Raene

City of Paradox. That simple title is the inescapable, over-arching thought in the mind of all who visit her. There is no simple way to identify its character, no easy way of isolating any single identity of the city from the maelstrom of impressions.

The best explanation for it is, perhaps, that there is no explanation. It is both paradise and chaos in one tightly bottled environment, and ever-balances on the edge of anarchy. Some have spoken of it as the product of the cohabitation of an infinite heaven and an infinite hell mixed together in a finite location.

There are very few certainties, very few concrete facts about it, for it is ever in motion, in more dimensions than just three or four. There is no “definitive” aspect of the city; there cannot be any simple one, for it, ever in motion, is ever-changing, ever-redefining. For a mind to truly understand Raene, it must be just as adaptive, just as capable of maintaining the same coexistence of stability and collapse.

These are the facts of Raene, the truth behind its existence as well as those most crucial aspects which must be kept ever close to mind on any venture into the city. They must be known and concentrated upon to the point of obsession while within the city; they cannot be chanced with loss, else the weak mind will be lost instead. Only then, when it is certain this information is permanently engraved upon the psyche, does entering Raene gain any degree of safety. Only then is it safe to identify those features which most define it, inasmuch as it is capable of holding a single coherent description.

With this in mind, we begin our journey through the landscape of the city, starting at one of the few breaches in the great wall of the town… it is a great opening, but it is quite visible that it was dedicated to security in some near past, although more recent attempts have been made to decorate or desanitize its appearance. Fresh paint, possibly graffiti, possibly the work of a city crew, possibly some combination thereof, thickly coats the sturdy metal plates and once-impressive wiring with more abstract impressions of “everyday” life. However, it has not yet succeeded in masking the utilitarian nature of the thing, all sharp lines over rounded edges that once marked it as a strongly secured passage into the city.

From there, the visitor has a clear line of sight down the wide passage of the road to the slender tower in the center of the city. Though still miles away from this point, it already seems quite ornate, slender and crystalline in appearance, though surprisingly sturdy, even after the many years it has stood as an icon of Raene. Beautiful but chaotic in appearance, flashes of light of many hues strike out at the unguarded observer’s careless glance; studied more carefully it appears a shifting kaleidoscope of hues that, although conflicting at times, never appears to be anything short of magnificent.

It is towards this tower (and the strange monument at its base, whispered of throughout the lands) that we proceed along the wide, bright roads. At this late hour, mid-afternoon, many vehicles of infinite descriptions speed past us as we take our own pace, as people rush about on the many tasks and errands required in such a place. We pass by others along the sidewalks as well, and are passed in turn, as life continues its flow to millions of different, simultaneous, tunes, forming the harmony of the city. We stop, briefly, several times along our way. You to sniff intently at some fresh-cooked fish a vendor has just prepared at his sidewalk stand, I to admire a piece of artwork, hanging in a streetside gallery. Progress, though seemingly slow with all the quick stops, is surprisingly rapid, and we arrive at the center of the great city just as the low-hanging sun begins to disappear over the horizon.

Just in time we arrive for one of the greatest sights of Raene as the day draws lethargically to a close. The sun, as it slips over the horizon, casts its dying rays delicately down the straight roadway, directly at the tower. The red- and orange-hued rays strike the tower with a substantiative force, though one existing on a different plane from our own, almost as if they were created for that one, final purpose. The slender, crystalline tower appears to ignite, bursting into ethereal flames and casting a chaotic glow across the city’s center district; as the sun sets, the effect only strengthens until it reaches its pinnacle. The tower appears to turn into a single, contiguous shard of pure fire: varied hues of scarlet and orange, yellow and white, even hints of deepest blue, are cast across wildly the cleared area around the tower, striking all at random. The unworldly fires are visible in the faces of all those who witness the spectacle: everyone from fellow journeyers like ourselves, come long distances solely to witness the sunset spectacle, to long-time residents of the city, simply pausing in the midst of an errand to drop all cares of the world.

And yet, just as suddenly as that moment of perfect peace had settled upon the city center, it dissipated into Raene’s typical anarchy, as its denizens abruptly return to their other tasks, left delayed for those brief moments, and the journeyers prepare to turn home, to carry forth reports of the spectacle and stories that would last them unto the end of their days.

Raene, in our imaginations, remains exactly the same… but now somehow subtly but importantly different. After many long moments, we notice the differences, which have been growing ever more obvious.

The people in the streets are gone as if they never were; not even a scrap of litter remains to hint that living souls once resided there, and the streets and buildings are perfectly, silently, still… except the streets, once the arteries of the city, no longer exist. Nor do the great buildings, the monuments of industry. Suddenly, the world on which Raene sits no longer exists. As we turn on some level beyond the mere physical, we see that only one thing remains: the tower, still shining like a beacon in a way beyond the wildest descriptions of mere mortals. It remains alone, but a dream in the realm of the paraphysical.

This final observation simultaneously extends and shatters the paradox that is Raene, for it is then that the observant follower comes to several crucial realizations regarding the city. Even the oldest of the ancients crouched, sickly and weak with age, in the dark corners of the city, is but a hint of dust yet to be formed into a man. The buildings, similarly, are not yet created, nor has the idea occurred to their creator…. Nor has their creator’s most venerable of ancestors yet existed. So to follow the arts, the culture, the sensations of Raene: they are not even the barest imagining of any age yet imagined. Nor may they ever exist in the widely considered “truth” of physical reality.

But who is to say the infinitely malleable ether of the dreamspace is not truth or law or ability unto itself?