The Great Game 🎲 Kollarum

The Matterhorn

June 3, 2018

The two-week Grand Assembly was held every year on the planet of Kollarum, in the middle of the Platonar Void, the largest Void in the Aatari Lok universe. The Assembly was held in Kollarum because it was the most developed conference and entertainment planet, because it had the tightest security in the Grey Phantom universe cluster, and because it was easy to get to from almost anywhere in the Kraslika.

Aataris were particularly proud of the fact that their most famous planet was completely safe from marauders from the Frozen Skiff. Every decade or so these marauders wrought havoc from one edge of the Copper Tarn to the next. Skiff authorities had exerted some degree of control over them, yet they were like members of the Hell’s Angels, who extorted a bar owner and then went for a drink at the same bar. At times, the Skiff bar owners had to send in the police, but more often the stolen goods and personnel covered the cost of beer, rent, protection money, and slave wages.

The marauders stripped or shredded several planets in the Copper Tarn every year. Occasionally, they reached an outlying solar system of Ataari Lok, yet the Ataari border police were efficient in their methods of capture, and ruthless in their punishment. First they caged the raiders in sluices of filth, through which they ran giant rats, like bulls in Pamplona. Next, the raiders swam for three weeks through pig-sewers of industrial waste. Finally, they were condemned to fifty years of counting bolts of cloth imported from the Crimson Stalk. The marauders never got to touch an actual crimson bolt, but at least they learned how to count from one to a million. Needless to say, no marauder ever set foot in an Aatari transportation hub, let alone the planet of Kollarum.

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The Matterhorn Conference Centre was the size and shape of the Swiss Matterhorn, whose topographic prominence is 1,042 metres. The Conference Centre’s 235 stories were crowned by the Apex, which was 20 stories high and resembled the tip of that powerful mountain piercing the sky.

The Apex contained the Forum auditorium and the Grand Plaza next to it. In the Forum, the seats funnelled downward to a large stage, above which was a screen and a panoramic view of the colourful sky. Silent escalators led upwards to the seats, which had plush arm rests, information consoles, translation headphones, small fold-out tables, and two temperature-controlled holders for coffee and cold drinks. Every five rows there were thick red curtains leading to concession stands and washrooms, as well as corridors, staircases, and elevators leading into the Grand Plaza.

230 years ago, when Farenn was a young man, he used to sit in the upper seats so that he could get a bird’s eye view. He was captivated by the speakers and the debates. As they talked, he marvelled at the beauty of the sky, at the endless possibilities it seemed to represent. The planet of Kollarum was unique in that it’s swirling clouds contained every colour possible, although it was dominated by bright greens and blues. This made it seem like you were upside down in an ocean of currents and splashing waves.

Back then the subject of debate was slightly different: the Baulian Empire had already taken over the Orange Hoop and the Green Buzz universes, and the Assembly was deciding just how much they would let it advance toward the Violet Hoop. Back then they figured that it would take several hundred years for them to reach the Virgo Supercluster and its Milky Way.

Over the past two centuries the Assembly had allowed the Baulians to advance because their ecological and institutional systems by and large created survival, peace, and stability. Now, as they were taking over the Milky Way, the Assembly was deciding when to tell the Baulians that they weren’t the all-powerful masters they thought themselves to be.

The rest of the cosmos saw Earth as a jewel in the crown of the Kraslika, but the Baulians were as clueless about the bigger picture as were the ancient Greek and Jewish poets and prophets. These writers magnified Earth’s importance just as much as the Baulians minimized it. According to the ancient Greeks and Jews, Earth lay motionless and unique at the centre of the universe. The human writers didn’t even know that Earth was spinning on its axis and rotating around the sun. Paradoxically, however, they were correct when they said that Earth lay at the centre of the universe. And their notions about a light-filled Heaven seemed to match up in uncanny ways with the theories that Kraslikan astronomers advanced about the nature of the Soul Star. The energy signatures that went from bodies at the moment of their death toward the Local Void were undeniable. These signatures, which became ever-fainter as they approached the Local void, were a consistent finding. And while no one knew for sure what this meant, many hoped that it was an indication that the soul lives on after death, and that it travels to a sort of Heaven. So, in a way, the Greek and Jewish writers weren’t as mad as they seemed.

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The title of the Assembly, Infinite Distance, was a paradoxical homage to Aristotle, one of the great early thinkers of Earth. Beneath the title on pamphlets and screen, the organizers supplied the appropriate quote from his 350 BC treatise, On the Heavens:

Heavy bodies forcibly thrown straight upward return to the point from which they started, even if they are thrown to an infinite distance. From these considerations then it is clear that the earth does not move and does not lie elsewhere than at the centre.

