Chapter One : The Mukhseh (pg. 2-8)

 

   A thin and gentle stream of water spouted down from Samseil’s lips, and silently plunged into the trench-flow brook beside the drinking wall. The bright sun glistened over the water as it slid away to the right, dragging the saliva with it. Samseil listened briefly to the sound of the water trickling out of the spiles which stuck out from the mud-brick wall. The crystal-clear water came through the earth from the forested mountain above them. Her ears then trained along the brook in the direction of the water’s flow, until she heard the distant sound of the stream spilling downhill. 

   A second time, Samseil bent down low and crouched with her knees huddled firmly against her chest. With two hands, she gently cupped beneath the faucet in front of her until enough water pooled. After quickly tossing the water into her mouth, she looked to the sky and exhaled so that it bubbled at the back of her throat. Only four seconds, when she bent back down and quietly drained the water from her lips again. 

   Neighboring folks beside her did the same. The water-trench filled briefly with foggy water, until the flow dragged the contaminated solution away. The wall spickets replaced the trench with clear water once more. 

   Samseil looked ahead while still crouched, closed her eyes, and lightly tapped each palm upon her shoulders. Bassemm, she muttered, almost inaudibly. 

 

   It was custom to cleans your mouth in early morning each day for many reasons. This tradition was carried out before the first meal as part of the preparation process prior to consuming food. Washing one’s mouth with the mineral-cleansed water by two thorough and precise rinsings, ensured that all bad things were washed away from the previous day. Terrible things one has said or heard or believed, and all physical disease could be evaded and erased from before. It also welcomes in the new day and follows the belief that your food in the first meal should not be contaminated before swallowing. It is considered terrible luck to consume food with an uncleansed mouth, since it brings that dirt back into the body. To miss this ritual is taboo, but more so, worrisome. One’s own grandmother may rush over and scold you, but then offer blessings and hope that the day would not compile negativities from yesterday which weren’t yet swept away. 

 

   Samseil was well aware of the importance of Tehnz, the cleansing time in the morning. Missing it was never worth the risk. And above all else, it was most important to mutter your vow of diligence, your word of gratitude, and your willingness to be positively guided and oriented. Such a complex emotion was simply put in one word that could be heard by the water, carried along and listened to by the trees, and understood by the wind. It would protect you in the times to come. 

   Today, she had taken the daily oath more solemnly and honored it with more intentional purpose, keeping the utterance to only herself and her breath. If performed more quietly, nature would hear it more resolutely. Quiet, but clear intention, stands out as a bold and honest gesture to the natural world. It lacks any possible deception. Samseil ensured that it was received even better this morning, since the following meal would be predictably fateful. 

 

   It had recently been announced that the Ohn’Alfuhl High Councilor would be joining the city of Heiroh for a grand meal on this day. The market square had been converted into an immense banquet. Tables were lined in a row that spanned one hundred feet down the corridor. Chairs in groupings for families and individuals lined each side. At the center, a stoic, yet simply black chair was positioned for Councilor Alfuhl. Two red seats sat on either side for his accompanying Generals in Civil. They, together, managed the means of connecting with people throughout The Outreach and mandated mutual respect between leadership and citizenship. 

  Alfuhl, son of the Ohn family, had assumed his role upon an election sometime after Samseil’s birth. Not Alfuhl’s parents, but his great grandfather, had served as a former High Councilor. Others, from different families, had taken up the role in the many decades between. To have the renowned, Ohns in office again was, at times, controversial, but nonetheless seen as a remarkable feat for the nation. It embodied that positive times were returned at last, and reminded elders of their proud citizenship under the previous Ohn administration. Now, one decade had passed since Alfuhl’s election, and not many things had changed. Although a stagnation of change was, at first, a massively positive relief by comparison to the tumultuous eras before, it’s continuation was driving unrest. Many wondered why the High Council had enacted such a silent role in the nation’s ongoings. Only minor advancements had been made, and no greater alterations in policy were drawn up. 

   Ohn’Alfuhl announced that it was time to travel and gather in his largest cities and celebrate with great meals among the people he represented. Upon years of this rising concern over complacent practices, he responded with a tour of inclusive events and conversations to liven the morale. In this event, Samseil was exceptionally cautious and anxious, since she, along with only two other members of Heiroh, had been chosen to conduct the opening song of the celebratory feast. They had been selected to sing The Wuem. 

