As far as the eyes could see, there were farm lands growing wheat. There was decayed equipment laying around haphazardly, though the sight was not ugly. A group of TERRA conscripts were marching in perfect step down the broken road. They were carrying a large crate. A crowd had gathered around them. Men, Women, Children all alike. Most of them were very sick. The conscripts opened their crate. Inside were lots of pills. Not medicine, but rather recreational drugs. To make them forget about their pains. They left the crate there, for the people, who cheering the whole time. Projected onto the night sky was an image of a face. Ira Mankato, prophet of Prometheism. She spoke her daily message to the citizens of TERRA. It faded into the background, like white noise. Meanwhile, in a bunker miles away, there was an Icthus base. Chapter 134. The place contained a sort of...sterile beauty. There was no color, and itt was rather suffocating. However, it was far from ugly, the entire place had a nice polish to it. It might resemble to some the Death Star's interior. David was at the range, practicing his shooting.