A once peace-full planet told about from this antiquated story teller, the fortune of the teller is on the mind of Snake. Of perhaps esoteric knowledge somehow conceived of from the past was a not to far-off Earth like planet that hosts humans who have traditionally been unaware of the Earth we know today, and other humanoids only held by a few this secret. Before Snake cosmic was known of he was of from this said planet in eitology of genetic stock perhaps. The emergence in the re-interest of space travel with extinct bio-technology has been used in the migration between planets. As the currently of a climate for expedition called for a return to the homestead for the master lost in-time, the Old Snake that came before to learn what he can, that few would even not bother with.
At his current lodging Snake looks at film transposed unto crystal television of space charts. Snake reviews the corpus of the records of the planets and sees it was incomplete. “The old maps… son of a bee.” Snake the man of means has been searching for his master, ~lost in time. _Cosmic_Snake. His namesake he adopted for many years as his own. All records known mapping/*pre-space-travel_planet_distance maps_unknown origins* the ommition was the planets known existence by interference.
Back in-time to-now-a-time, hence the walls of the city and a great house is part of his religious foundations indicating places he‘s never been. Snake drinks tea “you‘re wrong, your beef wrong,” he mutters as he reads off the crystal screen the old religious writing of Augustine of duel cities, a dark city of evil that opposes the light city the holy city. In Geni’s absence she never grow fonder of him while not being a part of his life anymore. He with his own spine and mind to look after then some exterior bonding with others. A life’s work and knowledge was what Snake is.
A ship scrap yard is where he has made arrangements to collect on selling his ship. He takes himself on in the business of relinquishing his space ship with very few questions, as his reputation precedes him. The acquisitions of his ship to the ship yard of old junkers get scrapped into parts. His ship has bee been grounded there for some time. “I’ll take what I can get for it,” he says over the phone on the way to the ship yard. “I will be there soon,” he says over the phone to the owner of the the shop yard. He was able to get the ship for scrap opposed as making it space worthy again. The junkyard boss and a parts man meet Snake at the front desk of their shop entrance. They mutually simulate interest. “OK I can take it off your hands for about five-thousand in the baron bonds credit units,” says the owner of the place. Snake agrees this was the top currency for a guy like him to have. The man drops the credits in to Snake‘s folding hands, then he drops the metallic units into a sorted briefcase, opening like an accordion with fanned webing on each side of the snapping latch he lays out on the counter beside him then departs as all the arrangements for the transaction has concluded including the lot space payment ending his responsibility off its glory it was grounded on.
This now puts a hault to independent space access for him and his previous line of work. It‘s been his good fortune mining from space asteroids for exotic material. He was having a lot of trouble having the equipment suitable and reliable along with a ship that was safe to function in that business. In the confusion his work life and the stress of it all and Geni becoming estranged from Snake following the end of mining venture. He finds solice in the game and his achievements he has made. It‘s not that being alone was the highest enlightenment, or on the other hand a loss. The harbinger of bad news is completely irrelevant for someone like him, it rolls right off his shoulders. The need to explore was a haunting realization denied now as he rents a small cottage in the outskirts of Panama South America.
As for Mudd he has his repair shop he started a few years ago away on his own since Snake wasn‘t interested in maintaining their ship for the mining game anymore. Funny how Mudd was in this business of things getting too expensive to fix then gets into repairs. Mudd was learning more skills fixing repairs on the job with Snake’s ship such as the exoframes used in space waking, and circuitsboards and computer chips and several electronic components of the ships terminals that tend to wear out. He had learned a lot from the time spent on Snake’s ship fixing computers he had spliced together manually separate partitioned computers making the ship into some kind of scare-crow of a system interconnected pieces resembling a functional ship, while in fact it was just a sorry excuse of a ship of proper working order.
He has earned enough to have potato chips and some liquor. “Never forget, never forget,” he says to himself, “how far I came…” The memories Mudd had weren’t always pleasant you could say. Having to be reminded constantly of obsessed compulsions he wouldn’t want to talk about with anyone. What does the hangmen represent if not uncertainty for him. 42 was the number he thought would bring him some luck in his majical thinking. He lived above his repair store in an apartment unit with no other units but his own in the building. He had his building to himself that let him maintain some peace where he lives. He was just getting by financially after acquiring the shop where there was the space enough to work on parts while ships on a whole has been very secretive and controlled by a Baron contractors and private parties. As the building of space stations and reactors that powered them had took off before Snake was born and the Comercial shipping interested has waned since as being too expensive and more and more secretive.
