An Explorer's Journal - The Cleft - Power

I’ve explored the entire Cleft, but now I’m stumped. Nothing works down here. It’s as if someone forgot to pay their electric bill. Wait… electric… power. Maybe I need to find a way to get turn on the power. I didn’t see any generators, but that’s not surprising. I think this place was made long before there were electrical generators. What else would have been used? Water? No… no flowing water in the desert. What else is there? Wind! The windmill!

I jump up and make my way out of the Cleft. The windmill isn’t moving even though a firm wind is blowing. Perhaps Zandi can give me a clue. As I turn, I see a third cloth on the back of Zandi’s trailer. I was so close earlier! I’m going to have to remember that things are just as likely to be behind me as in front of me. I touch the cloth, and the remainder of the palm section is added to the illuminated symbol. As I walk around the corner and approach Zandi, before I can even start my question he says…

“Ahh… sometimes the windmill seizes up. Try starting it by hand.”

Alright… a little push is what it needs, then. I trot back to the windmill and lean against the horizontal beam. At first, I think it’s not going to move… then, slowly, it starts to turn. After about a quarter turn I feel the blades catch the wind and they start turning on their own. Success!

I scurry down the ladder and make my way to the workroom. The blue button by the door is glowing… as is a small green button on a counter to the left. The button in the middle of the symbols on the device across the room is also glowing. I hurry over, check to make sure the symbols are still correct, and press the button.

A brief burst of static scratches the air and an image, a hologram, of a woman flickers into view. She is dressed in a strange fashion. Her clothes remind me of Native American styles… but with a touch of something much more exotic… more alien. The hologram woman begins to speak in a language that sounds unlike any other I’ve ever heard…

”Shorah. Rehkooahn trehCleft prehnihv lehgloehn b'rehm... Oh yes, not in D'ni, they won't understand.

Once again, the stream in the Cleft has begun to flow. It was dry for so long. The water is flowing in from the desert. The storm is coming. Have you heard of the City? The deep City, the ancient Uru? Where there was power to write worlds? For thousands of years, the City lived; lived beneath the surface, keeper of the secret, keeper of the power, keeper of the Ages. Always keeping. The City grew proud, and then it died. The water flows where it wills. It seeks its own path uncontrolled except that it flows downward, always downward.
 
D'ni, the City of Ages, of other worlds, died. But now it breathes again, it awaits. Some will seek that destination, but you should seek the Journey. It's as a fine tapestry, complex beyond comprehension, but now torn. We will show you remnants; pieces of the tapestry. Pieces of the Journey. Find the remnants, these Journeys. Seven. Seven in each Age, seven here in the desert. Consider it a quest. No, a request. Worship. The water flows downward, and there it pools and collects, and finally, it reaches the roots. And the tree begins to grow again. I am Yeesha. My parents brought me to this place. We will bring you.”

So this is Yeesha! She speaks of D’ni, as did the letter in the bedroom. An ancient city under the earth, with the power to write worlds, growing proud and dying. Each new image the words make in my mind is more fantastic and exciting than the last. And there it is again… a Journey. During her speech, Yeesha touches a wall behind the workbench and a cloth… a Journey cloth… appears. She also confirms my theory of there being seven of these cloths. “Seven in each Age.” So there will be more to find in other places.

After touching the cloth on the wall, I leave the workroom and go to the wooden bucket at the other end. When I step on the foot pedal this time, the bucket lowers to the ground. Jumping down, I touch the hand symbol and see the second of fingers light up. Two more to find.