Nearly two centuries from now the old city of Minerva finds itself on the edge of a desert wilderness. At its center is an arcology run by the new aristocracy and their techno-Gaian religion. The paths of young Eligia and Galya are on a slow collision course caught between the dependencies and conflicts of their contrasting communities, surrounded by shadowy outlaws, and on the frontlines of a neo-feudal power struggle.
Nearly two centuries from now the old city of Minerva finds itself on the edge of a desert wilderness. At its center is an arcology run by the new aristocracy and their techno-Gaian religion. The paths of young Eligia and Galya are on a slow collision course caught between the dependencies and conflicts of their contrasting communities, surrounded by shadowy outlaws, and on the frontlines of a neo-feudal power struggle.
When winter descends, do you hold fast to the memory of boundless verdure, lamenting the withering splendor, the harsh cold winds driving us inside? Or do you welcome the relief from the stifling clamor, grateful to be able to see through the trees? It seems impossible to remember by October what we felt in March. What we do remember seems to only justify the brilliant bloom of death & the silence of ice.
If we are to learn anything from the comings and goings of the epochs of history, it’s that the essence of the new world starts as one of many seeds of possibility planted in the minds of those at the end of the old. What determines which seed will conquer in the end is its ability to discover and make the best use of the most fertile matter of the decomposing order.