So they were out in the middle of this damn field landscape, abbreviated, infinite piece of environment with rolling hills and whatnot. Totally in the middle of the nowhere of a continent on some hunk of rock's mysterious portrayal of a living planet. This concept was vividly apparent to these people as the earth stretched out for miles. They could see the curvature of it all, folding over itself and holding nothing to it's surface. It was the solace of the land, nothing to be held down. Things seemed to be not at the brink of shooting off into space, but more just intent on slicing through gravity to the point of spacial temperament. Contentment achieved by matter with just sitting, as the rock does, in space. Perhaps it was the lack of living creatures in the vicinity or the barely recognizable plant life. Things seemed to not be driven by the forces that we have defined but by other forces undefinable, unregistered, alien. This place was a good reference point for the rest of the planet. Not just the rock though. Everything. The planet itself is alive with mysterious essence. It breathes with a steady flow, a different flow than the countless planets surrounding it. Not just a molten ball of magma, encased in a rock layer. Not just a combination of gasses. Gaia is alive with the interactions of particles, yes the same as any space of the universe, but this particular space is spawning a vastly alternative form of blind, mindless, motioned arrangements. Gaia is alive with the interactions of beings. Not just things. Rocks hitting other things and supernovas decaying with super-plasmic agility are the result of a facet of pre-arranged forces at work. The forces that are existing, determining all creation, always. Gaia has introduced to us here at the High Chamber of Physical Determinacy an alternative set of forces. The forces that act upon a new breed of things. These things, beings, are not alive with the ferociously chaotic combustion of heat, they feed from it. They are not alive with the constant orbital pattern held together by a gravitation force, but they live from it. The bodies, suits, vessels, trunks, whatever, are indeed working and maintaining their proportional need in the universe of the traditional natural forces, but are also a direct connection to another realm. They are fulfilling their alchemic quotas but there is something existing that is not matter or energy. Perhaps it uses these a-priori prototypes for their own means, just as the planet Earth has been used to support Gaia. It was all visualized in this land that Max, Panther, Sybil and Freed, had found themselves in. For some reason one could not escape the unity of knowledge and understanding, realization and belief. This was the land of the forgotten, yet it supplied the main thrusters for the craft of human development and strict mental evolution.
At speeds beyond sixty five miles per hour, the air felt smooth and generously delivered. As the Pacific Ocean would have felt to Magellan after vigorously maneuvering through the tiny, ferocious spot below South America. Each member was drifting, lost. The confusion had somehow been overshadowed. The intangibility of it all had been deafened by the rational concept that Max would not tell them what was realy going on. He had revealed information to them gradually and at specific points. His words were very well crafted and thoroughly considered in order to obtain the reality that he wanted. He had to make sure that these people were in exactly the right place in their minds. In some ways, he had managed to make them believe that they just didn't actually need to know. And that it as all ju!!!!g whether they understand it or not. Whether they would understand it or not.
They were lost in the form that was necessary. They were lost in their heads, each one possessing full capabilities for structural temperament. For some reason a chamber, or prison had been opened, was opening. Around them were phantoms of the innocent, locked away for eternity. Left to the infinite decay, going insane in the process and here they remained. Max picked them up, captured those magnificent tones, heard the tones of the forgotten. It was this force that was driving him on. The music cursed him, yet he remained engorged by the complex rhythms. He strove to obtain them for his own. He strove to produce them, but they were unearthly. The swiftest of deliveries, the most precise stigmata of jungle force constantly enveloping his brain, pushing him harder into the earth. This celestial music, fueled and enchanted by the divinity of the cosmos-projected through the human filter, seemed to grow as Max grew. It blossomed with each stage of his life and continually left him at least one step behind. Never could he fully capture it or comprehend it. But he certainly gave up on forgetting about it and thinking that it wasn't real. That would be destined to be a quick phase in his life anyway, a fruitless act of convincing himself, but Max knew, he knew what it was and 'coming to grips' with it, accepting it would take his entire life. He had no choice, he was spiritually empowered and required to take this path. The Hero's journey. It was overwhelming, and the sooner he gave himself to the flow, the better off he would be.
Something had led him to this place, this barren nothingness. It seemed incapable of accommodating life, it seemed lifeless. It seemed dead. But something could be felt that was unearthly. Not the kind of place that was simply composed of the elements. The elements in this place had been shifted, altered, manipulated. They could all feel that. This land was in possession of an essence that proved to be evil. The visionary landscape that was unfolding revealed that marvelously. The sky, although dark, was tinted a singing maroon now and seemed to have passed through a vast variety of colors since Sol had moved on. As if the true nature of the sky was illuminated when the sun lay to rest. As if the sun itself, the giver of life and sight, was blinding the eye to the reality of the cosmos. Light, at this point was permitting a bombastic illusion. Deceiving us. The sky rose from the vast land as if it were on fire. Boiling and regurgitating itself. The strange clouds enfolding at rapid speeds created a strict dialogue for the atmosphere. It told countless a yarn.
The enormous flame illuminated the immediate landscape surrounding them, and provided a sort of protection. Max had learned about the few who inhabited, or remained above, the ground. He had learned, from which type of information transfer is unnecessary information; about their attitudes and militia instinct. They were programmed to take things out. Remove them from the land. They were barely human and lived in the endless fields of nothingness until they died and sank into the soil, left to decompose. As everything did here when remaining in one position for too long. These beings, ingrained with a fine code, were fulfilling their destiny. They paid homage to the organism, programmed by the tentacles of a forgotten security protocol. They shot only at night, with high powered sniper rifles in possession of an ungodly range. They were the perfect military machines, they operated their weapons flawlessly and never missed their target. They were linked into a membrane of circuitry that enabled a sole purpose and a sole duty, a sole function. There was an aspect of this membrane however that enabled a maneuvering through it. An avoidance of it was possible. Traditionally this form of 'life' would shoot everything that traveled the twisted highways. They linked into the thoughts of the travelers, sensed their agendas. Their attempts and motives. And based on a protocol system on the complex web of information in the membrane, a shot was fired in a specific direction or not at all. These beings were cosmically intertwined in with the environment, and this allowed for no mistakes. No faults. The only thing guaranteed was that this android life, life that has been discarded, warped and is now a simple vessel for a higher power would hit it's target. Anyways, this flame, this signal, beacon deal acted as a superb defense strategy. For some reason, Max's flame, now a silver, iridescent color, created a cozy radius of safety for the passengers within it. The jeep was custom built, specifically for this land.