Manuel returned his gaze to the cosmos again. His routine had not been affected in the slightest. The visitor had become increasingly incoherent towards the end. He threw gibberish at Manuel, for reasons he could only decide as a desperate attempt to confuse. Manuel would not be fooled. Distractions never interrupted his people before. When performing tasks, they always had their mind on a single path. That path had never been diverted, no sidetracking, no complications ever rose in a task. They were perfect. Manuel was here to convince the visitor that there was nothing here for him, and by explaining the nature of their unique existence, the visitor has left, in his own words, ‘infuriated’. Task complete. The gibberish was not for him to pursue.
Without warning, the enemy opened fire. The cosmos was drowned out from even Manuel’s vision. Lights, anti-particle artillery, missiles, dense concentration of raw energy exploded, soundless in space. Manuel’s ears could hear them, however. He could see every molecule involved. Molecules. His analytical mind jumped to work, drawing knowledge from the Archives. These beings are molecular. Exoskeleton appears crystalline. Fully contains being within. Could be an artificial suit. Being within radiates red light and heat of a (hundred degree celcius), seen in open mouth. Phosphor-based lifeform? Internal organs may be gaseous in nature. Purple air could be waste product, but being’s actions suggests it was stored prior to approach, not excreted. Purple air possibly catalyst, an external ingredient that completes their metabolism, if they have one. Like how some beings drew breath from their atmosphere simply to extend their existence indefinitely.
He also saw something else. A signal, broadcast by the flagship. It emanated into the field of the city. Usually, these shots wouldn’t even make contact. The field of the City kept them partially out of phase with all dimensions of space, all at once. But evidently, the enemy had the means to lock onto the frequency of the field. Manuel knew without guessing that these weapons would make contact. Once within the field of the City, the sheer, intense gravity, the thick friction from the air, would render most of the projectiles out of commission. Those that did strike, would not displace any of the invulnerable contents of the City. No action was necessary. Not if Manuel was disregarding the absolute words of the Chronicleum.
His people lived in a world full of symbolic gestures. Unnecessary as many of them are, in a race where every member understood each other, knew each other intimately, knew each other’s desires even before intentions were conveyed, procedural manners, conversation, courtesy was never truly needed. Without even seeing each other, they all knew, without conveying, the depths of their kinship. Their love for one another. Yet for the pleasantries of sincerity, the father had always been encouraging them to make a visible show of it. Requests that went unspoken were vocally conveyed to give the other party an opportunity to reply. The other party, in turn, would hold off fulfilling those requests despite knowing them perfectly, until a vocal expression of the said request was uttered. It was a symbolic gesture of cooperation. Unnecessary, and yet mysteriously, with the sheer sounds, gestures, and extra steps taken to reenact their deep bonds, a lightness filled the City. An irreplaceable sense of joyful intimacy would constantly flow within the entirety of the City. There was great meaning in these gestures, and great results that no shortcut would replicate.
Even the architecture of the City, as decided by the father, was a gesture by itself. The people did not need shelters from planetary elements that never existed. Walls were not needed for privacy that was never sought out. The people did not need homes for rest and recovery that their eternal bodies never required. The Archive, was most unnecessary, holding information that they did not truly need to concern themselves with. And yet, the City was a metropolis of such structures, each giving off a dim, gold light from their sparkling walls of multiple colours. The crystalline, glasslike streets laid out in perfect distribution like the veins of an organic lifeform, the slightly golden River seen flowing ceaselessly beneath their transparent surfaces.
Ergo, it was no surprise to Manuel when yet another golden object popped into existence. It was a mostly transparent, spherical bubble that enveloped the entire city. It was another gesture, that the People loved the city. They would move to protect it. The missiles made contact with the bubble, lighting it up like fireworks. The bubble held on, not affected in the slightest. The barrage continued, more shots were fired.