The first week of the Assembly, titled Lingua Franca, was devoted to finding a specific language that all Kraslikans could use in their communications with each other. The second week, titled One Hundred Percent, was devoted to a more thorny question: when and how should the Baulian Empire learn that they were controlled by greater powers? The subjects of the two weeks were related in the following sense: the Assembly was deciding if the Baulians were to be allowed to understand the cosmos and to speak its common language.

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As a young man, Farenn wanted to absorb all the information and all the perspectives he could. He wanted to reach a sort of cosmic consciousness that transcended the Fallarian perspectives he had been taught as a child. He wanted to be fully prepared before he dared to join the experts on the stage below. He knew that as a Fallarian he would be seen as crafty and untrustworthy, yet he was determined to show them that the Fallarians didn’t have a monopoly on craft, and that craft used wisely was more effective than lofty ideals.

From the top row of the Forum you could barely see the stage 20 stories below, with its podium, lectern, and two long tables on either side. Above the podium was an enormous screen, which showed the speaker as well as a simultaneous transcription along the bottom. Above the screen was the fantastic sky of Kollarum, with its swirling aquamarine colours and its eerie explosions of dark purple sheet lightning.

All of the seats in the Forum were adjustable, which allowed listeners to take a break from the intense discussions on the podium. They weren’t expected to keep their eyes glued to the speakers, but could could daydream, draw, consult documents, or tilt their chairs and look up into the mesmerizing kaleidoscope of the Kollarum sky. The podium was so brightly lit and so far from the audience that the presenters could only see the first fifty rows or so. These rows, however, invariably contained the most important audience: the top ministers, politicians, businessmen, famous writers and thinkers, influencers, diplomats, and strategists.

On the other side of the Forum was the Grand Plaza. It was a world unto itself. On the main floor was a large open space and enormous windows that looked out over the mountain and city below. On this level were refreshment stands and water fountains, washrooms and powder-rooms, restaurants and bars, information booths, stretching platforms, massage huts, and book stores. Above the main floor were dozens of small conference and lecture rooms, caffès and bars, writing nooks, smoking rooms, meeting chambers, masssage stations and relaxation pods. These climbed all the way up to the ceiling, with glass elevators and winding quartz staircases lifting conference-goers high above the milling crowds.

There was also one very large establishment, called Smart as a Whip. It sprawled over several stories and had dozens of natural settings — trimmed gardens, forest lookouts, riverside patios, and jungle clearings. It also served the finest cocktails and dinners on the planet.

At the Annual Assembly, Farenn had a permanent 9 PM reservation at Smart as a Whip for the entire two weeks. He always ate at the same jungle box which overlooked the Plaza. It also had a sweeping view of the glittering lights of downtown Kollarum. The jungle box could seat from one to six people, which was perfect for Farenn, since he never knew who he might end up with after the animated discussions of the aperativo on the Plaza.

Beneath the Apex were 470 stories (215 above and 235 below) of hotel rooms, offices, meeting rooms, restaurants, cafes, stores, game parlours, libraries, pools, spas, yoga studios, exercise rooms, dojos, courts for tennis, squash, and badminton, etc. For adventurous conference-goers, there was also the Matterhorn, a ski and snowboarding slope that went from the Apex to the very bottom of the underground floors. Like skiing in the high Alps, it was only possible to make the descent when the weather was good, which on Kollarum was only several hours a day. Because the winds never blew less than 60 kilometres an hour, it was always a wild ride.

When the wind was over 100 kilometres an hour, skiers generally started on the ground floor and descended the 235 floors into the diamantian outer crust of the planet. At least a dozen trails led past glowing ice hamlets, frosty salt castles, amber valleys, wooden bridges over crystal ravines, and ‘paint ball zones’ where skiers did their best to dodge the aim of drunk patrons in the underground bars. When at last skiers reached the bottom, they could relax with hot drinks and full-course dinners in one of the lodges in the cozy wooden ski village. The truly adventurous went even further down into the planet’s neranium inner crust, into the under-underground bars and nightclubs where there was no end to the trouble they could enjoy or the pleasures they could endure.

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On the morning that the Infinite Distance Assembly was about to begin, Farenn stood on the ground floor of the Plaza, caffè in hand, looking out the enormous windows onto the steep slope of the Matterhorn. He thought of the great slope with fondness, and of his friend Qayam. He remembered well that afternoon 230 years ago, after a debate on whether or not the Baulian Empire ought to be allowed to bring their most powerful battle ships into the Violet Hoop.

