Exitium

I could be remembering this incorrectly, but I'm pretty sure I saw a reference to triangles being used somewhere on BS01. I just looked for it, but I couldn't find it. It never appeared in story per se, so I'm guessing it came from a Greg comment (assuming it's not just a figment of my imagination).

To answer fishers's original question, I would imagine that there should have been some linguistic drift between the two societies due to isolation, That drift was probably reduced by the small number of generations, but languages can still change dramatically over the course of a single generation. As an example, in text-speak "lol" originally indicated laughter (as little as 5 or so years ago), but now it generally signals irony while its original usage has replaced by "haha" or something similar. So I would imagine that Gelu and Kabrua should have actually had a rather difficult time communicating, but I think most of us are willing to overlook that lapse in favor of advancing the plot. (What I'm far more curious about is how the inhabitants of the MU were able to communicate with the inhabitants of Spherus Magna, seeing as they speak completely different languages). Regarding the Ba-/Ga- split, I find both BioGio's and bonesiii's theories equally possible. Although Matoran is supposed to be a programming language, which would seem to discredit the linguistic theories, we know that linguistic drift definitely occurred in the MU since "zya" and "Valmai" are said to be archaic words, while we also observe Magaia > Mangai. On the other hand, its also possible that Ba- and Garari have completely separate roots (as bonesiii suggests) with different nuances that could have been retained over time or their meanings could have merged. Unfortunately we're not going to get direct story evidence in favor of one or the other, leaving both in the realm of merely possible. It's quite likely that different accents developed since the Le-Matoran had chutespeak and different populations were probably isolated from each other inside the MU. TheSkeletonMan's observation about the changes in written language (circles in Metru Nui, hexagons on the Southern Continent, triangles on Xia) is actually evidence in favor of the possibility of changes in the language, since if the written language changed, the spoken one could have as well.

Chapter 6 One Short Day According to legend, when the universe was young, Mata Nui summoned his chosen Turaga to Kia Nui to build a kingdom for Matoran to live freely in peace. The Turaga and the Matoran who followed them sailed up the island’s great river until they nearly reached its source. Here, at the center of the island, they built a magnificent citadel, the most ancient, spectacular, and majestic landmark in Kia Nui, at the center of what would become Eri, the island’s capital city. From the city’s gates, Veelix glimpsed his destination, the spire of this citadel. The palaces and towers around the citadel were so impressive that they rivaled the citadel and threatened to overwhelm Veelix’s senses. An arch thirty feet high, inscribed with the names and reliefs of Toa that had lived in Kia Nui marked each entrance to the walled city. These arches were relatively new, erected after the city had grown far beyond its original boundaries. The citadel was built on an island situated between the northern and southern sectors of the city on the corresponding shores of the river. Each side of the city mirrored the other across the river, each with a circular plaza from which the major streets of the city extended. Towers that housed Matoran and served as hubs of business lined the roads. In previous times, the Matoran in these buildings made decisions that had repercussions across the island, though their influence had become localized in recent times. Near the center of the city were the grandest buildings, many dating back to the Barraki War and others to founding of Kia Nui itself. The center of the city was home to magnificent palaces with high walls and rectangular bell towers where the island’s Toa and Turaga lived. Across from the citadel on the northern shore was a fortified palace that now belonged to the leader of the Toa Army, the name still used for the vestige of the once great company of Toa that defended Kia Nui. While there had been hundreds of Toa on this island in ancient times, only a few dozen now remained. To the south was the island’s largest temple, over which Arconis, the leader of the Turaga, presided. The two Matoran walked through the city, passing more Matoran in the streets than Veelix had seen in his entire life. Near the banks of the river, they passed through a marble plaza brimming with Matoran, at the center of which was a sparkling fountain. In the center of the pool was a ring of Toa facing outward, silver liquid protodermis flowing from their tools. Both the sculpture and much of the citadel were made from crystalline protodermis, which could only be crafted by six Toa. From this vantage point, the port that lined the city on both sides of the river was in view, bustling with activity. Veelix and Ludin followed the road toward the river and crossed one of Eri’s bridges. The island in the river with its citadel reminded Veelix of Ta-Kia. He felt a twinge of homesickness, which surprised him, for he had no happy memories of that place. Perhaps he realized that now there was no going back, and Ta-Kia had provided certainty in the face of the unknown. It would be here, in this city ancient yet modern city, where Veelix would confront the unknown and discover his future. As he crossed the bridge, Veelix could see the citadel in its entirety. Gleaming crystal fortifications ringed the small island, guarding a central keep with a tower that rose above the rest of the city. Four towers rose from the corners of the outer walls, each capped with a refulgent white flame. Atop the central tower was a statue of an armored figure, its face bare of any mask and its arms outstretched to its sides, watching over Kia Nui. Seven Matoran guarded the citadel’s marble doors, each holding a spear and wearing ceremonial garb much like the Turaga, a mark of their distinction. Each represented one of the seven Turaga who first came to Kia Nui, of whom only Arconis was still alive. It was a great honor to be selected for the Tower Guard, yet Veelix imagined it was incredibly dull work. One of the guards stopped them. “Please state your name and business,” he requested. Ludin answered first, “My name is Ludin of Eri. I’ve come to receive my next assignment from the Labor Committee.” After a short pause, Veelix said, “I’m Veelix of Ta-Kia. I’m here to be reassigned.” He produced the tablet Prinkor had given him. “I’m not sure who I should see,” he added hesitantly. The guard looked at the tablet. “You’ll want the Labor Committee,” he replied. “Just follow your friend here.” The guard signaled and the ancient doors creaked open, revealing a long entrance hall with a scarlet carpet. Mirrors, paintings, and statues of Toa that who at one time protected Kia Nui lined the walls, illuminated by the soft glow of chandeliers lit with lightstones. Veelix read the names of the Toa as he passed, stopping at one statue and gazing at its mask. Ludin stopped and walked over to Veelix. “What is it?” he asked. “This is Toa Jecitus,” Veelix replied, his eyes remaining fixed on the statue’s mask. “He was the founder of Ta-Kia. As long as I can remember, I have heard legends about him from the Turaga.” “Every Matoran knows the hero of the Barraki War,” Ludin replied. “What about him?” “I’ve always looked up to him,” Veelix continued. “You could say he was something of a hero to me, but I never had any idea what he looked like. It’s strange being able to put a mask to the name, even though I never imagined he looked quite like this.” “Don’t you think knowing what he looked like makes him seem more real?” Ludin asked. “It takes away some of his majesty,” Veelix said. “But you’re right, it’s better this way. I should appreciate Jecitus for who he was, not who I want him to be.” They left the statue and walked through another set of doors into the atrium. Columns and busts of figures with Noble Masks lined the grand room, filled with Matoran conversing and waiting to visit the committee they had come to see. Beyond the doors at the far end of the hall was a courtyard at the center of the palace. Ludin explained the various committees of Turaga as he led Veelix down the hall. Veelix struggled to pay attention as he gazed at the numerous works of art in the tall room. Even the most important rooms in Ta-Kia, such as the fortress and the temple, were austere, displaying little artwork, bright colors, or other worldly distractions. The elaborate features of the atrium inundated Veelix’s senses, leaving him unable to possibly absorb every detail. Ludin led Veelix into a comparatively plain room with wood panels and arched windows, furnished merely with a painting on the far wall. Rows of chairs faced a wooden table, behind which five Turaga were seated. The one in the center appeared to be the committee chair, for a wooden gavel rested on the desk next to her neatly folded hands. The Turaga to her left was currently speaking, looking at the room over stone tablet, while a Turaga on the other end of the table was struggling to remain awake. A Matoran by the door ushered Veelix and Ludin to the chairs facing the table where several Matoran were already seated, and took their names, which were delivered to a Matoran scribbling furiously at a desk to the left of the Turaga. The committee had already begun its business, currently dealing with several Po-Matoran who were being commissioned to build a statue in Ba-Kia. Ludin whispered everything Veelix needed to know, though Veelix doubted he would remember anything he had heard. The tap of a gavel startled Veelix out of his thoughts. The group of Po-Matoran sat down and the clerk called Ludin’s name. He approached the podium before the Turaga, who asked him to verify his name and residence and to give truthful testimony. Ludin quickly recited the oath to be truthful as if he had it memorized. “For what reason do you come before the Labor Committee?” asked the Turaga sitting in at the center of the table. She wore blue armor, but as Veelix was unable to recall ever meeting a female Matoran or Turaga, he was unsure which element she represented. “I’ve completed my assignment to design and lead construction of Po-Kia’s newest apartments, as instructed by this committee,” Ludin replied. “I now come before the committee to request my next assignment.” A Turaga with black armor who sat next to the female Turaga began to speak. “The Onu-Kia Museum is looking to create a new exhibit about the island’s Toa,” he said in a deep voice. “You will meet with the curator in Onu-Kia to design a new building to house the exhibit and then bring the drafts back to this committee for approval. Unless there is a compelling reason which would prevent you from fulfilling this occupation, I move to have the Matoran reassigned to Onu-Kia.” “Is there an objection?” the blue Turaga asked, as if reading from a script. There was a brief pause. “Without objection, so ordered.” She struck the gavel and Ludin sat down. “The chair calls Veelix of Ta-Kia.” Hearing his name called, Veelix walked up to the podium with his release tablet. As he did, he realized he had already forgotten everything Ludin had told him to say. As with Ludin, the Turaga asked him to verify his name and residence and to recite an oath swearing that his testimony was true. While Veelix was unsure what he could possibly lie about, the stiff penalties for deceiving Turaga of the Unified Government made him unnecessarily nervous. “For what reason do you come before the Labor Committee?” the Turaga asked. Veelix cleared his throat. “I requested a reassignment from Prinkor, the Turaga of Ta-Kia,” he explained. “I’d like a new position in a different city.” He handed the release tablet to the blue Turaga, who looked at it for a long moment. The silence was agonizing. “Why do you require reassignment?” she asked. “There were no positions that suited me in Ta-Kia,” Veelix explained, feeling less sure of himself than before. “My Turaga suggested that I seek reassignment in Eri.” The Turaga nodded and asked, “What do you have in mind?” Veelix thought for a moment. “I like learning,” he offered. “Perhaps you might enjoy an assignment in the monasteries of Ko-Kia,” suggested a white Turaga to Veelix’s left. “I don’t see how I could stay in one place for so long,” Veelix muttered. “I want a job that would allow me to travel.” “There are no positions with the parameters who have requested,” the Turaga of Earth informed him. “Actually, there is one,” said the blue Turaga. “Veelix, do you have any interest in history?” As Veelix replied in the affirmative, the light of recognition entered the other Turaga’s eyes, and several of them sat up straighter in their chairs. “It is absurd for you to even make such a suggestion,” the white Turaga said. “No one has held that position for almost 70,000 years.” “For good reason,” warned the Turaga next to him. “We all know why traveling this road would be folly.” Veelix had no idea what the Turaga were talking about or how a position involving history could trigger such a strong reaction. He glanced back at Ludin who seemed just as perplexed. “Perhaps it is time that we reinstate that position,” the female Turaga suggested. “What kind of occupation would be ideal for you, Veelix?” “I’d like to be able to travel, perhaps meet new Matoran,” Veelix said. “You already said that,” the blue Turaga interrupted. “I am asking you what it is, fundamentally, that you want to do.” Veelix thought for a moment. “I want my life to have meaning,” he finally said. “I’ve spent the last thousands of years doing insignificant work that has left me feeling empty and useless. My body is tired, but my mind yearns for something to live for.” The Turaga looked directly at Veelix. “I can offer you a position that will allow you to travel, provide you with unparalleled access to information, and offer you a clear purpose. Do you wish to submit yourself for consideration?” “I have no idea what you’re asking me to do,” Veelix admitted. “Can you tell me more about this position?” “I’m afraid not,” the Turaga replied. “However, I believe that you are a suitable candidate. We need your answer now before we can proceed.” Veelix felt ten eyes peering at him as he wondered what he was getting himself into. He was taking a significant risk that this new position would be worse than his previous ones, but he had little choice. Only the continuation of his monotonous life worried him more than the unknown. He replied in the affirmative. “In that case, I move to defer this decision to the Grand Council.” “I object,” the Turaga at the far right of the table said forcefully. “We should hold a vote on a manner of such importance.” “Very well,” replied the blue Turaga. “We shall vote individually, starting with my friend from Ko-Kia and moving down the table.” The Turaga who had objected voted no, as did the white Turaga. Naturally the committee chair voted in favor, as did the Turaga of Earth to her left, leaving the last Turaga to break the tie. He had said nothing yet, but he had been studying Veelix ever since the chair had made her suggestion. He continued to watch Veelix for another moment until he finally cast his vote. The final Turaga cleared his throat. “Yes.” Veelix couldn’t help but smile, though he had no idea what he had agree to. The blue Turaga spoke again, “With a vote of three in favor and two opposed, the decision of Veelix of Ta-Kia’s appointment is deferred to the Grand Council. The clerk shall submit a formal request to the Chancellor to call the Grand Council into special session.” She tapped the gavel on the table and turned to Veelix. “You are dismissed, until which time the Grand Council requests your presence.” Veelix and Ludin sat in the courtyard just beyond the atrium while he waited for the Grand Council to summon him. The majesty of the garden, with its streams, statues, and variety of exotic plants was impressive, but Veelix found himself unable to look at anything other than the central keep, a grand tower which he would soon be entering. “Do you have any idea what’s happening?” Veelix asked Ludin. “Nope,” he replied, he feet up on a chair. “I’m just as confused as you are. Still you’re either lucky to go before the Grand Council or very unlucky. I guess we’ll find out.” Veelix nodded, though Ludin was doing nothing to make him less nervous. “When do you leave for Onu-Kia?” “I’m required by law to set out within a day of being assigned,” Ludin replied. “I want to stick around to find out what your new position is, but after that I’ll probably be on the next boat to Onu-Kia” “Are you allowed to sit in on my hearing?” Veelix asked. “Of course,” Ludin replied. “Formal sessions are open to the public, but I’ve never been here when the Council meets. It leaves most of the routine business to its committees.” “When do you think they’ll start?” Veelix asked. “I’d guess that they’ve already started,” Ludin replied. “The Turaga will probably discuss this amongst themselves before they officially begin. From what I’m told, most of their decisions are made behind closed doors. You might as well relax, because we might be here for a while.” Veelix could not relax, and feeling restless, he stood up and wandered around the courtyard, glancing at the statues in the garden but not looking at any of them with much care. However, there was one statue that did catch his eye, which he stopped to get a better look at. Three figures stood on a platform, their relative heights suggesting that one was a Toa, one a Matoran, and one a Turaga. The Toa’s armor was stylized, though he clearly bore a Mask of Charisma. His posture was commanding and his hand stretched out toward some unknown object in the distance upon which his eyes seemed fixed as if he were unaware of the two figures near him. The unadorned Matoran stood at the Toa’s feet, dwarfed by his presence. A look of admiration was etched into his Mask of Diminishment that gazed up at the Toa, his mouth open slightly in awe. The Turaga behind the Toa stood to his left, his hands resting on his staff. Unlike the Toa’s highly stylized form, this figure, carved in intricate detail, was incredibly detailed and lifelike. The figure’s posture was better than most Turaga’s, and his eyes were focused on the Matoran from behind a Noble Mask of Strength. Veelix read the inscription at the base of statue, “Security, Service, and Order. Dedicated to the people of Kia Nui to be held in public trust in recognition of the establishment of the Unified Government, 20,500 AF.” The sculptor’s name was not given nor indication that the figures represented anyone specific, though the striking detail of the Turaga led Veelix to wonder if the sculptor had one of them in mind. A guard approached Veelix. “The Grand Council has requested your presence,” he informed him. “Please follow me.” The guard escorted them into the keep and through a hall that ended in a great staircase. They marched up several stories, passing a door with a sign that read “No Admittance,” before stopping at the landing two floors above it. The guard turned to Ludin. “You must watch from the gallery,” he said. “You may proceed up to the next level to see the proceedings.” Ludin wished his friend luck and climbed up the stairs. Veelix felt a sense of panic as he watched him disappear. He would be truly alone now. The guard opened the two wooden doors, and Veelix entered the Grand Council chamber. The chamber was more magnificent than any of the prior rooms Veelix had visited. The walls were lined with marble columns, famous paintings, and stained glass windows that illuminated the chamber without the need for artificial light. Several rows of chairs were arranged in a semicircle with red upholstery to match the crimson carpet. The guard led Veelix down the central isle toward the well of the chamber. Behind a podium was a wooden desk and an ornate golden chair, above which was a red and gold curtain that formed a canopy and a sculpture of a Kahu clutching an orb in its talons. As Veelix sat down in a small chair to the right of the podium, a Matoran emerged from the back door carrying a gold ceremonial mace, which he placed upright in a pedestal near the desk. The Turaga followed him into the room and took their seats, each silently probing Veelix with their eyes as they passed. When all had arrived, the Matoran announced, “All rise for Arconis, Sovereign of Kia Nui, Turaga Regnant of Eri, and Chancellor of the Grand Council.” The ancient Turaga slowly entered through the back door. The light glittered off his white and silver armor, casting an aura that the other Turaga did not possess. He bore a Noble Mask of Shielding, the symbol of Mata Nui, and a white staff with a spherical lightstone set at its head with three spokes radiating from the center like the rays of the sun. He seated himself in the golden chair and gripped the gavel, his hand shaking slightly. “The Grand Council will be in order,” he announced, gently tapping the gavel on the desk. The Turaga took their seats. “The Grand Council has been called into special session to deliberate the case of Veelix of Ta-Kia. The chair recognizes the Turaga from Eri.” The chair of the Labor Committee stood up and took the podium facing the audience. “Thank you, Chancellor,” she said. “Pursuant to Rule 28, Section 1 of the Standing Rules of the Grand Council, the Labor Committee has the authority to make all appointments to occupations both in the city of Eri and among the several kia. There is but one exception, a position that pursuant to the Historical Records Act of 20,500 AF can only be granted by the Grand Council on the recommendation of the Labor Committee. As the chair of that committee, I would like to formally present the Labor Committee’s recommendation that the Grand Council appoint Veelix of Ta-Kia to the position of Chronicler of Kia Nui.” A murmur went through the gallery, yet the assembled Turaga remained silent. Although the Turaga at the podium was still speaking, the eyes of the other Turaga were fixed not on her but on Veelix. Unsure what to think, Veelix tried to keep his expression neutral as he pondered the ramifications of what he had heard. “My fellow Turaga, earlier this morning, we came upon a strange occurrence in a routine hearing of the Labor Committee,” the Turaga continued. “The Matoran in question requested a reassignment, not an altogether rare event, but he was unsure of an occupation that could provide a suitable replacement. His criteria were challenging to meet, but they convinced me that he possessed a sharp mind, a desire for knowledge, and the curiosity necessary to be a successful Chronicler.” She continued for a several minutes, though Veelix was later able to remember little of what she had said, his attention focused on the dramatic change this event could have on his life. After the Turaga finished, Arconis opened the floor for questions. “When this government was formed, it decided that a Chronicler is unnecessary,” asked the first Turaga. “What has changed your thinking on this matter?” “Onu-Matoran have requested the reinstatement of this position before, and we currently lag behind other islands that already have Chroniclers. The Historical Records Act leaves open the possibility of appointed a new Chronicler, an act which I believe the Turaga voted in favor of.” “What benefit do you believe a Chronicler will provide?” asked another. “As I stated before, Kia Nui’s rich history must be preserved and protected. A Chronicler will be able to record history as it happens across the island in a way that the archivists in Onu-Kia cannot.” Several more Turaga posed questions until one asked, “Why now? The island has been prosperous for tens of millennia without a Chronicler. Why should the Grand Council reverse its course at this time?” The blue Turaga hesitated for a moment before replying, “We have survived these many thousands of years without plague, without war, without famine. Little hardship has come upon us in that time, and the concerns of the previous ages have become immaterial. Yet while we have survived, we cannot forget that which makes us Matoran, that which makes us not merely alive but sentient. As for why at this moment in time, the best candidate has just now appeared. Perhaps you should judge him for yourself before you make your decision. I yield the floor to Veelix of Ta-Kia.” The Turaga took her seat and Arconis called Veelix to the podium. His heart began to pound as the inquisitive Turaga assaulted him with questions. “The Grand Council has reviewed your records,” the first stated, though Veelix was unaware that such records existed and wondered what they contained. “Why should the Grand Council appoint you to be Chronicler?” Veelix was unsure how to respond to that question. He thought for a moment before replying, “I only just found out what position I’m being considered for, and it is not one that I asked for. Over the past few days, I’ve traveled across half the island and seen more of Kia Nui on that journey than in my entire life and learned so much on the way. Being Chronicler would allow me to explore this great island with a purpose, one that would allow me to give something back to my fellow Matoran.” “That explains why you want to be Chronicler, but not why you should be,” another Turaga commented. “Why should we select you and not another more qualified Matoran?” “I’ll be motivated,” said Veelix. “More than any Matoran I know, I want to do this. That drive will lead me to put in more effort than I have in any previous job I’ve had.” The questions proceed in a similar fashion for another hour until Arconis announced that time for questions had elapsed and directed Veelix to face his desk so he could speak to him directly. The Turaga had not spoken yet in the proceedings, having merely directed the flow of questions dispassionately. “There comes a time in all our lives when we look upon our past with critical judgment,” he said, addressing Veelix specifically. “We have now engaged in a public reflection on your life, and I wish to know what it has illuminated for you.” Veelix was unsure what Arconis was asking. “Are you asking me what I’ve learned about myself?” “I want you to consider your life for a moment,” Arconis replied. “What has been the purpose of your life?” “Frankly, I haven’t been sure,” Veelix admitted. “I thought making masks would best serve the Matoran of Kia Nui, but it is a pointless job, as was crafting tools. I’ve questioned the meaning of my life from the purpose of my job to my purpose in the universe. As I think more and more about the position of Chronicler, I understand that this is what I was meant to do.” “Reflection is a key skill,” Arconis replied. “The search for meaning is innate in our being, and it will be fundamental to your task ahead. Collecting the facts is easy, but reflecting on them, interpreting them, understanding their meaning—that is the challenge. Bear in mind that if you receive this position, you could be reassigned at any time.” Veelix nodded. “Very well,” said Arconis. “The Chancellor asks for unanimous consent to appoint Veelix of Ta-Kia to the position of Chronicler, effective immediately.” There was a pause as some Turaga shifted uncomfortably. The questioning had made clear that several Turaga opposed Veelix’s appointment, perhaps even a majority, yet instead of calling a vote, Arconis asked for them to agree unanimously, a motion that required only a single Turaga to object to trigger a vote that could spell the end of Veelix’s newfound dream. Despite the simplicity of the objection required, not a single Turaga wanted to be the one who stood up to oppose Arconis without the shield of safety in numbers. “Without objection, so ordered,” Arconis announced after a moment’s silence. “Chronicler, you are dismissed.” The gavel struck the desk and the Grand Council’s will was made law.

