I’m not sure how they affected it: something in the air, projection, VR technology, hallucinigenic properties in the water and food. Don’t know. Shoestring had this to say: “...colonized early as initially sponsored by the RBPC (Religious Belief Preservation Council). With its seven satellites, Kundali-7 was destined to become the spectacular manifestation of a rich tradition hearkening back to one of the earliest of Terra’s faiths.”

What was I doing in the Chakra System? Once I’d heard that Seph left Archival-Beta with a group of artists he’d met while touring the Hanging Gardens (“Did he go with Hanako?” I’d asked casually. “I don’t think so, why?” “No reason.”), I was deperate to get moving, to lose myself in a quest of some kind, any kind. That’s why I’d advanced to Orange before learning all I could of Red: once the immediate novelty wore off I plunged on into the next wave of distraction. I really should have done more homework.

I emoted/walked to a still place in the miasma. There were refuges on every asteroid, time-out white spots where a seeker could re-group. Whenever I got a big orange overload, I’d slog my way back to the white, panting and relieved. At first I was like a dog on a tight leash staked into a null-spot. After some experiment, it became more like swimming than dream-motion. I grew more confident and swam further from the home-bases.

It was a watery moon in a physical environmental sense. Parts of it reminded me of Xenol-2, but other parts were gloriously pure. The incidence of either was completely random. Turn right and you gazed over shimmering platinum seas. A half head-cock left and you beheld an methane-oozing marsh over which danced the eerie glows of its gases.

I was hungry but more out of a need to feel heavy, to feel grounded rather than from any genuine hunger pangs. I craved baked potato wedges. Something solid, something to keep me from floating into the atmosphere.

Despite the mutable dream-like state, I couldn’t fly. I hadn’t seen anyone else fly either, so I might have induced that flight wasn’t a property of Orange. Can’t blame me for trying. The ground suddenly became real enough to bruise my knee and gouge a chink out of my hand. Oh, well, I’ll test from a lower ledge next time (like somewhere in Blue).

The first day exhausted me. My body just shut down after my return to a null-spot before I could do anything consciously about it. So I curled in the spot (quickly becoming my spot) craving and bruised as sleep cold cocked me to black.

*May I be of some assistance?*

The next moring I was awakened by a voice in my head. When I opened my eyes, I found myself face to face with an odd monkey-like creature. I sat up. It waited patiently.

“I beg your pardon?” I said.

*You seemed as if you could use some assistance. I offered some.*

That was in my head—sort of. It came from the monkey-thing.

*Lemur, if you please.*

“Sorry?”

*I’m more accurately referred to as a lemur—not a monkey-thing.*

It was a familiar. Chakra-moon tour guides. I wondered if they were genetic mutations or AIs, or merely part of whatever image-processor kept me in this timeless watery sphere. “Do you have a name?”

*You can call me Svadhi.*

“Cute.” Svadhisthana was the Sanskrit name of orange. It means sweetness. “Got any ideas what I should be doing in this one?”

*Well, if you’d stayed long enough in red...*

“I know, I know. Too late now.”

*Breathing breath and breathe. That’s your only constant. French fries won’t help.*

“Potato wedges—they’re vastly different.”