CRUMBLES.

EVERYONE DIES.

EVERYTHING DIES.

THE CORE BUCKLES, DEFORMS.

A MOON IMPACTS, THEN ANOTHER AND ANOTHER.

IT IS NOTHING TO ME.

I AM PREOCCUPIED WITH TINY THINGS, CREEPING ABOUT PATHETICALLY, FAR AWAY.

I WANT THEIR INFORMATION.

I AM UNICRON, YET STILL THERE ARE THINGS THAT I FEAR.


* * * * *


“What do you want?” said the security guard brusquely as Zmundra and Jagdeeth walked into his building on Gleya High Road.

“We need to use your tunnel,” said Zmundra. “It’s vital that we get through today…” She didn’t need to say any more. The guard felt the Unicron aura and began to panic. His eyes widened. He jumped to his feet and stumbled backwards, almost falling over his chair. He regained his balance and retreated from the lobby to the corridor behind. Jagdeeth indicated in the same direction.

“We’re sorry about this!” said Zmundra. “We can’t turn it off!” People cowered in their offices and storerooms as the couple walked after the guard down the corridor. They reached the tunnel entrance just as the guard left the building via the back entrance. Jagdeeth looked at the unmarked door. It was locked but he took a small power saw from his carry case and cut around the lock. No one challenged them as they pushed the door open and descended the stairs beyond. They found themselves in a basement-level horizontal shaft that contained several pipelines and cables on racks to one side. On the other side, there was a walkway three metres wide.

“Standard service tunnel,” said Jagdeeth. “Nice and straight, smooth and level.”

“How far?” asked Zmundra.

“Four kilometres,” replied Jagdeeth. “Maybe four and a half if the exit is on the other side of the complex.”

“Right!” said Zmundra, leading the way. They marched on, determined to fulfil their obligations. As they went further from the entrance, the light level faded. The illumination down here was minimal.

“I’m not wasting battery with my torch,” said Jagdeeth. “We just keep walking straight. The path is kept clear.” On they went. The minutes ticked by. They heard faint voices behind them as police arrived in the entry building, which was a designated local service hub for the utilities. Police interference was unlikely, at least in the short term. Everyone feared the uncanny Unicron force. Nevertheless, the couple picked up the pace. Zmundra carried the toolkit part of the way, so that Jagdeeth’s arms could rest a while. After about forty-five minutes, they noticed a change in odour. They’d never smelt anything quite like it: a novel chemical mix haze. It wasn’t harmful but it put them on alert. Up ahead, there was a brighter light above a staircase. They moved forward warily. It was an anxious time. Would they soon solve a great mystery? Would they finally meet the robots?


* * * * *


“Welcome, friends!” said a very strange being ahead of them. “I’ve not seen your species before. Do you, by any chance, have a form of identification?” Their surroundings had completely changed in the blink of an eye. Jagdeeth and Zmundra were dumbfounded. What was this? Had they been transported elsewhere by magic? Could this be a grand illusion? Jagdeeth touched an ultra-modern chair that was next to him. It was real and solid. It glowed softly.

“I see that you are quite unfamiliar with our habitat,” said the being. “Don’t worry, I’m here to help with orientation.”

“Where are we?!” demanded Zmundra. “We were in the middle of a vital mission! We need to go back there as soon as possible!” She feared this odd, reddish-purple telepath but she feared Unicron more. She learnt immediately that the telepath’s name was Zianja Morno. He learnt their names too. She mentioned that they had ID documents but those were meaningless without context.

“My records say that you were brought to the habitat by the Starship Zvennjoulli less than two minutes ago,” said Zianja. “You were transported inadvertently because you moved too close to the ship as it arrived and departed. Emergency systems decided that it was safer to bring you here because you were caught in dimensional flux. If the ship had left you in place, some of your bodily atoms would’ve been removed. You would’ve died.”

“Starship transport? I knew it!” exclaimed Zmundra. “I thought something like that was going on! The mystery is solved!” She was exultant and, by transmission, so were Jagdeeth and Zianja.

“Oh, what great joy you bring us!” said Zianja. “This is turning out to be a marvellous day, here on the Nenarimo Habitat! I’d love to give you a tour. Would you like a quick tour?”

“Wait, what about Unicron?” asked Jagdeeth. “Aren’t you affected by his aura? The people back home can’t stand it.”

“Ah yes, his aura,” replied Zianja. “You carry one of his probes within you. It repels lower-level people strongly but we here are higher-level. Our extra active dimension allows us to tolerate his presence. The probe isn’t exactly welcome but it is manageable.”

“Wow!” said Zmundra. “This is all so incredible! Does this mean that Jagdeeth and I are higher-level too?”

“You are right now,” said Zianja. “What happens later is up to Unicron. We’re not powerful enough to intervene in his actions. I hope that he shows you some mercy, at least.”

“What do you think that he’ll do?” asked Jagdeeth.