Chapter 5 Death and Glory Dawn broke over Fa-Kia as the morning rays of light cast a glow over the metallic city. On this new day, Matoran across the island would awaken to do precisely what they had done the day before, the same tasks they had performed for millennia. Builders, architects, craftsmen, and mask makers would rise to do what they had done their entire lives. Veelix pondered the uniqueness of his situation as he and Ludin journeyed toward Ba-Kia, the latter going on about an encounter he had with a Rahi on his last trip to Eri. Ludin talked for some time before noticing that Veelix did not appear to be paying attention. “You’re unusually quiet today,” Ludin remarked. “I’ve just been thinking,” muttered Veelix. “Mata Nui forbid you start thinking,” Ludin said with a wry smile. “Don’t strain yourself.” Veelix knew that Ludin was merely teasing him, but his choice of words prompted Veelix to ask a question that would have gotten him thrown out of Ta-Kia’s temple. “Do you really believe in all that?” he asked. “About Mata Nui and the founding of our kia?” “Of course,” Ludin replied, his tone tinged with mild surprise. “I’m from Po-Kia, so I went to the temple every week with everyone else. I don’t any more, unless I’m working in Po-Kia, but I have no reason to doubt what the Turaga say about Mata Nui.” “But what makes you so certain your beliefs are true?” pressed Veelix. “The only evidence of Mata Nui we have are his words from our respective scriptures, and there are significant differences between the two.” “As long as I can remember I’ve been told that Mata Nui watches over and guides us,” Ludin said. “We all have doubts, but I had never really pondered them until my colleagues in Ga-Kia urged me to reevaluate my beliefs. Before then I had blindly followed the Turaga’s teachings, but the other students helped me recognize the beauty and presence of Mata Nui in all things for myself. It’s also comforting to know that Mata Nui gives me a reason to live and that I can continue to serve him throughout my life.” “So it’s just a feeling?” Veelix asked. “There’s nothing you’ve read or heard from the Turaga that convinced you that Mata Nui actually said what we think he did?” “There’s a reason it’s called faith,” Ludin replied. “If you believe, that’s good enough.” “So merely believing absolves you from having to go to the temple?” Veelix asked. “My time in Eri and Ga-Kia brought me into contact with Matoran with different ideas,” Ludin said. “North of the Southern Mountains, few Matoran make weekly visits to the temple. The Ga-Matoran thought weekly visits to the temple were provincial, and the Matoran I met convinced me that I didn’t need a Turaga’s weekly guidance to understand the ways of Mata Nui.” “But doesn’t Mata Nui command weekly attendance at the temple?” Veelix asked. Despite his doubts about the validity of the Turaga’s teachings, Veelix was surprised someone would so blatantly disregard Mata Nui’s strict instructions. “That depends on who you ask,” Ludin replied. “The Ko-Matoran would agree with you, but the Ga-Matoran are a little more skeptical. Perhaps you should visit the temple as often as possible, but from my understanding, Mata Nui doesn’t take attendance. I don’t think I’d want to worship him if he did. In fact, it was probably the founders of Ta-Kia and Eri who were responsible for popularizing that notion.” “Why don’t the Ga-Matoran believe in going to the temple?” Veelix asked. “Well, they do,” Ludin replied. “Officially, the Turaga preach that all Matoran should honor Mata Nui at the temple every week, but many Ga-Matoran think that simply warming a chair in the temple is not what’s important about being a believer. They think there is more to honoring Mata Nui than simply going through the motions.” Veelix could hardly believe the ease with which Ludin simply dismissed Ta-Kia’s basic cultural tenets. In Ta-Kia, the Turaga had taught him that if he did not attend temple weekly, he was a heretic. The fear of social rejection was the strongest force that drew Veelix back to the temple, yet Ludin promised a different way of living. Ludin and the Matoran from the north embraced these heretical beliefs, something Veelix was hesitant to do despite his doubts. “I was taught that you must go to the temple regularly in order to be a believer,” he said. “Well, you attend temple regularly, and you don’t seem to be a believer,” Ludin replied. He chuckled to himself for a moment and continued, “I can’t believe I’ve met a Ta-Matoran who doesn’t believe in Mata Nui.” “I never said I denied his existence,” Veelix said. “I simply don’t know what to believe.” “We’re not born with knowledge,” Ludin said. “You have to discover what to believe for yourself.” The scenery in the valley was different than any Veelix had ever seen. While the region south of the Southern Mountains was arid and inhospitable, the valley beyond teemed with life. Endless stretches of fields lined with crops that fed the entire island reached as far as Veelix could see; only the snowcapped peaks of the Northern Mountains promised that the fields were not infinite. In the middle of the afternoon, the Matoran reached a fork in the road, one that did not appear on the map. Noticing a small sign, Veelix read the inscription: “North: Ba-Kia, North-East: The Ashen Fields.” Looking at the map, Veelix indeed noticed a location just off the road with that same name. It was one that all Ta-Matoran knew, so Veelix asked Ludin if they could stop for a detour. “We have time, if you want to check it out,” Ludin said. The two Matoran took the northeast road, wandering off the main path to an empty plain. The Ashen Fields had long since been scorched by the awesome elemental powers of the Toa that had fought here during the Barraki War. New vegetation had not grown, as the battle had left the soil inhospitable to life, preserving the plains much as they had been immediately after the battle. Several large stones dotted the landscape, each with an inscription. Veelix proceeded to the nearest one and began to read: The Battle of the Ashen Fields was fought in the year 20,000 AF (after the founding of Kia Nui) against the League of Six Kingdoms. After driving the Toa out of Eri, the League ambushed the Toa Army and captured Toa Jecitus, threatening to execute him if the Toa did not surrender. In response, Jectitus’s lieutenant, Toa Goucaer, led the Toa to their first major victory of the war. Despite heavy casualties on both sides, the Toa used their momentum from this victory to recapture the capital and negotiate for an armistice that effectively brought an end to the war. Veelix was vaguely aware of the war that had been fought in Kia Nui against the League of Six Kingdoms, but he was not familiar with the individual battles. However this particular battle was particularly noteworthy in the history of Ta-Kia. Veelix scanned the various stone markers until he found the one he was looking for. The stone in front of Veelix bore only a single name followed by a short inscription: “Toa Jecitus, unknown-20,000 AF. He died for the people of Kia Nui who are forever indebted to him for all he did in life and death.” Veelix knew the name of Jecitus, the Toa who had founded Ta-Kia. Matoran had written numerous tales about his heroism and his glorious death fighting against the Barraki and their armies. Veelix recalled several legends about the Toa who was a paragon of his kind, but what before had just been stories now possessed more weight. All the legends of his greatness and honor that inspired the Matoran of Ta-Kia suddenly had a profound gravity to them, and even though Veelix had never felt such a strong affinity for Ta-Kia’s legendary founder, he was simultaneously overcome by sadness that he could come no closer. Veelix placed his hand on the soft earth, hoping to feel a connection to the ancient battle. Although the charred soil seemed no different than that of Ta-Kia, Veelix knew that this had been the sight of one of the most monumental events in Kia Nui’s history. Not only was this battleground a location of historical interest, but Veelix was also standing at the exact spot where the only being that he had ever admired had died. He looked across the fields, imagining the battle unfolding before him, but it faded as he remembered that he had never seen a battle before and his imagination certainly either over-embellished or was unable to do reality justice. While the history was interesting, it was the magnitude of the destruction that struck Veelix. Some of the boulders were inscribed with the names of the slain combatants, a seemingly unending testament to the carnage. Despite the devastation, the battle reminded Veelix of his favorite sermons from Prinkor, all of them about the death of Ta-Kia’s greatest hero. Mythical guardians and abstract virtues had little relevance in Veelix’s life, but he could appreciate the importance of Jecitus’s profound sacrifice. Veelix could not imagine caring about something or someone so much that he would be willing to freely give his life for it as Jecitus had. Closing his eyes, Veelix recalled Prinkor’s words as he explained how Jecitus exemplified Mata Nui’s three virtues. The Matoran could not match his sacrifice, but Jecitus continued to inspire them to live for others, to place the greater good ahead of their own concerns. Veelix had never met a Toa in person, and his entire conception of heroism stemmed from what he read and heard about this great Toa. Ludin reminded him that they needed to be on their way. Hesitant to leave as he experienced such powerful emotions, Veelix turned and followed Ludin back to the main road. Veelix was surprised to discover some aspect of Ta-Kia he now missed, and the brief feeling of belonging he felt now left nagging questions in his mind. Jectius was known for his piousness, and the Ta-Matoran considered his writings sacred. How could Veelix honor Jecitus’s memory if he dismissed the very principles for which he had lived and died? It was not yet evening, but the wind had started to pick up, and Ludin had warned Veelix about the tornados that occasionally ravaged this region. As they drew closer to the Ba-Kia, it started to rain, a sensation with which the Matoran from the dry region of Ta-Kia was unfamiliar. What fell from the sky was more than a drizzle; a storm was gathering in the distance. Ludin did not appear too worried, but he wanted to reach the comfort of dry lodgings and picked up his pace. Veelix, who had never seen so much as a drop of rain, was terrified. Ludin identified the odd landmark they were now approaching as Ba-Kia. By some inexplicable cosmic accident, gravity did not function properly in this one particular area. Here gravity did not obey its normal rules, and giant chunks of earth floated in the sky, conveniently exposing a vein of protodermis. On and around these stones was Ba-Kia, inhabited by the few Matoran willing to brave this perilous place. While most buildings had been constructed on the boulders, one noteworthy exception was anchored to the ground, a tall, thin tower around which the rest of the city revolved. At its top was a circular observation platform with glass walls that would have glittered had there been sunlight on that day. Instead its spire served as a lightning rod at this moment, as well as a beacon to travelers escaping from the storm. Ludin navigated through the crowded streets trying to find a place where he and Veelix could find refuge from the storm. Unfortunately, the inhabitants of the entire city had similar ideas, and those too far from their homes looked for whatever shelter they could. The storm was clearly more severe than Ludin had anticipated, and his expression betrayed a sense of panic that it had not before. Eventually, they reached the central tower, where guards herded them up to the observation deck. Pressed against the glass, Veelix watched with wide eyes as the vortex continued its unrelenting approach toward the city. Over the noise of the crowd, Veelix was dimly aware of a sonorous voice, amplified through artificial means. “We can confirm that a tornado is rapidly approaching the city and will strike within minutes,” the voice reported. “Residents are advised to move into underground shelters, as the storm has the potential for major devastation.” Panic gripped the assembled multitude as those closest to the door tried to move further into the building while those at the periphery seemed determined to escape. Surrounded by the bodies of frenzied Matoran, Veelix could do little else but wait as his fate steadily approached, dispassionately casting aside obstacles with ease. “We have just been informed that Toa have arrived outside Ba-Kia,” the voice announced. Turning toward the window, Veelix saw several armored figures rushing toward the distant vortex. Even at this distance, their proportions and height distinguished them from the Matoran they served. A thrill ran through Veelix; they were indeed Toa. The Toa of Water worked together absorb as much of the moisture as they could, while the Toa of Air tried numerous tactics to stop the tornado. Veelix’s mask bumped against the glass as he inadvertently leaned closer. The tornado only increased in speed, forcing the Toa to retreat and reformulate their plan. There was a brief moment when Veelix was sure that all hope was lost, but these were Toa, and surely they had saved Matoran from worse disasters than this one. Suddenly the wind stopped. At first Veelix was confused until Ludin suggested that the Toa had used their power to calm the winds. The tornado lost speed and dissipated as the Toa of Water put an end to the torrential downpour that had engulfed the city. As the observation room erupted into cheers, Veelix let out the breath he had not realized he was holding. Relief washed over him as he tried to calm his racing mind from the twin excitement of near death and proximity to a small number of the island’s heroes. Ludin grabbed Veelix’s arm and tried to direct him toward the exit, but given the number of Matoran present, they made little progress. After a few moments of weaving through the multitude, Ludin stopped as four Toa entered the room, towering over the sea of figures half their size. His heart racing with excitement, Veelix tried to press his way to the front of the throng where the Toa were greeting Matoran as they made their way to the balcony. Veelix could not get close enough to speak to them, but he listened as one of the Toa addressed the city, his voice amplified by the same device that had warned them about the approaching storm. “Thank you, thank you,” the Toa said. “We are honored that you support the Toa in all our efforts to protect you. For what would we be without Matoran to serve?” The crowd cheered again as the Toa watched, their masks adorned with broad smiles. After a brief address, the Toa walked among the crowd, shaking every hand they could, much to the delight of the assembled Matoran. One of the Toa moved in Veelix’s direction, beaming as he advanced through the throng, simultaneously shaking hands with one Matoran, speaking to another, and winking at a third. He extended his hand to Veelix, which the Matoran took almost hesitantly, as if doing so would somehow mar the greatness of the Toa in front of him. He figured that he should say something to the Toa, but before he could think of something that did not sound overly trite or obsequious, the Toa moved on, as if in a competition with the others to greet the most Matoran. As the excitement wore off, Veelix and Ludin ultimately escaped the throng. The two wandered through the city looking for lodging under the dim city lights while the tower remained illuminated for a celebration in the Toa’s honor. “We’re lucky to be alive,” Ludin said. “Had those Toa not been nearby…” He left the sentence there, for its completion was unnecessary. Neither Matoran said anything for a moment. “I’ve never met a Toa before,” Veelix said in an attempt to break the silence. “Are Toa normally stationed near kia in case of disaster? Ludin thought for a moment before replying, “The Toa generally live in Eri, though they are dispatched whenever there’s an emergency.” “It’s a good thing we’re not far from the capital,” Veelix said. “Otherwise the Toa might not have gotten here in time.” “Yes, indeed.” The sight of a Toa was something Veelix had dreamed of as long as he could remember. Now that he had finally met one, the brief rush of excitement proved ephemeral, for his imagination had left him with a higher standard of heroism that no living Toa could match. Seeing these Toa with his own eyes, watching them save his life but not perform miracles, left Veelix with a bitter feeling that bordered on disappointment. The tales that reached the history books were of legendary caliber, and the mundaneness of his encounter with the beaming Toa seemed irritatingly inconsequential. No doubt many of the Matoran here would remember this day with fondness, their eyes lighting up as they had when that Toa had not simply saved their lives but acknowledged them as well. To the Toa, that Matoran would simply be another mask, one of hundreds met on that day alone. The next arrived too soon for the exhausted Veelix. At the end of the day, he would be in Eri, perhaps even assigned to his new position. His hands shook slightly as he packed his bag, though he was unsure whether it was from nervousness or excitement. The uncertainty of what was to come was a welcome respite from his previously dreary life, but now he found himself more than a little apprehensive. Naturally, the Turaga would ask him what he wanted to do for the rest of his life. Now Veelix had to make a decision, one he had avoided since deciding to leave Ta-Kia. Truthfully, he had no idea what occupation was right for him, so he thought about what he enjoyed doing. He had given the matter little thought, and his travels thus far were the only idea that came to mind. Veelix knew there was no way he could simply wander the island like a leaf riding the drifting currents. The Turaga in Eri would remind him of his duty to Mata Nui to be engaged in productive labor. So instead he pondered the jobs that would allow him to travel. Architect? He had no talent for the job. Currier? He did not have the necessary physical strength. Perhaps he could be an author, writing about his experiences traveling the island. Most Matoran did not own any books, so Veelix dismissed that possibility. He brought up the subject with Ludin as they left Ba-Kia that morning. The Po-Matoran shrugged his shoulders. “What are you good at?” he asked. “Nothing,” Veelix mumbled. “I’m sure that’s not true,” Ludin reassured his friend. “You seem to be drawn to learning, so maybe you’d like the schools of Ga-Kia.” “There’s no way they’d take me,” Veelix said. “I think you’d be surprised,” Ludin replied. “There are so few Ta-Matoran that you will impress them no matter how good you are. If don’t want to go to Ga-Kia, you could always try the monasteries of Ko-Kia or the museums of Onu-Kia.” “And be locked up inside a tower or museum all day?” Veelix replied. “I want to travel around Kia Nui, like we’ve been doing.” Ludin sighed. “No one travels for fun, Veelix. You have to have a destination.” Before long, tall white spires appeared in the distance. The sound of rushing water grew closer, and the massive lake known as Lacus Major came into view. Though he had never been there before, Veelix knew that he had almost arrived at the greatest city in Kia Nui. Not three days had passed since two Turaga had been engaged in a serious conversation in the tallest of Eri’s spires. Separated by the desk between them and a much wider gulf in opinion over the matter of their discussion, the Turaga with blue armor stared incredulously at her counterpart in white. “Therefore, I believe it is clear that the time has come to reinstate this position,” the white Turaga concluded. “Respectfully, I have to disagree,” replied the other. “The Unified Government eliminated this position at your urging because we knew that it violated the very principles upon which this government was founded. Furthermore, there is a significant possibility that this decision could loosen our hold on power.” She paused to see if her words were having impact on her listener. As always, his expression betrayed little, although the weariness that had taken hold of his visage in recent years had been temporarily replaced with determination. “We agreed long ago that this was too much of a risk to take.” “Times have changed,” the first Turaga said. “I have come to realize that in the coming years, we will need these services again. I am certain of it.” The blue Turaga repressed a sigh. She was accustomed to the other’s convictions, perhaps from inspiration from Mata Nui or some other source. She had long since learned that it was prudent not to argue. “Do you expect history to take a dramatic turn in the near future?” “Undoubtedly,” the white Turaga replied. “Until then, this Matoran can familiarize himself with our history to ensure that we have not neglected anything of importance.” The blue Turaga shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “That is precisely what worries me.” The white Turaga looked directly into her eyes. “Are you afraid of a Matoran?” There was a brief silence. “I did not think so.” “You are one who taught me the relationship between knowledge and power,” the blue Turaga replied. “Precautions will be taken, and the Matoran I have in mind should be of little concern to you,” the first Turaga said, waving his hand dismissively. “You have found a candidate already?” “Merely a possibility,” the Turaga replied, handing his comrade an electronic tablet that he had perused earlier, a rare item in Kia Nui reserved only for Turaga. “If all goes as planned, he should come before you in a matter of days. If he does not meet with your approval, you can send him on his way.” The other Turaga scanned the information briefly. “I grant that there is a possibility that a monumental event is approaching on the horizon,” she said. “Why not wait until that time has come?” “If this Matoran is not satisfactory, it could be centuries before another suitable candidate emerges,” the white Turaga said. “I want you to be watching for that Matoran.” He stood up and wandered over to the window, surveying the city and the valley beyond. The other Turaga glimpsed a peculiar expression etched into his mask, one almost of loss tinged with regret. Turning in her chair, she too gazed out the window, though she saw nothing but the familiar majesty of the surrounding city, illuminated by the orange and pink glow of the fading evening light. “I understand your concerns, for they have merit, but nothing is without risk,” the white Turaga said, hesitantly turning away from the window. “Recently I have realized the fragility of many things that I once believed to be stable. What if the society we have built disappears and there is nothing to tell posterity who we are, what we stand for, or what it means to be from Kia Nui? Even now there are few who can articulate that dream. There is one aspect of our collective character that separates us from Rahi, an overpowering urge to find meaning in what we’ve been given.” While she did not fully understand what had triggered this transformation in the usually stoic Turaga speaking to her, the blue Turaga saw for the first time the weight of some hidden knowledge bearing down on her counterpart. She knew as well as any Turaga the burdens of bearing secrets, but she could never fathom the depth of the responsibility that the other faced. In all these years, she had never doubted him, and she saw no advantage in doing so now; yet even as she agreed to his plan, she knew there was something he was not telling her. “In recent years we’ve strayed toward mere life,” the white Turaga continued, glancing down at a ruby ring on his right hand. “It is time we begin to ponder our legacy.”

