My name is Bird of Paradise and I am distant descendent of a tribe known as The Cloud People, I am a proponent of the ever growing clandestine movement known to us as “Conciencia” and this is a vision I dreamt; In some distant far off unforeseeable fictitious future there is a gathering of forgotten tribes from several well hidden corners of the cosmos known as, “KETRAN ZOTA.” For countless generations the tribes of KETRAN ZOTA coexisted, bartering, educating, cultivating, spreading a now secret knowledge then commonly known as Palabra. They would travel freely to different planets and far off galaxies that were part of a larger cosmic network. At a crucial point in their collective history they found themselves overtaken by the foreign kingdom of “Greed”. Greed was hostile and over powered our then collective strength by stripping all of the tribes of our two most prized possessions; unity and history.
Upon the first arrival of the Greeds a faction of radicals quietly known as Conciencia orchestrated a small coalition, always met with hostile opposition and always under estimated up until the great battle cry for the ages was finally heard. There have been gains and there have been losses, but every last battle led to this gathering of tribes in this distant far off unforeseeable fictitious future.
We meet in an ancient metropolis where after five hundred plus light years of galactic migration, exile, and full on war with one another, we have become neighbors again. Incas, Navajos’, Mayas’, Comanche, Zapotecas, Aztecas, Pinoy, these tribes from respective planets and many countless more share a common past and have a common goal; acknowledgement, for you see Greed has made our kind invisible.
The Greeds brought with them strange creatures, Kings, Viceroys, Mon seigniors, and Bishops. These beings believed in a single philosophy; Divide and Conquer, and slowly but surely each one of our planets from the four corners of the cosmos and beyond began to fall, Greed successfully created divisions among all of the tribes of my people, and with time we forgot we once were ONE, with time we forgot the little things that gave us our collective past, never the less Conciencia persisted and with a very strong recollection of a shared history, on a hidden planet called Xumash in a forgotten land known only as Valley of Smoke they met, once again.
The Valley of Smoke is currently a hot bed of discreet action and as a result constant infiltration, an extended land mass with a rich history of tribal unity, and is presently the underground headquarter for Conciencia. There they are met by three other tribes willing to engage in the seemingly endless cause, The Moors, The Nubians and the Zulu’s, these three were very familiar with the concepts Conciencia they not only condoned but also promoted and insisted on being included in the downfall of the Kingdom of Greed. Through an underground network knows as The Wire they knew that for five hundred human light years plus the tribes had been secretly plotting with one another to overturn the evil empire and do away with these, Kings, Viceroys, Mon seigniors and Bishops. When Greed first conquered, many of our tribes many fell, sadly there are millions of tribes that didn’t survive, victims of Greeds’ persistent clutch, which is why many have always known that we would have this eventual gathering of tribes in some distant far off unforeseeable fictitious future.
There was a point when we fought one another, killed one another, destroyed one another, but with lifetimes given to the struggle, Conciencia spread to those unaware of their collective past, unaware of Greeds ever present hold. By the time I was born there were already an untold amount of battles, casualties, and martyrs, there was a sense of silent solidarity against the Evil rule of Greed, but it was not our time.
Leaders came, leaders went, some lied, some earnest in their cause. But still among ourselves we remained serfs in a caste system set up by the countless Monarchs who have ruled Greed and will rule greed with an iron fist, were it not for this gathering of tribes in some distant future. There was an age of false prophets but even these individuals instilled hope for coming generation and momentum was built. Did it happen and unfold as our predecessors predicted in sacred scripture? I don’t know, I’m stuck somewhere, held up in time by this vision, but when executed it was swift and in the Kingdoms eyes unexpected, hidden within plain sight. The battle fields were many; we fought them with their own weapons, weapons the Greeds thought we’d never be able to fully master. The kingdom seemed to be losing its’ strangle hold on history, Through Conciencia, ignored pasts were once again resurrected, researched, studied, analyzed. The rulers of Greed believed they’d left us defenseless and robbed us not only for our raw goods but also of our will, exploited us into extinction, thought we disappeared but we hadn’t, we were in fact observing, learning, chipping away at every opportunity, generation by generation, every small gain was a large victory for the greater cause.
As was stated in an ancient proverb passed down clandestinely by our ancestors the beginning was near and so we migrated from the four corners of the cosmos and beyond and found ourselves headed to Xumash in search for The Valley of Smoke, we waited for everyone’s eventual arrival, unbeknownst to us, our weapon was right before us. It took five hundred light years plus to meet again, under different circumstances here in The Valley of Smoke at this gathering of tribes in some distant far off unforeseeable fictitious future. We were neighbors, once cousins turned strangers made enemies, neighbors. And slowly we told our story to one another and another and another here in the Valley of Smoke, and in that action we awoke the spirit of Conciencia that had always existed and remembered that we were once kin. Long before the Kingdom of Greed arrived we were autonomous, never the less we learned to do battle as the oppressor does. We learned the ways in the land of Greed. This migration was eventual, the awakening was inevitable, from the far reaches of our own individual planets we heard the calling that was echoing through time, “Take up arms, let the pen dismantle that which the bomb cannot!” the cry heard around worlds and throughout time. Again, my name is Bird of Paradise distant relative of The Cloud People, proponent of the Conciencia movement and this is the re-telling of a vision I dreamt of a gathering of tribes in some distant far off unforeseeable fictitious future.
