Chapter 752 – Imperial Business Directive
There is an era appearing right now, and it is an era of counter-Divinity. That is the best way to describe it, and it is something I have only come to realise now that I have Maisara’s thesis on Arcadia, Grand, excluding magicians from common society and forcing them into their own development of the natural, mundane, sciences of biology, physics & philosophy.
It is an odd thing to write about, for it is the erasure of my demesne that has facilitated the shift in the first place, but what Maisara of Order says is undeniable. Magic was indeed a crutch for the common man and once it was removed, humanity had to develop. The removal of the geomancers forced the invention of the crane, the development of architecture and of masonry. The lack of floromancers brought about the rotating-crop system and served as the baseline of modern agriculture. Pyromancy’s lack forced fires, and then chimney’s, and then the study of heat. Hydromancy the study of water and rivers and cycles of nature. And thus what we now call science developed.
Through the segregation of magicians into Arcadia, Grand, the White Pantheon did what Arascus never could. We managed to separate science from theology once and for all. It was and it is quite possibly the most important feat in all Ardan history. And through advancement after advancement, humanity proved it did not have to rely solely on its bountiful spirit to secure existence in the world but on the products of its mind and hands.
Yet advancement after advancement has led us to a place of existence where humanity has discovered things that were never thought possible. Steel propelled in the sky through itself, ships the size of fortresses, the edge of the atmosphere has been breached and now we gaze at the stars not with the awe of the unknown but with the wonder of the undiscovered yet. The atom has been cracked apart, even Olephia’s power has proven itself to be malleable under human ingenuity.
And so, we have given the rise to Ciria, of Civilization. A Divine that hates Divinity, that thinks we should retreat from the world in a way the White Pantheon never did. That someone as grand as Arascus of Pride, or Fortia of Peace, or Kassandora of War, should become nothing more than mentors. Allasaria’s maternal shepherding pales in comparison to the amount of trust Ciria has in humanity.
Anarchia is, or was, although she will return in another incarnation no doubt, even worse. A Divine that stole Divinity to hand out to humanity, it was nothing like the tales of Paramethus who brought the God out of the Man to make a hero. It was thievery. Anarchia was killed and good riddance to her!
Nevertheless, one is a unique phenomena to investigate. Two are the beginnings of a pattern. Humanity has started to will for Divinity whose purpose is to make sure that Divinity leaves Humanity alone.
There is some great satisfaction I find in this though. Permanent Decline truly has been proven to be correct and in a way far grander than I could have ever imagined.
- Excerpt from “The Archive of Arda: Age of Resurgent Empire; First Draft”
There were times when a man got what he wanted and everything went well. There were times when a man go what he wanted and everything went terribly. There were times when a man got what he wanted and it almost seemed to be too much to be real. But then, there were times when a man got what he wanted, it was everything he ever wished for, and it was far too much.
Howard Hammond of H.A.M. Engineering sat with his co-founders, Albert and Michael for the first time in an Imperial Business Directive. He had heard of these IBD’s before, supposedly a man could walk into one and come out never having to work again by the end of the night. There had been a case back in Allia where a pair of men who had fashioned a model of sniper rifle had done it in a garage and now were a recognised arms producer. That was the level of nothing to everything the IBD brought about.
Although now that Howard sat in the meeting, he realised exactly why the IBD had the reputation it had. In the hall in Tull had been gathered every important manufacturer in the Empire, a few had even come on plane, since several air-ways had been opened up for the most important flights. Chains of ICDT towers cleared routes for the planes on which they could travel on. Howard saw the tanned Rilian, the blond Doschians, all of them taller than him, the Rancais in their expensive, ever-fashionable uniforms and even some Lubskans who had come the entire way to this port-city. “What do you think it is?” Asked Albert from the side, the man was short and rotund.
“It’s going to be big.” Howard said, smoothing the edges of his suit. With those Rancais in the building, he felt thoroughly underdressed. Even the Rilians had come reeking of refined old money.
“All IBDs are big.” Albert replied. “The rocket one was what? A billion mark contract?” Howard could imagine it, although that had been secured internally by the Bureau of Rocketry and Manufacturing. The Empire had its own production chains too, part of the competition was always to try and beat the government.
“Shh.” A man from ahead shushed them with a woman who looked like his wife next to his side. Both of them were straight backed in the same style of harsh Doschian uniform that only needed a few trims and one cut away from being a soldier’s suit. The lights in the grand hall overhead dimmed and ahead of them, on the stage, a soldier walked out into the middle. Behind him, a project turned on to reveal a black screen with white text: Imperial Business Directive.
“Ladies and gentlemen, great businessmen of the Empire, my name is Colonel Mirihovich, in charge of the preliminary organisation of Operation Sky’s Return.” He stopped and took a deep breath, the text on the project flickered to something new: Operation Sky’s Return. “Today, we are in charge of the project that will end the war against Tartarus.”
Howard took a deep breath, imaging the worst. They were all manufacturers and builders and businessmen so surely it wasn’t about being sent to the front lines. His mind immediately flashed to the piles and piles of documents back in the office. Surely it couldn’t be anything to do with that. He was sure that all the forms were filled out correctly, all the taxes were paid not just on time but always slightly over so that the Imperial Treasury would always send a small refund as confirmation. It couldn’t be… maybe it was something on the system?