This song was complex. It twisted to high octaves, and quickly dove into incredibly low parts. Arpeggiated lines swooped up and down and gradually quickened pace. Then, for a final exclamation, a note must be held out upon the eve of a breath for what seemed like centuries. If mastered appropriately, there would be no doubts from the audience about a perfectly harmonious future to come. This note alone, could set the tone of the event. 

 

   So, Samseil stood and set out away from the drinking wall, and made her way to the city center. She had already been dressed for the performance, her hair neatly in an upwardly braided spiral, and her wide cuff bracelet was wrapped around her left wrist. The market square was lively already, and she glanced around at the people arriving and those who were finalizing preparations. 

A waist high, brown and dome-headed robot skittishly raced across the path in front of her. It was creaking and spewing a list of things as it whirred by. Dust flew off its old surface and she could tell it was quite old and had been working for too long. It’s time to retire, she thought.

 

   Eventually, the chaos settled down and the square became quite still and quiet. Only hushed murmuring was heard along the length of the table. Samseil, and two others, whom she hadn’t yet met, stood upon a shallow stage facing the High Councilor’s chair. The three had never been given the chance to practice together. Samseil fealt that it was an easy set-up to fail miserably. However, she pushed these thoughts desperately away. It was no good to clog one’s mind with negativity directly after Tehnz. Her Bassemm this morning should be strong enough to tie the fabric of this sacred song in place. 

 

   Only moments later, a very audible, mechanical humming came within earshot directly above the square. A dark shadow eased over everything slowly until it stopped and completely covered the area.
Samseil peered up. A massive ship, possibly a village in size, hung like a leaf high over their heads. It blocked the entirety of the sky that had formerly been in view. When the mechanical sounds lessened as the ship halted, it appeared to defy all physics of nature. It floated elegantly, yet imposed itself with rude prominence. Along the bottom of the ship, so many leggy wires and tubes and structural beams criscrossed the black surface. Some large octagonal-outlined slits were salted among the machinery and created few open spaces. At that moment, the center octagon slid to the side and a clear tube began descending from the belly of the ship. 

   The cylinder moved at a snail’s pace, but within a few minutes, it had reached the ground twenty feet from the singers’ stage. Samseil could easily see the three figures standing inside. A rounded doorway slid up and they each stepped out to face the table. The nearby attendees made a ruckus of approval. A head official for Heiroh stood and bowed, greeting Alfuhl. Alfuhl humbly bowed his head in return. 

   The High Councilor wore a tall hat, shaped like a vertically stretched trapezoid. Decorations hung from the peaks on either side, and criss-crossed fabric patterns covered the front. From the bottom rim, delicate chains of coral beads fell around his neck in a peculiar pattern which formed a chest and back resting, double necklace. His clothing was a simple, dark cloak, containing minimally raised patterns only visible in changes of sunlight against it. The cuffs of his sleeves were large, white, and downy. They bore a red, flame-like pattern around them. 

   Alfuhl’s two Generals of Civil wore tight-fitting, red formal vests with high shoulders, emphasizing a prominent V-shaped motif. They wore thin-materialed caps that pressed firmly against their heads, almost conforming to the shape of the skull. In the rear, a narrow point tipped upwards a few inches. They each wore over-extended, dark kilts that fell to a mere inch above the ground. A glowing, communications neck-piece was adorned by all three members of the group. Samseil noticed that the whole group also had much a much paler complexion than the people of Heiroh. In a sense, she felt them to be very alien. 

 

   When the High Councilor and his accompaniment, which also included four other figures who came down from another transport tube, had been seated, the event commenced. Samseil and the other two singers began their tune without prompting from the crowd. It was important to know when to start. If any member of the audience had to announce the song, the singers would be viewed as incapable for the task. 

   The song began slowly with long, resonating chords. One of the three members had the sole responsibility of covering an incredibly low, reverberating part. That vocal part radiated similarly to the sounds of a didgeridoo or other similar instrument. Samseil and the other singer then rose the piece higher, building it up and up as they continued. 

   Her heart was racing as the section came with leaping notes which sprung high out of the tenor-dominated melody. They shot up as single sparks among the other notes. Soon, the rippling waves of sound condensed and inclined higher, each accented with hairpin dynamics. 

   Throughout the entire ordeal, Samseil could only focus on the armrest’s front medallions of Alfuhl’s great chair. The singers had to focus on the guest court as tradition, though she could only look below their faces to avoid observing any judgement. Occasionally, she glanced quickly to the side to look for friends or family, though it was never long enough to point anyone out of the audience. 