Your thin red line, he thought. What’s to stop the next wannabe? The reverse happenstance in the pathagorian sense you ain’t changing me. I will come out clean Zenu as perhaps like Dub or Awas the impending doom as it were. The ordinary hum drum of some previous person who was in commerce in space, yet has always has been from Earth in recculation of affluence. I understand, do you, he thinks. Like cookies under the bed. No further… Snake recalls the depths of space as a place of memory. Light or vibration as wave and particle as panic is to the intermittently in interval the first cause distorting the periodic order, decahedron into then hexgonical now, no help in this station with the dropping plates on the backs of turtles the imagery of the cosmos of self system Sun Solar. Hypped up then loosh then repeat lack of respect to the mode as of rubber bands, going from one mode to another bouncing in kehenetic energy disseminated difuselly “meta then,” the understanding taking place.
Back in his awareness Mudd re-installed the backward assembled unit, getting on the housing the final cover to the air prosesor. Work is the living he makes for several reasons, stuck in a fast lane since being on his own. The back order two weeks then he doesn’t have the fucks to give. Finding the breach of video gaming social or cinaphile the long night’s away from sleep. Almost a kid’s Legos as a surrender to moving the frantic towards nature of civilization rising and falling. The mistro has a symphony of plans involving hunting and retuning to the temple. The work has paid off on his understanding of quantum packets and color codes of spectrum. The trade was just that, a trade for the cosmonaught and reliable specifications. The practice material necessity to form to the the thought-form of high value manuals with schematics. This was what made Mudd different than Snake was a level of obsession with objects.
“Destroying human lives with narcissism, I’m the best sort of thing… living a lie.” This Snake reads of his Journal. “The whole thing falls apart and someone needs to die,” he thinks in reflection reading between the lines. This begs the question what would he do to get on TV? He knew enough to expose the truth that would horribly test the fragile social order. I like the color pink, am I retarded? If wishing death by murder for the fragile mind of our modern codes of conduct towards those who offend the egos safe space, then we’ll… you are now are in the conversation. Back back on track or of the trek now Snake has been trying to get on the idea in his mind. A phone rings. “hello.” “Hey, it’s Snake… How long until we could find a couch and tea around here.” “Oh you’re in the area…” Some time has occurred and the time was a gamble. The turning of learning to call before you show up?“ “And hot coffee beats tea I suppose.” Such and such brought us here for some reason some how, he thinks. “We/you… you mean me no us old buddy?” “Old story, it gets old, us I mean.” The two fall back to their old habits of having their chit chat about the point of buying and selling, to the value set by the market that will be the new thing for everyone or the secret thing for some depending on the clientele. “The money in space got to risky to conduct business,” Snake copitulates. “If I had enough money to keep the thing going I would. It had seemed foolishly with no guarantee with staying as independent as possible for better bargaining for the crystal trade,” Mudd confesses. “The holographics have had such a boom creating crystal worlds that made the internet seem like a infant child, something of it’s own reality to continually change for a species that most have no idea how any of the technology works.” ”Last thing our friend the emperor (the CEO of Baron space contractors company) told me was that his spy’s have been tiped off on the infux of shamans from Un-accounted travel and origin,” Snake says while tending to over share sensitivite information. “We take our work serious, but not our selves and forgiving our mistakes,” Mudd says while shaking quiverly his hands in front of Snake.
Earth 2 was a place that was hidden in some ways it’s in between you and the truth in lore. The civilization and society are dyametricly opposed descending from the queen of unseen hide it in the capes of air in and out of fabrics much like sheets in need of wash. The creasant moon and orange sun in clippings resembling cuticles trimmings. The rate of growth equal to that of hair. Yet and still less than feet and hands, and yet funny the maintenance of trimming. “Banana boat was my crew, and yet the lotions was not as good as meat sticks.
