A hardhearted Ha'dar Salomi Queen, named Ussa Shein Romanalaet, was giving her underling yet another daily briefing. The Ha'dar are an extra dimensional race of beings that manipulate reality at human levels. Our world, to them, is a hologram. An echo of the proceedings of a “realer” world. As if a person living in a three dimensional world decided to fuck with some two dimensional beings.

Nashkandel: “My liege, you requested my presence?”

Ussa: “Indeed. Regarding ways of making the Zilm more interesting, is the weapon ready?”

Carter: “Yes. And my name happens to be Nashkhandel, .”

Ussa: ”While you’re in my presence Carter, your name is Carter.”

Nashkhandel: “Is that necessary, my Queen?”

Ussa: “Indeed.”

Carter: “Very well. So yes, the prototype passed its tests and the real deal is ready to initiate. Have you selected a destination, leige?”

Ussa: “I have, in fact.”

Ussa pulls up a map of the Milky Way Galaxy, which is known to the Ha'dar as Banthoon.

A large bird caws overhead,

Ussa:”So way out here on this arm is a planet on which they have sown chaos, and are ready to reap! You see, there are two technologically sophisticated races. They will be called Borg and Grob by these Earthlings. ”

Carter: “Earthlings, highness?”

Ussa: “I’ll get there, Carter! So the Borg and Grob were at each other's’ throat for a few centuries after meeting one another. This is because the systems are nearly exact opposites in their underlying ideology.”

Carter:”How so?”

Ussa:”Well, the Borg believe authority should be distributed primarily top down. From those capable of making decisions down to those capable of enacting them. In truth, they have all together lost their individuality. Each individual organism, and they do vary, identifies with the group.”

Carter: “I don’t really follow, Lord.”

Ussa: ”You’ve heard of three persons, one God?”

Carter: “Yes.”

Ussa: “Well, its many organisms; but only one entity. The Borg Collective. All Borg consciousness is connected.”

Carter: “And the Grob?”

Ussa: ”Much the opposite. Authority runs both ways effectively, but primarily from the bottom up. If ordered to fight a war they disagree with, a Grob member need only make their will clear and their duties to the conflict are absolved.”

Carter: “That’s looney!”

Ussa: “Well their argument is that; deciding whether or not to go to war, is such a complicated question that it should best be left to individuals to make. You see, the strength of Grob lie in the individual members of its collective. Not just in the group as a whole.”

The Dawn Chorus was performed on this occasion by Robbins, Willow Warblers, and a clutch Hermit Thrush. The light of dawn shown on Heather Anderson’s long, shiny, and purple-highlighted black hair, blue-jean overalls and t-shirt, and straw sun hat. On this cue Heather stood up.

“Not a bad morning, all in all.”

Heather then unwrapped the cut and tied fishing-line holding her two trout and one smallmouth-bass in her favorite oak tree. The thing was massive, unknown to others, and held many carved secrets. She would take this secret with her to the grave.

The porcupine watching Heather walk down the trail leading back to the house thought she looked like something a bear might enjoy malling. Heather knew she was being watched by this woodland creature, but decided to allow it to believe it was still hidden. Why pester it? Its all the more fun to observe his behavior while it isn’t being interfered with unnecessarily. At first the animal didn’t move much, but as Heather got closer to it, the animal took up an interest in the trout and bass which the weird animal was holding in its hands.

Just than Charles called out, “Hey, you aren’t gonna let Sonic Hedgehog eat our lunch are ya!”

Heather retorted under breath:

“If I don’t, knuckles and tails will just beat my ass!”

Charles: “Bahaha! How you doin’ hon? You were by that pond for quite a while. WIsh you had more to show for it?”

Heather: “Ah, but what you don’t know is the other projects I’ve been working on out here!”

Charles took a moment to really dig the fresh air as it blew on his remarkably Irish visage (Remarkable considering he was only a quarter Irish, unless the rumors about old aunt Trisdale are true. Than it becomes more like 33%). To dig the contrast of the green pines and robin’s egg sky. He then replied,

“I suppose you’ll tell me about it when you’re ready to.”