“Eventually, he’ll destroy your world,” said Zianja sadly. “Mine has already been consumed in his gargantuan guts. He’s travelling around the galaxy, eliminating life planets.” Jagdeeth and Zmundra were aware of Unicron’s genocidal tendencies but hadn’t fathomed the scale of his campaign, so they were stunned. They sat down on glowing chairs and tried to come to terms with this apocalyptic future. Zianja stood by them and commiserated. He’d already been through some of the worst of Unicron’s actions.

“The problem is that he gives no warning of his coming,” said Zianja. “He simply teleports into your solar system, destroys your world and then leaves. That is his main purpose. If he feels so inclined, he will hunt down your colonies as well.”

“How did you survive?” asked Zmundra.

“I was on the Starship Mibicomo during his attack,” said Zianja. “Altogether, a few millions of my people survived by being scattered along the space-ways. Now, we remain a diaspora and live in places like this.”

“So Nenarimo is…” began Zmundra.

“The best refugee camp in the sector!” said Zianja. “Well, it’s true. However, we prefer to call it a trans-galactic habitat for displaced species.”

“And you’re building it with materials from our world!” said Jagdeeth. “That’s such a noble purpose for us. I’m bursting with pride!” Zianja felt that pride and wiggled happily.

“Zianja, give us a time frame,” requested Zmundra. “When can we go home? When is the next Starship trip to our world?”

“Not for another fifteen hours,” replied Zianja. “I’m sorry but we can only go there at scheduled times to fit in with all other affected movements.”

“Alright, I’m sure that we can last fifteen hours,” said Zmundra. “I hope that you have the appropriate facilities for us while we wait. All this news of doom and destruction has made certain bodily functions more urgent.”

“Understood,” said Zianja. “The place that you require is the sanitary suite, which is only three doors down the way.” He led them there immediately.


* * * * *


“The matter has been settled,” said Zianja on an interstellar call after Jagdeeth and Zmundra had been sent home. “They’re back where they belong. The Unicron probe was withdrawn from them. As far as we can tell, there were no information leaks.”

“What of my nanobots?” asked the long-distance contact. “Did the cover story hold?”

“We told them that your people were more benevolent than Unicron described,” replied Zianja. “We explained that the nanobots were given to us as a tool of galactic improvement. Their people worked for us while we helped them to improve their societies immensely.”

“So, all is well,” said the contact as he absorbed the detailed report from Nenarimo Habitat. “We just dodged a planet-sized bullet. You continue to be in my favour. Keep up the good work.” He ended the brief call and closed his eyes, knowing how close they had all come to catastrophe. After a moment of reflection, he walked over to the balcony and gazed out into the universe. His secret campaign against Unicron would continue. He was Megatron, commander of the Decepticons and agent of the god Primus. He would have either victory or death.


* * * * *


SO, TO THE BEST OF MY KNOWLEDGE, THAT WORLD WAS INNOCENT.

I COULD INVESTIGATE FURTHER AND MAKE SURE OF IT.

BUT THEN, I AM UNICRON.

I NEED NOT SNOOP SO ASSIDUOUSLY.

I SHALL SIMPLY DEVOUR THE ROCK BALL AND BE DONE WITH IT.

PROBLEM SOLVED.


* * * * *


Their trespass into the service tunnel had been eradicated from collective memory by the nanobots.

In their little house, in their little town, Jagdeeth and Zmundra felt a sudden chill. It was a most unwelcome premonition. The great doom Unicron was coming closer: star by star, world by world, spreading silence and darkness everywhere.



Notes

This story takes place during the Autobot/Decepticon civil war. As well as fighting the Autobots, Megatron (Decepticon Commander) has a secret scheme to fight Unicron. To do this, he uses nanobots, non-living robots, starships and alien civilisations to build colossal numbers of weapons. Eventually, these will be brought together to confront the dark god. However, in the meantime, he must ensure that Unicron doesn't discover and disrupt his plan.

The idea of the klenzrum and the six wiping cloths comes from the increased popularity of wet wipes and also water shortages in the real world. People in a more arid environment might prefer to use disposable wipes rather than baths and showers, especially if that is more suitable for their skins and hair (or whatever they have to keep warm naturally). Jagdeeth and Zmundra have modest plumes of feathers on their heads.

Makkems' Avenue is a reference to the people of Sunderland, northern England. They are nicknamed 'Mackems', probably because they have a long history of shipbuilding and other manufacture. 'Mackem' comes from 'make them'.

A fatruck is a large, 'fat' truck of course.

A sprogulator is a pram or baby carriage with excellent suspension.

A reephreshe is an open-air café. Only the serving area has a roof.

A kaleidovir is somewhat similar to a kaleidoscope only bigger and electrically powered. It shows complex, multi-coloured patterns on a screen. These are mildly hypnotic, calming and soothing to the nerves.

In this world, an early form of television is available but the telephone hasn't yet been made widely available. Instead, people use telegraphs and teletypers.