   The final, high-pitched, fluttering trill fell shortly into the last chord. All three singers exhaled it at the edge of their breath, and lasted the resonation for many minutes. After holding it out for so long, the other upper octave singer signaled the end with a barely audible throat click. Samseil cut her note, as well as the singer covering the low part. Her neighbor who had motioned for their parts to end, continued the last note for a few more seconds at the tail end of a breath. It faded so steadily until it appeared that the breeze carried the finale of it away. 

   There was a heart-pounding pause of silence. It continued far too long and the audience merely stared and waited. Then, upon the appropriate timing, the High Councilor entered the full approval of the crowd. He signaled this by rubbing his palms together above his head. The rest in the square followed his action, so that the entire area filled with a sound like soft ocean waves.

 

   Samseil was now sitting between the members of her large and humble family. They were thrilled beyond belief for her accomplishment, and Samseil’s grandmother nearly smothered her to death. Their affections were brief, however, since the High Councilor would begin announcing the reasoning behind his arrival. 

   The sound of his neck-piece communicator, or microphone turning on shot out a ruffled click that bounced of the walls of buildings around the square. They heard him inhale shallowly. 

   “Do excuse my tardiness this midday”, he began, clearing his throat and grinning, “The Fevv was rather unconventionally faulty this morning”. He looked up to the massive ship, still looming overhead, “Though I must assure you that our fleets are always in proper condition”. 

   There was a quiet sense of movement among the people in the square. They all nodded in response. 

   “There have been concerns of late-”

   “Three years late!-” came a sudden shout from far down the isle. Whoever had announced that plea of opposition was quickly silenced, either by a family member or some other person. No one saw who made the dissent. 

   “Either way, I wish to respond as diligently as possible and provide promise that our nation is working hard. Great things await us at the ever-approaching horizon”.

   He continued to depict much about the government’s investment in resource management and extraction, refinement of manufacturing and distribution processes, and efficiency improvements for the Fevvs fleets. This was intended to boost pride in the government’s current functions, though it was seemingly backfiring. As the High Councilor began receiving further confused expressions from his audience, he decided to make an early departure. The crowd wasn’t just displeased, but was suspicious. There was a new concern arising that questioned where any funding was being used to support the people of the nation. 

 

   The next morning, Samseil returned to the drinking wall as always and looked ahead at the rows of spickets. She found an opening and knelt down, reaching out and cupping water with her hands. The water splashed against the roof of her mouth and she rinsed out the distaste left in her mouth from Alfuhl’s visit. Once again, nothing was really changing for anyone. He continued to focus on improvements to things so far away and out of sight. It seemed too abstract to be anything worthwhile. 

   She tilted her head back down and spit the water back into the trench with pursed lips. There was a minimal frustration simmering in her blood this morning, but it was vital to release the water in a controlled and silent fashion. 

   We shouldn’t be so chained to the high government when they maintain themselves as such distant parents, she thought to herself as she paused before reaching for the second amount of water. What we need is the new Mukhseh. The people need folk-led freedom, risen out of the ashes of our nation’s neglect. Then, she swished away the defiant nature of the idea with her second mouth-rinsing. It was no use clogging her day with frustrations. So, it seemed optimal to forget the notion for now. 

   After she bent down a second time to release the contaminated water and let it wash away, there was a tinny snap. It wasn’t loud, but she noticed it. Before Samseil even had the chance to react, her cuff-bracelet, a cherished family heirloom, slipped off of her wrist and quickly fell. 

   She reached down to swipe it up as the side clanged against the stone edge of the water trench. That move only sent it spinning and flying forward where it crashed against the mud-brick wall. She reached out again, frantically clammering to grasp a hold on her bracelet. Every swipe and effort to reach it was thwarted as it was swept away in the flow of water. 

   Samseil stood and pivoted to the right, swerving around a couple of other members performing their Tehnz. There were some exlamations of surprise as she shoved by and followed her bracelet to the edge of the platform. Another, half-height wall blocked her way where the water flowed into a woodland brook downhill. It was densely forested and she could no longer see her cuff. It violently fell down the mountainside through the tree roots that jutted out of the stream. 

   Her mind, which had not yet come to terms with the situation, had only one word still hanging in there, Bassemm, but she did not mutter it this time.