Our story begins with the Durestian people, living in the cracks in the ground, as the star light hunts for them, craves them, and slowly kills them with just its presence. There is a certain man, a man-equivalent rather, named Moss who believes that the light can be harnessed for good, though he cannot share this idea. His job is to mine for the Collective. His higher-ups send what he and many other miners obtain to create unfathomable things for such simple minerals.
He isn’t really told what he mines, just that he must mine it, so that he can participate in society with more than the clothes on his back and living on the streets of rock and discontent, or worse, the star light taking away his humanity.
“Repent your sins to God!” the minister said, “Make known your thoughts, thoughts and actions of the sinful type, to him, and he will forgive them!” The crowd yelled many amens at different intervals in response with tones of happiness and joy. “Let today be the day you try to change yourself for the better and be seen by God as a believer and a noble citizen by the Collective!” the minister yells with seemingly shared joy, gazing upon all of the people in front of him in their smooth, rock-made seats of splendor.
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Moss walked out of church with a smile on his face and newfound feelings of holiness, the job of the church being to temporarily administer such feelings. He walked to his house of granite and fulfilled hope, lying down on his rocky sofa and thinking about whatever the entertainment of the day was inside his brain. The living room consisted of little more than holes in the walls for windows with ironically nothing outside to admire through them. His sofa did the job though, he seemed content. He had forgotten about what he had found earlier up until now, however. That rectangular little box which curiously had a button on the front bottom side in the middle, and shined back his face like water, yet, it was too solid to be water. He had pressed the button for hours on some days and yet it continued to do nothing. He slowly became more and more obsessed with it, curious of what it is and what it does. It seemed to have some form of writing etched into the backside, but he didn’t know a clue of what it said. He had found it during one of his mining expeditions, hiding it in a pocket (It interestingly fit very well into it) and bringing it to his home later. It was policy that no one could keep anything they found during mining and instead had to give it to the Collective, but his curiosity outgrew his logical brain, and so he went against the rules.