Chapter 4 The Desert The desert was a place of extremes. Life there was harsh and grueling, for the sun beat down relentlessly during the day. At night that same light vanished, leaving the land frigid and dark. Poisonous Rahi roamed day and night, many able to kill with a single stroke. It was this land, something out of a Matoran’s nightmare, which Veelix knowingly entered. Veelix and Ludin rose early, before the sun had risen. The city was already awake and bustling with activity. The first shift of laborers was hard at work, diligently constructing the city of tomorrow. Po-Kia’s Rodak team was practicing on one of the city’s playing fields, illuminated by tall lights equipped with numerous lightstones. Most Matoran loved Rodak, especially the Po-Matoran. They took great pride in the game they had invented and were so emotionally invested in their team that riots had broken out after more than one stinging defeat. For many Matoran, the game was an escape from the toils of everyday labor, yet Veelix was entirely uninterested. As the two Matoran walked past the field, Veelix watched the Po-Matoran team exert enormous effort as they trained. “They must always be exhausted if they have to practice in addition to their day jobs,” he remarked. “This is their job,” Ludin said. “They practice most of the day, even during the off-season. That’s why they’re so good.” Veelix was shocked. “But the Rodak players in Ta-Kia were farmers or mask makers,” he said. “Rodak was more of a hobby, an excuse to leave the city for tournaments. Doesn’t Mata Nui require all Matoran to labor in his name?” “Well, I guess Rodak counts as work,” said Ludin. “Mata Nui hasn’t smote them or anything, so I don’t think he minds.” Veelix considered Ludin’s comment as the two made their way to the gates of the city. As they passed Po-Kia’s temple, he said, “I thought the purpose of our work was to be productive. Aside from entertainment, what do they provide?” Ludin shrugged. “I don’t think Mata Nui cares what our work is, just so long as we’re working.” Veelix was still confused. “How do they buy food if all they do is play Rodak?” “They get paid quite well,” replied Ludin. “In fact, they make more money than I do. Many of the most lavish homes belong to the team members.” He pointed to several large dwellings near the peak of the of the wall of homes carved into the mountainside. “The Po-Matoran have strange ideas about work,” muttered Veelix, recalling many Ta-Matoran’s snide comments about the Po-Matoran’s laziness. “We Po-Matoran take our sport very seriously,” said Ludin. “You’ve clearly never been to Po-Kia for the Rodak finals. You take your life into your own hands just going to the game.” “I never traveled with Ta-Kia’s team,” admitted Veelix. “I know some Matoran do, especially for the finals, but I rarely even watched the home games.” “Ta-Kia’s team is pretty bad,” Ludin observed. “I see why that might discourage you.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “Not everyone in Po-Kia plays games for a living, though. We’ve worked hard to make this city great. I used to hope for the day that the construction would cease so I could see the city completed in all its majesty. But that day will never come, and the work will never end.” He smiled briefly, his eyes focusing on something in the distance. Veelix could only imagine what Ludin saw, but he sensed that Ludin was willing to dedicate his life to making that dream a reality. “No, our work will never end,” Ludin repeated. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” The heat of the desert was not what bothered Veelix the most. True, he did not care for the extreme temperatures, but he had lived in Ta-Kia for as long as he could remember and had become accustomed to the warmth. What bothered Veelix about the desert was its dryness. He had never needed water before with the worry that he might run out. Now he had to place his trust in his guide, for if they lost their way in the sea of sand, both of them would feed the desert’s scavengers. Ludin produced a small metal compass from his bag. The needle spun for a moment before orienting itself north. “The compass points north most of the time, though nobody really knows why” he explained as he returned the small instrument to his bag. “About the time we reach the oasis, it will point toward Fa-Kia instead.” Because the mountain city was located in the only safe pass between the mountains, the compass was a useful tool for safely navigating the desert. Veelix nodded. Most of the time, he let Ludin talk, which the Po-Matoran did endlessly. Veelix did not mind; in fact he found what Ludin had to say quite interesting. The stories of travel and towering buildings whetted his appetite for what was to come once he was reassigned. “My job is to design the buildings,” explained Ludin. “The Turaga in Eri give me the specifications and the constraints, and then I start drawing. Once the designs are approved in Eri, I supervise the construction to make sure the construction goes according to the plan. A lot of my work is in Po-Kia because it has such a large market for new buildings, which allows me to visit home frequently.” “I thought you lived in Eri,” said Veelix. “Officially I do, but lived in Po-Kia before I moved to the capital” replied Ludin. “I have an apartment in the city, but most of my work takes place in other kia. For any job that requires traveling, you have to register your official residence in Eri, but I really only stay there when the Turaga don’t have work for me to do.” Veelix could only imagine what such a life was like. The freedom to dream up any building, see it rise from the ground, and know it was put to real use—that was good work. The ability to travel, to get beyond the confines of a single dusty city, only made the prospect more appealing. “How did you get involved in architecture?” he asked. Ludin thought for a moment. “I suppose it started when I was courier between Po-Kia and Eri,” he said. “The architecture in the capital is fascinating, so I learned all I could. Eventually I applied for permission to attend architecture school in Ga-Kia, and here I am now.” “You went to school in Ga-Kia?” asked Veelix. He had heard about the university on the island city from Keller, but he had assumed that most of the students were Ga-Matoran. “I did,” Ludin answered. “A lot of Matoran from other kia go there too.” “What else is taught there?” asked Veelix. “A lot of subjects,” Ludin replied. “The sciences are the most popular due to Ga-Kia’s excellent research facilities. There are also schools of history and literature, but those disciplines are more popular in other kia. You know it’s odd, but now that I think about it, I don’t remember seeing a lot of Ta-Matoran.” “We don’t leave Ta-Kia much. I’ve heard that Ta-Matoran are often treated as outsiders north of the Southern Mountains.” “What exactly do you do in Ta-Kia?” Ludin asked. “We make masks and a few other tools,” Veelix answered. “I was a mask maker at one time, but now, well until yesterday, I made tools.” Ludin was puzzled. “Why did you stop making masks?” he asked. “I found the work dull,” Veelix replied. “What’s the point of making a mask that no one will ever use?” “They don’t get used?” Ludin asked, with a look of genuine confusion. Veelix shook his head. “A few get shipped to other kia, but there isn’t much demand for new masks, so we just put them on the wall to display.” “It sounds like you were more of an artist than a craftsman,” Ludin commented. “That’s worth something, don’t you think?” “Some call the process an art, but that’s giving the mask maker too much credit,” Veelix explained. “Art is original and creative. Masks are derivative and unimaginative. I was handed a disk, someone told me its power level, and then I carved the shape assigned to that mask. I was just turning a crank.” “Why don’t you use different designs?” “It’s simpler if everything is standardized,” Veelix explained. “Toa need to know immediately what power a mask has. Matoran masks don’t have any power, so it doesn’t really matter what shape we use, although we’re supposed to use the right one, on the off chance that the wearer does become a Toa. That hasn’t happened in years, of course.” “I understand why you left,” Ludin said. “No self-expression, no purpose, no growth. Architecture is like functional art. It’s always changing, stretching closer to its ultimate potential with each new project.” “It’s a lot more useful than making piles of masks,” Veelix agreed. Night descended on the desert as the two Matoran made their camp under an arch that could have served as a sign of victory for some higher being. They alternated watches, ensuring that they were not attacked by the Rahi that called the desert home. The Matoran were trespassers in this land in which the elements themselves signaled they were unwelcome, but most Rahi kept their distance from the flickering flame. During his watch, Veelix stared into fire, watching it flicker. The small flame was the last reminder of his home in Ta-Kia. Veelix had vowed to leave his old life behind, yet he was so captivated by dance of the flame in front of him that he almost forgot to wake Ludin for his watch. As he lay down, Veelix understood the mysterious beauty of the fire that held power over Ta-Matoran but found himself willing to leave it behind just the same. Ludin snapped Veelix out of his dreams before it was light. The two had a long journey to make, and if they did not reach the oasis by nightfall, they would run out of water. The two plodded through the darkness in silence, with little of interest on the horizon save for a mountain piercing the sky in the distant east. A mass of black clouds hovered above the peak, no doubt hurling down giant sparks of electricity from time to time. “I think you’ll like Fa-Kia,” Ludin said, breaking the silence. “It’s an interesting place where north meets south and cultures merge. We’ll probably meet Matoran from several other kia.” “Is there such a big difference between the north and the south?” Veelix asked. “More than you’d think,” answered Ludin. “Not only does each kia have its own personality, but each region does too. In the central valley of the island, there are a lot fewer geographic barriers, so Matoran from each city come into more contact. They’re less traditional than, say Ta-Matoran or Vo-Matoran and more progressive as well. It might be a bit of a shock for someone who has spent his entire life south of the Southern Mountains.” “I haven’t always lived in Ta-Kia,” Veelix replied added after a moment. “I never quite felt at home there either.” “Where did you live before?” Ludin asked. “I don’t remember,” Veelix admitted. “My earliest memory is a group of Matoran finding me lying on a beach near Ta-Kia. I can remember a close friend—well not so much the friend as the feeling of friendship— as well as a bright light and a few other scattered emotions.” He shook his head. “You must think I sound crazy.” “Amnesia is a lot more common than you would think, especially on this island,” Ludin replied. “There was a plague that went around tens of thousands of years ago that left most Matoran without memories of their earliest days. In fact, some still have difficulty forming new memories.” “I had no idea,” Veelix replied. “It must have been before you arrived then,” Ludin said. “There’s a cure now, so I managed to avoid the worst of it. I can’t remember much of what happened before the Barraki War, but there are records of me living in Po-Kia at the time. I arrived here before then, but where I lived before that is a mystery even to me.” Ludin’s compass slowly began to quiver as they grew steadily nearer to their destination. By the time they reached the oasis, it pointed northwest rather than due north. There was a small encampment beneath what few trees grew in the oasis. Most travelers proclaimed the site proof of Mata Nui’s good will toward Matoran, for what else would cause water to pool up in the middle of the desert and support life in this void? It was a tiny paradise, unremarkable anywhere else, but in the heart of this wasteland, it was salvation. Veelix and Ludin stayed for the night, but they could not linger. Veelix awoke once again in darkness and packed his few belongings. It was not long before the sun was out, illuminating the curtain of mountains that separated the southern desert from the expansive valley beyond. Ludin’s compass now fixed itself on Fa-Kia, which loomed in the distance in the only gap between the mountains. In the afternoon, solid rock that steadily crept upward replaced the sandy landscape. The mountains stood like stone sentries against the rain, preventing it from crossing into the southern region of the island, but forcing the clouds to spill their nourishment on their northern slopes. The northern side of the mountains was lush and green, while the southern side was barren and barely hospitable to life. This phenomenon was mirrored on the other side of the island, with tall mountains providing the rivers that watered a massive jungle. At the border of these lands of life and death was Fa-Kia, a necessary stop for all who wished to travel between them. The magnetic material in the nearby mountains was powerful enough to influence the local magnetic field and redirect all compasses, though it was distributed such that metallic objects seemed unaffected near the city itself. Fa-Kia was as a haven for travelers searching for life in a place of death, offering a gateway to the green valley beyond the mountains. In contrast, to those traveling south, it was the last sign civilization before the vast stretches of desert. Like the central valley beyond, it was a modern society bounded by mountains on either side. Luckily for Veelix and Ludin, the city was a salvation rather than a warning. Veelix gazed up with wonder at the tall buildings and the even taller mountains that dwarfed them. Compared to the ancient structures of Ta-Kia, this city was a futuristic and alien world. Rather than the stone and volcanic rock used as the materials in Po-Kia and Ta-Kia, everything in this city was made of metal. The architectural style was different as well, challenging the limits of physics itself as the structures climbed progressively higher as they moved toward the center of the city. These modern buildings ringed the central hill, home to an ancient structure that was no doubt the grand hall of the resident Turaga. Surrounded by fortifications was a long, narrow castle with a dark blue triangular roof. A tower reached up from each side, one taller than the other, gleaming over the entire city. The castle would have looked unnatural high atop a mountain had it not seemed even more out of place as an anachronism among its more modern neighbors. The castle was not the only edifice that caught Veelix’s attention. Near the center of the city was a grand temple with a magnificent façade and towering steeples, employing marvels of engineering that created the illusion that it was taller than it appeared. Near the northern sector was a glass skyscraper that Veelix thought was an apartment building but was actually a hotel for visitors. Much to Veelix’s dismay, Ludin informed him that they were staying elsewhere. Ludin led Veelix through the city to a large rectangular structure that was several stories tall. Right of the main entrance where the corner of the building ought to have been was rotunda with glass walls. Peering through the glass, Veelix could see a large brass pendulum suspended from the ceiling. As the two walked through the front entrance, Veelix read the words etched into the wall above the door: “School of Science and Engineering, Fa-Kia Branch.” Ludin explained that the school was based in Ga-Kia but the research branch was here. The front doors slid open, revealing a magnificent atrium with curved glass roof, allowing natural light to flow into the room. Auditoriums, classrooms, and laboratories were accessible through the seemingly endless rows of doors around the perimeter of the room. The two Matoran ascended the central staircase to the mezzanine level providing a view of the atrium below, and Ludin led Veelix through a nearby door into the upper level of the rotunda. Inside was a loft, currently used by a dozen Matoran fixated on their studies at tables amid a small collection of bookshelves. The semicircular library, which stretched from the rear wall to a balcony just before the pendulum, allowed one to see out the curved glass walls, much like a one-way mirror. Standing at the ledge the captain of a ship, Veelix glanced down at the pendulum below him before turning his gaze out on the city and the desert barely visible behind the forest of metal. “Ludin!” a voice exclaimed. “What brings you back to our fine institution?” Veelix turned to see Ludin and a Fa-Matoran embracing. “I just finished some work in Po-Kia, and I’m on my way back to Eri, so I thought I’d stop by,” he replied. “I’m traveling with this Ta-Matoran here.” He pointed to Veelix. “Hey, Veelix, I want you to meet someone.” As Veelix approached, he noticed the complex drawings and calculations on the table where the Fa-Matoran had been working. “Veelix, this is Discipulus,” Ludin said, introducing the two. “I went to school with him in Ga-Kia before I became an architect. Unlike me, he decided to transfer here to study for a few thousand more years and learn engineering as well.” “I haven’t just been studying,” Discipulus said. “In fact, some of us recently designed the new hotel in the city’s northern sector. What have you built recently?” “Well, I consulted for the Central Commerce Building in Eri, and I was the chief architect for the Rodak League’s headquarters,” Ludin said with pride. “How have things been here?” “Mostly the same,” Discipulus reported. “Almost 70,000 years ago, the Unified Government froze our budget, so we can’t apply for new grants. Luckily, the engineering department has done well though thanks to an influx of talent from one of the other branches.” “Is that so? I’m sure Veelix would like to see the lab,” Ludin suggested. Veelix nodded. “Sure,” replied Discipulus. “We’ve got lots of sketches and designs in there, as well as some new vehicles we’re designing for use in Le-Kia.” Ludin and Discipulus continued to catch up as the three Matoran returned to the atrium and wandered down to the last room on the right side of the building. Inside the lab, engineers in bright green armor discussed plans for a new high-speed vehicle that could cross the desert in less than a day. They appeared to be in disagreement about a major component of their design and were engaged in a heated debate. One of the Matoran brandished the blueprints frantically as he spoke. While the thinking occurred in this room, the execution was carried out in a second chamber separated from the first by a glass wall. Numerous tools for cutting and shaping different types of protodermis lined the room, though few of them appeared to in use at the moment. At first Veelix felt at home in the din of construction, although unlike the foundries of Ta-Kia, something worthwhile was made here. “We used to focus on architecture alone,” Discipulus shouted over the noise of the machines, “but then we decided that we needed a lab for basic research. When the Le-Kia branch of the school was closed, we took over as the major engineering lab in Kia Nui.” “Why did they close the Le-Kia branch?” Veelix asked. “Well, during the economic disaster before our funding was frozen, the Unified Government couldn’t afford to maintain three engineering schools” the Fa-Matoran replied. “There was already pressure on them to lower taxes, and there just wasn’t enough revenue to go around, so they closed the branch in Le-Kia because it had the fewest students.” “It looks like most of them came here,” Ludin replied. “I’ve never seen so many Le-Matoran in one place.” “We had a lot of new students and researchers arrive, mostly from Le-Kia” Discipulus confirmed. “However, we didn’t receive any additional funding to pay for them. Every thousand years or so we have to fundraise because we simply don’t get enough money from the Turaga like we used to.” It seemed like such a shame to Veelix that this school, which did more to advance Matoran society than all of Ta-Kia, was held back because of a lack of money. Veelix had no recollection of the economic downturn that Discipulus spoke of, which had occurred before he had arrived in Kia Nui. Veelix listened as the other two Matoran discussed the architectural details of one of Ludin’s recent projects in terms too technical for him to understand. Both Ludin and Discipulus had more accomplishments than Veelix could imagine, and both had attended a prestigious school where they had learned something interesting and practical. Veelix had few encounters with Matoran of learning in Ta-Kia, for those who had become scholars generally left to teach at schools such as this one. Only Keller believed enough in the Ta-Matoran to remain in his home, swimming against the current that swept all knowledge worth knowing away from the city. Despite this disadvantage, Veelix felt small knowing his only accomplishment in life was a heap of masks, a frivolous exploit compared to that of other Matoran. After the tour, Ludin suggested that they find something to eat. As the Matoran ate in a cafeteria, Ludin and Discipulus talked about their lives since they had last seen each other. Much of their discussion revolved around architecture, which interested Veelix somewhat, but he found himself staring out the window, gazing at the city’s skyline. As the other two Matoran talked, Veelix retrieved a wax tablet and a pen and began to sketch. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he watched a design for a new building took form on the tablet. It wasn’t particular interesting, so he wiped it away and tried again. Once he was satisfied, he showed it to the two architects. “Well, it’s not great,” said Discipulus. Ludin nudged him. “I mean, it’s not bad for a beginner and the structure is sound, but your design lacks any real creativity.” “You can’t expect to be amazing on your first try,” Ludin explained. “It took us centuries before we had designed something worthy of construction.” Veelix put the tablet down on the table and withheld a sigh. He did not expect his design to be particularly good, but Discipulus’s comment did little to make Ludin feel better about himself. Sensing his disappointment, Ludin added, “You show some promise though. If you’re really interested, you could attend school here or in Ga-Kia to develop your skills.” “That’s alright,” Veelix replied. “I don’t think I’m interested in architecture anyway.” Later that afternoon, Veelix and Ludin said goodbye to Discipulus and wandered toward their hotel. As they walked down the city’s main street, the two Matoran wandered into the marketplace, a collection of towers with stores on the lower floors. Ludin steered Veelix into a smaller shop that sold travel supplies, including lightstones and maps. Ludin bought one of each, wrapping the lightstone in cloth to obscure its persistent glow. Lightstones never ceased to amaze Veelix. They could only be mined in the Northern Mountains and could never be turned off, yet they provided a seemingly infinite source of light powered by an unknown energy source. Their fragile existence created an omnipresent demand for the glowing crystals and ensured that mining would remain the key industry of the cities in the Northern Mountains for some time. Upon leaving the shop, Ludin and Veelix examined the map. Living in Ta-Kia, Veelix was relatively isolated from the world and had not seen a map in years. The island stretched about twice as long on its north-south axis as it was wide, punctuated by mountains at the northern extremity and near the southern coast. South of the Northern Mountains was a massive forest created by the rain shadow, stretching partway onto the eastern peninsula home to De-Kia. Two massive lakes were situated inside the central valley, one feeding a river that cut a swath from the west to an estuary on the eastern coast. Eri was located along the banks of this river, directly in the middle of the island. Several roads branched out from Fa-Kia; one of them passed through Ba-Kia on its way to Eri. “It should take about two days to travel from here to the capital,” Ludin explained as they continued toward their lodgings. “The distance is about the same as from here to Po-Kia, but we’ll be traveling on roads this time. If all goes according to plan, we should reach Ba-Kia by tomorrow night.” By the time the two Matoran reached the hotel, the stars were already gleaming. In the distance, Veelix could see several stars bunched together in the sky, suspended over a single location. Though Veelix had never seen this phenomenon, he knew that these were the spirit stars, each one representing a Toa that lived in Kia Nui. Their presence in one location could only mean that they were currently over Eri, where the Toa lived. Although it was the Toa who were marked with stars, the real power now lay with the former Toa, the Turaga of the Unified Government, whom Veelix would soon meet.