Mirihovich adjusted his cap, then waved his hand to the air. His coat swung with him like a black cloak of aristocracy. The picture changed to a sight even children in the Empire knew. A massive Intercontinental Drop Tower. They had been on the news, Operation Cloudbreaker was constantly receiving new clips from it. From the soldiers, from the planes and from the civilians on the ground who had seen the eighteen massive towers fly through the sky. “This is an ICDT tower.” Mirihovich said. “I will not explain the internal workings of one as they are not important, nor necessary for you to know.”
Of course they weren’t. Howard felt Micheal lean forward towards the screen projector. Officially, H.A.M. engineering stood for their three names. It had been an old school joke before they started the company, unofficially, the workers would joke that it was what they made: Heavy Ass Machines. “Fucking Hell.” Albert said. “This is big.”
“Shh.” Howard shushed him this time.
“The ICDT tower weighs roughly six thousand tons when fuelled.” Mirihovich said. “It stands eighty metres tall and it is eight metres wide.” The picture behind him changed as he spoke, each new detail, the fine weight which was actually 6,250 tons and the height which was 83.7 metres. The width had been correct though, eight on the dot. “With booster rockets, the measurements increase. The booster rockets are of Tower-Lifter Models, a pair is attached to each tower. The height increases to ninety-six metres. The width to twenty.” The diagram changed once again, this time of the tower with its booster rockets attached.
And immediately, Howard’s mind got to work as he tried to imagine what exactly was going to be the issue. What? Where they making the towers smaller? Surely not after the Empire had spent so long building the current set with Ciria. Launch pads maybe? But why… Mirihovich raised his hand and gave a military hand signal. The image changed again. “This meeting will not be long, as these meetings are never long. The Empire finds an issue, an issue is presented to you, take it or leave it. Questions can be forwards to the attendants outside. They are prepared to answer what is necessary.” That explained the army of young faces, handsome men and pretty girls in the black and whites that were always the mark of an Imperial government.
The image turned to the one of the most recognisable photos in the entire Empire. Every news station gave an update on the Lubska Site everyday where Ciria and Halkus were mass producing ICDT towers. A field of spears pointed towards the heavens, looking as if they were furious daggers borne out of Arda’s surface made to stab the sky. A forest of steel, huge, the bottom of it was a permanent night from the amount of shadows overlaid on each other. And on the side of the image, another tower was already half built.
“This.” Mirihovich stopped and turned to look at the image. “Is the issue. Operation Sky’s Return operates on a tight schedule, the towers have to fly simultaneously.” He turned back to the men. “Currently, nine hundred and thirty towers are built across six locations. The Lubska location holds three hundred of them. One does not to be an engineer or a pilot to understand the obvious danger with this amount of air traffic.”
Mirihovich took a deep breath. “The towers have to be moved and spread out so that they don’t slam into each other upon take-off.”
Howard felt a pin drop in the room as there was a collective intake of breath. He blinked, unable to even turn from that image. They were moving the ICDT towers on the ground. Of course. It was the simplest solution to such a problem. He would have suggested that himself.
And it seemed like an impossibility. Albert whispered from besides him. “Moving launch pad.” He said. “We’ll chew up the grass.”
“You’re not thinking of taking that.” How was it fair that some men got a sniper rifle to make and they were handed this impossible problem.
“The base of a bagger.” Albert whispered, the bagger was one of the massive diggers that quarries stone and ore and devoured mountains. “I can see it.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Michael whispered from the other side. “But no, I see it too.”
“CAN IT BE DONE ON RAILWAYS?!” Someone shouted from the other side of the room.
“Depending on feasibility and cost. The sites are already connected by rail.” Mirihovich replied. “Nevertheless, I am not here to answer questions.” The room entered a frenzy of excitement, that question got the rest of them moving. Someone was already working on it.
“The bagger base will we be better.” Albert said. “You still have to move the tower to the railway.”
Colonel Mirihovich clapped his hands. “Currently, one tower has been moved. It was done by magicians and a land train and took three weeks to move. That is too slow. We will not be dragging the war out for two years more years.” The excitement was contained, barely, as the Colonel continued. “The last piece of information relevant to the situation at hand is that the Bureau of Manufacturing is working on a design, it is estimated to be sixty million per one. It drives at eight kilometres an hour, that is just over walking pace.” Mirihovich said. The Colonel smoothed his suit. “Either way, it has been decided that the civilian sector will assist. Either it will be made cheaper, or it will be made faster.”
“Submit the proposal in your own time but remember this is a race.” Mirihovich stopped, then pulled out a sheet of paper and looked down at it. His tone became dry and monotonous as the man flat out read from his script. “As always, no reimbursements will be made if your contract is not chosen, extra funding is allocated at the IBM’s own discretion depending on feasibility of theoretical designs, it would be better if test sites are your own but they can be loaned out if your facilities don’t possess one, a model tower can be provided for testing, the due date is unfixed, it is first-come, first-serve. No one is chosen until the design enters mass production, theoretically, the machine has to be built upwards of twenty times so hand-built would be appreciated, there will be no tower-mover production lines, a design that can be adapted into something else will be appreciated.” He stopped, looked down the paper.
“That is all.”