Heather: “Surly. For now I’ll just say it involves a cave and some chalk.”

Charles: “Wacky and Packy meet Leonardo Da Vinci on a playground so they can play hopscotch in Packy’s secret cave? Sounds interesting.”

Heather: “It’ll knock your socks off for…”

Just than Charles surprise tackled Heather safely into an immense ocean of leaves. Immediately the two were rolling around. At the same time they were rubbing and groping in a way that would questionably be considered PG-13. d

Heather: “You Knave! I was right in the middle of stroking my own ego when you blindsided me!”

Their energetic movements and laughter echoed those of the gray squirrels.

Thus, the two of them sank a little deeper in the leaf pile. Except “pile” isn’t quite the word. It was more like an above ground pool. Constructed with padded wood and filled with Autumn Tormalines. Eventually they settled comfortably in the woods.

Heather asked, “So our next stop on the fight against corruption is Thailand?”.

Reply, “You got it. I have interviews with the social works committee, heads of state, and an investigator name Caitlain. Her ends align nicely with mine.”

Heather, “As far as you know.”

Charles: “As far as I know.”

Charles turned to Heather,

Welcome to Cell Land. The mosquito drone has carried the genetic “seed” for Arthomus and placed it into Heather’s blood stream. The characters are cells. Because individual cells are sexless, or most of them are at least, I will be using gender neutral pronouns. Even grammatically incorrectly.

Trouble is brewing in cell land, and the stage is set for a hero.

One day, the humble cell at the center of our story will come to understand things most cells do not. But for now...

In a part of the Pancreas known as Lorena by its inhabitants, a Cell is teaching its newly divided son about life…

“What? What is this place?” Inquired the new Cell.

Paladeus is excited at the opportunity to explain things to the newcomer. “Welcome, Arthomus, to the Body!”

“The Body, you say? How did I come to be? And how did it come to be”

Paladeus thought this cell might be a fast learner. He would not be proven wrong.

“In a sense, Arthomus, you have already been. As the body has always een. Yet you have only recently been as you are now.

You are of me, Arthomus! I gathered some extra proteins and created you by relinquishing a piece of myself. You and I are as identical as cells get.”

Arthomus Looked quite concerned with this situation.“And so I owe you my life?”

Paladeus: “No Arthomus… You…. Is Art for short okay?”

Arthomus: “Yeah man.”

Paladeus: “Art, you should know that all cells come about this life. It is really the body that you owe a debt too. For, without this body you would be the food of something bigger, as likely as not. But the whole can be so much greater than its parts.”

Art: “But where is this Body, Paladeus?”

Paladeus: “It is all around us. It is even you and I, as we speak. It feeds us and keeps us healthy”

Art: “How does it do this? And why?”

Paladeus: “Oh Arthomus, not even the length of Mitosis have you existed; and already you ask such questions as keep cells up at night! But no more inquiry for now. You and I have work to do”

Art: “As you say, Father.”

Paladeus went to where his sons slept to wake them. When he found them half asleep he reasoned to himself:

“Let them pretend. They will hear my words all the same”

And then he said to his sons:

“Both of you did a good job yesterday. There is no more work for you today. I only ask that you rest well and replenish your motivations. Whether that should mean staying in bed or pursuing some hobby is no concern of mine. When I return tonight I will bring with me the ingredients I need to make us a more interesting meal.”

When Kaneacus heard this he decided more sleep would be just great. But Arthomus decided he would use the time to work on his protein carving. So he left the bedroom, went into their courtyard, and got to work.

Scene (g+1)

Later that day Kaneacus came into the courtyard to see Arthomus.

Kaneacus: “I’m bored Art. There’s nothing to do.”

Arthomus: “You need a hobby bro. And I mean besides complaining. Perhaps you might make for a good chess player.”

Kaneacus: ”Chess isn’t my thing.”

Arthomus: “ Try painting or writing. You could even try your hand at starting your own garden. Father would not object to you taking this or that seed from his stock.”