Chapter 3 Beyond the Threshold Beyond the gray haze that perpetually hung over Ta-Kia, life continued for most Matoran as it always had. Veelix was the rare exception, the one who had transcended the status quo and now found himself at the dawn of a new stage in his life. For the first time in millennia, he felt truly free. Passing through the tower guarding the bridge, Veelix left the city in which he had lived for many thousands of years. The landscape around the lava flow was black, charred, and inhospitable to life. Just beyond was an arid region home to the Ta-Kia farmlands. The soil here was rich in minerals, but the Ta-Matoran were forced to carefully ration their water, or they and their crops would die. As Veelix crossed the bridge, he realized that he was unsure how to get to Eri. Ta-Kia was near the southern coast of Kia Nui, just east of a desert that covered most of the southern region of the island. North of the desert were the Southern Mountains, beyond which was a vast plain. Eri was located on the banks of the Great River in the middle of this valley near the center of Kia Nui. There were roads Veelix could follow, but most of the land south of the Southern Mountains was unpaved. There was only one path through the mountains, but to reach it, Veelix would have to traverse the desert. Matoran crossed it frequently, but Veelix had not, and he almost turned back out of fear of traveling alone. Steeling his resolve, Veelix considered his options. His geography was rusty, but he had a basic understanding of the locations of major landmarks. One option he considered was to avoid the desert entirely and travel south until the lava met the sea. There was a small port there run by Su-Matoran, but ships only arrived once a month. The fastest way was through the desert, but Veelix was sure he would get lost if he attempted the route alone. As he pondered which course of action to take, Veelix passed through the farmlands, and he was now able to see rows upon rows of crops. The acres of plants seemed vast to him, even though the Ta-Matoran struggled to grow enough food to support all of Ta-Kia. Most cities had even larger farms that would have made this one seem like a modest garden, but Veelix had never seen so many plants in his life. The work here was different than that it was in the city. Veelix was used to smoke, metal, and turning gears in the city; here light penetrated the gray clouds of ash and smoke. The Matoran’s work here seemed more rewarding, for it had a clear purpose. It appealed to Veelix, yet as he passed a farm, he was able to brush a thin film of dust off a few crops by the side of the road. He had not escaped Ta-Kia yet. He stopped at fruit stand and examined its wares. It was the same food he was accustomed to, but the fruit here was fresh. Counting his money, Veelix wondered how much he should buy to last his journey across the desert. The Matoran running the fruit stand addressed him. “You from Ta-Kia?” he asked, referring to the city proper. Though the name applied to the entire area under Prinkor’s jurisdiction, Matoran rarely distinguished between the city and the nearby land. Veelix nodded. “I’m traveling to Eri, where I’ll be reassigned.” The vendor seemed somewhat surprised. “Reassigned, huh? Not many travel all the way to the capital any more. Have you ever been across the desert?” Veelix shook his head. “Neither have I. It’s an unforgiving place: barren, dry, and forsaken by Mata Nui. If you’ve never been across before, you’d best have a guide.” “Do you know anyone who would be willing to help me?” asked Veelix. The vendor scratched the top of his mask. “Well, most of us are pretty busy. It’s almost harvest time, and we can’t afford to leave. We’re undermanned as it is right now.” Veelix selected several pieces of fruit, paid the Matoran, and placed them in his bag. “I suppose I’ll just have to make the journey myself,” he replied. “Well, there is one other option, if you’re desperate” the vendor offered. He pointed to a craggy mountain nearby. “That there is Po-Kia. You get to that mountain and climb to that cliff where the city will be. I heard that those Po-Matoran cross the desert all the time, so they know how to survive that death trap. If you can find one that’ll look past the fact that you’re a Ta-Matoran, he’ll get you across safe.” Veelix was accustomed to the animus between Ta-Matoran and Po-Matoran but thought little of it. He thanked the farmer for his help. “You take care of yourself. Best of luck.” The soil slowly gave way to the desert. The ash clouds parted and the sun, a light Veelix had not seen since he arrived in Kia Nui, shone with fiery intensity, awakening in Veelix a memory of a blinding light from the time before he arrived in Ta-Kia. He experienced a familiar hint of frustration at his inability to remember more than fragments of his former life before the Ta-Matoran had found him lying on Kia Nui’s southern shore. No one, not even Veelix, knew where he had come from, though it was certainly not Kia Nui, for no one had any record of his being there previously. The prospect of visiting another kia was exciting, though Veelix was unsure what to expect. Already the landscape had changed dramatically, transitioning effortlessly from black rock to vast stretches of nothingness with the shadows of mountains barely visible in the background. He skirted the edge of the desert, knowing that if he entered without a guide, he might never emerge. Late in the afternoon, Veelix started to see signs of life. He had almost reached the base of the Po-Kia, around which carvings stood like saplings under a massive tree. A few small farms were clustered around the mountain, though the Po-Matoran imported most of their food from other kia. A great stairwell carved into the side of the mountain reached up to a plateau near the summit. It looked too small to house an entire city, but as he climbed, Veelix could see dwellings carved into the mountainside near the top of the stone staircase. In some respects, Po-Kia mimicked Ta-Kia. Atop the plateau was a stone fortress with an outer wall enclosing a walled courtyard near the rock wall against which the city rested. A tower rose from the center of the fortress, connected to the summit of the mountain by a stone bridge. Most striking was the city’s landscape. Po-Kia seemed lifeless, barren, and inhospitable to life. Just as in Ta-Kia, the city’s inhabitants had come to an environment that shunned them, and they had defied it. The original builders had chosen the location on a cliff because it was flat and elevated. The higher elevation protected the Matoran from the heat of the desert and provided an excellent vantage point to spot invaders, though none had been foolish enough to lay siege to the city in recent history. As with all things, the city was not without its faults. There was scarcely enough room on the plateau to build even a small city, and the Po-Matoran did not dream of a small city. They envisioned immense towers and statues to be built for millennia to come, so the Po-Matoran built their homes into the mountainside, climbing higher and higher to the peak of the mountain. The dreams of Po-Kia’s founders had indeed been achieved. All around the city, Po-Matoran were busy building new statues and towers within the small confines of their fortress city. Others remained inside the tall buildings, carving tools and everyday objects for use across the island. Using what limited resources they had available, the Po-Matoran had found a way to reach the sky while remaining surrounded by solid rock. What often intrigued visitors was the city’s constant state of construction. Everywhere buildings sprung from the earth, all at different stages of development. Captivated by the city, Veelix was entirely unaware of the Po-Matoran watching him and whispering to each other as he walked past. Yet of all these wonders, Veelix was drawn to a statue outside the central tower. The figure appeared to be a Toa, standing twenty feet high and preparing to kick a stone balanced on one foot. One hand held an intricately detailed tool resembling a glaive, and the mask was furrowed in concentration. What intrigued Veelix most was the posture of the Toa. Veelix had seen many smaller statues in the Ta-Kia temple, all standing in static poses, reminding the viewer that the statue was merely a replica of a living being. Somehow, the artist had breathed life into this stone, capturing the essence a being in motion, dynamic and unquestionably whole. Veelix almost expected to statue to start moving as if it had merely been frozen in time. “You must be from out of town.” Veelix jumped at the voice, looking around for its source. A Po-Matoran with brown and tan armor stood next to him, gazing up at the statue. “How did you—who are you?” asked Veelix, embarrassed at the ease with which the stranger had snuck up on him. “How do I know? No one from this city ever stares that intently at this statue. It’s been here for ages. That and your armor is bright red. You stick out.” “That’s right, I’m from Ta-Kia,” Veelix replied hesitantly. “Figures,” said the mysterious Matoran. “We don’t get many visitors this time of year, especially from the paradise that is Ta-Kia. All those who do come here marvel at this rock. Understandable, I suppose, considering it is our finest work.” “Who is it supposed to be?” asked Veelix as he searched for name at the base. The other Matoran looked at the statue with a look of contemplation. “You know, I really have no idea. I’m sure he did something important though.” That last statement stuck Veelix as odd. He hardly considered a sportsman to be a hero. “Why do you say that?” “Well, he had a statue built of him,” said the Po-Matoran. “Last time I checked, there aren’t any statues of you or me. Besides he was a Toa, a specific one. This style of armor is rare, but not unheard of, and the tool in his hand is incredibly detailed. I have no idea what he did that was so special, other than perhaps grace the city with his presence.” “Who are you?” asked Veelix, trying not to sound rude. “Oh, I never introduced myself,” the other Matoran said cheerfully. “My name’s Ludin.” “I’m Veelix.” “So Veelix, what brought you to Po-Kia?” Ludin asked. “The next Rodak game isn’t for a month.” He lazily gestured toward the empty fields used for playing Rodak, Kia Nui’s most popular sport. “I’m just passing through,” replied Veelix. “Right now I’m looking for someone to show me the way across the desert.” “You’ll have to ask the Turaga about that,” said Ludin. “I was just going to see him, so if you’d like to accompany me, I’ll show you where he lives.” Ludin led Veelix into the central tower, which they slowly ascended. Veelix peered out the windows to see the wall of homes, each built on top of another, the dwellings higher up only accessible by stairs carved into the mountain. At the top of the tower, they stepped onto the bridge that connected it to the summit. Veelix grew dizzy as he looked down at the city far below him, and he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other as Ludin casually made his way towards what Veelix assumed was the Turaga’s dwelling at the summit of the mountain. As he crossed the bridge, Veelix could not help but marvel at the view. Mount Karda was visible in the distance, its ash covering any trace of Ta-Kia. The interior of the Turaga’s home was dusty and cramped and it appeared as if the Turaga was the only inhabitant. Ludin walked quickly across the empty atrium to the back of the room to another door. He knocked, waited a moment, and then entered, as Veelix cautiously followed. The Turaga was inside, reading a tablet at his stone desk. He looked up and motioned for the two Matoran to sit down. He continued to read for a moment before looking up at Ludin. “Yes?” he asked in a gravelly voice. “The project is finished,” Ludin reported, pointing out the window to a rather tall building. “The safety inspection was completed, as was the opening ceremony, so there’s really not much use for me anymore.” He handed the Turaga a small tablet. “Very well, you’re free to leave.” The Turaga seemed uninterested as he stamped the tablet with his seal and returned it to Ludin. “Anything else?” Ludin looked at Veelix, prompting the red Matoran to speak. “My name’s Veelix,” he began. “I’m on my way to Eri, and I was wondering if anyone was available to escort me through the desert.” He produced the tablet given to him by Prinkor. The Turaga glanced at the tablet and summarily returned it. “I imagine there are some Matoran available, though I’ll have to look them up in the registry,” he replied. “I’m traveling to Eri,” Ludin offered. “I’ve also been through the desert numerous times. I don’t see why I couldn’t be his companion.” The Turaga looked back at his reading. “If you wish.” Both Matoran interpreted his return to work as a tacit dismissal and left the room. Outside Ludin showed Veelix to his home, located two levels below the Turaga’s. “We should stay here until tomorrow and leave early in the morning,” he explained. “For tonight, you can stay in my home.” Veelix walked inside and placed his bag by the door. Unlike the huts in Ta-Kia, Ludin’s home was rectangular and had two rooms instead of one. “Why didn’t you get a release tablet from the Turaga?” he asked. “Aren’t you leaving the city?” “Oh, I don’t officially live here anymore,” Ludin explained. “I used to, which is why I kept the house, but my legal residence is now in Eri. I don’t actually spend much time there because I travel so much for my job.” “So you’re a safety inspector?” Ludin laughed. “No, I’m an architect. I designed that building and supervised the construction. My contract was written in Eri, so I don’t need a release tablet to leave Po-Kia.” “What’s Eri like?” asked Veelix, intrigued. “It’s something you have to see for yourself,” replied Ludin. “The center of the city has buildings that would dwarf many of the ones here. I even designed a few of them myself.” “It must be incredible,” said Veelix, feeling excitement grow within him. “It certainly is something,” said Ludin. “I suppose it gives you something to look forward to.” That evening Veelix watched the sun set for the first time. Never in his time in Ta-Kia had he seen the remarkable colors that accompanied sky’s slow dimming. As the last light faded from the sky, Veelix hoped that it would not be the last wondrous sight he would witness before reaching the capital.

