AiAhziRa
Ahssiah falls to Earth, landing in the desert, arising from the dirt. First light has just begun its tender musing with the sky as Ahssiah begins to walk, his naked body traversing the land, finger tips intimately tracing the rocks as he passes as if touching a lover's skin. Though he has no memory from where he's come, where he's going, nor what he's here on this world to do, he moves with an intuitive fluidity through the land, as an extension of nature itself. He is water cascading through the boulders, guided by gravity, taking the most direct path through the landscape to the lowest point where it meets the others who've fallen from the sky. Though unlike the water, Ahssiah's path leads to the highest point in the nearby terrain, the top of a desert mountain.
As he moves, he calls to the silent forces animating Life in the barren lands, whose absolute isolation provides a womb nurturing communion with the Natural Sound. His tounge strums the roof of his mouth making a click, so soft its barely audible, as if he did not want to intrude upon the silence. He pauses his motion and stills his breath, listening to the soft passage of wind through the sparse brush. Then again, he calls with his voice, this time embroidering vocal tones into the sonic breath which leave his lips, dissipating like smoke into the nothingness. He continues this pattern of sound and silence in rhythm, each time growing louder as the presence of the wind picks up.
The rock walls become steep as he nears the mountain's peak. With careful precision and persistent pacing, he threads his limbs across the wall, weaving his way to the top. Soon after he crests its summit, luminous rays of morning light cut across the sky casting golden sentience upon thunderclouds who brew in the far horizon, crawling across the Earth. The wind picks up. It's clouds collect like no other storm this world has seen and like many that are to come. They shimmer in prismatic refractions, pixelated fractals glitching in a way so subtle a passing glance would never perceive, but for those who are called to see, their miracle is mesmerizing.
Ahssiah hums, animating his tones with slow dancing hands as he entrains his eyes to the approaching storm, calling it closer.
He goes to the ruins of the fallen king. There exists a crater in the earth with steep walls decored in the decrepit remains of the Day structures which once reached so elaborately into the heavens. The space is flooded in graphitti and magnificent stones heaped in piles of waste forming caverns for spirit creatures dwelling inside.
He tunes into the center of the room where lies a great crevasse, the space in which the foundation cracked calling all the walls to come tumbling down around him. It’s darkness is like a raw wound, emanating heartbreak into the space.
He pulls out Arlea, the instrument. Directing her energy towards the Crevasse, he begins to play, practicing deliberately, executing the sonic structures exactly as they’ve been written by the journeymen who came before and paved the way.
The spirits listen, eyes glimmering from they cavelike dwellings while they remain sheathed in darkness. The sound creates an agitating disturbance in the serene silence. It’s is a monotonous musical pattern, never landing quite right. It is the sound of yet unattained knowledge, the development of awareness from where it did not exist before.
The creatures begin to stir as it continues, and the boy feels the presence of unseen forces developing behind him, a haunting foreboding feeling coaxing him to stop and return the space to its peace. He continues, addressing the presence with his practice.
The music iterates and it’s pattern becomes more cohesive, it’s design more articulate, it’s form more pronounced. He plays through the piece and stumbles upon a part. In the part he stumbles, he repeats, over and over again until it feels correct, easeful and thoughtless. He plays the whole pattern again, this time tripping on a different piece, repeating the previous process. It’s like untangling a knot or ironing a sheet. Where one part of it has been made pristine, another part of the body flairs up. Encoding the song is like tuning an instrument.
The spirits begin to kick and become wild. The crevasse’s black depths glow darker. Tension builds in the air like gravity consolidating in the atmosphere as moisture before rain. He feels himself growing impatient, wanting to get it done, to finish it, while recognizing his hunger prevents his presence. He walks around the room as he plays, relaxing his body, easing his vessel into a more calm state, practicing patience.
The agitation inside of him begins to settle as it does so too in the room. The spirits lethargically emerge from their dwellings. More presence fills the space.
He’s come to cast a spell in the space, to address the foundation’s crack and fill iT in with the depth of substance architects in the past had skipped in their eagerness to reach the sky.
A voiceless breeze speaks, “A trees leaves my only reach the heavens if it’s roots reach into hell.
He passes through the pattern many times, all with schisms in rhythm, and then once fully on beat. Something sound like a gear clicks in the room. The room records the action in the palace of its memory. He crevasse, though just as dark, seems in some way eased. The spirits still hum in the air. He makes a slight bow, not to receive applause, but to honor the space with his reverence.
Arlea crawls back into his sleeve, like spewing smoke seen in a film’s reverse. He walks out from the crater’s center, soaking in one last look at the fallen palace hosting his session’s residence. The graffiti flooded walls emanate a chaotic wild of schizophrenic cacophony. The space where the mad men overlays upon shadow dwelling misfitsits, the incubating revolutionaries. It is home to those with none, a sanctuary for broken dreams and discarded memories where in lies beauty in banishment. It is an archetypal totem, a shattered self portrait of the heartbroken that says “though I did not choose to be, I exist.”
