💾 Archived View for cosmic.voyage › malu › malu453109080437.txt captured on 2023-09-08 at 16:23:52.
⬅️ Previous capture (2021-11-30)
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
<-- begin transmission --> +++ date = 4531-09-08-04-37 from = stid1003@malu@244.21 to = central@rs001@4.0 importance = low note = as related by unknown malic sage - translation may contain errors +++ This is the hard life, Provich thought as he walked through his ancient forest. The real thing. We are out here in the wilderness with the lyncoor cats and the trees, five million acres of pristine woodland protected by the Provich estate. He owned it, down to the last square inch. His name was in the books, he had purchased it for two krabas an acre from the Interplanetary Frontier Development Control Institute. It was government of the new land, for the trillonaires, by the trillonaires. Provich’s net worth was just short of a thousand billion, but he had nestled his way into the trillonaire club nonetheless. The land was supposedly untouched by human hands, but Provich’s agents had found evidence that the Malic peoples had inhabited its mountainous terrain in the Precorruo Age, and he felt confident his agents were right. Provich had bought the land without ever seeing it, and as soon as he could get away from his advisers’ barrage of emails regarding his numerous lawsuits, his latest stock investments, and his mental health exams, he got together a small group of himself and three other people - a hired Neomalic guide called Puma and two nature nerds, Sean and Janet - to accompany him into the wilds as the first modern humans to set foot on that land. Provich met with his group six months before the trip in his “office,” a one thousand square foot room with broad windows overlooking the city, expensive paintings covering the walls, and a broad circle of easy chairs encircling a hologram projector. When Sean and Janet arrived with their nose piercings and their expensive fur clothes, Provich introduced Puma (who he had met for the first time minutes before) as an very admirable person, someone Provich respected “really very deeply,” and proceeded to summarize the Neomalic’s life for the newcomers in a proud way, as if it were his own. They had set out almost a week ago. A helicopter had flown them into an IFDCI camp, they had been pointed in the direction of the “Provich Purchase,” as the beady-eyed IFDCI official called it, and they had left. Now, Provich felt, they were out in the wilderness alone, without the comfort and safety of modern society. Of course they had radio and GPS for emergencies, but he didn't like to think of that. He liked to pretend they were all alone, removed from humanity, surviving against the odds. Provich wanted to find gold and silver. He knew museums would pay top dollar for Malic artifacts, and he hoped to use the money to pay off some debt from the lunar project. Provich laughed out loud. He hoped this wouldn't turn out like the lunar project did. But he hadn’t been on the moon in person. Now, he felt he could stop things if they started going wrong. ≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁ On their sixth day of traveling, they reached the remains of an old road. To Provich, it was hardly distinguishable from the forest around it; but there were banks on either side, and above the banks, in two perfect rows, were lines of stately sugar maples, centuries old. He didn’t notice the road at first, and wouldn’t have seen it if Puma had not pointed out the banks. Then, after some puzzled staring, everything snapped into place in one moment, and Provich could see the lines of maples. He thought of it as his mind canceling out all the trees that grew in the road, and imagining the land as it had been in the Precorruo Age. Once he saw the road, he could follow it easily. The way was not straight. It wound through the hilly landscape like a tangled ball of yarn, avoiding steep uphill slopes while trying to reach the mountains all the time. Every now and then the wall of maples would break on one side, and they would find an old stone foundation and sometimes a dry well, but, to Provich’s disappointment, nothing of value. Sean and Janet, however, didn't seem to care. They excitedly took photographs of everything they came across, tapping away at their cameras. “As if these piles of rock matter,” grumbled Provich to himself. “I haven't seen a single valuable thing since we left the IFDCI camp.” But he stayed on the road, hoping it would eventually bring them to something worth his time. Half the time he marveled at the noise of the birds and the greens, blues, and browns that he now owned, half the time he excitedly anticipated the money he would receive upon returning with Malic gold. <-- end transmission -->