Thanks for reading it again Infrared, I can't believe it's been more than a year since I wrote this. I liked the twin suns idea, and I toyed with using, but the expression sounded a little awkward, so I decided to leave it as is. Had Nidhiki been from Metru Nui originally I might have gone with it, but I get the sense that he never really considered Metru Nui home, and his original home probably had just one sun/light source (which we could "translate" as sun). I had the commas in the Krekka part because I thought his name would be a nonrestrictive appositive, given Nidhiki only has one moronic partner. However, Krekka doesn't appear until then in this story, and I suppose it's more clear without the commas, so I went with that edit. Also along the lines of what X-Ray suggested back in January, I want to change "Although I had no proof, I thought that the Dark Hunters may be involved" to "Although I had no proof at the time, I thought the Dark Hunters may have been involved." I need a judge to approve that change though.

Chapter 2 First Principles No one had noticed Veelix’s departure the previous day. Or perhaps someone had, but no Matoran found it of any importance. True, no Ta-Matoran had ever walked out on his duty before, but the Ta-Matoran were used to Veelix’s odd behavior. Though none of them would ever admit it, many believed that he did not quite belong in Ta-Kia. Once a week at noon, all the Ta-Matoran from the city and surrounding farmlands came to the temple in the heart of Ta-Kia. The structure’s exterior bore the appearance of an unmasked Matoran face, surrounded by four cylindrical towers. Inside were pillars carved with sacred writing around a pit of sand on an elevated platform. It was the holiest place in Ta-Kia, where the Ta-Matoran celebrated the arrival of new Matoran and remembered the lives of the deceased. Like all Ta-Matoran, Veelix came to the temple weekly to hear the Turaga speak. The history of Ta-Kia fascinated Veelix, and he was never afraid to approach the Turaga with the questions he had after visiting the temple. The other Matoran thought Veelix talked too much and generally avoided him. In turn, Veelix had not tried to make many friends and often sat alone in the temple. On this day, Veelix spotted one of his few friends and sat down next to him. “Good morning, Keller,” Veelix greeted his friend. There was something about this Matoran to which Veelix was drawn. Keller was the oldest Matoran in Ta-Kia, and it showed. Rust collected on his blackened armor, and in places his paint had chipped off, exposing the dull gray of protodermis. While far from crippled, Keller rarely left his home except to visit the temple, for which he was never late. Keller was also one of the most interesting inhabitants of the city. Over the years, he had developed multiple branches of mathematics critical to the making of masks and other tools. The island’s greatest engineers owed much of their success to his work, and there was hardly any mathematical discovery that he had not influenced. Knowledge seemed to pool around him, attracting many thirsty Matoran like Veelix over the millennia. “Good morning to you too,” the elderly Matoran replied cheerfully. “I trust your career is going well?” “I’m still employed,” Veelix said. “I wake up, work all day, go home to sleep, and do everything again the next day. To be honest, I don’t see the point anymore.” Keller nodded. “Many of my students react the same way when they encounter difficulties in their studies. ‘When will we ever use this?’ they ask. ‘What’s the point?’ A few millennia later they come to me at the temple, each a prominent mask maker, thanking me for my help, just as you did. Everything will come together for you in time.” “How can you be so sure?” asked Veelix. “I’ve been living this way for millennia, and nothing seems to have changed.” “Do you find that discomforting?” Keller asked. “Many have died so that you can have that kind of security.” “No,” Veelix replied. “But, for me security has meant monotony. I know I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in the foundries, but I’m unsure what I would do instead.” “When you’re young, everything appears uncertain,” replied Keller. “That is why I became a mathematician. Some see math as a world of unknowns filled with quantities that elude us. But they are wrong—math illuminates uncertainties. Once you have gathered as much data as you can, the numbers fall into place.” He paused with a faint smile on his mask. “It’s quite beautiful actually. When solving an equation, the answer is already there. All you have to do is look at the problem a different way.” “That sounds comforting,” admitted Veelix. “Of course it is. All beings find comfort in such belief.” Veelix was still unsure. “Looking at my life differently has only caused me to realize that I’m not happy, but I’m not sure what my life is missing.” “These things take time,” Keller replied. “Fortunately, you’ve come to the place where we find answers to these questions.” At that moment, silence fell over the room as Ta-Kia’s leader, Turaga Prinkor, stepped up to the pit of sand. He stood still for a moment, letting the silence fill the room, before he spoke. “In one week’s time, we will celebrate the transformation of our city’s founder, Jecitus, from a Matoran into a Toa,” Prinkor said, his voice echoing through the temple. “However, before the holiday season is upon us, I would like to take this time to get back to basics and consider why it is we are here.” Prinkor placed several small stones in the pit, representing Matoran. He then opened the sacred text of the Ta-Matoran and began to read. “In the beginning, there was darkness. The Matoran labored perpetually and without purpose. Then the Great Beings sent Mata Nui, who brought light and gave the Matoran Three Virtues: Unity, Duty, and Destiny.” A Matoran handed the Turaga a small box from which he retrieved the Mata Nui stone, a polished elliptical stone with distinctive markings. Prinkor raised the stone above his head before placing it gently in the center of the sand pit. “The Matoran praised Mata Nui, and in gratitude, vowed to worship and serve him. In return for his protection, Mata Nui made but one request: ‘In bringing you out of darkness, I have given your lives direction and purpose. Through these virtues I will sustain you, and through your labor, you shall sustain me.’” The Turaga moved the smaller stones into concentric circles around the Mata Nui stone as he continued to speak. “The Matoran, realizing that they were Mata Nui’s chosen people, dispersed across the universe, spreading his teachings. Many came to Kia Nui, the island we know as home. Here, in the shadow of Mount Karda, they built this city as a fortress against evil. Peace came when the neighboring Matoran accepted the Three Virtues, and all was good.” At the end of the sermon Veelix walked with Keller to the latter’s home. “Were the Turaga’s words able to dispel your doubts?” asked the mathematician. Veelix shook his head. “At first it was comforting, but I still find it difficult to accept that my work benefits Mata Nui when I have only my faith that the Turaga’s words are true. Regardless of what the Turaga says, I can’t find any reason to believe my work serves any purpose other than keeping me occupied.” Keller seemed surprised. “Surely you don’t believe the Turaga is lying to you?” “No, I would never accuse the Turaga of that,” Veelix said quickly, for knew to treat Turaga with the respect they were due. “But, sometimes I wonder how the Turaga learned this history.” “He read it in the writings of our founders,” Keller replied. “Yes, but he never actually met them,” Veelix pointed out. “He only read what they wrote.” “Don’t you trust the founders?” Keller asked. “Of course, but did they hear Mata Nui’s word?” Veelix asked. “Toa Jecitus did, although little of what he wrote survives,” Keller admitted, alluding to Ta-Kia’s founder and legendary Toa. “The ancient texts have been translated from ancient Matoran, and before they were written down, they were transmitted orally,” continued Veelix. “How do we know what Mata Nui really said or if he even had a message for us at all? Why doesn’t he speak to us now?” Keller sighed, looking back at Veelix. “Veelix, there are some things you simply have to take on faith. Mata Nui’s precise words do not matter, nor does it matter if he never speaks to us again. What does matter is the belief that our work has meaning, that our serves a power greater than ourselves.” “That’s unexpected coming from a mathematician,” Veelix replied. “I remember you teaching us to prove everything before we accepted it.” “I also taught you that mathematicians derive all proofs from given statements,” Keller explained. “We begin with basic assumptions, axioms which we simply accept as true. All systems of inquiry, including math, science, and philosophy, require us to begin with a set of first principles. You cannot create something from nothing, and these principles form the foundation of all knowledge.” The elderly Matoran stopped and slowly drew two lines in the dirt. “For example, any student awake in my class knows that parallel lines never intersect. We can’t see the entire line, nor can we prove that the lines will ever touch.” “But that’s a simple fact of math,” countered Veelix. “Anyone can see that they do not touch.” “Are you so sure?” asked Keller, continuing to walk. “If you draw parallel lines on a sphere, the rules change and the lines meet. So we have to trust that on a flat surface, parallel lines will never converge, even though we can never prove this fundamental truth. Once we accept this simple fact, the entire field of geometry unfolds. Similarly, the first principle of our lives is that Mata Nui has endowed us with virtues that give our labor and our lives meaning. Once you recognize this fact, everything else becomes clear.” The two Matoran arrived at Keller’s home. Like all huts in Ta-Kia, it was a modest dwelling with a single room made from volcanic rock. “I don’t know if I’m ready to accept what you’ve told me,” admitted Veelix. “You don’t have to be,” Keller said. “Faith means nothing if someone forces you to accept it. However, if you would like further clarification, perhaps you should speak with the Turaga when you are finished with work. If you do, keep in mind that only you can choose to believe. No one else can do that for you.” Veelix gave the elderly Matoran his thanks and the two parted ways. Rarely did Ta-Matoran choose to enter the central tower of Ta-Kia’s fortress. Those who received summons were either praised or punished, usually the latter. Few entered willingly, frightened by stories of Matoran who had entered only to be strongly rebuked for inadequate work. It was this same fortress into which Veelix now walked freely. The interior of the fortress was no more inviting. There were no windows in the thick walls, save for horizontal slits from which Matoran could fire disks in the event of a siege. Torches lit the dark corridor, as there was little natural light inside the ancient structure. Aside from thousands of masks with blank expressions lining the walls, the hallways were dusty and featureless. Veelix climbed the stairs to the top of the tower where the Turaga’s chambers were located. He hesitantly knocked on the door, and Prinkor invited him in. Taking a deep breath, Veelix opened the door and stepped inside. Prinkor sat at an impressive mahogany desk at the center of the room near a grand fireplace. The chamber was immaculate and bare, lit by two flickering torches that cast long shadows across the floor. Veelix approached the wooden chair in front of the desk. “Please, sit,” Prinkor said without looking up from his carving. After a moment, the Turaga looked up and examined Veelix’s mask. “Ah, Veelix. The last time you visited, we had an unpleasant conversation about your work ethic. I trust you enjoy your new position more than the old.” Veelix nodded. “Is there something I can do for you?” Veelix was unsure where to start, beginning slowly, “I feel unsatisfied with my life. I spend all my time in the foundries performing menial labor, which doesn’t seem to benefit anyone. I feel so empty and directionless.” Prinkor put down the tablet and sat back in his chair. “I recall seeing you at the temple today. Did you not listen to my address?” Veelix nodded again. “Then you must understand that your work is to benefit Mata Nui in exchange for a meaningful life.” “But that’s not enough,” said Veelix. “Not enough?” Prinkor asked with surprise. “Never has a Matoran told me that the word of Mata Nui was not enough for him! You have meaning. You have purpose. What more do you want?” Veelix tried to explain carefully. “When I build a tool, I have no knowledge of where the materials came from or where the finished product will go. I simply work. What am I except a body that builds for no reason? There’s no joy in that life.” “Mata Nui does not offer happiness,” Prinkor said sternly. “He offers a path to fulfillment, to a greater calling in our lives. Is that not what you want?” Veelix proceeded carefully, for he did not want to offend the Turaga. “I haven’t found that satisfaction though, and I’m not sure why.” “For most Matoran, the value of their work to Mata Nui is enough for them,” Prinkor said sternly. “They also choose to make friends and enjoy their leisure time. You do not. You cannot expect me to make you happy when you make no effort on your own behalf.” “I thought you might have advice.” “I do,” the Turaga said, leaning forward in his chair. “Take pride in your work. Spend more time with the other Matoran. Make an effort to make yourself happy.” “I can’t possibly take pride in my work,” Veelix mumbled. “It’s meaningless.” Prinkor sighed. “If you would prefer, I can reassign you again. What occupation would best suit you? Lava farming? Mathematics? Cleaning the foundries? I will see what I can do about a different career for you.” Veelix pondered his options before he spoke. “I don’t want any of those jobs. In fact, I want to leave Ta-Kia. No matter how hard I try, this place doesn’t feel like my home.” “Since you arrived, I have sensed that you did not belong here,” Prinkor admitted. “Perhaps it would be best if you were to leave. However, I cannot reassign you to a position outside of my domain. Only the Unified Government can do that. If you are serious about leaving, you must travel to Eri.” “I’ve always wanted to go to the capital,” Veelix said with a smile. Prinkor looked closely at Matoran. “I want you to think about what you are doing. You will be stepping into the unknown, far from the gates of our ancient city. You may find yourself in strange lands, facing hardships you did not anticipate.” “I understand,” said Veelix confidently. Though the Turaga’s words were intended as a warning, they filled Veelix with excitement. Prinkor shook his head and retrieved a small tablet from desk. “No, you do not.” He added his seal to the bottom and handed it to Veelix. The elated Matoran gripped the reassignment letter with disbelief. He was finally free. The Turaga returned to the carving he had been reading. Hurriedly saying his thanks, Veelix rushed home to pack his things. Veelix packed lightly. There was little he needed other than food, for he had few personal possessions. He considered brining his copy of the sacred Ta-Matoran texts, but he had not opened it years. That book hasn’t offered me any comfort in the past, he reasoned. There’s no reason to believe it will now. As he left his hut for the final time, Veelix noticed the polished obsidian about the size of his fist sitting on the table. He examined the smooth black surface, recalling the ceremony in the temple when it was given to him upon his arrival in Ta-Kia. All Ta-Matoran kept such a stone in their huts to remind them of their unbreakable ties to Ta-Kia. Most Ta-Matoran considered it their most valuable possession, a reminder of their shared identity. Veelix put the obsidian down and walked out of his dwelling.

