Freeport 10's "Sylvania Dome"

[Enkidu]

"Rather tricky for one to admire the vista with you rudely rocking up and startling people, eh Robert?" Achille ribbed, pouncing into the conversation with a fluidity that had even the panther startled, leaning meditatively against the same, frighteningly nearby tree from which he had sprung. "Although, I must admit, it is quite a view. You realise this entire situation was modelled around the royal parklands, New Paris?" He queried, smiling genially, eyes quizzing the uncommunicative Susan.

"Forbid me for eavesdropping cheri, but I happened to be rather close-by." He chucked, as if his minor feat of espionage was merely a matter of convention, which for Achille, it possibly was.

"I agree cheri, the very fact that this was crafted by man does rob some of the splendour from the original. A copy, no matter how magnificently construed, is still a fake. Any forger would tell you that." His smile broke wider, his right hand delicately playing across the cracks, insect holes and tiny imperfections of the tree bark, as though it were a treasured possession, demanding a loving hand.

"Humanity has outdone nature, as we were destined to do. All of Sirius, mostly, is an illusion, an illusion crafted by the wonders of planetary terraforming. You took most of us, any of us, and placed us in a jungle without food, water, clothes, guns, ships, the neuralnet, any of those miniscule constructs with which we like to distract ourselves with, and we would perish. Our bodies, our minds, our cultures, can no longer cope with such conditioning. Sadly cheri, in a sense, none of us have ever seen 'the real thing', nor ever will".

"This biome is a more perfect illusion. If I, or..." He glanced minimalistically to his left, "...Robert, ordered it to rain, it would, and most spectacularly too". The day and night cycle; a mere magician's bluff involving the dome's external panelling. The atmospheric controls; essential. Without them the dome would consume all of it's internal carbon dioxide within a matter of weeks and the plants would perish. The only truly genuine entity is the sky; the hues you see above are the systems own, as are the stars..."

Achille descended on the bench to Susan's right, (he never 'sat' on anything), at a comfortable, conversationalist distance. Any escape from the dialogue was now irrevocably sabotaged.

"...And as we are, the Commonwealth. Cheri, we are humans, lawless, self-dependent humans at that; there is nothing more genuine than us. What is is the capitalists are always demanding? Wealth? Property? We possess both. The Coalition and the Communists? A sense of Comeradeship? We..." He twitched in Robert's general direction, "...Possess that too, at least in spirit. We rely, depend, upon our fraternal bonds. Isolate an animal from it's pack; it withers and dies, as does a grape when picked from the vine. But together? We have strength together cheri."

He crossed his legs.

"I have the honour of being a Burgundian cheri, but on my last sojourn up to Ill De France, I visited the aforementioned gardens and found myself... Immoderately demotivated. What we have here, is control. Compared with this, sole fundament, there is no greater truth."

Achille yawned, spreading his limbs.

"I'll believe you'll fit in well around here my dear. Wholeheartedly, welcome to the business."

---

THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's outlawed trade unions, determined to take the underworld for themselves.)

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