The Good Sumerian

This is to be my very first collaboration, one of the few things I have regretted not having done here in the RP forum. This thread is to be unlike any thread I've seen before in this forum, but it promises to be loads of fun!

In what way is it to be different? First of all, the main character is not my own, but will be written by Strange, everyone's favourite RP veteran. He is a Sumerian, meaning that he lives in ancient Sumer. His alignment is Good. He has an important quest, with several complicated steps ahead of him. The genre for this timeline will be fantasy/horror, as it will be inspired by, or draw upon, the writings of H.P. Lovecraft.

In contrast to the ancient timeline, my character will live in the future, in a more sci-fi setting. She is the world's first, and only cyborg. She, too, has an important series of tasks ahead of her.

This, however, is not the introduction to either timeline, but rather a brief explanationn as to how this thread differs from most other RP threads.

Both Strange's and my characters may be dynamic and vital to the storyline, but alone they have no chance to complete their quests. This will make their world/s doomed, in either case. These two characters are related in a way that may or may not be revealed as their storylines progress.

There is more than one purpose to this thread. The most obvious, perhaps, is to honour great writers in their respective genres, by applying principles that we have read to make something quite unlike anything that I have ever read. To state it in the smplest terms, our goal is to write a good story.

In a more concrete and applicable to the local setting sense, our goal here is to encourage participation. To that end, no matter how dynamic and capable the two "main" characters may be in their introductions, they will become WORTHLESS toward the storyline's progression without the aid of PARTICIPANTS.

That, dear reader, is where YOU come in. To join this thread, you agree to a minimum of three posts per week. Should unavoidable circumstances arise after having already made this commitment, please do mail the person responsible for your timeline, either Strange (the ancient timeline) or myself (the future timeline).

Mind you, three posts per week is a MINIMUM. Doing this will neither help nor harm the main characters. By posts, I do not mean shoddy one-liners. Real posts. There is an unspoken formula to determine this. For example, if Evilpants666 writes one of his famous pages-long expositions, this will count as multiple posts, at the discretion of the writer of the OTHER timeline. Posting in the future timeline helps the Good Sumerian. Posting in the ancient timeline helps my character.

Failure to live up to these expectations, particularly without your having mailed the co-author in charge of your timeline could have negative consequences toward your character, not to mention the other timeline. At worst, they might be written out of the story entirely, and by this I mean that the very real possibility exists that they might be caught and killed in a very graphic and horrific way. The other side of that coin is that if you post often and well, your character will become more and more central to the storyline. Therefore, there is a chance to make this YOUR story, in addition to what we already have in the pre-writing stages.

In order to ensure fairness, one, and only one, character has been pre-approved to join the storyline in each timeline. Until the end of the first "mission" in each timeline, which I can assure you will be easy and not long in coming, this thread is closed. This means you will need to be approved by the co-authors in order to join. Moreover, people will need to join in groups of two, one for each timeline. This will ensure balance and fairness, not placing a burden on either timeline by everyone deciding to join one, while neglecting the other.

It was, and is, the hope of both Strange and myself, that this system might serve to encourage participation and posting, while offering something for everyone. We have jointly decided that the two contrasting timelines will be able to comfortably co-exist in the same thread, because the differences between ancient Sumer and a futuristic sci-fi modern setting are too numerous to list, and should not be confused by anyone capable of reading them.

Therefore, journey with us now to a great turning point in the development of human society, to ancient Sumer, where you will note that humanity have taken an important step, building lasting cities, centres of agriculture, and erecting paved roads. Paved roads with a sense of permanence, at a time when most of the rest of the world are still living as wandering hunter-gatherers.

It is with great pride that I introduce you to this, a Strange and BitchPudding (Fujiko) joint effort, The Good Sumerian.

(Next post reserved for strange2)

The sun rises over the Euphrates river. The slow river makes little noise, though when the wind kicks up the rushes rattle against one another. Occasionally, a bucket is dipped into the river, or a fish jumps and the peace of the morning is broken. We are 5 kilometers upriver from the city of Uruk, in the farm country. Wheat, barley, and fruits are grown in their irrigated fields.

