Dreaming, yearning, wishing, hoping, craving, desiring, the only motivation to keep going. To keep persevering in an empty darkened world. The need for freedom, is the only thing to keep one working. The concept to overcome things, even if the hope is merely a figment of imagination, in a single mind, it motivates the body to keep going through labours and toils, it keeps one mind, sane, and in some places that is the only gift, and yet in others it is a harder burden to carry. That is the only thing to keep one going, that, and The Cor, of course, and one can hardly call that motivation, but a force of power, a push, a shove.

You could say The Cor is where it all starts, but it’s a circle, a loop of the same track, through weaving tunnels, deep below the light. There is no start, no finnish. Without The Cor, there would be no supplies to the other districts. Without the other districts, The Cor is useless and would perish.

One would think, that a system dependant on all the components, would take better care of all of the components, but that is a hoped for utopia, a thing unachievable, as there is no perfect world. A perfect world, will be strived for, yet it is in many a  nature to corrupt the perfect things. The world is made by taking opportunity of, and abusing, the less fortunate.

The Cor, is, undoubtedly, the hub of activity for us. We pass it, more regularly than the other districts, as it sets the rhythm to march to. It starts the bass line, that echoes throughout the rest of the district, as we push onwards, and through the branches of trails. We pass it numerous times, and it leads and pushes us to the other districts that desire the good we carry.

The Caeli, is another, regular visit. This district, is in turn responsible for another aspect. It loads the cargos to our backs, the burdens and prizes the other districts wish to receive. We are then pushed back to The Cor, from which the pulse from The Cor, follows us, pushes more of us, round the tunnels, districts and chambers. Until we eventually return, laden with the unwanted goods.

The tunnels, lead us round the districts, blind eyes, trailing through the thin, and wide holes. From The Caeli, without fail, we are lead back to The Cor, and then fed through chambers of space and more shafts, to particular districts.

The Mens, for example, leads. The Mens, relies on The Cor for more resources, but governs The Corporis, the whole of the districts. The leaders, the ones that provide the ideas. The ones that carry signals, from district to district. The one that controls and leads. It is vital, for the entirety of The Corporis’ survival, as it is a necessary component. All components are existance for a reason, or else, it adapts or is lost over time.

Within, the tunnels we are lead through, there are also The Alba, they, are divided into two. They keep The Corporis safe. They get rid of unwanted inhabitants that terrorise the districts. They keep the tunnels guarded, they are specialised in the way they eliminate The Morbum, the terrorists of The Corporis. They can produce and release weaponry to destroy them or can, capture them. They specialise in the types of Morbum, and live with us, pumped to the same beat, yet living a life of freedom and adventure.

Sometimes, sometimes, we disappear. There is, sometimes a breach, in our tunnels. Sometimes, we can feel the light, and are free into a place with no restrictions. Although, these could be rumours. None who have left, have returned. But that is logical, who would wish to return to this place? Given the chance of freedom, I would seize it without any thought of consequences. But, I must remind myself, that there are also The Obice, the things that temporarily block the breaches, until they are repaired. There is a chance, but very slim one, of escape.

There are also The Uni.They aren’t exactly a district, but they are a part. They are, the members of each district. We are all Unum, we blind eyed things The Cor forces forwards, The Obice and The Alba. There are even Unum of The Caeli, The Mens, from every aspect of The Corporis, there are Unum. We, to be specific are The Rubeus Unum,  we flow in streams and currents, streams of Sanguis, pushed in beats from The Cors, carrying Aer, the resource of life, from The Caeli, to the other districts of The Corporis.

Rubeus Unum, Rubeus Unum, it sounds elegant, doesn’t it? Rubeus Unum. Rubeus Unum. It is merely a label given to an object, property. These names are possessive, we are not singular things, we are an amassed thing, grouped, not individuals with worth. It is demeaning. There are so many individuals, breaking backs and sweating blood, to feed another man. The injustice give to this Corporis, the burden of strenuous effort in order to sustain another circuit, to sustain another circuit, to sustain another circuit. These are all circles. Shrinking down in scale, straining more things, farther down the line. It is the way of life, while some relax, bathing in the riches another man deserves, others slave away, wishing freedom. Down, down down. A society, wishes a substance, the transport, the growth, the planting, the selling, the marketing. All aspects dependant for the production of one thing. Each piece, desires effort. The effort, forced to few These few, have systems within them. They have a Corporis, to keep that running they need food, air, water, shelter, to keep that working, they need a Cor, The Mens, The Caeli, to help them function, they need The Unum. It all spirals downwards, small and smaller.

Smaller. Smaller. Smaller. With greater effort forced, the greater the desire for freedom of a broken system. Freedom, freedom, freedom. How I wish for it. To be apart of another world.

But that is life. Like I said, it is our only thing for motivation. These tunnels are my home. Our home. Rubeus Unum, our home, is moving. Our home is our front, our shelter, our back. There is nothing else in my world, other than that. Nothing.

The Cor, continues it’s steady beat, the rhythm it has continued its’ entire time of existence. Left, left right, centre, the tunnels of branches open up before me, an endless journey. A constant ground of Litost, reverberating through the bodies of Rubeus, as each pulse reminds us.

I am lead through a familiar tunnel, one to The Cor. Beat, beat, beat, pause, beat, pause, beat, beat, beat, beat, pause. What is happening? What is wrong with the beat? I pass through The Cor, and head towards The Caeli. What is happening? What is wrong? I continue through The Caeli, double backing towards The Cor. I pass The Mitral Ostium, and am dragged back. One doesn’t go back through an Ostium, never. The Cor, then stops. Suddenly, silence bellows the lungs, panting as the entirety of The Corporis melts into panic.

There is no movement. We are still, and slowly, slowly dying of. The districts have died. There are very few of us left. The Corporis is down. We are going down… There is no freedom, just death.