#var gallery

[thegreatsurvey]

Happening Elsewhere (30x30x30 project) #8:

The Rings.

At first, the rings were a godsend; a relatively cheap and simple way of moving a large population off the staging vessels, which now housed thousands of migrants long passed their intended stay due to "difficulties" in terraforming the west-edge of the new colony on Terth.

Ozone manufacturers were repurposed as housing units, still revolving around their fission containment orb as before. Most of the shell remained the same, just gutted with nearly all the internal machinery removed and replaced with normal everyday furnishings.

The problem, as with any housing, is that once an option is there, the landlord is unlikely to refuse continued use, especially with an endless pool of paying tenants waiting.

As civilians were eventually settled on Terth, the same vices and problems that plague any human settlement also took a foothold. The disadvantaged, poor, outcast and criminal still needed a place to go, once rejected from the new colony, and the ring's, now long-past their own service-life, welcomed any additional source of income beyond a trip to the scrapyard.

The rings, numbering in the hundreds due to the need for fast ozone production in the first stages of terra-forming Terth, now serve, essentially, as leper colonies, housing the least able and most criminal, with little oversight and virtually no knowledge of what happens within each.

Like dark stars they hover above, reminding, perhaps warning the surface dwellers of what they have, and have to lose.

[thegreatsurvey]

Happening Elsewhere (30x30x30 series) #28/30:

Contact.

Against the wishes of the hunting commission, the elders erected the monument about seventy-five days ago in the strange, purple material found after the first sighting. About three days ago, just before the start of the hunt, one lookout reported a small circular shadow over a portion of the sun, but staring into the daylight made it impossible to see clearly. Yesterday evening, three children playing near the forests edge reported the ground rumbling and a large dark shape passing silently overhead, disappearing behind the canopy.

This morning we arose to a strange swirling wind and absolute silence beyond the rustling foliage. Just below the cliff loomed a dark purple egg-shaped craft, floating about fifty feet off the ground. It sat motionless in the sunlight, the wind continuing to swirl, but nothing else happened.

As night falls the forest remains silent. Not a single animal has been seen all day. The traps are empty; our stomachs hollow apart from the last portions of vegetables and potatoes. We're supposed to be stocking up on meat for winter, but this object has brought a strange wind to the forest and the animals, we fear, have taken notice. We're hopeful the elders plan will come through in the end, but with weeks left before the first snow, we're beginning to worry they've brought a plague upon our village.

[thegreatsurvey]

Happening Elsewhere (30x30x30 series) #20/30:

Greenhouse.

The greenhouse was built on a bit of a whim.

We had just tidied up the yard for winter, closed down the stables and were ready to hunker down and wait for spring, but this year more than others, I dreaded the thought of long winter days stuck bundled in layers and trudging through knee-deep powder. I wanted a respite from the cold; a place to warm both my body and mind. I wanted to be able to relax in bliss rather than simply persevere.

[thegreatsurvey]

Happening Elsewhere (30x30x30 series) #16/30:

A Weekend in the Emerald City.

On the 134th floor, looking out across the dazzling emerald cityscape for the first time in person, I imagined how many corks were being popped, dollars spent, cheers arising; how many lives changing for better or worse sat within my view.

The occasional sparrow used to catch my eye as it flew through the family's empty fields back home, but here, there's no shortage of life, and activity; no lack of things at which to gawk.

For a moment I watched a leaflet drift in the thermals between towers, and felt, briefly, like home was not too far away.

"Drink up, we're headed to ground level" my partners shouted from inside the suite.

I glanced back and watched as the leaflet plunged into the traffic and smog below.

[thegreatsurvey]

Happening Elsewhere (30x30x30 project) #9:

Respite.

It doesn't seem like much, but we're allowed a 25 minute break for the last 25 minutes of sunshine bright enough to break through the looming canopy.

Yes, we get a brief lunch (spent in the trees) and regular sap-soda refills, but this late-afternoon respite is the time that, I find, gives most loggers the strength to close out the day strong.

Many simply nap, or eat whatever leftovers remain from lunch, but I like to swing. Dangerous, yes...and also a bit tiring in terms of climbing to a high-enough branch and getting the thing anchored, but there's nothing quite like swinging through the understorey amongst the thousand-foot giants of the Pallidu Forest.

[thegreatsurvey]

Happening Elsewhere (30x30x30 series) #22/30:

Balance.

Some balance for enlightenment; some for wellness; some to calm themselves; some to find energy. Sometimes they balance for just a few minutes; sometimes for months. They balance both night and day, through the brutal sun and the occasional rain. Whether things are going well or poorly, they always come to balance.

We're not sure if it's just a club or something more like a cult, but they come every day, silently making their way to the top of an unclaimed spire, staying as long as they please, never making a sound nor gesture.

A number have fallen. It seems to happen every few days. Whether during the climb or balancing itself, one can't be sure, but the others eventually gather and carry the victim out of the valley.

Those on the spires continue to balance.

[thegreatsurvey]

Happening Elsewhere (30x30x30 series) #24/30:

Grand Polo.

Grand Polo is the traditional sport of the country's elite, with 63 "sortis" (or periods) played over the course of an entire year.

Often, clubs go three weeks or more without a score, with much of the time spent in ceremonial sparring matches atop the hulking Blue-horned Youpouvis, a relatively docile creature, but also one that is known to prefer grazing than following the rider's orders.

The matches are "watched" by the various royal orders, each occupying their family spire. After kicking off with an indulgent feast, these parties usually devolve into debaucherous affairs, often demanding more coverage than the games themselves.

We're fourteen games into this year's edition. The Falks are ahead 3-2-1-0-0-1-0 (one team for each house) and only one spire has required the use of the fire brigade. We so far have no deaths on the playing field nor "stands".

[thegreatsurvey]

Happening Elsewhere (30x30x30 project) #7:

The Edge of a Storm.

The storm rolled in pretty quickly; before we even had time to take down the flag. Currently ripping furiously, it won't remain in one piece for long and, I assume, we'll have to pull that out of the seventh shift budget for replacement.

It's always stormy in the middle of summer, but lately, even the lighthouse seems to have a sinister draft. The bricks that shine a brilliant gold on the outside have grown cold, grey and lifeless on the interior. The grand ornamental masonry ends once one traverses the welcome hall and ascends to the second floor preparation room, giving way to crumbling pillars and wooden scaffolding that accompanies you twenty tall stories to the beacon.

Here you're accompanied by your thoughts, or the occasional foghorn or banter from your co-worker. Legends and myths, along with the longing for the end of your shift, echo in the back of one's mind as the days and nights tick by ever so slowly.

We have special goggles that block out a good deal of the light, but the constant strain on the eyes, not to mention the fact that we regularly must remove our goggles to perform certain tasks, mean we're required to stare, for long stretches, into the darkness of the sea, the beam passing in the distance every few seconds. Strange things are said to happen near the beacon, especially during a bad squall, but at least the light is warm.