There is a a wooden dock on the bank of the river, and lashed to it was a boat. It was not a large boat, but still clearly a transport vessel. It had a hull made of bundles of rushes, which was replaced yearly, lashed to a wooden frame. On top of this frame was a small wooden house like structure. It had no door, a ceiling of reeds, and a window on the three doorless walls. Attached to this structure was a single short mast, which had a small square sail rolled at the top.

Thus we meet Strange. His beard was large, and starting to show grey around the roots. But it was well maintained, square at the bottom and braided all the way up to his chin. His skin was a deep olive color, and wrinkled around his brown eyes. He was a tall man, with a body built from a lifetime of moving large bundles of trade goods. The strongest in Uruk? Of course not, but he attended to his own business well. He wore a simple tunic and robe of brown linen, he kept his tunic girded around the loins as he found himself working on his boat most of the day.

Strange was a small merchant who plied the Euphrates, bringing goods from the country into the city. He owned a small building in the city of Uruk which served as his place of residence and a storehouse of sorts. He made a good portion of his wealth from trading things in the off season. He had been trading for many years now, having moved into the city to find his life outside of his family's farm as a young boy. He had put the time in the build relationships with the farmers around the city and around the neighboring cities, and had a generally good reputation for fair play.

We see strange get off his boat, climbing down the ladder on the side of his boat to the dock, and walk to the shore. He was here to find a specific farmer, and he could potentially be in several different fields, or in his home. Wandering around looking for him was foolish. So, strange approached the small hearth which was situated some ten feet from the end of the dock, and began gathering material for a small fire.

Oshri the Herdsman leads his meager flock of sheep along the bank of the river. Wool and Milk are his trade. Blows from his staff are his defense - and he is skilled with it. Most of the smaller peasants in the area are his customers for milk, while the wool is sold in Uruk of the Chaldeans. Oshri himself is no Chaldean, but a wandering nomad from the desert- a HPR as the Egyptians would call his kind.

Small, wiry and swarthy describe him. His beard is scragglier than he would like, and his feet are hardened with horn.

Tell-tale smoke tells him there is someone at the dock - which means an opportunity for trade. A bit of flint would come in handy, or perhaps a jug of beer. Thus he walks to the dock. Expecting a ship's company, he is surprised to see but one man, not known to him. This makes addresing him difficult other than as 'Stranger'

'Most honoured stranger!
Let me demand
Thy name
Thy lineage
Thy Patrilineal land!'

Now that we have met the Good Sumerian, let's travel to the future, far from ancient Sumer, to meet two other important people to our story. The first, as foreshadowed in my first post, is the world's first cyborg.

Dr. Yashimoto was used to being called in the middle of the night. Her voice was very monotone.


"Dr. Yashimoto," she answered, not bothering to look to see who was calling, nor indeed to open her eyes.

It was from the hospital switchboard, nothing unusual there. It wasn't someone who worked at the hospital in Kyoto. That was unusual. It was a representative of the Board of Medical Examiners.

"Doctor, my name is Mr. Tokugawa, and I've brought official paperwork from the Government of Japan. Your medical license has been revoked, for a top-secret reason. In twenty-four hours you will get a call from Tokyo. Answer it."

"This is not a joking matter. You have no grounds to revoke my license. I've never made a mistake. I can't. I don't even carry malpractice insurance," Rin replied, still in a monotone, very matter-of-factly.

"I know. See for yourself. Forgive me, not my fault. I am just a messenger. You are no longer on call, and are forbidden to practise medicine as of this moment. That is all. I will give you a minute to respond, out of respect."

Dr. Yashimoto was awake now. She opened her laptop, and at lightening-speed she checked the allegation. It was true.
An emotive inflection now was heard in her words. "You have then released me from the Oath of Hippocrates. If I cannot practise medicine, I shall practise Bushido."

"Thank you, Doctor. Wait for the call." Mr. Tokugawa hung up.

Doctor Yashimoto was normal person, until she entered High School. She went to a brand-new school, on an island in International waters. The project was headed by the University of Kyoto, but it was a joint project from top Universities around the world. It was an all-girls school, called the Blossom Adroit International School for Girls.

The Headmistress accepted her application for an experimental project. She would become the world's first, and only, cyborg.

