Khoshmazeh
Ersta 2, 234 AC
Let me offer you this ruby cup of Aurian wine, the Sharab of our homeland, and we will celebrate the New Year together. Yes, I know that there were snowflakes in the blustery air this afternoon, and it is still as cold as winter, but the spring equinox is here and soon the flowers will bloom. It is 234, marking the 234th year since the majority of the Noantri passed through the Great Gate to their new home on New Earth. That number is a bit arbitrary, because pioneers had been coming through preliminary Gates for 50 years before then, preparing the way for the millions to come.
Our Aurian ancestors were among the pioneers, and some of the first plants they planted in New Earth's soil were grapevines. The first planters didn't know whether they would survive, even despite genetic engineering that made them compatible with the biosphere of the new world. We wanted to duplicate the environment of our many Aurian countries in the Old Worlds, rather than attempt to preserve an alien and possibly inedible ecosphere.
The grapes grew and flourished, and ever since they have become the symbol of our new homeland. Here is our celebratory table array which we set out in our homes and restaurants for the New Year. Sweet-tart berries, sweet grain pudding, the grapes in a bowl along with the Seeb (apple). Eggs from our domestic morgh birds. A bulb or two of Seer (garlic) and a small crystal cup of serkeh (vinegar) to remind us of the hardships of our Old World and our early days in the New World. And here are the non-food items: a Holy Book of our Scripture, a couple of little red fish swimming in a bowl, taken from the pool in the atrium of our house, and a handful of coins, polished up for prosperity. See this copper coin with the nine-pointed star on it? It's from the Old Country. Imperial Currency. I don't think it was worth very much there. These oil lamps are also replicas of ones from the Old Country. Even though we were persecuted for our faith, for our very existence, we still want to remember the Old Worlds. And here's another descendant of the Old World, the fragrant spring hyacinth known as the sonbol flower.
And what about the mirror? What does that mean and why is it on our festive table? This is a family treasure of mine. It was brought here through the Gateway, wrapped in a cloth of woven silver and carbon fibers, which it now rests on. The mirror, which is not made of metal or glass, has nouetic properties. We say that if you look at this mirror, you see not only yourself but your connection to the inner world, through the spiritual Barzakh or inner Gateway. We set these foods and symbolic things out not only for ourselves, but for the souls of the departed, the Fravashis, who gather along with us to celebrate the beginning of a new Earth year. The lights of the table, and the lanterns we light outside, guide them to our homes, so we can reconnect with them at a time when the Barzakh is especially transparent. What would you see if you looked into the nouetic mirror?
Let us celebrate and drink from the illuminated vine! Happy Nowruz (New Year) with all its lights and blessings!
Friday, March 22, 2013
Friday, March 15, 2013
Memories of Chrysopolis
Nilankha
Lupercal 22, 233 AC
As we approach the beginning of a new year, I look back on the important events of 233, at least the events in the scholarly world. The opening of the Siran archives to the general public in 232 was a major breakthrough in the remembering of Noantri life on an Other-human settled world only a few years before the Crossing. The Siran other-humans were quite a diverse lot themselves, with plenty of different races and ethnicities on which to vent their prejudice, but they never missed a chance to harass and persecute the Noantri who lived among them. It was an easy choice for the Noantri of Sira to vacate their old home and go through the Gateway to the New World. Meanwhile, the Other-humans, to put it anagrammatically as we say, the "Antri-Noi," left behind a vast internet planisphere that our archivists copied in its entirety before they went through the Gate. It's a treasure-trove of culture from a civilization that was slowly losing its higher technologies. By the time of the archives, interstellar travel was almost lost, and fusion power had also begun to sputter out.
This year we received another archive, this one more incomplete and much older, from a world named Anta-kabiri. This world was settled by genetically engineered other-humans, who had terraformed a planet orbiting a red dwarf star. It would seem unlikely that there were Noantri there, but according to the personnel records of various engineering and scientific establishments, there are some recognizable Noantri genomic, visual, and textual records. Their lives were lived in a vast industrial complex, lit by the fiery gloom of the red star. An interstellar spaceport orbited the planet, as big as a small moon. It is the kind of thing that we may never see again here in this far-off sector of the Galaxy.
I spent some of my younger years, along with my then-husband, working on salvaged planispheres at Chrysopolis. This is the duplicate of the Great Library at Eridu, and it is the repository of all the media salvaged from the Old Worlds whose formats can not yet be deciphered. The founder of Eridu, the legendary Nouergist Redon IV, decreed that a duplicate library be founded at a safe distance from Eridu, lest the single Library be somehow destroyed. We Noantri historians take the long view, and did not blink at the prospect of a project that could take a century to achieve. Generations of informaticians and antichronologists worked to unlock these ancient collections of texts, images, media, and whatever scientific lore survived the great destructions.
