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Paradise Preliminary Poll - Unity


Paradise Poll - Unity  

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Vote here for your favorite Paradise story; entries have been randomized. Please MAKE SURE YOU READ ALL ENTRIES BEFORE VOTING.Voting begins now and will end on July 8th at 11:59 PM EST. Entries that do well will move on to the Paradise Final Poll, which will be posted at the conclusion of the 10th round preliminary poll.

 

Choice #1:

 

"The Agori and the Turaga"

It had been so long.

The stars were bright and glittered in the sky like shattered crystal, while the moons were like two mothers looking down on their children, holding them close but letting them roam free. The Agori found a spot by the lake near the Water Village where she was temporarily staying and sat down, removing some of her heavy armour and resting for a short while.

Kadnin remembered her past, and the pain that was felt not just by her, but by every Agori in Bara Magna. The Matoran and Toa had it easier, but they also had their fair share of troubles and harm. She wasn't so sure on the other species of the Matoran Universe.

Life had been quieter than what she had expected. Little Agori rarely checked under their beds for the monster that was really in their heads. She could live in peace with a nice girl, and maybe settle down and raise a family.

All of this speculation had her aching for anything to happen, something to drive this little life she lead along. Spherus Magna was less dangerous than before, and nobody was killing anyone yet. The paint of silence seemed to have been brushed over the past, but that was the only thing she would care for right now.

"Kadnin."

She looked up. The Turaga of Water - Nokama, maybe - was standing over her. To say that the Agori did not trust her would be incorrect, but she felt a vague sense of wariness around anyone without enough organic parts. Kadnin patted the ground beside her lazily, and Nokama slowly sat down, laying her trident by her side.

"So, why aren't ya sleepin'?" she asked, putting her hands behind her head and streching out.

"I have not felt very tired for a long time," replied the Turaga.

Kadnin raised an eyebrow. "That ain't healthy."

Exhaling, she smiled. "I have lived like this for a long time, so I don't think I need to stop."

The Agori jumped up. "Yes, ya do. We ain't on Bara Magna or Metru Nui anymore. This is a new world, and we can't mess this one up as well. Come with me."

Nokama stood carefully, and was about to pick up her trident when Kadnin blocked her hand. "Nuh uh. We ain't takin' what we don't need."

"What do we need, then?" asked Nokama, humouring her.

"Both hands."

-

The fruit was bountiful and mostly safe to eat. Kadnin took small tastes of each one, determining which ones were good for the Turaga to take. Both finished their jobs with arms full of food with varying firmness and colours. They made their way back to the lakeside with amiable conversation filling the silence. When they had returned, Kadnin had flopped down onto her back and bitten into a succulent fruit. The juices ran down her chin and onto her chest and the Agori let out a rare giggle because, Nokama realised, for one night neither had worried about the future or the past, and both worked together in harmonious unity. The Turaga joined Kadnin in finishing off the pile of fruit that they had gathered together.

They were found the next morning by a couple of worried Ga-Matoran, who were quite surprised at their elder's happiness. They were joined by Kadnin, who carried the remaining fruit in a makeshift basket made from her non-vital armour.

Nokama wasn't tired much anymore.

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Choice #2:

"Life Outside Paradise"