Cybernetic research and implantation was forbidden by the United Nations, on religious and human-rights grounds. However, eager to attempt such a project, academia circumvented the law. The law, perhaps deliberately, was poorly worded. It prohibited research and implantation in all member nations. It did not prohibit funding of it.
Ai Yashimoto was a very bright young lady. She was 13 at the time she entered the school, having skipped a grade. She could have skipped more, but her parents feared that she might be ostracised, wanting her to lead a reasonably normal life. During her first month of classes at Blossom Adroit, every student was given a blood test. Certain students were encouraged to fill out some preliminary paperwork. In the end, three were called in.

The candidates were then separated. The Headmistress asked them questions.

"Ai, this is irreversible. No matter what, you will carry this burden the rest of your life. Imagine being yourself, but with the mind and ability of a supercomputer. You will stay young, but your family and friends will grow old and die around you. You will be unable to reproduce. You will never bear children of your own. Do you still wish to proceed?"

"Yes," Ai replied, without hesitation.

"Tell me, what would you do with such immense power? What would be your ultimate dream?"

Back then, Ai was a fan of the classic anime Hell Girl. The Hell Girl's name was also Ai.

"I would want to have the power just like the Hell Girl, only I would want to use it on the most evil thing in the world, and banish evil from the world."

The Headmistress simply nodded. Ai wasn't quite sure if she knew who Hell Girl even was.

"Her name is Ai, too, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"You cosplay her, don't you?"

Ai was slightly surprised by the question, but her response was immediate and honest. "Yes."

The Headmistress left the room. Presumably, she went to interview the other two candidates. Unless Ai was the last to be interviewed. Ai had no idea. When she returned, the Headmistress returned, with a standard inoculation needle.
"You have been approved. Nurses will administer placebo injections to the other two candidates. After this injection, you will fall asleep. When you wake up, your dream will come true, just as you said. You are key to the evolution of humanity, but mind you, there are more than one key, and you are only one of them. We have reached a point in technological advancement where computers can design other computers better than we humans can. This syrum contains nanotechnology, self-replicating nanotechnology which will be hardwired into your central nervous system, to prevent any attempt at remote access or control of you. It is a symbiote. It cannot live without you, but you can live without it. Together you will embody the best that technology an d humanity have to offer. I did not design this serum. A supercomputer designed soley for that purpose did, and it was I who oversaw that computer's design. I am the foremost computer and biotech engineer in the world. I am also a licensed phlebotomist, so don't worry. Close your eyes, and prepare to sleep."

Not saying a word, Ai did as she was asked. Nothing happened, or so it seemed. She was not tired, not even a little. The Headmistress left the room.

Over the next several days, Ai's body started changing, and not in ways normally associated with puberty.
Her appetite increased. Her senses sharpened. Her memory improved. After about a month, she id indeed have the mind of a supercomputer. She could read volumes of books in minutes, with total recall. Her body, too strengthened, became more agile. She began to see the folly of many of her beliefs, as logic took over her thinking.

Then, it came time for a public display. It was a battle, between some of the most elite military, and Intelligence agencies in the world, including the U.S. Navy S.E.A.L.S., the Mossad, and others. All of these elete fighters against a 13-year old girl who had trained for one week. One week. It was a massacre, except that nobody got hurt. Ai managed to beat them all, without injuring them. Their aim was to kill. The Governments of the world took note. Ai went on to get degree after degree, but eventually took up a medical practise, after running out of degrees to pursue.

Ai expected to be contacted to become a soldier or mercenary, but that did not interest her. She was surprised that she was not.She went on to practise medicine, and dabbled in business and scientific research. The money flowed in. Ai gave much of it to charity, and even bought controlling shares of one of the most powerful corporations in the world. The value of her shares doubled several times over under her leadership.

Ai, however, had little need for material things. Wealthy as she was, she lived a reasonably spartan lifestyle. She did, however have special dietary needs. Her sense of taste was so refined that she could taste even the most minute details about a food, and so she preferred very simple, very natural foods. Organic foods, because she could immediately detect traces of pesticides, and so on.

Another day passed. The phone rang, at exactly midnight. It was the Japanese Prime Minister. He apologised profusely about having used the military to pressure the Medical Board to revoke her license. Something needed to be done. She was to fly to Australia to rescue a man held prisoner there, and bring him back to Kyoto.