Chrysopolis was, and is by design a place of almost eerie serenity, set in the deserts in the eastern part of Khemi. It is a resort for a certain type of person who has no taste for partying, gambling, or carousing. Text stores, theaters and concert halls, and elegant restaurants entice the wealthy and the intellectual. The city is made of golden adobe and eco-glass which shines like an unearthly mineral in the sun. In the central plaza, reached by vehicle-free walkways lined with palm trees, is the duplicate Library, designed by the famous Nouergist architect Apsou-Ari. Under its white arcades are building elements brought through the Gateway and now imbedded in the stucco wall. Some of them are said to glow in the dark, still charged with theophoric fire.
Lupercal 22, 233 AC
As we approach the beginning of a new year, I look back on the important events of 233, at least the events in the scholarly world. The opening of the Siran archives to the general public in 232 was a major breakthrough in the remembering of Noantri life on an Other-human settled world only a few years before the Crossing. The Siran other-humans were quite a diverse lot themselves, with plenty of different races and ethnicities on which to vent their prejudice, but they never missed a chance to harass and persecute the Noantri who lived among them. It was an easy choice for the Noantri of Sira to vacate their old home and go through the Gateway to the New World. Meanwhile, the Other-humans, to put it anagrammatically as we say, the "Antri-Noi," left behind a vast internet planisphere that our archivists copied in its entirety before they went through the Gate. It's a treasure-trove of culture from a civilization that was slowly losing its higher technologies. By the time of the archives, interstellar travel was almost lost, and fusion power had also begun to sputter out.
This year we received another archive, this one more incomplete and much older, from a world named Anta-kabiri. This world was settled by genetically engineered other-humans, who had terraformed a planet orbiting a red dwarf star. It would seem unlikely that there were Noantri there, but according to the personnel records of various engineering and scientific establishments, there are some recognizable Noantri genomic, visual, and textual records. Their lives were lived in a vast industrial complex, lit by the fiery gloom of the red star. An interstellar spaceport orbited the planet, as big as a small moon. It is the kind of thing that we may never see again here in this far-off sector of the Galaxy.
I spent some of my younger years, along with my then-husband, working on salvaged planispheres at Chrysopolis. This is the duplicate of the Great Library at Eridu, and it is the repository of all the media salvaged from the Old Worlds whose formats can not yet be deciphered. The founder of Eridu, the legendary Nouergist Redon IV, decreed that a duplicate library be founded at a safe distance from Eridu, lest the single Library be somehow destroyed. We Noantri historians take the long view, and did not blink at the prospect of a project that could take a century to achieve. Generations of informaticians and antichronologists worked to unlock these ancient collections of texts, images, media, and whatever scientific lore survived the great destructions.
Chrysopolis was, and is by design a place of almost eerie serenity, set in the deserts in the eastern part of Khemi. It is a resort for a certain type of person who has no taste for partying, gambling, or carousing. Text stores, theaters and concert halls, and elegant restaurants entice the wealthy and the intellectual. The city is made of golden adobe and eco-glass which shines like an unearthly mineral in the sun. In the central plaza, reached by vehicle-free walkways lined with palm trees, is the duplicate Library, designed by the famous Nouergist architect Apsou-Ari. Under its white arcades are building elements brought through the Gateway and now imbedded in the stucco wall. Some of them are said to glow in the dark, still charged with theophoric fire.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
At the Bar Vashello
Sidonius Varis
I'm the guy in the white suit who is seen at all the bars in the open part of Surakosai. I'm not stupid enough to go into Keilian tribal territory, and besides, my grasp of the Keilian language isn't that great. I could probably say something like, "Oh, please don't kill me, I'm only a writer!" At which point they probably would blow me away instantly, given the contempt they have for writing and writers, especially male writers.
I like the Vashello not only because it has a great view over the city to the harbor from the upper terrace, but because it's close to my apartment. I was told when I moved here that the great Theophore Enlil lived somewhere in this neighborhood, but nobody remembers just where. For all I know my rooms could be where he lived, but I doubt it. He should have been able to afford a better place than mine. I'm in the old University district, where the original University of Surakosai used to be, before it moved to the outskirts where it had more space to expand. That was before my time, but a lot of Uni people still live here to save money and then take the cable car out to work.
I also like the Vashello because if I have had too much wine, I can just trundle home to my little nook without losing my way. The food at Vashello is mediocre, mostly Keilian grilled stuff and oily vegetables, but it will do and it is cheap. I've written many a story or article here, and no one looks over my shoulder to see what's on my screen.
In case I look familiar, I am familiar. You've seen me here and there in various media outlets, including my own Datawell 74, "Wordwell." I'm Sidonius Varis, and I confess to being a writer. I write everything from journalism to adventure stories, and I've also written Old World fiction and pretentious philosophical essays and criticism and reviews...anything they pay me for. I've been a lecturer at the Media and Text department at the University, and I will admit that I even stooped to writing advertising copy for a large ad agency which will remain nameless. I was a television commentator for a vidwell that went dark after a few years, I edited the "Memoirs of Ancaranda," and I've written in genres reaching from clan-wars to drugcore to mindporn. I still barely make a living. So when Datawell 25 "Surakosiana" asked me to write a regular column for them, and offered me 100 Trinacriats for each one, I couldn't turn it down. They said, write about interesting people and stories, keep it clean, and stay away from politics. Quite a constrained agenda, I suppose, but I accepted. There are countless stories to be heard in these parts.