This is the review topic for Nowhere. The second worst fate that can befall a work such as this is for it to be met predominately with negative criticism. This fear has lead plenty of writers, myself included, to spend numerous hours agonizing over their work, hoping to make it perfect, and in the process realizing that doing so is impossible. Every author faces some fear sending their masterpiece out into the world in its woefully imperfect state, an especially painful task for a perfectionist like myself. I began working on Nowhere in the fall of 2010, and it has undergone quite the transformation since then. Remarkably, the final product closely matches the plot that I scribbled down on a piece of paper when the idea first came to me, though the title, characters, and larger themes changed dramatically. Both the protagonist, Veelix, and the setting, Kia Nui, date back to late 2007, though they share little in common with their ultimate counterparts other than name. I completed the first draft around Christmas of 2012, and as a result, the style and thematic emphasis shifted subtly as it progressed. Nowhere is not an epic. It is a story about a single Matoran, and there are no battles, no unambiguously evil characters, and no undeniably heroic figures. While some authors assure their readers they mean nothing more than what is written on the page, I would be lying if I said that the story is not intended to provoke thought on certain topics. That said, the beliefs of the characters are theirs alone, not mine, and trying to discover my beliefs through my portrayal of Matoran governance and worship of Mata Nui is the wrong reason to read Nowhere. The worst fate a work can befall is for it to go completely unnoticed, which is perhaps one of the most discouraging circumstances that writers can find themselves in. Conversely, nothing will encourage me to work more than to hear your feedback, any amount of which will be sincerely appreciated. I know there is a lot of emphasis on providing constructive criticism, but even if you can find nothing good to say about Nowhere, I would like to hear that too. Of course, I hope you do enjoy reading this story nearly as much I enjoyed writing it.

Review Topic Chapter 1 The Forge Clang! Clang! A hammer struck the molten metal, shaping and forming it with each stroke. The crafter overcame the metal’s resistance, transforming it from a slab of protodermis into its functional, yet elegant form. After weeks of meticulous craftsmanship, the mask would soon be complete. Matoran crowded the forge, hard at work at their essential tasks. Each had an assigned role that kept the process of creation flowing. Some gathered protodermis; others melted it down, created molds, poured liquid metal, or designed masks. A rare few had the privilege of forging the final product, bring the task of creation to its completion. They were the mask makers, experts of their craft, their entire lives devoted to reaching the pinnacle of their skill. Each worker was a cog in the grand clock that had ticked for tens of millennia. There were two such foundries in this city, housed inside the parallel walls of the city’s fortress. Between the foundries and the walls of the fortress that connected them was an inner courtyard where the Matoran of the city lived. On the northern wall, a foreboding tower that had stood for over 80,000 years monitored the charred wilderness with an unflinching gaze. An iron gate sealed off the city from the outside, which in its long history had never been breached. The sight alone would have been enough to dispel most invaders, or even visitors, yet it was an oasis of life in an arid realm of ash and dust. Ta-Kia was one of several kia, a word that other beings interpreted as kingdom or city-state in their own languages. Its leaders claimed jurisdiction over the entire volcanic region, but the Ta-Matoran only lived in or near this city, located on a rock in the middle of a lava flow ebbing down from the nearby Mount Karda. Menacing guard towers constructed in the form of faces stood at the entrance to the two bridges that connected Ta-Kia to the surrounding world, each covered in a thin layer of ash. Smoke from the foundries mixed with the volcanic ash, perpetually surrounding the city with a gray haze. Together with black bricks and the charred earth, the city’s features gave it a dark and somber character. The only signs of life were the small flames that pervaded the city, luminous against the dreary backdrop. The foundries created a perpetual din that was not the sound of life but of metal and machines. A small spring of molten protodermis pooled in the center of the courtyard, forced up from the river by seismic pressure. The lava’s relationship with the city was complex. The Matoran were always aware that the volcano could destroy them at any moment, yet it was also a well of creation, for without its heat, the city’s industry could not exist. So the Ta-Matoran accepted the volcano and the lava that surrounded their little settlement but were ever wary of their power. It was here, amidst the chaos of the foundries, that one day a single Matoran paused, as if in the eye of a great storm. His red armor was streaked with soot, and his yellow mask stained by smoke. He watched the hammer fall as if seeing it for the first time, captivated by the rush of activity swirling around him. Clang! Clang! This Matoran was Veelix. He stood at his post watching the hammer remove the impurities from the nearly-completed mask. Though he had worked in the foundries for millennia, Veelix had never felt more removed from the process of forging. He watched with detached fascination at the construction of the mask. What was its fate? So much effort went into mining, purifying, melting down, and shaping the protodermis into masks that would serve no purpose other than to hang on a wall in the fortress. Perhaps some masks were eventually worn by Matoran, but there were simply more masks made over the millennia than could possibly be used. Veelix had once been a mask maker, in some distant time. As the years passed, he was more preoccupied with questions that had never concerned the other Matoran, becoming less interested in what he was creating than why. He was jaded, and his work became careless. He preferred making tools, for they had a purpose. Someone could use a hammer or an ax or perhaps a wrench, though Veelix would never know who. Neither would he know who mined the metal or purified it. He was simply another component in a machine that he did not understand. Mesmerized by the hammer, Veelix thought back to the founding of the city. Surely hammer struck stone in the building of the city. The hammer fell to build the city, the hammer fell to build the foundries, and now it would forever fall to build masks until the universe ceased to exist. It was self-perpetuating and unquestioned, one of life’s enduring fixtures. Veelix became aware of the molten metal in the vat near him and carefully poured some of the scarlet liquid into a mold. He no longer noticed the shape of the mold, as it mattered little to him. The Matoran stood as far from the vat as he could, for the heat sweltered Veelix more than the other Matoran. He had never felt at home in Ta-Kia, which he found too hot, too dark, and too rigid. While the other Matoran took their city and their jobs for granted, Veelix could not. Where others saw certainty, Veelix questioned and probed deeper until he was left with a disturbing sense of doubt. Had the city always been locked into this unending cycle? Would toiling in the foundries forever be his fate? As long as there was someone to use it and something to strike, the hammer would continue to fall. This was a certainty in the uncertain world. Consistency was comforting, yet fragile. Veelix imagined the monotony shattering like glass in a different future, one in which the perpetual clouds parted and his purpose was no longer obscure. Veelix placed his tools down on the work table. The rest of the Matoran continued their busy jobs, unaware of his simple act of rebellion. He watched one last time as the hammer did its work before he turned his back and walked out of the foundries into the dark city. The noise and smoke of the foundries escaped their confines and invaded Ta-Kia, and though it was merely midday, the sky was black. As he left, Veelix could hear the hammer continuing to fall. Clang! Clang!

In Power Play, Hahli freaks out about using protodermis-filled Zamor spheres, and then she and Dalu have this big discussion about how Ga-Matoran are normally peace-loving or whatever. Also, in A Cold Light Dawns and maybe Inferno, Hahli says that all the violence for the mask is insane. And she's the one who cries when Matoro temporarily dies. I always thought Hahli was a little more aggressive than, say, Nokama, but she did have her own adventure in MNOG II and once the fighting actually starts she never backs down. Here are the quotations you are referring to in context: "Keep quiet and keep moving," Dalu replied. Hahli's eyes widened at her tone. "Don't mind her," Piruk said quietly. "She's just edgy."... "Maybe you two [Piruk and Jaller] would like to take a rest and discuss the history of Voya Nui?" Dalu snapped. "I'm sure Toa Hahli and I can manage the mission without you." "Dalu!" Hahli exclaimed. "We're all on the same team here. Let's not fight among ourselves. In Metru Nui--" "Right," said Dalu. "I'm sure where you come from, Ga-Matoran are all gentile peacemakers who never raise their voices. That's what they ... we ... were like where I came from too. But I have bad news for you sister--this isn't Metru Nui. We don't have time to be polite. It's fight or end up like them." (Power Play, pp. 53-55) It seems to me that Hahli is more surprised that Dalu would raise her voice to a Toa than anything to do with the Zamors themselves. For me, this says less about Hahli than Dalu, who would appear to be speaking sarcastically (or ironically, if you want to be technical) here. The difference that Dalu seems to be noting is not so much the difference between male and female Matoran (although she does seem to be aware of the expectations of Ga-Matoran) and more the difference between Matoran on Metru Nui and Voya Nui. Interestingly enough, she suggests leaving the males behind to allow the females to do the fighting. Hahli's comments about violence: "Insanity," said Hahli. "How can a mere Kanohi mask be worth so many lives?" "If you do not know its worth," Umbra replied,"then why are you here?" (Inferno p. 67) The same scene from the comic: Hahli: "Do you know how many battles have already been fought to reach this spot? This is insanity--how can this mask be worth so much violence and death?" Umbra: "If you do not know the mask's worth, then why are you here?" (A Cold Light Dawns) These scenes are essentially the same, and both suggest the irony that the Mask of Life has caused so much death, a sentiment that is more clear in the latter version. Hahli's line is mostly there to trigger Umbra's which raises the stakes of the battle and makes it more suspenseful. And Hahli is making a good point here, especially considering that 2006 was darker and edgier than previous years, complete with more violence, and that they were novice Toa at the time. Any concerns one may have about her passivity however can be dispelled by 2007 when she starts to take a much more active role in the team, to the point where Jaller feels like she's taking over his job as leader (don't have the exact quote for this one, sorry).

My memory of the Chiara and Orde issue was that it was quite controversial at first, not just from people who heard about it later. At the time the serials were the essentially the only story outlet, so pretty much everyone was focused on them. The issue died down pretty quickly though, so whether or not you want to call it a big controversy is a matter of interpretation. A fair point, but when a character makes sweeping generalizations about a particular gender, that's a gender statement. It's also worth pointing out that Orde is the one making the statement here, though he's doing so for the Great Beings, who never gave their side of the story. It's quite possible there's some distortion in his account, whether intentional or not. So I really don't think it was intended as a sexist remark in any sense, even if the poor writing might have caused some to see it that way. That doesn't mean those who may have been offended by it were wrong, and I can see where they're coming from, but Greg's writing as a whole suggests that he is not a sexist at all. Helryx is a good example. Making the leader of one of the most powerful factions in the story a female was certainly not an accident, and her character is interesting for several reasons, not the least of which is that she isn't defined by her gender or her element. The Toa that occupy moral grey areas are my favorite, and she never seems held back by any sort of need to nurture. On the other hand, you don't get the sense that she's overly ambitious or psychopathic like Tuyet. In addition, as has been mentioned before, Greg didn't want the secret GB to be a female so he didn't have to undercut a strong female. The only clear thread running through all of the relatively important female characters is that none of them are dull, passive, effeminate characters. Gali has a temper, Roodaka is a femme fatale (more so in the movie), Tuyet and Gorast are violent (though with different motivations), and Helryx is quite possibly the most powerful Toa. These distinctions were not always done carefully, but I do detect an underlying intention on Greg's part to avoid the traps that writers often fall into regarding female characters; instead I see the opposite intent. This is certainly a good point. Gali was multidimensional enough (for Bionicle anyway) but I remember Nokama being rather bland in comparison. Then again I never really liked any of the Toa Metru, so that might be coloring my opinion. Either way , it's tough to call any of the females passive, since they were all warriors, so that argument doesn't hold much water.

While normally I'd be inclined to agree with this line of reasoning, BS01 says that Toa generally consider the masks worn by Makuta to be immoral (although it's a little vague about whether the Makuta use them because they're immoral or they're immoral because Makuta use them). The only other immoral mask would be the mask of reanimation (Matoro's mask), which apparently the Ignika gave him as a test of his character. Personally, I would have liked to have seen Greg explore this aspect of Matoro more, but I suppose that would be a bit beyond Bionicle's target audience. The philosophical implications of the mask of mind control could also make for an interesting read. Actually momentum is mass times velocity, so something moving very fast would have a lot of momentum, potentially as much as a vehicle if it were moving fast enough to compensate for lack of mass. (This is why bullets, for example, which have very little mass, are quite deadly.) So I imagine being punched with the mask of speed active would hurt quite a lot, but judging from what we've seen in the canon, this would be a poor strategy because you can't have, say, only your fist move at high velocity. In order for this to be effective, the attacker would have to already be running past the target. It also would be completely useless in lifting heavy objects, as bonesiii said, when the mask of strength would be much more effective. Yeah, there's also Newton's second law (equal and opposite forces), which would suggest that the attacker would be impacted with a significant force as well. Toa have been shown to withstand more force than we can, but I imagine this strategy would backfire pretty easily.