Kaneacus: “Sounds boring.”

Arthomus: “It sounds boring because you know nothing about. You really need to acquire a taste for acquired tastes. Sooner rather than later.”

Kaneacus: “Whatever you say bro.”

Kaneacus turned to leave. He was walking slowly because he thought his brother might actually have one more useful thing to say, but preferred not to admit it. Without stopping what he was doing,

Arthomus added: “There are many arts and hobbies that are difficult, yet rewarding. I would suggest you pick one”

Kaneacus turned his nucleus over his shoulder and halted:

“The market is busy today brother. There will be many opportunities for me to master the art of Pickpocketing. It would be both difficult and rewarding, as you say.”

Arthomus: “Fine. Go be a thief of others’ money. No more will you be a thief of my time.”

Kaneacus left his brother to his work. On his way out of the estate he thought,

“Let him waste time with proteins. I will learn how to fend for myself in this cold, cold world.”

Scene (g+2)

Once at the market, Kaneacus took the time to survey the scene.

He spied a handbag next to a carpet stand which an old woman was doing a poor job of attending to. She might even have been blind. And then Kaneacus did plot

“Look there! A bad which is ripe for the taking. This woman deserves for someone to steal her bag if she would leave it like that. I need only setup some distraction...”

Kaneacus spotted a pot of oxygen and, using his ribosomes, knocked it over with a well aimed amino acid chain. To his benefit, no one seemed to notice the pot break.

The oxygen merchant looked nonplussed:

“Alright, who’s fucking with my pots! Is it you again Jacob? You and your damned carpets!”

Jacob: “I’ve done no such thing. And what happened the other day was an accident, and you know that! If you don’t attend to your temper, this place might be made free of its least necessary Oxygen merchant!”

The merchant made to come after Jacob playfully. Two guards, seeing all of this, decided to walk over to the commotion.

Instead of hurting Jacob, Fred the merchant picked him up playfully.

“How’s my little bother doing? Quite well by the look of that embroidery.”

Jacob responded, while working his way out the grip: “What can I say. Business...”

Just then Jacob slipped out and leg swiped Fred. He then continued,

“.. is good.”

The guards who watched all of this knew the difference between brothers messing around and fight breaking out, and so did nothing. What they failed to notice was Kaneacus making off with not one, but three bags.

One morning Paladeus woke his sons to tell them that they were responsible for taking care of the house while he was away on a trip. And also their big sister Andrette would be in charge.

The two went in the kitchen. Andrette was already there making breakfast.

Andrette: “You boys hungry? We got eggs, toast, milk, and fruit of course.”

Kaneacus: ”You bet. Looks delicious.”

Arthomus: “Another great meal from a satisfactory chef.”

Andrette: “Just satisfactory eh? Maybe I’ll forget to cook your eggs sunny side down; like you like.”

Arthomus: “Did I say satisfactory? I meant phylactery.”

Andrette: “Smart Ass! Just eat your damn breakfast! Oh and by the way; I may not have read as many books as you, but I know that word makes no sense in this context. Unless I have recipe hidden in a piece of scripture somewhere.”

Arthomus: “You know I love you, sis.”

Andrette: “Of course I do. I’ll be mending fences today if anyone needs me.”

And so breakfast was had and the boys headed into the courtyard.

Kaneacus: “What shall we do today, brother?”

Arthomus: “We could swap stories.”

Kaneacus: “Cool. you first.”

Arthomus: “Learning the lesson of this story may help you one day, brother.”

A man lived with his wife, a son, and a daughter.

One day he went out fishing to his usual spot on the bank of a (relatively)large river; which flows not far from his house. Today an unusual thing occurred, there was another man in his spot! He supposed the stranger had no reason to expect the spot belonged to him, as it stood in public and open land.

“Good mornin’ to ya!” Said the stranger.

“Aye, much the same to you.” Replied the man. He then added.

“Wherefore ye standeth like a blind frog, on a rotten log, over an empty bog?”

