Template:PostPan Post 18 continues the mini-arc of Indra. Kara Pashna returns to his god, Jitarayara in the city of Kajadat. Within The Kiri he tells Jitarayara that Trijara, who he met in Pan Post 16, would research the possible end of the world as predicted by a litik of Kamal. Jitarayara decides to send his kara to Kamal so that he could send word back to The Kiri from there using Bernard the Clay-Pidgeon.
Kajadat is a monstrous city, epic in proportions and teeming with citizens. However this metropolis is not home to the biological natives of Indra, instead it is a city of the automata. They march through the wide streets, shuffling their marble-hewn feet step-by-step. They don't stop until they reach their objective and begin their work. They march in silence. Speech isn't necessary when your minds are constantly connected to a mechanical hub, sending messages and information in an instant to any automata within range. The further from the central hub, the more pylons were needed to extend its amplification.
At the dead centre of the metropolis lurks a hexagonal building, squat by comparison to the other buildings, but it is far more broad than most. At its central point is a tall pike and at its tip is another automata, permanently placed skyward. It watches the roads surrounding the hexagonal complex known as The Kiri an when it sights the Indran, riding atop of a mechanical elephant, the signaller sends a shock of static down the pike.
Inside the static ignites a flame that burns green. As it burns, a sphere placed within the fire pit begins to glow. When it glows it hums with a deep, pounding rhythm. The beat blows through The Kiri and alerts the god of technology, Jitarayara, that someone approaches. This is not an unusual occurrence. Many come to the city of Kajadat to seek his blessed works. Fewer leave with them.
Jitarayara makes a gesture towards a panel on the wall. There is a hissing sound as vents begin to recycle the air, pumping in fresh oxygen with a slight perfumed fragrance. This should make the incoming Indran more comfortable. Jitarayara looks down from his position atop of the great marble throne. Down below is his office and his office workers. The automata are placed in rows, standing on podiums rather than legs, and they navigate through their work scenarios tirelessly. Most of the hundred rows on the right were dealing with information gathering, data compilation, fact checking, and taking incoming alerts, news or messages. The rows of tables to the left are constructing specially ordered products, objects that have been paid for in exorbitant amounts or are being given to those Jitarayara looks favourably upon.
The doors at the end of the room swing open with loud grinding sounds as the automatic hinges pull them backwards. There, dwarfed by the immense doors, is Kara Pashna. Jitarayara beckons in his priest.
Compared to the sentient biological beings of this world, Jitarayara is quite a different specimen. He is shaped like a block, square shoulders, squared-headed and square-footed. He has four arms extending from his torso and two more arms that protrude from his back and reach over his head, much longer than his other arms. Each hand has ten fingers that constantly wiggle, eager and hungry for a task. His lower hands now grip the edge of the marble throne as he peers down at his kara.
Kara Pashna: "My Lord..."
He bows his head in deference, his arms pinned at his sides and his back rigid.
The god's voice sounds like there are three or four people talking all at once, each voice unique and seemingly of several different languages. He only speaks in statements or demands, never in requests.
Kara Pashna: "Trijara has agreed to investigate the claim, My Lord. When he has completed his studies, he will report his findings to you, and other gods, personally."
Jitarayara: "Waiting for Trijara to finish studying is like waiting for the moons to grow clay."
Kara Pashna was about to proclaim that clay didn't grow, but then he realises that was his god's point. He has nothing else to report and knows not what he ought to say to help his lord. Fortunately the god sees fit to remark first.
The god whistles, a deafening whistle with several voices chiming in, and from somewhere behind him a clay bird flops onto his shoulder. It coos at him.
Jitarayara: "This is Bernard the Clay-Pidgeon. When you hear news, report it to him and he will report it to me."
The clay-made pidgeon flaps its heavy wings, which are actually made of wood, to flutter over to the head of Kara Pashna. It looks down at him with its little pebble-eyes.
Kara Pashna: "How... how will the pidgeon-creature report my message, My Lord?"
The pidgeon opens its clay beak and from a block grate inside the mouth, Kara Pashna's own voice blares out.
Bernard the Clay-Pidgeon: "How... how will the pidgeon-creature report my message, My Lord?"
Kara Pashna: "Ah..."
Jitarayara: "Go now. To Kamal's side. This vision is serious enough that no minute must be wasted."
Kara Pashna bows his head quickly towards his god, but forgot the clay-bird. Bernard falls to the floor with a clunk and pitiful coo. Kara Pashna quckly gathered up the bird, who appears none-the-worse for his little tumble. They leave together, bound for the mechanical elephant and the god Kamal.
"The clay-pidgeon, aside from being a joke about a clay pidgeon[Ext 1], is also the continuation of a running NeS meme of pidgeons called Bernard. Jitarayara represents the month of February and so when writing I wanted to give the sense of 'returning to work', featuring technology, squareness, craftsmanship and office-like work scenes. The automata shuffling is also a cynical comment about the nature of work and what it does to us." - Britt the Writer