The Deaths of Tao

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The path of a vessel is strewn with the dead. The journey of a Quasing even more so, for it is that constant cycle of life and death that will take us home.

Huchel, Genjix Council – Eastern Hemisphere, the Quasing of King Solomon

The lone black car slunk through the dark, unlit streets, a ghostly shadow creeping past the decrepit warehouses and abandoned storefronts along the South Capitol at the outskirts of Washington DC. Sitting in the car, Jill Tan glanced out the tinted windows at the darkened snow-dusted shapes of the washed-out world. Tonight’s meeting with Andrews was another bust. There had been far too many of these dead-end nights of late. And each time a deal didn’t pan out it put the Prophus one foot deeper into the grave.

Having to sit down with the first-term senator from Idaho, the leader of the slightly-crazed and lowly regarded Trinity Caucus, was a stark reminder of how precarious the Prophus’ position was in the United States. Their influence in American politics was slipping, forcing them to reach out and deal with the fringes of government. When a schmuck like Andrews could dictate terms to her, Jill knew they were in trouble.

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