Farenn was sitting in the Grand Plaza (about five metres from where he was now standing) in one of the small garden cafe nooks looking out over the city. Below him he saw the Matterhorn chute. The slopes below the chute were tinted in blue, aquamarine, purple, and green. Gangaa trees, with their smooth slender trunks and spindly branches (safely seven metres above ground), looked like green standards around which flowed a colourful luminescent river of snow. The winds were howling at 300 kilometres an hour, so no one was on the slopes at the moment (by 10 PM the winds would have died down enough for the skiers to emerge from the chute). Yet still the slopes looked as if they were alive. They scintillated like a many-channeled river of diamonds, descending in a mazy motion toward the sea of sparkling buildings in the city below.

A tall man walked up to him and asked if he could share the beautiful view. With a welcoming gesture, Farenn said, “Of course! I’d be happy for some company.” The tall man introduced himself as Qayam, a bar owner who worked a few blocks from the Matterhorn. Qayam told Farenn that this was his first Conference, and that he looked forward to meeting people from all over the Kraslika. He added. “I notice that you have a Fallarian cut to your jacket. I believe the decorative studs are ferridian.”

After several drinks, Farenn was under no illusion that Qayam was just a bar owner. Qayam’s insight was too tactical, and he knew too much about the customs in the Soodern Hemisphere. Intrigued by this discrepancy, Farenn asked Qayam if he’d like to join him in the restaurant above.

After dinner, Qayam looked at his watch and told Farenn that they had an hour left to ski down the Matterhorn, if he was in the mood for such a thing. Farenn had never skied the hill, even though he often watched the skiers from various rooms he rented over the years. It wasn’t because Farenn didn’t know how to ski, but rather because the ski hill wasn’t much of a challenge. Not after the icy slopes of Mount Anpuranacide in the Kalidangar Range on the planet of Freedkillár. There, instead of paint balls shot at you by drunk ‘snipers’ (just one of the many challenges the Matterhorn offered), Fallarian snipers used blunted arrows and wooden clubs. Freedkillár was a holiday planet not far from his home-planet, Fallar Prime, and Farenn had spent dozens of holidays there. It was a dare-devil’s paradise, and there were plenty of actual devils to compete with. Yet no one was ever killed, at least not intentionally. The arrows weren’t poisoned and the clubs didn’t have spikes (there were other planets for that sort of thing). Still, they could easily knock you sideways and make you scramble to get your footing.

As they descended from the 225th floor, Qayam watched carefully to see if Farenn would use his wings at any point. He was hoping he would, because he’d never seen Fallarian wings in action. He was also hoping that he wouldn’t, because it wasn’t allowed in the game, and Qayam took games very seriously. On the 200th floor, Farenn flew over a particularly high mogul and then suddenly saw that beneath him there was nothing for about 20 metres. This would have been the perfect moment for the Fallarian to use his wings, especially since his landing looked like a particularly difficult one between a large gangaa tree and the outer barrier (behind which the hotel rooms were ensconced). Yet instead of using his wings, Farenn flew straight toward the tree. He hooked the trunk with his right arm so that he went flying in a circle around the tree. Revolving downward three times, he descended to the snow again. In one fluid push with his right leg, he was back on the main slope.

They stopped on the ground floor for several shots of kokarum before continuing down the Lower Slope. Qayam could see that Farenn was a competitive type, so he suggested that they take the more dangerous Black Ice Roller. This slope looked scarier than it was: the sides looked jagged and rocky, yet they were made from a sponge that made any fall an inconvenience rather than a trip to the hospital. Still, each time you hit the rocks you lost time because the rocks made you bounce in unpredictable directions. It took five to ten seconds before you could get back on the slope again.

Qayam also suggested they play no-holds-barred, which meant that they could block and check each other, even to the point of making the other person fly into the sidelines. Qayam liked this sort of rough play, since he had been an ice-ball player at school. Checking the opponent simply added another interesting element to the game.

At first, Qayam was hesitant to check Farenn, yet there was something in Farenn that Qayam recognized was tough as nails. He was, despite being an academic, Fallarian. He was like some of the drill-sergeants Qayam had met in training on Ataari Prime. So on the 140th floor of the Lower Slope, Qayam gave Farenn a powerful nudge with his elbow into his shoulder, hard enough to make Farenn almost lose his balance. This was a good move, yet Qayam made the mistake of turning his body, lifting his head, and looking up at Farenn to see if he was off-kilter. Farenn on the other hand didn’t look across at the Ataari. Instead, he crunched down further and dived at Qayam’s knees. This sent Qayam flying over top of him and rolling down the hill. Qayam rolled back up fairly quickly, but the rolling had taken several seconds, and Farenn was already ten stories below.

By the time they reached the ski lodge, they were laughing and punching each other in the shoulder. They hadn’t had that much fun since they were in school.

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Next: 🎲 Lingua Franca 1

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