Ai did not understand. She told the Prime Minister the same.

He confessed that he didn't either. It was the wish of her old Headmistress of the school, who had died years ago. The nation's top security network had confirmed the woman's predictions, and all were verified correct with over 98% accuracy. The fate of the world was in Ai's hands. This man Yoshido, was to be executed. She went to her mailbox, and there was a plane ticket to Australia, and a passport with a new name issued by the Witness Protection Agency of Japan. Oddly, they kept her first name, changing only her family name. It made no sense, but Ai did not bother questioning it.

Before she left the school, Ai had approached the Headmistress.

"I feel lied to. I did not sleep, nor awaken to live the dream we discussed."

The Headmistress' response shocked Ai, because it referenced a game that Ai had played, a very rare, very old game that she had been given by her father, one that he had played growing up. The game was Chrono Trigger.

"Am I a butterfly dreaming I'm a man? Or a bowling ball dreaming I'm a plate of sashimi? NEVER assume what you see and feel is real!"

This was, perhaps, the only reply that Ai would have accepted, and the Headmistress gave it. Ai simply bowed, and went on her way.

There were two tickets. Ai did not have to go alone. She knew just who to call.

(Next post reserved for Evilpants666, after which the thread will be open to posting by all who have joined)

It had been a long day. Or rather, a short one. Adding some naturally grown logs to a fire, he watched the heat rise and dissappear into his modified chimney. He had changed so many things in his house in the woodlands that he didn't even remember them all. Of course, it didn't help that he blacked out from time to time since his last surgery.

The sun and the fire warmed his water, provided for his electricity, gave him heat and allowed him to cook. His house was very well insulated. But it had been a very short day, and the snow covered his solar panels to the point where he spent several hours a day brushing it off his solar-tile covered roof. Clearly the insulation allow for his snow to melt off his panels.

He was going to need to come up with a solution for that. It had been hounding him for days ever since the blizzard started.

His name was Archer, and he had spent several months in this new house of his going nuts about its inefficiency. It was dawning on him that perhaps a yearlong vacation wasn't going to be a vacation if he couldn't sit still for a second. He chopped wood, assisted the local environment by planting more trees on his property and merely marking out his territory with coloured and notched poles, allowing for the wildlife to roam free and uninhibited.

He was 32, originally tried to go into politics and ended up in an out-of-the-box thinking tank instead. His degree in electro-engineering did not keep him from a growing aversion to all things technology, despite reaching for it to fix his issues. He tried to live off his land, which he did somewhat succesfully, but he ran into the issue of efficiency and waste just like anyone else. He used everything off an animal he killed, and he only hunted when he was in need. He made his clothes out of the leather and plant fibres he gained. He fetched his water from a clean stream and ran it through a natural filter and boiled it just in case.

He was desperately trying to live off grid, but obviously, he was failing at it miserably. It didn't help that he couldn't foresee himself of everything, and thus was forced to occasionally order things online. Like socks. He could just never get socks right. Or tea. He really loved his tea. To make matters worse, he occasionally programmed for a few IT companies in a self-explained effort to keep this escapade of his as cost-neutral as possible.

He scratched a bald shaved patch on his head, scars not even begun to fade, when his phone rang.

Ai knew that Archer was the one person she could trust. He was capable, smart, and wasn't a slave to the system.

"Good morning, Archer. This is Dr. Yashimoto, but, please, call me Ai, we are on first-name basis starting now. I have a favour to ask of you. It involves leaving your life behind, and helping me on an endeavour that you will have to see to believe. If you are motivated by a search for knowledge, as I am, I would urge you to consider it. "

Ai hoped that would pique his interest. She was reasonably convinced that it would.

For a second there, Archer thought he had blacked out and missed an explanation. Still, to be asked for something by a world-famous doctor that performed surgery on him not too long ago...well... he didn't see it as a job without its perks.

Besides, he was out by his lonesome in the woods for a long time now. It's not like he had a life filled with people to leave behind. They were still in the big city, and they very likely would not miss him for a few extra months. What's a few months to a lifetime of friendship and favours of a worldfamous doctor, anyway? Besides, it sounded like a learning experience he could probably profit from in the long run.

