Grains of Sand
Copyright© 2006 by Fick Suck
Chapter 1
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - In a post-apocalyptic world, Yakhir is an apprentice archivist with a seemingly bright future. However, his father is dead, possibly assassinated, his lover may be a spy and his sister is telling everyone how well endowed he is. The world is recovering from The Great Burn; but will Yakhir be around to enjoy its blossoming.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft mt/Fa Teenagers Consensual Science Fiction Incest
Yakhir was four years into his apprenticeship when his tribe celebrated the year 250 AB, ‘After the Great Burning’. The Great Burning was the fourth time the world attempted to destroy itself, only three hundred years after the third attempt. Two hundred and fifty years ago, only fifty years after the last attempt at genocide, the world’s population again jumped to their genocidal task with great energy, managing to incinerate most of their possessions and themselves.
His tribe survived the conflagration because in the days before The Great Burning, they were condemned and exiled as backwater ignorant cousins, desert rats who were beneath regard, unworthy of little but occasional aid. When annihilation came, apparently no one thought of destroying them.
Never allowing the tribe to forget their dubious distinction, the elders demanded that the people never forget, first and foremost, that they did not survive because they were the strongest, nor did they survive because they were the most worthy or the most clever. They survived because they were out of the way, the humbled and overlooked detritus, existing in marginal valleys and mountains. However, even humility can become a form of arrogance as Yakhir had been warned by his father many times.
His tribe survived specifically because they did not have the internal tags of enhancement that brought down the weapons from above. The entire world was healthier than his tribe with these mechanisms that were placed in the flesh of their necks from birth. The already-ancient health clinics of his ancestors received promises and old-style medicine: pills and injections with hollow needles. When the killing spread across the globe, the flying death needles only sought out those with the birth tags, the tribe’s archivists theorized.
His tribe also survived because the local technology was not tied into the world neural net. They had been dependent on centuries old satellites and ground cables. The broad swathes of smelting burn followed the convoluted lines of the great Neural Net; yet those areas off the Net were never touched. (One can still travel to the burned cities to this day and see squares and rectangles of raked areas of sterile land surrounded by wild.)
To his tribe’s great relief, the vast garbage dumps of the world also avoided the great burning. They knew garbage dumps; the tribe had been the custodians of one of those great data storage dumps, another dubious distinction despite the blessing of survival. There was treasure to be mined.
Garbage dumps held the keys to their survival in their various layers. The tribe still had access to the old computer servers with their dated equipment to match up with what they excavated. Their garbage dump, a storage facility like none other, was located in the mountains on the east side of the valley. Yakhir climbed the worn path every day.
The tribe also had actual books made of plastic infused paper and stacks of magazines and journals, all of which found their archival resting place in the vast riven caverns beneath the local mountains. Corporations and governments had paid disposal fees to lock away their old secrets in the secured depths of rock and stone. This was the tribe’s only claim to fame in the years before The Great Burn; they had been one of the best-secured data dumps of the world. What the desert and the mountains could not stave off, the squalor and disease of the natives would.
The great civilization died and his tribe lived, but there was no moral.
No one among the tribe living at the time knew why The Great Burn began. The first generation wrote down all their best guesses with the hope that one day their descendants would seek out the great centers of the old world or burrow through the data storage to find the true answers. In two hundred and fifty years since The Great Burn, sponsored explorers had traveled in small groups far and wide, remaking maps and marking the land, but they found no clues to answer the original question of why. The explorers traveled in caravans to loot other dumps these days, taking a few precious hours here or there to continue the search for an answer.
Yakhir’s father thought he had nearly located a source for the answer. As the chief archivist of the mountain storehouse, he had mined more material than any who had held the post before him. His father’s mentors had been great scholars, and his father began his search based upon the conclusions of his mentors. He had been raising Yakhir as his apprentice, when death recently struck him down. Yakhir was cheated out of three years of apprenticeship under his father.
Yahkir was an apprentice, and after seven years of toil he would become an archivist. Upon selection by the chief archivist, known as the Archivist (with a capitol “A”), he would become a master archivist. Master archivists were responsible for training apprentices. The teenager had already demonstrated great potential, and many spoke of him as his father’s son, an honorable title.
Yakhir was just past his month of mourning when his new master took the helm as Chief Archivist; he was the Archivist Atto. This new Archivist was a practical man who spent his energy delving for the practical needs of the tribe. He was the antidote to Yakhir’s father, who was criticized rightly for not digging out the answers to the present needs with sufficient haste. What was the plastics formula for the best water filters? Which data ports were the most efficient without losing their durability outdoors? These questions had been answered in the past, and the data was buried in the vast piles in the caves.
The tribe was growing, and they needed these practical answers now. Nonetheless, Yakhir was convinced that his father had found a source to the truth of planet’s last near death. These thoughts haunted him as he sat on an outcrop of rock overlooking the festival grounds. He idly wondered which set of answers would have a more profound effect upon the future: the practical ones of Archivist Atto or his father’s. He was concerned that loyalty to his father clouded his objectivity, but Yakhir speculated that his father’s work was the clear winner. However, as soon as the festival was over, he was subject to the demands of his new master, and his father’s research would be consigned to the few moments of free time.
The land was blossoming. This fourth destruction of civilization had unexpected consequences for the survivors, and one of them was the reversal of desertification of the continents around the line of the equator. Hieroglyphs from canyon walls in North Africa dating back over Two0,000 years had depicted early man hunting hippos, lions, and giraffes in the midst of what became the Sahara Desert. The conclusion among the scholars, based on caravan reports, was that the Sahara, which was one continent over, was blooming again with life; maybe not with hippopotami, but with creatures of the plains. Their own lands were.
Their land now bloomed without hydroponics. The stream had become a river in the past two hundred years or so. The rainy season had expanded and become more powerful. The solar platforms that sat on top of the mountains churning sunlight into power had to be cleaned once a week these days because of encroaching vegetation where nothing had grown in generations. In continuing revolutions around the sun, the planet was renewing itself despite, maybe because of, the devastation her progeny had wrought.
Tonight was the New Year Festival, held at the summer Solstice. The town was converting itself into a garish display of light, gaudy decorations, dancing and revelry. Yakhir sat on an outcrop overlooking the beautiful scene unfolding beneath his feet. He was sad, yet still young and eager to join the best party of year starting below. The time was nearing to return to the streets below, but he was in no hurry.
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