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Eclecticaton

      Echo was, in general, one of the mellowest, ‘zen’ people you could ever meet. Even people who didn’t believe in her visions of D’ni, and thought she was deluded or crazy or both agreed that she was pretty relaxed.  Sure, she had her moments, like any human being does- but even when she was upset, it was this sort of quiet intensity.

    Today was different.  She’d been over by the Great Library, painting something only she could see.  A few of us were watching her, like an underground Bob Ross. Not just because it was fun to watch her paint (I’d once mentioned Bob Ross to her, and she’d promptly painted a “Happy Little Great Tree” into what she was working on.), but because you never knew when she’d start talking about what she was “seeing”- and her stories (true or not) were fascinating.

    She seemed on the verge of saying something, when there was a series of incoming links behind us. Normally the vwooom noise was ignorable, but this was a dozen or so in close succession.  It was a cluster of new explorers, the largest group of newbies I’d seen in a while, all chattering animatedly about discovering D’ni and being in various stages of Yeesha’s Journey.

    One of them, obviously further along in the Journey than the others, started lecturing about the Pride of D’ni, and how the poor Bahro suffered- the usual Yeeshaist party line. They were still going on about it as the group walked off, and we all went back to watching Echo- but she’d stopped painting, and was stareing after the group with something like loathing crossing her features.

    Echo tried to go back to painting, but you could tell she was agitated. She was tapping her brush on her hand and fidgeting with the paints. Her whole body was restless, and she kept looking back the direction the group of newbs had gone.

    Finally she set her things down, squared her shoulders, and strode off towards the cluster of people now gathered in the circular landing between the library and the bridge. There were still on the same subject matter when Echo walked up to them and announced loudly “Yeesha was wrong.”

     The conversation screeched to a halt, as they all turned to face this random redhead who has interrupted them.  The one who’d been talking, irritated at having his monologue cut off, glared at her and asked “Who the hell are you?”

     The more experienced explorer went to kick the guy’s shin, but Echo held up her hand, forestalling him. “I’m Echo McKenzie.  And Yeesha was wrong.”

     A hush fell. Even the newest of them had heard about Echo.  The leader cleared her throat, and started to speak- “Well, I’m sure you would agree that…”

     Echo whipped her head around to glare at her. “I wouldn’t agree to anything.”

     “Yeesha!” She snarled scornfully. “Yeesha lectures us on the Pride of D’ni.  “D’ni grew proud…” she says, “… and then it died.” But what does Yeesha really tell us? The stories of few Kings who were horrible.  A single Age that was supposedly a hub for a slave trade.”

     “She tells us that the Bahro were enslaved to the D’ni. That D’ni was “Built on the backs of the Least.” But when did that slave trade start? How did the Bahro, obviously an intelligent species, with powers that eclipsed, in some ways, the D’ni’s own, how did they become slaves? What about the Tablet gave the D’ni control?”

     “And was it all of the Bahro, the entire species, or just some of them? How did they become trapped here when there was no D’ni in control? Are we freeing them because they were slaves then, or because they were somehow stuck now?” Why do we do this strange ritual for beings we know nothing about on the say so of a hundred year old hologram? Especially given that the result seems to be a violent war that could come crashing down on our heads at any time?!”

     Her voice had risen to near yelling, and the sound had attracted a crowd-people being urged “Down in front!” so the people in the back could see, others sending KI messages out to their friends, that Echo was on a tear.

     As if the press of people was a physical weight against her, she turned to the railing and leaned against it heavily, taking deep, long breaths in an attempt to calm herself. No one said a word, we just waited. Finally, she turned back to her audience, calmer, but still firm.

     “Freeing the Bahro is a noble and worthy task. No matter how they became stuck, they need to be unstuck. But Yeesha ties the enslavement of the Bahro into the Fall of D’ni. She blames the sin of Pride for D’ni’s destruction.  And she is wrong. “

     “A few bad Kings, no matter how bad, over 10,000 years, does not a ‘prideful’ society make.  A hidden slave economy, known to only a limited few, does not a ‘prideful’ society make.  What is pride, anyhow? Was the whole of D’ni really overrun by a cultural sense of hubris and importance that caused their society to crumble under its own weight?”

     “No. Not at all. D’ni ended because of hate. The hate of a single man. A man so vile, so determined to revenge himself on the society he thought had wronged him, that he manipulated and twisted the feeling and weaknesses of others to his own ends. A man so evil that he was willing to murder every single man, woman and child, just to feel superior, and to become a God. “

     Echo opened her arms to encompass the cavern in a vast gesture. “How many people do you think lived here, at the end? Thousands? Millions?  You could drop the whole population of Manhattan Island in here, and we’d be ok. “

     “How many of those millions even knew about the Bahro? Maybe a dozen? Maybe more? How many of those millions did anything but go through their day-to-day lives, just like every person on the surface.“

      She pointed at the person who’d first raised her ire.  “The D’ni were just like you.  They had jobs, they had families, they had lives and loves and dreams and just were.”

     “Pride didn’t kill those people. An engineered biological weapon did.  A domestic terrorist did.  They were slaughtered in the streets, and hunted down in the Ages where they took refuge. They died in fear and chaos and confusion. How many of them deserved to die because of ‘pride’?”

     “Remember that, when you hear Yeesha talking. Remember that she has her own past, her own scars, and her own agenda. She her own idea of right and wrong, her own assumed burden of guilt for her family’s role in the Fall.” “Remember, when you start feeling superior to the “prideful” D’ni culture- that millions died in a single day.  An entire culture wiped out because of one man’s evil.”

     She looked up as a group of explorers wearing wing suits, some with smoke bombs attached, dove off the newly installed platform on the Arch of Kerath- spiraling down in patterns to suddenly dissapear off into their Reltos.

     “Explorers have forgotten what D’ni was- a thriving, ancient culture, that ended in sudden tragedy. To some, D’ni is just a cool place to be.”

     “Can you imagine holding a dance party or skydiving among the plaster casts of Pompeii? Can you visualize the scandal and outrage if people started just moving in to Pompeii’s old buildings? People visit, people explore, people even picnic and listen to music and enjoy the area, but always with a sense of reverence. Pompeii was buried in 79 AD… D’ni fell nearly 1700 years _after_ that… and yet here we are, reclaiming this mass grave for our homes and commerce and entertainment.”

     She lifted a hand to her eyes, like she was in pain, or all the talking had drained the life out of her.

     “Bringing new life to D’ni and the Ages is the dream we all shared when we felt called here, but we should never, ever forget what the cost was, for us to have all these wonders to explore.”

     She let her hand drop to her side, flipped open her Relto book, and vanished.  We all just sat there, stunned, and considered how nothing in D’ni is really what it seems.