It struck him that he had a very odd way of reasoning, but he nudged that aside. "What's the catch, where do we meet, what do I do with my expenses and what do you need me to bring?"

Ai replied, "There's a lot to explain, and it can't be done on the phone. Your expenses will be covered by the Osaka Corporation. Don't worry about money, or bringing anything. I just need you. If you want to meet me in Japan, take the next available flight to Tokyo. Text me back on the number on the caller ID and I will have your ticket ready for you at the gate when you arrive. If you are here in Japan now, I can pick you up in my private helicopter if you like. We have precious little time."

This was going well, and Ai was relieved. Ai herself didn't yet realise how important Archer would become as the sequel of events set out before her would fall into place.

*Strange looked up, a smile on his tired face when a man addressed him. He had the look of a man of the land, and he spoke well. He had placed faith in Strange by addressing him as honored when they did not know each other.

Strange stood up, crossed his arms on his chest, and gave a short bow.

I am Strange
Son of Hazi the Builder
Merchant of Uruk
I ply my craft *He gestured to his humble boat.*
All through this river
To trade with the Shepherds and Farmers

Who was your father?
What do you do?
Have a date-fruit. *Strange said, attempting to make his guest welcome. He pulled a small bag of dried dates from his robe, and offered it to the wanderer. *

Archer grabbed pen and paper and wrote it down, knowing full well he'd forget most of the specifics at the first opportunity.

Tokyo. Odds were that was not going to be a direct flight, he knew, considering he was in the woods of Norway. He was about to ask why a doctor that had access to his file wasn't aware where he was when he realised that the file still had a japanese number listed which was plugged through to his house, which was plugged through to this poorly off-grid retreat.

This rehabilitation and vacation scheme of his in the woods of Norway really didn't go the way he had planned.

"I'm not, but I'll contact you when I'm on the ground." He eyed his phone, penned down the number just in case, and considered hanging up. He almost did, but instead he clamped the phone between his ear and his shoulder and began scurrying around throwing things into a bag. "Am I going to need some kind of visa?"

Some toiletries, tools, clothes, laptop, passport, keys... He zipped up the bag and hoped he had enough gasoline left in his car to plow through the snow in a single trip to the airport. He really didn't feel like sleeping overnight in a car in a snowy waste...

Ah! ...and some wood, tinder, emergency lights...


Edit; Verb correction.

"No, you will not need a visa. Tell me your departure terminal, and I can arrange everything to be there for you ready when you arrive. This is being co-ordinated by the Prime Minister of Japan, so we have certain.. privileges. The airlines will comply," Ai responded. He didn't need anything, but knowing Archer, he will bring everything but the kitchen sink, Ai laughed to herself. He would be right, though. Best to be prepared.

Ai decided to lay back down and resume resting.

Oshri returns the bow with his hands along sides.

When my father first saw me
Oshri he named me
When his father first saw him
Achib he named him

My flocks I tend
My sheep I shear
Their wool I sell
Their increase I keep

Sham is my homeland
From there my sheep came
To this land I wandered
With wool on the hoof

Your dates let us eat
My milk let us drink
Thus Wanderer hails Townman
Hapiru I am

.....



Why did the son of Hazi light the fire?

*Strange smiled an appreciative smile, and made all of his dates available. *



I sell to the farmers

I buy from the farmers.

They bring me the fruit of the land

I bring them the goods of the town.

The fire is our signal

They see it

They bring wares.



It is good to meet you

Noble shepard of Sham

Do you have wares you might sell?

Or goods from the city you would barter for?

I have linen, leather, beer, and other fine wares.

I bear milk

I make cheese

Honey I crave

And sweet fruit as well

Beer and wine I avoid

as the Gods of our fathers command

but if your exchange goes beyond goods

Tales of afar I carry with me.

Tales of this land I would carry back

When the wind returns me to Sham

With fattened flock

And grown wool.

If craftwork you would sell

You must carry them to Sham

and return with onagers

burdened with flint


Oshri proceeds to milk 2 goats.

"Kristiansund Airport in Kvernberget", Archer replied, listened to the reply,
"Understood. Your boarding pass and itinerary will be waiting for you at guest check-in.",wrote everything down, and made to leave in his car.