"Mata Nui, our Great Spirit, has renewed the life of this planet!" Turaga Vakama proclaimed to the crowd of Matoran recently emerged from the robot's head. "He has given this new world to us and the peoples of Spherus Magna, that we may build a new life - a life free from the tyranny of the Makuta!"Some of the Matoran cheered at that. For a thousand years, as long as they could remember, these villagers had lived under the shadow of Makuta's attacks upon them. Perhaps now, they hoped, they could finally forget his darkness.The Turaga's speech drew to a close. "I ask you, my people," he concluded, "to honor all who fought and sacrificed for this day, whether they are living or dead -" the Ko-Matoran fell especially silent then "- to do all in your power to preserve this new paradise we have been given, and, above all, to continue to uphold the Unity which has brought the villagers of Mata Nui so far." The six villages erupted into cheers.As the crowd began to disperse, a Ga-Matoran murmured to her neighbor, "Am I the only one waiting for infected Rahi to jump out of the forest?""What do you think-mean, Macku?" the green Matoran asked, tilting his head to one side. His name was Tamaru, and they had been friends since the formation of the Chronicler's Company."Oh, nothing," Macku shrugged. "It's just the Turaga's speech reminded me of the one he gave us when we first came to the island. The legend said itwas a paradise given to us by Mata Nui too. It wasn't exactly perfect, was it?""True-right you are," Tamaru agreed. "But this world-place he did make to give to us, at least. And there will be no dark-slave Rahi here with him dead-gone." He did not have to specify whom he meant.Macku sighed. "Yeah, we can be grateful for that all right. But...I don't know...it just seems like people keep saying this place or that place is 'paradise', when really, they're just...places. I loved the island of Mata Nui - I still miss it sometimes - but I never thought it was perfect. There was a lot of work just to live, and dangerous Rahi that weren't even infected, and other Matoran got on my nerves and I probably got on theirs. It was just normal life!"And I heard Turaga Vakama once said Metru Nui seemed like paradise to them before. Didn't it have robot guards to enforce all its strict laws? It wasn't much like paradise when we got back there, either. I suppose it was our real home, but it was also a city-sized pile of rubble, that we had to put back together. Life actually seemed a lot worse than on Mata Nui."And I've heard that 'Artahka' place they talk about isn't so wonderful either. So I'm not really sure what the Turaga mean when they say this new place is a 'paradise,' too."Tamaru had listened attentively. Now he grinned at her. "All true, water-sister. I f you want a place free from all the evil-bad parts, I'm afraid we'll have to wait till some other life-world."He threw a stick he had picked up into the air and caught it again. "But now we've got light, fear-freeness, a world full of life-beauty and everyone from Metru Nui to work-help each other. I'm joy-happy with that."Macku smiled, bad mood blown away on the fresh breeze of Le-Matoran philosophy. "I suppose you've got a point, Tamaru." She looked around: the bright sun of her Ga-Koro days above, a lush world around her, and almost all her comrades within her sight. "Yeah. I guess this is good enough for now."

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Choice #3:

"Passing Through Paradise"

The sun blazes down, scorching the back of my neck. The sand beneath me is blistering; I feel as though I’m walking barefoot on a frying pan. My mouth burns; my throat is dry as cotton – it’s been forty-eight hours since I poured the last drop of water in my canteen through my chapped lips. The pack on my back seems as heavy as an obese kikanalo; with every step I take it threatens to pull me to the ground. But I trudge on.

Where I’m going is not important – all you must know is that this desert lies between me and my destination. I have lost count of the years I’ve spent out here, pushing ever onward towards my goal. Years? you question. Yes, I know. It amazes me as well, sometimes, when I pause to contemplate it. I am no Toa; I claim no great powers to ease the path before me. I am but a Matoran, a single, weak being alone in a sea of sand. But my goal lies ahead, and I must reach it. And because I must do so, I will.

I reach the crest of the dune and halt for a brief moment to observe the landscape. Sand. More sand. And, off in the distance, a small dark speck.

It is not until hours later that the speck becomes a narrow swath of green in the midst of the endless tan. An oasis. A sliver of paradise in a world of endless pain.

It is hours still before I reach it, but at last the sand turns to grass beneath my feet. The foliage radiates from a pool of water, deep and clear. I unshoulder my pack by its shore, dip my canteen into its depths. The water is cool and pure, life in the midst of death. I fill the vessel and seat myself beneath a towering palm, the tree shielding me, protecting me from the merciless sun. As I drink I dig my feet into the ground, relishing the feel of grass between my toes.

I finish off the canteen and turn to the tree, wrapping my arms around its long, limbless trunk and pulling myself upwards. I manage the climb on willpower alone; my strength, certainly, is not sufficient to carry me to the top. I draw my knife and cut free a cluster of bananas before dropping to the ground myself. I peel one of the fruits and eat it slowly, enjoying the sweetness that fills my mouth and the fullness that barely begins to fill my belly. I continue in this manner for the remainder of the day – drinking, sitting, climbing, eating. At dusk I curl up on the ground, grateful to be able to sleep on the soft grass rather than my coarse bedroll.

The next morning I wake, bathe, and begin again my routine of eating and drinking. I have gone long without water and longer without food; my energy must be replenished. I search the rest of the oasis, finding nuts, berries, and more fruits. No rahi have made their homes here, it seems, which is somewhat unfortunate – meat it would’ve been nice to have a bit of meat. Nonetheless, I gather what I can and return to the pool.