The stranger chuckled vigorously; and then replied.

“Well, tell ya the truth Sir; I don’t shodding well know how to fish a river like this! Every time the bait goes in the blasted fish take off!

Haha. I’m used to big Oceans, you know?”

The man, “Well that’s quite alright, Sir. I can show you the trick, if that’d do ya well.”

Stranger: “Does me just fine, and all thanks.”

The man stood in his usual spot, the North Facing side of a bridge which went over a smaller portion of the river.

“So to start out, I like to find the fish and target them with gently placed sinkers.”

“SInk pretty quick wouldn't they?” Inquired the Stranger.

“You’ll get a bite before it drops, often enough.”

And so they fished until dark.

One day he had noticed that he had a cold.

Over time this cold got worse and worse.

And it so happened that the man died three years later, having never taught either of his children to fish.

The two siblings decided one day to go out fishing.

The stranger was using the man’s spot, not knowing he was dead, when he was approached by two younger folk.

“Hey there”

“Hiya!” Replied the daughter.

“Could you be so kind as to teach us how you cast and such? It so happens that our mother was widowed before we were taught.”

The man looked very pleased and laughed openly.

“But of course; no skin off my bones anyhow.”

The son and daughter nodded simultaneously.

And the setting son that afternoon was as a celebration.

The man Arthomus was considered impressive. His parables, a few being borrowed (“Well read as well” Some would say.); lead him to being known as wise beyond his years. He also seemed to possess the powers of persuasion and telepathy.

Many loved him.

Some hated him. But as it was, his timing was perfect. So much so, that many were considering if this was merely coincidental.

And so it was that many cells of the pancreas did follow and abide in the wisdom of Arthomus

...

Arthomus: “Of this body, you all understand only a tiny sliver of what there is to know. Yet all or most of what is necessary. It loves and nourishes all, but does not laud it over us. Is it not fair that the same be asked of you?”

Menelaus: “There are some who brag, Master.”

Arthomus: “And there are also some who eat their children wantonly. As long as the majority of us can recognize foolishness, the few fools who live are of no concern. In eating their children they stop themselves from extending their own foolishness.”

Understanding was writ upon the faces of many.

...

A young Cell to Art

“But why not, if you have such influence, kill all the cancers? And the bacteria, viruses, etc.?”

Arthomus: “It is because I have such influence, that I do not do these things. For if I had the immune system do as you say; then all that you know of would parish. You and the body would both die. Know this, what seems to be disorder from a narrower view can be the manifestation of order from a broader view.”

*A smirk cross his face as Arthomus pauses

“I say it is the will of the body that bacteria exist; even right here in the guts. And especially here. Though you think they smell of ribonucleases, and as such cannot be trusted; the predictability of their nature is their bond. Bacteria can be trusted to be bacteria. And cells can be trusted to be cells; to eat, shit, and spread as they would.”

The cells found all of this hard to accept, yet accept it they did. For the actions of Arthoums, along with his natural profundity, lead most to trust him until sufficient reason was given not to.

That night there was such a party among the apostles as to entice others to share in their company. Put simply, all cells know that the good times which roll should be allowed to do so.

The Pancreas was divided into three main kingdoms. Thracia, Aminoa, Exocytaria. The heads of Aminoa and Thracia were all gathered in the capital of Aminoa, Meaphon.

As was tradition, the King of Aminoa was the first to enter the discussion chamber of his own capital. He then welcomed the King of Thracia into the chamber. By this means, and within a reasonable frame of time, all were welcomed in and took their respective place. Everyone knew his or her place; because of their actual position in the room, as well the person who invited them.

For example, because the Commander in Chief was considered “above” Arthomus in rank; he was welcomed in before him. Also, because Arthomus’ companions were present on his behalf, he was the one to welcome them. Also, as a result of this process; everyone had an opportunity to know everyone else’s name.

King of Aminoa: “With the proceedings out of the way, may we all come together and solve our problems. Amen.”

All: “Amen.”

Commander In Chief of Aminoa: “General Rouchev, why don’t you unfurl the map so we can all get a clear picture.”

