Designing a Tundra God

Описание: Inspirational Artists & Works
Charles Fréger
Jen Zee
Joanne Tran
Peter Mohrbacher
Rebecca Sugar

Matt Colville
Madeline Miller
Paulo Coelho

Pan's Labyrinth. Guillermo del Toro
Hellraiser. Clive Barker

Media References & Attributions (In order of appearance)
Disasterpeace (2016) Hyper Light Drifter. Bandcamp
ADialla (2011) Nunavut tundra. Wikimedia Commons
Beckebanze, L. (2020) Polygonal Tundra at Alkhornet. Imaggeo
Peter Nijenhuis (2006) Tundra plateau. Flickr
Peter Prokosch (2017) Nenets women at dancing ceremony, Pechora Delta, Nenets Autonomous Region, Russia. Flickr
Charles Fréger (2011) Wilder Mann. Charles Fréger

Koutoupas, A. (n.d.) The Meaning of Reciprocity in Ancient Greek Religion. Academia.edu


My Nonsense - St. Jurek
“As far as we’re aware, you're the only colony still living.”
The Courier says in hushed tones, but the small space affords no privacy. The Immigrant looks around her, ten pairs of eyes stare through. The Courier speaks meekly once more.
“I do not feel this space provides the discretion we need.”
“No secrets here, friend. They can handle the truth.”
The Courier sighs.
“Gemini, Lynx, and Hydra have all gone silent. We haven’t heard from them in months. And the situation back home‒it's bad, Kalina. They need space for at least twelve-hundred refugees from Galatia.”
“Twelve-hundred? We’re a colony of 13.”
“Nowhere in Apostate is as safe as here on the steppe. We’ve had demons invading eastward‒for god’s sake Kalaina, they broke the North wall.”
A Woman from the back of the room, mutters against her will.
“Lachesis was right.”
The Immigrant turns to her, and gestures her to step forward.
“What do you know?”
The Woman rises.
“Captain Jurek, apologies, I‒six years ago I pilgrimed to Thessaly, there in Delphi I met the Fates.”
The Immigrant nods.
“Well‒I‒when they sang they told me I would find my partner after the gates of the north wall fell. That I would have a child with them in a desert. That when I died, red plants would eat at my corpse while a thousand men and women sang songs under a blistering sky. Captain, I believe this tundra to be that desert. They said I would live into old age, so it must be true then. That these immigrants will find us, that we will find a way to survive the winter.”
The Immigrant turns from her, facing the Courier.
“Then it was decided centuries ago, Kadir. Of course we’ll have the men, we’ll do what we can. Tell them to bring rations by the wagon. Wood is hard to come by here, so we'll likely burn the caravans for fire.”
A Fisher speaks up from the Immigrant’s side.
“And what for food, then?”
“When the rations run out‒Dr. Markova and I have been working on a solution. She sees promise in the red lichen that grows here, right doctor?”
“We still have breeding to go, but in spite of all his enmity, Dysis seems to be blessing our stock.”
The Immigrant laughs, and looks to the Woman.
“Red plants, Aurelia?”
The Woman smiles. The Immigrant stands on her cane, and asks the Courier to rise.
“St. Clement guide you, Kadir. All right everyone, we have shelters to build. Its going to be hell this winter. Let's make sure none of us end up there.”