The next day, too, follows a similar pattern, but with the added task of drying and preserving any food I can find. By the end of the day my supplies have been replenished.

I wake the following morning and bathe quickly before refilling each of my canteens. I take a final sip of the pool’s cool water before shouldering my pack.

An hour later the sun is again scorching my neck; the sand is again blistering my feet. My throat is again dry and my lips are again chapped. Again my pack threatens to drag me to the ground. Paradise is behind. My goal is ahead.

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Choice #4:

"Gainful Employment"

A rowboat bumped against the shining steel dock of Artakha’s southern shore. The Av-Matoran in it hopped out gracefully, a single small pack slung over her shoulders as her only luggage. Without stopping to look around, she began to stroll along the dock towards the gate that separated it from the shining city beyond.

At the gate, an Onu-Matoran stepped from the guardhouse and raised a hand to halt her. “Halt. Your name and purpose.”

The Av-Matoran smiled serenely. “My name is Enea. I have come to work here.”

The Ta-Matoran shook his head and sighed. “You aren’t the first. But I’m sorry – we don’t simply allow people to paddle up and start living here. We were chosen by Master Artakha for a reason.”

“And don’t I deserve a chance to give him just such a reason?”

The guard frowned. “Actually, the general policy on that front is no. The interest is appreciated, and it’s nothing personal, but I have to ask you to leave.”

Her smile was unwavering. “And if I told you I had nowhere to return to?”

“What do you mean?”

“Tell me, have you heard of the Barraki?”

The guard scratched his head. “Well… yeah. Yeah, they’re the warlords in charge of the rest of the universe.”

She tipped her head and nodded, the smile growing. “Good. Then, have you heard of their campaigns?”

The guard shuffled uncomfortably. “We don’t much concern ourselves with the politics of the rest of the universe.”

“Very well, then. Allow me to explain. I was an island Matoran. I lived to the south of here, on a small island that was quite splendid in its own little way. We fished and made our own little industry with whatever traders came by. We even had a Toa, a wonderful Toa of Plasma who guarded us with all his heart.” A still sort of sweetness had entered her voice, and the guard found her gaze oddly unnerving.

“It turns out we were supplying some war effort or other with our little trades. Oh, I’m not quite certain who, myself, but it doesn’t really matter. What does matter is what happened next, and what happened next was that one of the Barraki sent his army to ensure we wouldn’t make those trades again. Our Toa fought, he fought so very hard, and for that they clapped him in chains and took him away. That was years and years ago.

“Then last month they came again, and they brought our Toa with them. He didn’t even look at us as he burned our land to ashes. I imagine they wanted to send a message of some sort, don’t you?

“In any event, us survivors are quite adrift. Most everyone else is headed to other islands, or Metru Nui. I came here instead.” The smile again. “Is there a problem with that?”

The guard swallowed nervously. “That’s- you have my sympathies, but-“

“But?”

He drew himself up as best he could. “But Master Artakha’s word is absolute. I’m sorry, but you’re not wanted here.”

“I see.” She sighed. “What was your name?”

“P-Perdonus.”

“Perdonus.” She smiled. “That’s a nice name. Perdonus, I’m afraid you misunderstand me. I’ve decided to come work here, and so I will. It’s really not up for debate.”

The guard could feel himself tensing. “It doesn’t matter what you say-“

“Well, actions speak louder than words.” In a flash, she was moving – not the practiced grace of a trained warrior, but the raw determination of someone with something to prove. Perdonus had barely registered it before she sunk her fist into his stomach, and he collapsed to the ground. She strolled past him and towards the open guardhouse.

A small receiver was hooked up to the wall. Enea plucked it from its cradle and spoke into it. “Hello? Master Artakha? I’m sure you saw that. Someone like you doesn’t actually rely on guards for watching his borders. I’ve come to work for you. I’m rather tired of all the wars, you see. I’d like to try my hand at creation.

“And when the rest of the world comes knocking at your paradise’s door – I’d like to help you stand up to that. If your guard is any indication, you’re badly lacking in knowledgeable employees on that front.

“That’s all. I’ll be outside.”

She hung up the receiver, and, humming, walked back outside, past the still-wheezing Perdonus, seating herself on the edge of the dock.

It was a lovely day.

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"As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake." ~ Aimee Bender

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