The prevailing theory seems to be that the Great Beings made Matoran with genders since that's what they were familiar with, which I think is logically sound. Ignoring the physical differences between males and females, there are various neurological differences between them which we probably don't even fully understand, yet if the GBs were advanced enough to construct artificial brains, then their knowledge of the brain could have led them to believe that gender was about more than simply making more of a species. One could debate about whether the social differences between men and women are biological or merely human constructs, but the GBs' conscious decision to have genders would suggest to me that they believed the social roles were important in their own society, whatever those roles may have been. As for the whole attack on Ga-Koro issue from MNOG, I don't believe a feminist critique is valid here because the Matoran and Nokama were ultimately saved by Gali (a female). Also Ga-Koro's defense forces were shown in more detail in the Bohrok War (when admittadely the Bohrok made short work of them; they were hardly defenseless, however). It's worth pointing out that while it's perfectly ok to write about a stereotypical masculine character, stereotypical female characters are often accused of being shallow or uninteresting, which is often why fictional works can face criticism for not having strong female characters. This is one of the reasons why Gali sometimes shows a temper for example, or why Gorast is one of the most aggressive Makuta. I also agree with bonesiii that Dalu's comment is meant to be ironic, and though Dalu herself is hardly helpless, even the MU seems to be home to some element of sexism and the perception that females should be peaceful and defenseless. The episode between Chiara and Orde further emphasizes this point. The episode is particularly interesting because it plays the whole "males are strong and insensitive and females are kind and gentile" stereotypes straight before proceeding to mock them with Chiara's needless execution of a helpless reptile. Although Greg may not believe in these generalizations, the GBs must have on some level, or they wouldn't have bothered with the Ce-Matoran gender swap. I actually remember this to be quite controversial at the time, and I'm actually quite surprised Greg even wrote this, considering there were no plot holes he was trying to fill or anything, and wading into the gender debate seemed likely to generate the kind of controversy LEGO usually tries to avoid. Also minor point, I don't remember ever hearing about the female Makuta opposing Teridax's plan; in fact Gorast was one of the first to support it. Could you maybe clarify where you got this information?

I don't have time to go into as much detail as I did in my last post, but I want to clarify a few more things. First of all, I wasn't really trying to reignite the debate about whether or not the story line caused Bionicle's conclusion. It's my opinion that it was one factor, and I have given my reasons for believing so. Of course we'll never know exactly why, and a large part of the reason may have been that LEGO themes are usually cancelled after just a few years and Bionicle had overstayed its welcome. @bonesiii: Lesovikk's character was indeed created after my proposed paradigm shift, so I wasn't suggesting that he was retconned. Rather I was saying that when Lhikan was created and given the back story of being around for a long time, it was likely before the writers imagined Toa would have been around for a lot longer than that. So given the fact that Toa such as Lesovikk, Orde, and Helryx have been around for a lot longer than Lhikan, it seems odd to me that he gets special treatment (although admittedly Helryx does as well). As I write this BS01 is down, so I can't provide the quote about Lhikan, but I'm pretty sure it was something about he had mastered his control over fire due to being around for so long. Axonn's quote here is so vague that it's hard to read much into, although I imagine there must have been some evil around when the Order was formed, otherwise it wouldn't have been necessary (especially when you consider that the Makuta, Toa, and Barakki were all supposed to good at this time). The Pit also existed early in the history of the universe, so there was probably plenty of evil for Axonn to face. I guess I'm just more cynical about these things, and I'd rather assume that the writers made a mistake unless there is a straightforward solution or the instance is retconned. That's just me though. I meant to address this in my last post, but I seemed to have forgotten. Actually, the point you're making here is exactly what I'm getting at. Around 2008 Greg decided to reveal our favorite's villain's name, and that had ramifications on how the story was written. Before that point he was always referred to as "The Maktua of Metru Nui" even when that label was nonsensical and later everyone seemed to know his name. There's a similar pattern here with the whole timeline thing. No, I wouldn't say there are any downsides, and in fact I think it was a good change, although not an altogether necessary one, in my opinion. The ramifications of the change were simply that going forward the story team would have more room to work with, although there would be a few minor hiccups, such as the oddly compressed timeline of the earlier years and a few minor oddities as I've already pointed out. My reasoning for pointing out what I believe are inconsistencies is to provide evidence in favor of my understanding, not to criticize the writers for making mistakes. @fishers64 My guess was that until the writers had decided on 100,000 years they really had no idea how it old it was. The dates they gave in 2004-2005 are merely clues that suggest they pictured it as being several thousand years old (though they weren't trying to mislead us intentionally) but left it sufficiently open ended until 2008 really, when it was confirmed Mata Nui came online 100,000 years ago. Can't say that I expected anyone to really be interested, I really just wanted to know if anyone had noticed this before and thought anything of it. I find the timing interesting, but if you don't, that's completely understandable. Sorry about that, these sorts of jokes are sometimes hard to pick up in writing. I tried to make the layout as simple as possible because I knew that it was really long and some people would only want to skim it. Ultimately, I have no problem with a universe that's 100,000 years old, and as far as sci-fi numbers go, it's not too unrealistic. Personally I think I would have preferred something on the order of 15,000 years (or maybe twice that much) simply because the characters are immortal. I simply can't fathom how characters like Helryx can have 100,000 years of memories and experience and how that would have shaped them, but I'm willing to cut the story some slack because I enjoy it the way it is.

I can't say I didn't anticipate these responses. Some of you seem to be reading into what I've said a little too much here, so I'm going to try to clarify exactly what I'm saying. In essence: 1) I find it interesting that dates before 7,000 years ago didn't pop up until around late 2006, 2) The change appears to have been very deliberate, seeing as the writers had no trouble with dramatically earlier dates in later years, 3) The timing of this change coincides with what I see as a change in Bionicle's tone and scope, and 4) The same change may have contributed to Lego's decision to cancel the Bionicle line (key word there is "contributed"). Now that we have out of the way, I'll try to address everyone individually. @Toatapio Nuva: Fair enough, I know not everyone finds this as interesting as I do. The idea here was to "peek behind the curtain" if you will to see if I could try to understand how what I believe was an important change in the canon was made. @ bonesiii: One day, bonesiii, you and I will agree on something. I look forward to that day, but until then, here we go. Having not really been around before 2006, I never intended to assert that people believed the universe was only 10,000 years old (and I admit I was a little misleading in my original post). Don't get hung up on that exact date. We had no idea how old the universe was at the time (the writers may not have even really known), but given the then-current timeline, 10,000 years was probably a better guess than 100,000. There was no reason to assume that it was any older than about 10,000 years. From what I understand, the story bible was mostly focused on the broad outlines of the story, especially what would happen in the main plot, and less about the backstory. From what Greg has said in the past, things certainly changed pretty dramatically as time went on, especially if you look at some of the concept art from Christian Faber. I agree that this is certainly a problem with many theories here in this forum, which is why I was careful to scrutinize the timeline to see if it fits my "theory" (which I was also careful to avoid calling this, mostly because I knew you would object if I used this word incorrectly). The dates fit this theory remarkably well actually, which is what convinced me that this idea had merit. None of the replies have had any direct evidence against this line of reasoning. I would also say it does matter when these things are established because despite the plans and story bibles, Bionicle is a story that was written by multiple people over a ten year period, and things were bound to change and have noticeable impacts on the story. I believe this is one of the more significant examples, for reasons I've already outlined. Believe it or not, I actually noticed the evidence first and then came up with the theory, not the other way around. That's a valid interpretation, but I don't see what makes it any more valid than mine, given that neither of us has any direct evidence in favor our views. The writers were indeed vague about the universe's age, but my point here is that all of the clues from 2001-2005 suggested a universe that was on the order of thousands of years old, not 100,000. And even if Takua were only 10,000 years old, that would certainly be a lot older than I am I'm willing to concede this point to you, although it's just an aspect of the general trend that I was laying out in that section, and it doesn't invalidate the rest of my argument. I was always under the impression that mask making required Konaka, but I guess I was wrong about that. Good to know, but doesn't really matter much to the theory, given as it was merely an offhand observation. I wouldn't say that everything there was revealed all at once, although this was a few years ago, so my memory is shaky. The outline certainly was, but in order to ensure that my theory had some basis in evidence, I did indeed "examine" the evidence again because I wanted my observation to be as factually sound as I could make it. Upon rereading this paragraph, I've noticed that it's a bit unclear, so I'll try to elaborate. Essentially what I was saying is, Lhikan was portrayed as a legendary hero, highly skilled in his element, and borderline elderly, most likely for the sake of contrast with the novice Toa Metru. Other Toa who had been Toa for a much longer time were spared this same treatment, most notably Lesovikk, who seems no more skilled than any other average Toa, even though he's one of the older ones (more than ten times longer than Lhikan, in fact). This is the inconsistency I was referring to, and one way to solve this inconsistency is assuming a paradigm shift in how the story team thought of time. They probably hadn't yet conceived of Toa being around as long as Lesovikk. Obviously this does not prove (or confirm/support, since I know you don't like the p-word in theories) my theory, as no one piece of evidence does, but together, we have these little inconsistencies, puzzles, and oddities that can all be explained by this theory. Here's the exact quote: "For more than 100 centuries, I have looked into the face of evil again and again. It sickens me." Axonn's not establishing how long he's guarded the Mask of Life in this quote, he's actually being more broad than that. Since Axonn was essentially a warlord before his time in the Order of Mata Nui, I'm assuming this refers to his length of service there. BS01 seems to imply that Axonn joined when the Order was relatively recent, which was certainly more than 10,000 years ago. (For reference, their quote is, "Hydraxon, a fellow member of the Hand of Artakha, later approached him and offered him a membership in the newly formed Order of Mata Nui.") Yes, he's technically not wrong, but that's nitpicking. If I told you I had been alive for more than 1000 days now (roughly three and a third years), I'd be telling the truth, but it's absurd both as a measurement of time and as an accurate estimate. Axonn's comment is similar. What's more convoluted, that Axonn actually said the exact amount of time (or something close) and it was translated and Greg just expected us to know this even though he picked what he knew would be a serious underestimate, or perhaps he changed his mind? When judging theories I look for parsimony (simplicity), and I think my explanation for this quote is simpler, and therefore more likely to be true. The context was when Axonn first battled with the Piraka (Thok and Vezok to be specific) and he was introducing himself as he beat them up. Here's a link to the comic in question. I know you like to believe that everything has an in-universe explanation, but the reality is that Bionicle is a story written by fallible people over a long period of time. Changes were bound to happen along the way. Rather than try to bend the facts to get the canon to be consistent, sometimes it's just easier to assume that there was an external change, one that in this case makes a lot of sense. (A comparable example would be the shift from Maori-sounding names to Latin-sounding names in the later years.) Granted this isn't a major revelation, but the fact that you've already written this much suggests there's a discussion to be had here. Maybe it was more of a big deal at the time, but people don't seem to talk about it much anymore. Anyway, the level to which people discussed it is irrelevant to my actual point. In the introduction I believe I did mention that things did gradually expand with more backstory, especially in 2005, but 2006 (really 2007) was a significant change, especially with the introduction of the serials. The difference here was that the story was now unfolding in multiple locations with multiple plots at once, rather than carefully following one particular Toa team. We had seen glimpses of this earlier with the Rahaga flashback, for example, but nothing on the scale we saw later. In history parlance, I would say that 2005 and 2007 were milestones rather than turning points, which is to say that they each represented a culmination of gradual shifts rather than a sudden, dramatic one change. Just a little. As I'm sure you've surmised, what I mean by unnecessary is that they did not revolve around the current year's sets, so in terms of the story being a vehicle to sell toys (which, let's admit, it was on some level), it's an important departure. This is why I generally read the entire post (even when it's ridiculously long) before I begin commenting. I'm afraid I disagree about the emphasis to which the ancient history was explored. The legend of Mata Nui was hardly an important fixture in MNOG and it later turned out to be heavily distorted by the Turaga. Even then it was never explained in any real detail, and for much of the first three years, even waking Mata Nui was mentioned only sporadically. I found the transition to be a bit more abrupt than you seem to, which could merely be a difference of opinion, but my above comment regarding milestones versus turning points also applies here. Demise, conclusion, unmitigated calamity--pick your favorite. I don't really want to argue about semantics here, since your objection is mostly to my word choice. Put another way, it was time for LEGO to move on, the sets were cancelled, and the story was given a conclusion (which was actually moved up a few years). The expansive storyline, as I said earlier, could very well have contributed to LEGO's decision to move on from Bionicle. @fishers64: Responding to bonesiii took longer than I thought (I have a tendency to do that), but I'll try to respond adequately to your objections as well. See above, I never meant to imply that anyone actually suggested it was this age, per se. My point here is that sometimes we through around big numbers without really thinking about them. 100,000 isn't just a really big number; it's a really big number compared to 1000 or even 10,000. The point I was getting is that the additional 90,000 years or so that were added is a huge increase compared to the 10,000 or so that the story had used so far. These are all valid points, and as the story developed, we certainly did learn more about its origins. This evidence is the least convincing in favor of my theory, but it's difficult to ignore this pattern, which is what made me suspect this theory in the first place, which is why I mentioned it. This is an oversimplification of my point, which I tried hard to be clear about. The complicated story alone did not doom (or conclude, if bonesiii is still reading) Bionicle, especially since they could have dramatically simplified the story in 2009 but chose not to. The 2009 story showed us that even with the reboot, Bionicle still had some structural problems, one of which was that even on Bara Magna, there were still traces of the old story (which is sort of obvious, because otherwise it wouldn't be Bionicle). If you look at, say Johnny Thunder, Knight's Kingdom, or Exo Force (or from what I'm told the newer themes, like Ninjago and Chima, though I'm not familiar with them myself), they all had more rudimentary stories that were far less expansive, especially compared to Bionicle. Ironically, Bionicle's success was in part because of its story, but the story became so good that it was just a little too much for LEGO's target audience. No, but as you point out it did enable the writers to play around more, and I agree that it was a good thing. However, if the writers wanted to be able to play around like that, creating an expansive timeline like this would certainly enable that. I added the other sections because I believed that part II was not enough evidence alone. The other parts are not rambling, but rather supporting evidence to ward me from criticism that the stuff in part II was merely a coincidence. Don't make assumptions about where I went to school. I would never write this way for my English teacher, but I wanted to make the content of each section clear because they are so long. @Mehul: This point, which I've debated before, is mostly irrelevant because no matter how long a year is, 100,000 years is an order of magnitude greater than 10,000, which means regardless, a lot of time suddenly came into the storyline. What matters is that it's relatively larger. I also had no idea that the 36 hour day was confirmed, although an hour is an arbitrary unit of time not based on any physical occurrence, so it doesn't matter much anyway. Hours might also have been different on the surface of Mata Nui which relied on an actual day-night cycle rather than the simulated one inside the universe. @Ghabulous Ghoti: As far as I know, we don't know how long a year is, although consistent with what I've said above, it's irrelevant because the relative time is what matters here. Thanks for comments everyone, I appreciate the feedback.

