The Sun-Striders were a community characterized by movement. Their "home" was a fortified land-train—a connected convoy of armored transports, workshops and greenhouses mounted on tracks continually traversing the less-polluted deserts. They prized liberty, commerce and endurance. They were the large nomadic faction to cautiously align with the Resonant Compact.
Three days following Kuros caution, Cassiathon, Sierra and the recruited" demigod watched the land-train from a lofty wind-battered mesa. Kuros prediction had been disturbingly accurate.
Half a mile from the Sun-Striders intended path an illusion had taken form. In place of the fractured desert there now appeared an exact motionless duplicate of the land-train. It shone beneath the sun its surfaces gleaming like mirrors. No smoke drifted from its chimneys. No activity arose on its decks. It was a portrait of wealth.
"A Flawless Reflection " Kuro whispered, adjusting a decorated scope. "Identical structural design. Spotless state. Presumed interior settings are temperature-regulated filled with created nutritionally ideal sustenance and occupied by… well lets term them 'Ambassadors of Peace.' Grinning courteous replicas prepared to conduct the tour."
Sierra dropped her binoculars, her expression serious. "How are we supposed to battle this? We can't just fire off an advertisement."
"We don't battle the mirror " Cassiathon stated, devising the strategy as he talked, shaped by his time in the Gallery. "We contest the imitation. We demonstrate to the Striders that the genuine article, imperfections included holds worth, than the flawless duplicate."
"Sentiment, versus perfection " Kuro agreed, grateful. "A timeless, albeit thematic conflict. What is your plan to showcase it?"
Cassiathon gazed at the land-train, a loud foul lively creature moving through the dust. "We provide them a cause to require their reality. Their chaotic reality."
He detailed. The Sun-Striders chief source of pride apart, from their agility was their core Archive-Engine—a makeshift wonder of ancient technology and reclaimed magic that controlled their navigation, hydroponics and defense systems. It was temperamental demanded adjustment by their lead engineer, a brilliant foul-mouthed woman called Kaelen and served as the pulsating uneven heart of their society.
Cassiathon stated, "The Queens mirror will contain a quiet flawless copy of that engine. It will guarantee no malfunctions no crises, no requirement for Kaelens ingenious repairs at three, in the morning."
"So what?" Sierra inquired.
"So " Cassiathon remarked, a subtle firm smile playing on his lips "we show them again why Kaelens repairs are important. We show them that the battle is where they discover their power. We don't destroy the mirror. We… emphasize the value, in the originals imperfection."
He faced Kuro. "You mentioned you explore narrative realms. Can you produce a… a transmission? Something that temporarily overlays the land-trains signal? Not a break-in. A highlight montage."
Kuros gaze brightened with insight. "A striking contrast. Display the mirrors flawlessness in one stream and, in the other reveal the genuine Striders—the group coming together to address a disaster the collective action, the victory. You intend to turn their recollections into a weapon."
"Not weaponize. Remind," Cassiathon clarified. "We remind them of what they're expected to give up."
It was a risk. It depended on the Striders prioritizing their shared unity above guaranteed comfort.
They acted when the foremost scouts of the genuine land-train detected the mirror and sent back a radio message. As the Striders council deliberated Kuro carried out his task. By harnessing a stolen fragment of the mirrors frequency he embedded a signal into the land-trains primary communications.
Across all screens and speakers the Striders witnessed an image lasting three minutes.
On one hand: the immaculate quiet reflection-car, featuring serene matching faces providing tours.
On the side: a compilation, extracted from the land-trains security and personal records (retrieved by Kuro with frightening simplicity). They observed Kaelen, smeared in grease directing a all-hands-, on-deck fix of the Archive-Engine amid a dust storm, engineers, cooks and children handing over tools. They witnessed the festivities that followed the consumption of rescued provisions the joy stemming from collective effort. They witnessed a funeral for a cherished elder, the sorrow genuine, then shared tales, beneath the faint stars that drew them nearer together.
It was messy. It was painful. It was theirs.
The transmission concluded with one line of text, written by Cassiathon: Your narrative or a serene contemplation. Decide.
The silence on the Striders' comms was profound.
Next Kaelens voice, buzzing with static and her typical rebellious tone echoed through the channel. "Alright that's decided. Anyone willing to live in that museum relic can take a hike. The rest of us have a world to traverse. Archive-Engine requires some tweaking anyway. Let's get going."
The genuine land-train maintained its speed. It shifted its path enough to steer clear of the flawless mirror, a moving expression of disdain. A small group, motivated by anxiety or exhaustion separated from the procession and approached the mirror. Most remained behind.
The mirror showed no response. It remained still flawless and vacant a testament, to a destiny.
From the mesa Sierra exhaled slowly. "It succeeded. This time."
Kuro appeared fascinated. "You didn't challenge the falsehood. Instead you strengthened the reality. A graceful evasion. However she won't repeat that strategy. The following mirror will present a proposition. Maybe one that confronts sorrow or terror head-, on."
Cassiathon watched the land-train roll on, a bastion of imperfect life. "Then we'll have to find a stronger truth."