I have an ethnic background which excuses a multitude of literary offenses. I am a Lord of Memory, one of that erudite tribe who dominate the Noantri-social sector of the education world. They're the academics who wear all white uniforms to show how they never get themselves dirty with low manual work. I am Varis of Clan Var, one of the major families, on a par with Clan Lil of Enlil fame. Clan Var doesn't like to speak to me after I quit teaching at the University after only a few years. But they still accept my tithe, and I still wear the white. There is a portrait of Enlil on the wall of this establishment and I often imagine, when I've had a glass too many, that he's looking down at me with a mixture of sorcery and scorn.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Khoshmazeh
"Khoshmazeh"
Lupercal 9, 233 AC
Greetings and welcome, readers. I am "Khoshmazeh," which is a pseudonym. The word means "Tasty." My real name must go unsaid as I write restaurant reviews and don't want anyone to make the connection. I've been invited to write in this Journal every so often about food, my specialty, and politics, which goes right alongside food. I am an Aurian lady Khanom, living here in Surakosai, and I'm proud to be an Aurian in the western diaspora.
Did you know that Aurians have been here since the founding of Surakosai and the early colonies? The co-founder of Agni Geothermal Power company (love it or hate it) was a woman of Auranvei named Agni Tangra, an engineer who designed the first geothermal power plant in the Aitnean volcanic area. She married another colonist, this one a Lord of Memory scientist, and their partnership was made into legend by the famous Algon colonist writer Ranya. Was it true what Ranya wrote? I don't know, but the legend counts, and Agni Geothermal has kept Ranya's work available to the public for almost two hundred years! If the name "Agni" sounds familiar, it means "Fire" and it was the name of one of the most famous Aurian restaurants of the last century.
There have been Aurian restaurants here ever since the early days. How could we live without our split pea stew, our winter noodle soup, and our beans and greens? The Keilians already had their version of kebabs, so we came to an inter-ethnic agreement about grilled meat, though I think the Keilians use too much garlic in their marinade.
I have worked in the Aurian restaurant world for years and just a few years ago left the Restaurant Varjavand for my current career of tasting and writing. My son Behram is the current chef there and you will always see members of our Aurian community there, even late into the night when the wine flows and someone brings out the hand drums, the rebecs and the fiddle and flute. Currently in Surakosai, there are between five and ten thousand Aurians living here. That number is so inexact because many of us do not want anyone to count them or find out just what they are doing in exile. There have been many upheavals in the country of New Earth Auranvei, and each one sends another wave of exiles out to find their fortunes elsewhere. But we will never give up our culture, we cherish it in this material world and in the barzakh, the innerworld we all share. I hope you'll enjoy my offerings of tasty words.
Lupercal 9, 233 AC
Greetings and welcome, readers. I am "Khoshmazeh," which is a pseudonym. The word means "Tasty." My real name must go unsaid as I write restaurant reviews and don't want anyone to make the connection. I've been invited to write in this Journal every so often about food, my specialty, and politics, which goes right alongside food. I am an Aurian lady Khanom, living here in Surakosai, and I'm proud to be an Aurian in the western diaspora.
Did you know that Aurians have been here since the founding of Surakosai and the early colonies? The co-founder of Agni Geothermal Power company (love it or hate it) was a woman of Auranvei named Agni Tangra, an engineer who designed the first geothermal power plant in the Aitnean volcanic area. She married another colonist, this one a Lord of Memory scientist, and their partnership was made into legend by the famous Algon colonist writer Ranya. Was it true what Ranya wrote? I don't know, but the legend counts, and Agni Geothermal has kept Ranya's work available to the public for almost two hundred years! If the name "Agni" sounds familiar, it means "Fire" and it was the name of one of the most famous Aurian restaurants of the last century.
There have been Aurian restaurants here ever since the early days. How could we live without our split pea stew, our winter noodle soup, and our beans and greens? The Keilians already had their version of kebabs, so we came to an inter-ethnic agreement about grilled meat, though I think the Keilians use too much garlic in their marinade.
I have worked in the Aurian restaurant world for years and just a few years ago left the Restaurant Varjavand for my current career of tasting and writing. My son Behram is the current chef there and you will always see members of our Aurian community there, even late into the night when the wine flows and someone brings out the hand drums, the rebecs and the fiddle and flute. Currently in Surakosai, there are between five and ten thousand Aurians living here. That number is so inexact because many of us do not want anyone to count them or find out just what they are doing in exile. There have been many upheavals in the country of New Earth Auranvei, and each one sends another wave of exiles out to find their fortunes elsewhere. But we will never give up our culture, we cherish it in this material world and in the barzakh, the innerworld we all share. I hope you'll enjoy my offerings of tasty words.
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