Philip the Bard's Blog

My name is Philip Normer and I knew Dorian and Paladin Thain before they became famous all over the galaxy. We grew up together. Dorian and I were best friends. Through Dorian I also came to know Max Gavaskar as well. Now that the insanity of the last few decades is becoming just another chapter in a history book, people are telling me that I should write down the story. I was there standing next to the eye of the storm for most of it all. What I did not see for myself I heard about from the people who actually put these events into motion. I have read several histories of these event and have found them all wanting.

Earthers love to talk about humanitie’s impact on the Milky Way Galaxy but it was us Harappans who did the work. Dorian was Harappan and the Mother was Harappan before the SID set her on the run.

Back then we knew nothing of Earth or the SID, or the Gavaskar Field. We knew only the White Mountains, the Green Mountains and the Great River Basin. I lived in the White Mountains, the most beautiful place on Harappa.

I haven’t been to Earth and I’ve heard that it is a lovely world, but Harappa has it’s own beauty. The White Mountains are not unlike mountains ranges found on Earth. They are my home. The White Mountains are where I learned to be who I am today. My heart will always live there, even if I can not. The Great River Basin is lush, verdant and sweet, and the Green Mountains are where my beloved, Ina grew up. The Green Mountains are sheep and goat country.

Then there is the Black Mountains, the source of Harappa’s troubles. People didn’t often go into the Black Mountains because of the Harappan Curse but I’ve been to the foothills and I can tell you there is nothing on Earth like the Black Mountains. They rise nearly vertical, straight up to the sky, rocky, jagged, impenetrable fortress walls. They are the definition of oppressive. 

Over the coming weeks and months I will tell you of life on Harappa. In the long history of humanity, Harappa is just a tiny blip, the blink of an eye. But, in that tiny blink of an eye a lot of life happened. Those of us who grew up on Harappa don’t want all that living to be forgotten.

I am not a historian. Most of what I want to tell you is about the regular people who lived there, what they did for fun, what they did for love. I am going to tell you of the life of Harappa. That is the true Secret of Harappa. We really lived.

Don’t worry, I will get to the real Secret of Harappa. Isn’t that what everyone wants to know about? I will tell the story of how Harappa and it’s tiny population  became the center of the galaxy, all the way to the Mother of the Galaxy herself.

When I think of all that has happened in my life time, I laugh at just how different life was before the Arrival of the spaceship Marcus Johnson. We knew nothing of Earth then. We lived in the Founder’s shadow. History was only two hundred years long. Before that was the darkness, out of which Marcus Johnson had led the people to Harappa. Well it turned out that Marcus Johnson, the Founder, had led us into the darkness. How the people of Harappa fell out of the darkness is a big story, and my aim here is to tell some of the little stories that led up to what happened.

Life was so sweet back then. Our worries were directly tied to everyday survival. Did we have enough meat dried for the winter? Would the grains from Sandon come in before the road over the mountain pass would close due to a snow storm? Would my winter coat last another season? Would that pretty girl from the Nace family notice me? You know, the important stuff.

Twice a year the White Mountain clan held a festival. Once in the early summer when harvests started to come in and again in the mid of the winter when things were darkest and coldest. The mid winter’s fest was the light of the cold time. It gave people something to look forward to as winter set in. I loved winter fest. Music, wine, rich food and the games. 

The winter fest of the year 200 was one of the best ever. Good thing too, it was also the last festival before the Arrival. I remember that time as being one of profound naiveté. That is where I should begin my tale of life on Harappa.

Tomorrow then, I will begin to tell you of that last great winter festival. Some of you may remember that the festival was when we got the first hint that the world was about to change.