After a long drive, a longer airflight, and what he considered to be little or no sleep, he arrived at the airport of Tokyo, exhausted, and the day in Japan had just started. This was going to be a long day.

After speaking to Archer, Ai hit the speed-dial to the Osaka Corporation's concierge to high and honoured corporate executives, one of the many benefits of being primary shareholder. They took Archer's name and arranged with the airline to fly him business class to Tokyo, and as promised, everything he would need would be waiting for him at the airport, including a temporary visa and work permit issued by the Osaka Corporation, and that would be enough. The flight itself would be comfortable, but specially arranged to get Archer from point A to point B as soon as possible.

Ai herself was content to allow her concierge handle such matters, and closed her eyes to resume her slumber. It had been years since Ai had dreamt, or at least had dreamt anything she remembered the next day, and so it was a bit shocking to her that she had a vivid dream on this particular night.

The first thing Ai noticed was the air. It was fresh, free from pollution. She looked at the landscape. She was nearby to a river, judging by the flora and scenery. Ai turned her attention to a slight pillar of smoke rising in the distance. Ai found herself to be a disembodied spirit, and flew to the location, where she saw two ancients talking, a merchant and a shepherd. They made introductions, and shared a snack of milk and dates.

Ai recognised their languages, but when she spoke, they could not hear her. This was a simulation of some kind, not a dream. Upon recognising this, she called out, "Where Am I? Why do you show me this, computer?"

Ai could smell the stink of the sheep, the warm freshness of the milk, and the pure, simple delight of the ripe dates. It took her breath away, and Ai longed to share in their snack. Ai's senses were such that, if she focused on them, the very smell could border on taste, but she knew that it was a simulation, and she could not interact with it.

The computer's response shocked Ai, because it was not the normal voice of her computer-mind. Instead, it was the voice of her old Headmistress:

"The events in your time up until now, and what you see here are bound together in a subtle, but inextricable way. You are in ancient Sumer. That merchant is to his time as you are to yours. If he fails, you fail. If you fail, he fails. One day, if you are successful, the two of you will meet. The future of humanity rests in his hands, and yours. Your dream is coming to an end, Miss Yashimoto. Remember your youth, and what was said before you became something more than human."

Ai awoke in a cold sweat, as if from a nightmare. Whatever was happening, it was deeper than even she could have imagined.
Finding herself devoid of thirst and appetite, she went deep into meditation, to calm her restlessness.

Ai turned, as she often did, to the words of Dogen Zenji.

"An ancient Buddha said, 'Do not do anything evil; do good and purify the mind yourself - this is the teaching of all the enlightened.'

As the general precept of the ancestral school of the Seven Buddhas, this is correctly transmitted from former Buddhas to later Buddhas; later Buddhas have inherited it from former Buddhas. It is not only of the Seven Buddhas - this is the teaching of all the enlightened. We should contemplate this principle carefully. What is called the way of the Seven Buddhas must be like the way of the Seven Buddhas. Transmitted and inherited, it is still the conveying a message of herein. Being the teaching of all the enlightened, it is the teaching, practise and realisation of a billion Buddhas."

He passed by an accessory store on the way out of the Tokyo Airport, remembering to buy himself some sleek looking brand-name shades, before he stepped outside into the sunlight.

That haze he was in as he had landed?

Gone. Now substituted by sheer, oppressive pain and brightness. The shades did not block enough.

He hauled his bag with him to the curb to meet a jovial fellow so jolly it made Archer's headache worse. He stated that he came to pick him up for Dr.Yashimoto, and the man bowed several times. Archer, feeling as if he had to reciprocate this gesture, returned it with a bow albeit graceful was nonetheless murdering to his brain.

He stepped into the black Mercedes, the man apparently the driver, and placed the bag at his feet.

Ai was still thinking about her dream when she received a reminder from her phone to depart for the Osaka Corporation building. She is to meet Archer there. Although Ai could, if she so chose, have had someone drive her, she preferred to drive herself. Ai decided to take her black Lexus to the Osaka Corporation's Tokyo research facility. She and Archer's limousine will have been taking different routes, but A did not drive too fast, or too slow, and obeyed all traffic laws at all times.

