ATLANTIS: RESURGENCE

The Spacecity approached them like a pensive dream, a built mirage of a phantasm, dropped in the space above earth with its gently spinning ardor of forward looking, future embracing hope, staring back at them through cockpit windows in a register of magnificence and confidence. She was certainly no ordinary city, no regular day Jack city -no she was their breath, their love, their half-way destiny and front row center ticket to the stars- and they founded and grounded her, flew and knew her better than anyone, taking off from her heels, her heel than spun in that nonchalant dance ever in front of them, never relenting in her passionate, overtly silent tug but inwardly SCREAMING out to claim a renewed destiny as their very own. SkyParida III it was sure could let nothing quite slip away. Time was short, she knew it, and that is how and what she spoke- in the sublime language of time, time’s incessant questions- as space was incomprehensible in its limitlessness, the Spacecity had to speak the language of a different kind of infinite- time. Time would reel in all the cultures of this galaxy and some of the next several over, make no mistake. The way time could stretch, there might be a conveyor of various peoples and the various cultural forces that propel long distance exploration might be connected or they might not be- time was essentially short enough to deliver the alien races, yet long to be suspended in space with the Spacecity holding them, of course they all could come and go but what really remained is the legacy of those cultures’ conversations and interrelations in the pantheon of time’s quirks, lengthening the stay of some cultures and carrying off others who perhaps weren’t so part, for some or other reasons of returning to where they came, or further exploration of the conversational dynamic that would be the floating time-space capsule of SkyParida III. Time’s infinite march, in the form of transmitted radio signals, was a lasso reeling in all the best, highest flying, frequent-flyer adventurer travelers, hopefully humanoids galaxy and clusterwide, and extending itself through the grace of space, usually short but relative to a human life elongated by the magic of something so basic: COMMUNICATION. Well it was a miracle in the skies, and was staring them down and hearkening the moment, in a week and a half’s time when all the cadres, legions, and multitudes would swarm by between the passersby of SkyParida III and the ‘stayer’ ‘lifer’ visitor, potential occupiers of earth. So they approached the floating miracle, ever nearing the looming city in the sky of space, thinking, bringing multitudes, uplinks and use of ships on their practical sides, and dreaming of the day and possibilities on the other. - -- - It was a long enough circuitous route around the Spacecity corridor, with the quarter circle to get to the first memory bank hub and they moved and bubbled as they went all aflutter with the leaders attempting to wrest a measure of control over their bristling mass of energy, and this being nearly impossible to contain they had to shave off a few thousand not as crucial crewmembers, so it was decided to do so, shave and drop them at several of the larger lounge areas with a prime view of the stars and just oblique view earth, on the two floors on the way down, which would be mutually advantageous as they could unload some weight and that load of crew could commune and fellowship about the marvels of space life, the future, or any subject whatsoever. Meanwhile they were hotly discussing detail, the ins and outs of the uplink and its potential meaning for posterity on both sides: first the phalanx of 350 including the leaders, and as they unloaded deposited the giant phalanx at the series of 5 lounges at the Northwest quadrant, spirits were still bubbling because they knew they had a true gem of a legacy on their hands. The groups began separating as the larger phalanx began to split off and descend the sky escalator to the two floors directly below, the spacious lounges with full wraparound views, auto beverage surface, ample manual recording equipment news feeds from various earth channels, hi-powered telescopes, even a full set of multiple libraries to relax into conversation over. As they went they filed down, the smaller phalanx continued to the end of the corridor cargo elevator where in two trips they would descend four stories of the first half of the central memory bank hubs- the initial mass being cleaved like a worm cut in half, or fourths, the smaller part continuing on while the other quickly sought their respite and regenerated in so much multiplication of energy. Being on the top level, the remaining crewmembers, some on their way down, the last of the leader phalanx en route to the elevators at the far end looked up through the skywindows toward the sky and full star array above- and knew soon there would be no limits- it was a matter of preservation, up here. As the phalanxes gathered below in the spacelounges on decks 7 and 8 they were from the outset more than inspired by their gorgeous position to hotly debate what the Spacecity would be like, its legacy and significance 500, 1000 or even 10,000 years from this time, as they had time to stretch and connect, intermingle for the first time in awhile. A whole bevy of screens above would broadcast just the activities of the group at the memorybank hub, as soon as they arrived. “Now we’ve been hotly contesting for some time just what this means in the grand scheme of time, that being the memory uplink and its sets of all flavors of recording, to anyone who listens- lets say 1000 years in the future some advanced races come for a stop on SkyParida III- what would they think, how would they relate, what could they learn from all the interrelations of the hundreds even thousands of peoples and races that preceded them?” Kerhoflir of the 7th ship, imagist and O-class ship engineer, kicked off the, what seemed, age-old debate.”