In a far off periphery of the cosmos, at the very edge of all that is, the most unusual event begins to occur. It looks like a shimmer, refracting the expression of all space and time. It behaves in a paradoxical manner, absorbing all matter inside it, like a black hole, while simultaneously taking on the emanative qualities of a star radiating an unknown substance containing light, sound, and some form of matter. 
In the center of the Universe, the Hiii Council gathers to discuss how to address this extraordinary phenomena now known as “the Anomaly”. After integrating all scientific data, they decide to send a ship, “AhziRa” into the Anomaly to investigate the most unusual occurrence in the entire catalogue of time, changing the fundamental fabric of past, present, and future as iT was written in The Word.
ربهسحستيتصنص سنسميه ينستسخستست
AhziRa passes event horizon, entering the gravitational field of Anomaly. The field is so immense it has already swallowed many suns and their planetary bodies. Each moment inside the field, time speeds up, compounding upon itself as the ship and all surrounding cosmic form are pulled faster into the SingulariTy.
With Jave at the helm, AhziRa travels to the many planets effected by the Anomaly. Upon landing in each world, he studies the land, collecting samplings of the realm and then returns to the ship to generate a rendering for analysis.
Amidst processing a rendering on his 23rd world, Jayd turns on a camera to record a reflection into his ship's flight log:
“All material within the realms absorbed by field of Anomaly are changing in ways that defy all our understanding of Natural Law. This is true even of our own technology.
AhziRa’s perceptive sensors, "Wolv6 Drones", were designed to measure sound, space, and light to compose a 5 dimensional rendering for analysis. Now, the samplings we collect are far more complex than the technology was ever designed to do.
The sensors themselves are changing in miraculous ways which demonstrate qualities of life. From technology we’ve developed, unwritten by our code, carbon life fuses with the ship's hardware. From cameras come eyes, microphones come ears, and radiation measurement gauges come antennae.
The craft's exterior now shares no resemblance to its initial design. Our Carbonium Allouois sheathing has morphed into something that behaves more like actual skin. It is ever-changing, adapting to its environment like a chameleon which not only adapts its color but texture- black glass, stone, the softness of a woman’s breast, scales- slimy like a fish, sleek as a snake or shielded like the blades of a dragon- fur, even the feathers of a tropical bird, all in such multiplicity in patternings- geometric or animated like the landscape and all living creatures inhabitting. AhziRa's skin now serves as the primary sensory receptor feeding data to the control center for interpretation.
As one might guess, the control surface within the helm where I pilot the rendering's composition is adapting abnormally as well. The software is updating itself and new capacities emerge to integrate the unforeseen pools of information picked up by evolving sensory capacities. I find the UX to be intuitive with a steady learning curve, evolving to suit my interest and intrigue in a way I find to be visually appealing, so much so it seems to be designed for my personal taste.
As I collect and process each world's data, I feel more and more intimately connected to it, as if we are being interwoven into eachother or becoming the same thing.
It seems the lines between dream and reality, spirit and physicality are dissolving. Here, the presence of Dream is tangible. It's like moisture in the air in a space of high humidity collecting in pockets of saturation until they become so dense, they rain, and matter within the space undergoes radical change. Sentient life forms fuse with their environments creating new iterations of material existence. Everything, including the landscape, feels alive, an awareness humming in an inaudible symphony.
As I walk through these worlds, I become a part of them and they a part of me. Data collected by the Wolv6s now not only contain information of the external environment but also of me, the topography of my emotional landscape- awe of witnessing miracle all around me, fear from close cutting encounters with danger and death, sadness wondering if I'll ever go home or I'll die out here alone...
Collecting samples and creating renderings feels less now like scientific study and more like art. It is becoming clear to me the Anomaly iTself is alive and communicating directly to me through a language born in our experimentation together and exploration of each other. It seems eager to learn, to grow, doing so by seeing through me, and though it clearly posses, or rather is, an extraordinary intelligence, it also feels young- clumsy, still unsure, confused as to what all this life thing is, opening to existence for the first time, and I feel I'm a parent living again through the eyes of my child flooded in wonder at all existence."
Jayd turns off the recording. Silence hangs in the air like a dense fog. He looks to the file open upon the control surface. It is raw, incomplete, in process. He sits with the great presence of curiosity inside him, wondering what he'll discover in the process of this rendering's completion, wondering how the hell he'll tie the bow and structure a formation to a pool information he doesn't understand and certainly won't until much later on a different world, on a different day, where the lines of mystery overlay and in their intersection lay revelation providing a new foundation for an entirely new octave of extraordinary mystery. It is in this space the mind breaks and a new stream of intuition pours through its cracks reaching into the Singularity out to me.