Archer was overdue for a continued treatment, and despite that Ai was technically no longer authorised to practise medicine, if he were to agree to sign a few forms, she could oversee a research project that should set him right as rain, and cure his headaches. once and for all. As the Chairman of the Board of Directors, she was free to oversee any project she chooses, and her name will have, of course, been nowhere on it.

Ai stopped for a moment, and thought back to her dream, wait, unexpected simulation, she reminded herself, the previous night. She was now used to a certain large amount of privilege, but then, she remembered a time when she did everything herself, much like the two men in the simulation. "Which way is better?" Ai puzzled, but had no answer. She thought back to the smell of the warm milk and fresh dates.

Ai departed well before Archer, and covered a much shorter distance. It was, in fact, her decision as to where to place the facility. Ai considered for a moment how privileged she really was, having expensive homes in more than one city, whereas many Japanese people could barely afford a single, tiny home. It would, perhaps, have felt better if she could argue that she had worked for what she had, but to herself, she could not. It was her computer-mind that made it seem as though she had worked hard, when, in fact, she sometimes felt like little more than the operator of a very powerful, technologically-advanced and sophisticated body with computerised enhancements.

Ai walked through the carpark to the entrance of the lobby. The guard recognised her immediately, and was expecting her.

However, as is company policy, he challanged her.

"Identify yourself. What business brings you here?"

"My name is Ai. I come to oversee an important research project." She produces a company identification card, which the guard immediately scans.

When the scan positively identifies her, he bows. "Is there anything I can get to help your project be successful on behalf of the Osaka Corporation and the world's future?" He asks, slightly melodramatically, as a sign of respect.

"You personally should remain at the desk. I would like a snack. Fresh, organic dates, and fresh, warm goat's milk. No artificially introduced hormones or antibiotics in the goat, or the milk. No trace of pesticide or any other chemical on the dates. I can tell. You know that I will be able to tell. I am going to my office. Airlock on, air purification 100%. Pure atmosphere. I will walk slowly, and take the stairs. When the man called Archer arrives, have two guards escort him up. Open the door, but only he may enter. Guards remain outside the entrance, and ready weapons, until I open the door to leave, at which time they will re-engage their safety configuration," Corporate Chairman Yashimoto replied in a dry monotone.

"Yes, ma'am!" the guard replied enthusiastically, maintaining the facade that what they were doing today was the most important thing in the world, because, to the Osaka Corporation, it was.

The guard hastily accessed the computer on the guard desk and typed in a command, to enable the air purification system located in Ai's office. A text message was sent, to which she replied authorisation, and a loud venting system locked an airlock and pumped in 100% pure atmosphere. Ai rarely experienced this, as she had it built but never before used it, as her body was able to remove impurities itself, on the micro-level. This self-replicating, self-correcting, self-healing symbiotic technology improved itself over time, and was infused in a subtle way with her own organic cells. Every major organ system had to adapt to it, and there was only one which could not: her reproductive system, which was preserved, but "deactivated". Ai had the proper proportion of male and female hormones, but she did not experience a monthly menstrual cycle, which is at least partially how she maintained such an even keel at all times.

Oshri ponders visiting the city of this dweller.

Go up on the wall of Uruk and walk around
examine its foundation, inspect its brickwork thoroughly
Is not the brick structure made of kiln-fired brick
and did not the Seven Sages themselves lay out its plans?

inspect its inner wall, the likes of which no one can equal
Take hold of the threshold stone, it dates from ancient times
Go close to the Eanna Temple, the residence of Ishtar
such as no later king or man ever equaled!

But ware! ware! of the air of Uruk
Stench and corruption dwell there
fermented dung
and the issue of harlots

It is impure like milk
of goats that drank of still water
it is impure like wool
of sheep that ate of sick grass

Cheese, wool, I will buy from you these things. *Strange said with a nod. *
If it is honey you seek
I can provide.

As for Sham
I have never been
I have heard of its beauty
of its crops
of its coasts
Mayhaps one day I will travel
and see for myself

*Strange gave his head a small shake. *
Not this day
Uruk will always be home
City of my father
walls built by the greatest of kings
Gilgamesh.

Tell me,
How many skins of honey
do you desire?