[h1]Seriousness in the Desert[/h1]
Discovery — that window into other worlds — sometimes carries within it the seed of its own undoing.
We open doors to marvel at strangeness, yet those same doors become breaches through which hostile beings arrive, laying waste to entire worlds.
We are sent into the past to alter the course of humanity’s destiny, to halt the invasion. And though the Time-Lock — a strange artefact — permits the passage of only a single soul, it grants us the grace to travel together. My sister and I arrive in the scorching deserts of Egypt.
To our astonishment: only ruins remain. The people are already gone.
The heat is oppressive. Now and then, a cool breeze drifts through the desert and offers a fleeting comfort, especially beneath the shade of palm trees and ancient structures. We feel sweat slipping down our skin.
There are no people here.
Only the pyramids standing in solitude beneath the sun. Walls and paintings recounting the lives of the Egyptians. Clear pools, refreshing and still, where we rarely resist the temptation to swim for a while among lilies and blossoms. Ceremonial centres now overtaken by enemies.
As we move forward, we speak very little — perhaps because of the profound silence of this place. Instead, we listen: to the growls of the creatures, to those enthralled by Mental. Some scream as they throw themselves into battle.
Why do we not scream?
Why are we like this place itself, uttering almost nothing at all? Is that what seriousness means?
Perhaps we are simply unshakeable.
We found weapons. Someone had left them behind.
We remember the phrase Serious Firepower, and yet: is that truly what seriousness is?
More aliens arrive, and rather than fear, something else feeds our courage — a persistent urgency carrying us across the desert, from structure to structure, through corridors and sacred grounds. My sister and I feel heavy with heat and exhaustion, always seizing any chance to drink water, to swim, or to rest beneath the shade.
Seriousness is more than knowing how to wield weapons. More than Serious Firepower.
Power — not as energy, but as action shared together in the face of danger — compels us towards seriousness. Not a bitter or joyless seriousness, but one still capable of offering a sincere smile.
We remain mostly silent. We understand one another through gestures alone.
And so we are grateful that this mission, this adventure, this strange escapade is cooperative. We have no need to explain ourselves, nor even to search for words. Mutual aid, kinetic care, movement itself — these become our language before the alien hordes.
We travel lightly dressed so we may feel the breeze as we run and leap between ruins. And gradually, with time — as we visit sanctuaries and reclaim sacred places from those who violated them — something within us grows lighter.
Perhaps it is because the enemy itself lacks seriousness.
Our own seriousness resides elsewhere: in sincerity, persistence, and companionship.
Traps. Obstacles. Leaping frogs.
What can truly disturb us now?
The heat remains relentless, though the chambers are cool. Danger surrounds us by day and by night. Still, we continue onwards until peace is restored, until the artefact is secured and the alien vanguard is halted.
And what the aliens do not understand is that they have encountered the finest artillery of all.
Not merely our unshakeable nature, but our readiness to face whatever comes — calmly, almost gently — with our purpose made clear: to protect, and to restore peace.
But above all, we have one another.
If my sister stands beside me, even my weariness softens beneath her presence. Perhaps that, too, is what seriousness means: to soothe another person simply by being there.
Thus this mission ceases to feel like labour or obligation. Though we grow weary, though we endure the burning heat, the brief freshness of water, and the cold desert nights beneath endless horizons — all of it becomes transformed into shared action, into a bond of movement, protection, and care.
What awaits us beyond, within the citadel?
If we have travelled this far together, then nothing else can truly disquiet us. Our gestures become sincere expressions of who we are beside one another. Seriousness has already accomplished its work through sweat beneath the sun and through the cold of desert nights.
We have travelled beneath the gaze of the sun and beneath the shelter of the moon.
Thebes and Memphis become our destiny beneath the stars. The greatest lightness emerges through endurance, through accepting that though there will always be things capable of disturbing us, together we can withstand them all.
And so, face to face, we behold the Lava Golem, breathing waves of searing heat. Yet it no longer unsettles us; we crossed the desert together.
Or the Aludran Reptiloid, with whom we almost dance, having learned how to move through this place. It resembles a living mountain, immense and terrible — yet we become greater still through the ways we protect and cherish one another.
And thus we stand ready for every threat.
Still, before continuing onward, we stop to drink water and take sustenance. The journey has been long. More than archaeology, more than exploration, we are wandering through a world whose peace has been violated.
It, too, longs to reclaim its seriousness.
We learn to inhabit weariness together, but also — in our lightness — to stop being rigid and become a shared sincerity. We grow lighter.
