2175 C.E.

VI: Pray to the Stars

Personal Journal: William Aucaman

08/19/2175

Fighting here on Earth began for real yesterday. Last night I heard that the Hegemony had attacked and invaded Uganda and Nigeria. All machine armies, of course; the Hegemony stopped using soldiers almost a hundred years ago. I didn't really think about it before today, but I'm not impressed by it when I do now. The African Union and the nations under it have close ties to the Grushan, who don't believe in mechanized armies. From what I've read, the Grushan think that using mechanized armies just makes wars less expensive; that means that it ultimately gets prolonged and can increase the damage done to civilian centers. So they regard mechanized armies as dishonorable and cowardly. In any case, the Africans adopted the same practice to win favor with the Federation, so now all the armies on our front are human armies fighting robots. I haven't heard much, but Adrian and I used to geek out together at military drone technology, though I admit he understood the inner workings much better than I ever did. So I know what the soldiers out there are up against. Those Hegemony robots are scary things; you can't hurt them with rifles at all. And Africa isn't really a good place for tank warfare, so they're in a bit of a bind.

Earlier today, Ambassador Dumarith traveled to our bomb shelter and spoke with us in private. He told me that the mystic he had summoned was on his way to Kinshasa, even despite the invasions and artillery bombardment; according to the ambassador, this Rorith had returned to "the old ways of the hunt," which I can only assume means he's traveling by foot through the jungle. I can't imagine that's safe for him, but Dumarith assures me that in such times as these, the old ways may yet be the safest. However, he may be several days out still, depending on where the artillery is falling at any given time.

I hope he shows up soon. Ever since we moved to underground bomb shelters, Olivia's been hovering between life and death. The doctors are doing their best to keep her stable, and it's more or less working, but even I can tell that she's in a bad way. Her skin has been getting paler and paler; it's almost white now, not like European white, but white like paper. Her skin has become almost translucent, too, like a glass that lets in light. We've noticed in addition that her eyes have started shifting about under her eyelids, like with REM sleep, so she seems to be dreaming. I don't know if that's good or bad.

Cynthia has been very strained by the whole affair. I can see she isn't sleeping well from the bags that are forming under her eyes. She hasn't been spending as much time with her sister lately, though I can't tell if it's because she's given up or if she's just trying to distract herself from the worry. I don't know how to even ask such a question. Instead of sitting with her sister all day, though, she's started volunteering to help out with supply runners and medical teams. I joined her shortly after she started doing it. I do think the distraction is helping her to cope with the stress, but she needs rest. I told her so, too, but she says she's been having trouble sleeping, not because of more Zaha-Katchem influence, just from stress.

"I look up at the walls, and I see all this thick concrete, and I just wish I could go home again," she said. "And then I think about home, and everything that we've been through over the past month, and then I just get this panicky feeling and I have trouble breathing." She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "I just wish I could have a window or something. I feel so claustrophobic in here."

I do wonder if there's anything I could do to help her through all this.

Letter: From Chinwe Opeyemi, 440 E Ormarith Rd, Jimeso, Ghana: To Eglantine Kayode, 1001 Sherman St, Imladris, Nova: Translated by Ibrahim Wassume