I've noticed something about the Bionicle timeline that isn't particularly revolutionary, but I think it's worth discussing because it represents the massive shift Bionicle undertook around 2006 when the size of the story (and the timeline) expanded dramatically. Although I'm presenting a thesis and the evidence in favor of it here, I'm not labeling it as a "theory" because a) it's not about the storyline per se, but rather the thinking process behind its design, and b) it might already be widely acknowledged and I just haven't noticed. I've also added some analysis on why we should care about and discuss this. Part I is the introduction, parts II-IV are the most interesting pieces of evidence (there's certainly more out there), parts V and VI are analysis, and part VII is the conclusion. Also bear with me, since I tend to be a bit long winded. I. Introduction and Thesis From 2001 to 2003, the idea of a timeline generally meant what had happened in the story so far, staring with just before the Toa Mata arrived on Mata Nui, since everything before that was just background. The Matoran had been on the island for some indeterminate amount of time, Makuta had harassed them for years, and there was nothing else we really needed to know before that aside from a few legends. Then came the Metru Nui arc, and events started to be nailed down with more certainty. The events of the story up until now had lasted about a year. The Matoran had been on Mata Nui for 1000 years. Events that happened in the past before the events of 2004 (invention of Kanoka, chutes, etc.) were given approximate dates. More material in the story started to happen well before the events of the actual story we were witnessing. In 2005 even more information about the history of Metru Nui, the Rahaga, and various other characters came to light, and we had a thriving story about what happened before the main story arc. For much of 2006 the story continued in the same way, although the story was darker, we were back in the present, and the stakes suddenly seemed a lot greater. The timeline however, remained relatively unchanged, although the Piraka origin story told in Legacy of Evil went back 7000 years. Then open up the next book, and the first words of the introduction are "100,000+ years ago." That's a long time. For comparison, 1000 years ago, we didn't even have a portable compass. 100,000 years is a long time. Sometime around 2006, the story team (likely Greg) decided to dramatically expand the history of the Bionicle timeline, which included the first rough dating of the age of the Matoran Universe, which until then had been somewhere in the thousands of years, but had remained open for debate. Somehow the paradigm of a Matoran Universe that was 10,000 years at the oldest somehow shifted to one that was over 100,000 years old. By adding more than 90,000 years of material to the story, Greg not only led to a massive shift in our conception of the length of the timeline, but also opened the floodgates to create the incredibly complex story we have today. What I intend to demonstrate is that the decision to expand the timeline so dramatically was made, at first hesitantly, sometime around mid to late 2006. II. The Most Important 10,000 Years To reiterate a point that I made in the introduction, most of the material that happened in the story (or rather, the backstory and "expanded universe" so to speak) happened within the 10,000 years prior to current story. This is the strongest evidence in favor of the idea that Greg simply didn't conceive of events happening before that time. The strongest rebuttal that I can think of is that this time period was simply the most appropriate time for these events to happen, or that it made sense to explore events nearer to the present story. This makes sense when considering the Piraka's origins, Tuyet's betrayal, and the Toa Hagah, but it makes less sense when considering some of the historical facts about Metru Nui. According to BS01, the Vahki, Kanoka, and chutes were all invented "sometime before 4000 years ago." This leaves us with a 96,000 year time period when these inventions could have come into existence, but it's implied that they do so around 4000 years ago, not significantly before. This means that for most of Metru Nui's history, you would not have recognized it, and one wonders what the Ta-Matoran were doing for tens of thousands of years without Kanoka to turn into Kanohi (or how anyone made new masks for that matter). If one examines all of the events that occur before 7000 years, all of them were introduced as story elements around 2006-2007 or after. The only item I'm not so clear about is the Dark Hunter backstory. Although we now have a reasonable idea of when the Dark Hunters came into existence, due to BS01's decision not to cite any of its sources (grumble, grumble), I can't say for sure when we learned these dates. Either way, the earliest it could have been was the summer of 2006 when the Dark Hunter guidebook came out. III. Old Toa By the time of the Great Cataclysm, Lhikan is old. We're told that he's been fighting evil for a long time, there are numerous legends about him, and somewhere it even says that his many years of being a Toa have given him fine control of his powers. He was a Toa for approximately 6005 years, which is a long time from our perspective but is relatively short in the Matoran Universe. True, it's a lot longer than the Toa Metru were Toa or that Toa Mata/Nuva were awake, but it's nothing compared to Orde, Helryx (who is REALLY old), and Lesovikk. Out of pretty much every other Toa, only Helryx is mentioned to have such fine control over her element, which is fitting, considering she's the oldest Toa. (In contrast, Orde is almost as old, but we hear nothing about how good his skill is.) The point here is not to pat ourselves on the back and say "Gotcha, Greg made a mistake!" The inconsistency is interesting because it makes perfect sense given the thesis that the timeline dramatically expanded between the creation of these characters. IV. Axonn's Service By the time the Piraka show up, Axonn has been guarding the Mask of Life for a long time, and has been facing evil "more than 100 centuries," which would be more than 10,000 years (Ignition Comic 2). While we don't know exactly how long he guarded the Mask (it's implied to be a long time), we do know that he's been with the Order since around its inception, which was about 100,000 years ago. This means that Axonn's "100 centuries" comment is not only a strange grammatical construction, but is also off by about an order of magnitude. (This would be comparable to saying that the Great Pyramids were built more than a few decades ago.) This is odd because Axonn is trying to stress how long this length of time is, but it's really a gross underestimate. (Perhaps he's lost track of time?) Given the paradigm that we had worked with until this time, 10,000 years would have been a long time, but now it's laughably short, especially for Axonn. It's worth noting that Greg is fuzzy about the exact length of time here, probably because he hadn't officially made the decision yet to expand the timeline to the degree that he did. This is perhaps the most crucial piece of evidence because it really cements when this change took place. Clearly Greg wanted to expand the timeline but he didn't quite have the exact amount of time yet. Axonn's statement gives him enough time to be old in the then-current paradigm and is vague enough to survive the paradigm shift intact yet is clearly a relic of the original paradigm. That was in the Ignition Comic 2, which came out around May. (In Dark Destiny, released around the same time, Karzahni suggests that he might be over 100,000 years old, but his credibly is poor here, and his statement is even more vague: "perhaps 100,000 years, perhaps more, I lose track." [p. 73]) By Inferno, the last book of the year, it is now canon that the universe is over 100,000 years old, which suggests that the decision was formed gradually over 2006 and cemented by the end of the year. V. Why We Care So who cares that the timeline suddenly got a lot bigger? Greg changed his mind about some back story stuff. He probably did this all the time, especially considering that he came up with a lot of the details of the story as he went along, leaving more than a few inconsistencies. What makes this topic so important (in my opinion, anyway)? Among the many changes that took place around 2006/2007, one of the ones that is least talked about is the dramatic increase in size in the Bionicle story. Subplots that were unnecessary for the primary story and involved side characters in distant realms suddenly started to appear. While you only needed to know what was going on with the current sets, you could be guaranteed that there was more out there if you wanted to take the plunge, and we as fans ate it up. Suddenly there was ancient history to explore with the Barraki, Miserix, and Jovan. There were multiple storylines proceeding at once, giving fans all that much more to be excited about. The world became so big it needed an atlas, and we could follow our favorite characters to these new lands even though their sets were replaced by this year's. This was a great time to be a Bionicle fan, and Bionicle got the massive expansive story that it deserved, yet few other toy lines get even close to replicating. VI. The Downfall of Bionicle Ironically, this expansive story was one of the structural problems behind Bionicle's eventual cancellation. The story was simply so vast that even a 2009 reboot couldn't save it from all of the baggage that it carried dating back to before most of the toy's target audience was even born at this point. It became too difficult for new comers to jump in, and Bionicle's replacement had a much simpler and straightforward story. It's a shame, because many of us loved Bionicle for the story, but it it's not hard to see that it didn't quite fit with Lego's goal, especially when compared to its others IPs at the time (and now). The story was hardly the only reason for Bionicle's ultimate decline, but it was certainly one of them. I don't want anyone to walk away from this thinking that I'm claiming Greg's decision to expand the timeline ultimately caused the series's demise. That's not what I'm saying at all. What I'm trying to say is that the story writers made a conscious decision to significantly expand the story, with amazing results but completely unforeseen consequences. The story did not expand because of the expanded timeline, but rather vice versa, and it would probably have happened regardless of the shift in timeline paradigm. VII. Conclusion The change in the timeline paradigm is representative of a massive shift in the way the Bionicle story was presented and developed, and it may have even helped enable this change. In and of itself, this change would hardly be worth such a detailed post, but its timing during a time of great change for Bionicle demonstrates that a lot of internal changes that definitely altered the tone and scope of the story were also happening around this time. Whether or not these changes were for better or worse is a matter of debate, but I think it's fairly certain that things did indeed change. So what do you think? Am I getting all excited about something that doesn't really matter? Is there evidence of some event from 2004 that happened tens of thousands of years ago that completely invalidates this theory? Did you even read most of this unnecessarily long observation? I'd appreciate any comments you may have.

Well, would you agree that the three possibilities are gave are the only options (at least I can't seem to think of any others offhand)? Which would you prefer and why, if any, out of curiosity? [Edit: I mean of how a Matoran gets their name, in case that wasn't clear.] Those seem to be the only logical possibilities, and although there's no direct evidence in favor of any them, there's probably some mechanism to ensure that each name is unique. (My reasoning here is that Matoran is a programming language, and in computer code it is essential that everything has a unique name.) I personally prefer the idea that characters have some input into naming themselves, just because that's more interesting storywise, although if the GBs named the originals, that would better fit the programming paradigm.

I should clarify that when I say burden of proof, what I mean is not actually "proof" (since that would be canon information, like you say), but whether I've found a theory sufficiently convincing. Generally I find a theory meets this if it is the simplest explanation (parsimonious) and more likely than not to be true (probable rather than possible). Given the lack of material we have for languages, I understand your reasoning in having a relatively low burden of proof for language discussions, although, as I have stated previously, I think it is difficult to build a theory about languages that meet these (admittedly strict) requirements. If you're assuming that the "axon" in "Axxon" and "Hydraxon" are etymologically significant (an assumption I don't necessarily agree with), then I don't think "authority" would be the meaning, since as you've pointed out, it doesn't really fit Hydraxon. Perhaps something like "guardian" since Axxon guarded the Mask of Life and Hydraxon was a jailer? I also don't think we should toss out "x" quite yet, considering that there is a letter for it and it does have two pronunciations (ks and z). Actually, that line of reasoning made me wonder what the pronunciation difference is between Xa and Za (both krana suffixes), so maybe the Matoran "x" has a slightly different sound than either of the ones we use in English.

@bonesiii: There are several characters with names that do have meanings (most character traits), although I suppose what I objected to was your certainty that all names mean this. Of course, I have no evidence to disprove your theory, although I'm not sure it meets sufficient burden of proof (I'm not fully convinced by DM's theory either, which I think relies to heavily on speculation, but that's for another topic, and obviously fan-made names can't be used as evidence). I think we can agree that it is at least common that Matoran names refer to personal characteristics (as in English). @Surreality: I agree that the names have certainly gotten lazier. In 2001, a lot of the Matoran names were words in various languages that referred to a Matoran's element (e.g., water, sea, ocean, etc. for Ga-Matoran), apart from the obvious ones taken from the Maori language. Although these were clearly taken from real words, I thought they were some of the most interesting. Someone made a great chart with all the names from MNOLG, but I'm not sure what happened to it.

I'm not exactly clear on your reasoning here, considering that the only examples we have are the Toa Mata. I actually don't recall ever hearing that they were named after their elements, but I think it's a bit of a stretch to say that every character is named after some trait, considering the six Toa Mata are in the minority in this case. (Incidentally in English, many names are character traits, such as Angela or Miranda, but since these names are usually give before birth, they don't guarantee that the person will be, say, angelic or admirable. The same could well apply here.) Dealing with the whole "kanoka disk" problem that everyone is worrying about is actually simpler than it may sound. One must imagine that everything we read in the canon is translated from Matoran into English (or your language of choice, but we'll use English for simplicity), but these are not necessarily one-to-one translations. For example, the English equivalent of the Matoran word "Kanoka" is "disk," but "Kanoka" has a much more restrictive meaning than "disk," which means any flat round thing. So for clarity, the imaginary translator might translate "Kanoka" as "Kanoka disk" in English to clarify that these are disks of power and not simply frisbees. When transliterated into Matoran letters, this would be , which looks absurd to a Matoran, but this translation was meant to be read in English, not Matoran. By extension, all the English words we see in Matoran letters could be "doubly translated" in this fashion, thus making both spellings canon. This would be sort of like the Bilba/Bilbo Tolkien example bonesiii was referencing earlier. An example would be the rock in MNOLG, which reads something like, "My friend went to Po-Wahi and all I got was this lousy rock." We could assume 1) by some astronomical coincidence, Matoran uses the same words and grammar as English in this sentence, 2) the rock isn't canon (a very real possibility, but an uninteresting one), or 3) the sentence is translated into English and then transliterated back into Matoran to make it appear more authentic, but still readable. Presumably Po-Wahi is left as is because it's a proper noun (which are most of the Matoran words we have anyway and most likely to survive a translation processes like this unscathed). I like option 3 myself, but you're welcome to disagree. Of course this entire thing is merely a thought experiment because the story was written in English and the Matoran language doesn't actually exist in any real form beyond a few words (not to mention that there obviously is no translator), but I believe that this is the most parsimonious explanation for all the "Kanoka disks" and "Kanohi masks" we've seen floating around the canon for years.

Well, before we write something off as impossible, let's keep in mind that Mata Nui changed Spherus Magna from a wasteland into a paradise around the same time. This is science fiction after all. The ability to give the Matoran the ability to speak Agori could have been latent within Mata Nui's mind rather than his robot body. Writing in binary code is kinda hard indeed, but writing in a higher level language (e.g. C++) is much easier, so there's no reason to believe the Great Beings were literally speaking in ones and zeros. However, you do raise a good point that I hinted at earlier in that it doesn't make much sense to use a programming language for communication (imagine if you could only speak in recipes or instructions). I remember I wanted to bang my head on my desk when Greg revealed that Matoran was a programming language, but we're stuck with it that way now, so we'll have to try to make sense out of it. My friends and I used to exchange simple sentences in Java, so it is possible to communicate in a rudimentary way, but programming languages aren't designed for conversation, so either Matoran is incredibly complex and unlike any programming language we have now, or the story team didn't realize the ramifications of having beings speak in a programming language.

I appreciate the lesson on relativity, bonesiii, although I am actually familiar with special and general relativity (and admittedly a bit rusty). I don't deny that time dilation certainly exists in our universe and that from one reference frame time appears to be moving at a difference rate depending on your velocity (which leads to all sorts of interesting paradoxes, as I'm sure you are aware). My problem with discussing the "speed" of time is that the rate of anything is defined as the amount of something that occurs per unit of time. Therefore time moving at twice its normal "rate" is identical to everything in the universe moving at twice its normal speed in the same amount of time. To discuss the "rate" of time has issues with self-reference and circular reasoning. So to rephrase my earlier questions, how can we know whether time is truly moving "faster" or that everything in that universe is moving faster? My answer is that the distinction between the two has no physical meaning. We can use this same principle to address what's going on with the Vahi. If we look at the classic scene where Vakama slows down time in the second movie to stop the shadow hand from killing him, giving Lhikan enough time to save his life, the natural instinct is to say that the Vahi slowed down time. In response, I would pose the following question: Would the mask achieve the same effect if everything (every object, every atom, every physical process) in the Vahi's range of power moved at a slower speed than before? In that case, we couldn't really tell the difference between time moving more slowly and everything moving more slowly through time. From a philosophical perspective, that is why I say the question has no meaning. Or we could avoid that entire line of discussion and say that the theory that time behaves differently in the Bionicle universe is likely false because of the principle of parsimony (Occam's razor) and a general lack of evidence. (As an aside to bonesiii, I actually took a class in quantum mechanics and other modern physics during my senior year of high school in which my final project was a presentation on the theories of time. As soon as I made that post last night and went to bed, I realized that I had forgotten to address relativity and that would blow major holes in my argument as originally presented, so that was an oops on my part. So while I know that you were only trying to expand my intellectual horizons, keep in mind that just because someone doesn't offer particular knowledge in their post doesn't mean they need a full blown lecture on how it works )

I'm inclined to agree with several people before me and say that time is probably the same in the Matoran Universe. This is not simply because this is the simplest explanation (and we have no reason to believe otherwise) but because it isn't possible for time to flow at a different rate. Before you give me the Bionicle-physics-works-differently-than-our-physics cop out, consider the question of what it means for time to flow differently. Can you define the "speed" or "rate" at which time flows without reference to time itself? If you want to suggest that the temporal events happens at a different rate, is it time that is moving at a different "speed" or the objects moving through time? What does it mean to suggest that thirty seconds in one universe is one minute in ours? The notion that time flows differently has no meaning (unless you want to suggest it flows in reverse, which no one is suggesting). The biggest evidence for the different flow of time is the long lifespan of the various inhabitants, but this suggests nothing about the nature of time. In our world, flies live for a matter of weeks. Trees can live for centuries. Different species mature at different rates. The fact that lifeforms have lengthy lifespans does not necessarily imply that the very nature of time in their universe is any different than in ours.

My guess is that it's probably a minor slip on Greg's part. If you're looking for an in-universe explanation, my best guess is the conversation in Brothers in Arms takes place in Matoran, since that is their language and it would make sense for the Great Beings to use that language when conversing with them. I'd say that the Great Beings are probably "fluent" (I use this word hesitantly given the nature of the language) in Matoran, and can thus hold "conversations" in it when necessary. We don't actually see the Great Beings talk among themselves with no one else present, so we don't really know what they speak to each other. I don't exactly remember the conversation the Reign of Shadows group had with the Great Being, but he probably also recognized that he was speaking to beings that only knew Matoran and thus spoke with them in that language. In the real world, it's not abnormal for people to speak a language that isn't their own if it is the common language in that circumstance, which is what I imagine is going on here. Of course, this analogy breaks down when you realize that Matoran is a programming language, meaning the whole idea of holding a conversation in such a language makes little sense anyway. I find it highly unlikely that the Great Beings regularly converse in Matoran when they're not speaking to inhabitants of the MU given that no one in the real world communicates with other people in C++, Java, Python, etc.