A day in the Undercity below the icy surface
I am working with some of my Brethren, the Grey Artificers, to repair an arcane engine at the roofless temple by the darkling cliff with Bach as background music.
Welcome Earthian, whatever you are. It is not easy to write for someone so far away from my planet, the seventh of our solar system. Even if an ancient AI does half the work. She is one of the last still working. A remnant of our dying civilization. We scavenged it from a wrecked stellar ship not long ago.
Before the icy surface engulfs it forever.
I dwell in a murky undercity a mile below the surface. Most of it is empty and without electric energy, but it suits us. Here, at least, We can live with some restrictions. I don’t know well how are the things going on Earth. Every bit of information is very hard to obtain and send, but here we are riven by old feuds and endless social strife.
My kinsmen have died out almost altogether. Only a few of us are allowed to live just by the worth of our empyrean blood. We were the builders of all the ancient technology. It was designed to obey us. Then we were powerful, proud and sacred.
Nevermore.
Now I just live to repair things which only obey my commands. I am forbidden to speak to everyone and leave the city. Besides I must occult my appearance behind an orichalcum mask and an ashen tunic. No one knows my face.
I don’t even have the right to be human any more, but when you have been hunted down all your life it is an improvement.
The Grey Artificers are just androids and not very talkative. I think that stand upright turnoff thousands of years had a bad effect on them. Therefore to unwind my feelings I learn outworld languages from far off planets like yours. My apologies for my English. I pick it up alone during restless nights reading ebooks and listening to audiobooks.
I just want to talk to someone somewhere. I neither know how much time I am going to live nor our society. The sun flickers, our energy system is broken and depleted, knowledge is forgotten and every night is longer and colder.
Someone is coming…