General Rouchev: “Of course, Sir.”

Heather, Charles, Kim; and Arthomus are sent to the Grob home world of Mananėin. This is after the Grob telepathically communicated to Arthomus, and to the quadlet, to get their consent to be sent. Normally beaming people from other planets is nearly impossible; but Art, being a concentrated center of psychic focus, acts as a signal intensifier.

Once inside of a Grob hanger:

“Hello.”

“Hiya”

“Yada Yada mission detail.”

“Yada Okay.”

“Yada, don’t know what to think of Earth Men yet; consider this an audition of your way of being.”

“Laughing, leaving.”

Mission goes okay.

The team is mostly separated from mission. A few Grob remain with them. They stumble into a mystery and lose communication.

The Ha'dar are livestreaming the (assisted) struggle of the Galactic boondockery. It is called the Zilm. Ha’dar citizens can freely view Zilm content. Some have jobs related to the Zilm. Including directors, inventors, covert instigators, etc. It is considered very important that no “lower” beings ever discover the truth of their being fucked with. Wether one decides to influence bacteria or sentient beings, one must remain absolute secrecy. Pulling invisible strings from a distance.

Before they can explain anything to anyone, a disaster strikes. The Ha'dar send Art’s psychic energies on overdrive. The resuslt is the explosion of mining site they were investigating. Deciding they lacked the time to explain what happened, the group go into hiding.

Once they have enough evidence to support their case; they go out of hiding. The fate of the whole group, including the Grob (And one Borg) sympathizers depends on a Galactic courtroom proceeding.

The case of Art’s innocence in the original explaosion is sufficiently made.

The council is also convinced of the existence of the Ha'dar. And of their doings. Their doings, which always visible but never recognizable.

Art wants to know what it takes for him to not be so controllable by the Ha'dar.

The Grob, Borg, and Earth part of the Galaxy (Lil’ Way) all team up. They have to:

Look natural so the Ha’dar are never the wiser.

Make a plan by which the Galaxy can rebel.

Communicate this plan with others, again keeping the Ha’dar in the dark.

They eventually decide the best option is to secretly help everyone else pass the challenges. They play the Ha’dar game their way.

The Ha’dar know the “lesser” are joining up. They expected that.

They also know Art is helping them. They know everything he knows.

Art discovers a way to control his powers, and control the influence of the Ha’dar over him. It is later determined that what Art must to do to free himself of remote Ha’dar influence, is to incorporate element of Ha’dar already inside of him. Once he does that, the Ha’dar can no longer directly “toy” with him. His acceptence of this element of his being removes this kind of influence. But this is fair, because that lost influence is being made up for.

The harder Art tried to fight the Ha’dar part of him, they more directly they could influence him.

Instead of the Rebels wiping out the “Empire”; the war is fought well enough that the Coalition of Pipsqueeks gets the Ha’dar to agree to play their game from a further distance. That the peoples of this Galaxy have earned more “breathing room”. WIthin this space, it is discovered what they are made of. They are still being interfered with, but only in ways they can’t really pinpoint. The influence moves one discrete level up the continuous hierarchy of “un-noticeability”.

Basically, the Ha’dar do not crush the Milky Way naturals. Because one, its really hard to do that. Killing 99.99% of anything is simple enough, but that last bit is always a bitch. So that’s one reason why the Milky way doesn’t get crushed for its fight against nature’s diplomats. And what fun is a dirty city full of squashed insects? But also because they earned t. They earned their freedom. They earned a new layer of sovereignty, and the Zilm can only become more interesting for the Ha’dar appreciation of this fact

What Won the day for the body of Heather was also what won the day for our Galactic region (Grob and Borg not wiping each other out.) was also what won the day for the Milky Way. And that is:

Voluntarily Toughening oneself in the face of adversity.

Taking the self interest of all involved into account, and finding the middle ground of Truth.

Incorporating the destructive element into being.

Not underestimating nature, or the enemey.

A willingness to be wrong.