Almagest

By Drew Kientz

The responsibility gained from her new-found powers is not a welcome addition to Juniper Appleblossom's life. While touring on the road with her band, representatives from various Orders regularly track her down to recruit her in an attempt to have a powerful Primeval among their ranks. All Juniper wants is to do is be left alone to pursue her o

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kingston Publishing Company
• Release date: Oct 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9781645334859

Book preview

Copyright

Almagest is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. 

ALMAGEST: A Novel 

Copyright © 2021 Drew Kientz

All rights reserved. 

Editing by KP Editing 

Cover Artwork by Shai Daniel  

Cover Design by KP Designs

www.kpdesignshop.com

Published by Kingston Publishing Company 

www.kingstonpublishing.com

The uploading, scanning, and distribution of this book in any form or by any means—including but not limited to electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the permission of the copyright holder is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized editions of this work, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Table of Contents

Copyright

Table of Contents

Dedication

Playlist

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Extras

From the Author

Appendix

Acknowledgments

About the Author

About the Publisher

Dedication

To my sister Andrea –

Thank you for always having my back. Keep chopping wood.

Playlist

- Juniper’s Headphones & Ambient Music -

Almagest Theme - Icon for Hire – Brittle

GNBD’s Closing Number at Riverfest - Within Temptation - The Purge

Aim to Head - Insomnia

Nine Inch Nails - Copy of a (live)

Lana Del Rey – Wild at Heart

Two Feet - Flatline

Florence + the Machine - Seven Devils

Bring Me The Horizon – Teardrops

The Pretty Reckless – Turning Gold

Echos – Cross

Ad Infinitum – See You In Hell

Big Maybelle – Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On

Oh Wonder – Technicolor Beat

Massive Attack – Live With Me

Ruby’s Song - Etta James – Misty Blue

Gemma and Juniper’s Performance - Aerosmith – Never Loved a Girl

Eric Clapton – It Hurts Me Too

Various Artists – Will The Circle Be Unbroken

The Rolling Stones – Doom and Gloom

Lauren Babic – Toxic

The Doors – Five to One

Lenny Kravitz – Can’t Get You Off My Mind

Grimes – Nihilist Blues

MXMS – Gravedigger

Epica – Rivers

Ending Credits - Jefferson Airplane – White Rabbit

Chapter One

Jesus Doesn’t Want Me for A Sunbeam

Juniper yanked her mic off its stand, raised her right fist, and belted the last, long note of her song out to the sweaty throng of humanity sprawled before her. Her band, Great Nights & Bad Decisions, was part of the closing night lineup of different acts peppered throughout the City of Little Rock’s annual Riverfest Music festival. Over a muggy Memorial Day weekend, downtown gets packed with people from around the Natural State for all manner of coronary-hell cookouts and carnival-style contests hosted by obnoxious local radio personalities. Artists of all kinds showcase their latest pieces here alongside washed-up celebrities charging for autographs and photos. Music acts large and small do their best to make an impression; all with the backdrop of the boat and yacht dotted Arkansas River sparkling in the moonlight.

Ducking an overzealous fire dancer, Juniper slid her phone out of the back pocket of her tight black leather skirt to take a selfie with the appreciative crowd of many hundreds of people, all while the amplifiers buzzed in her head. 

She beamed her best smile, threw her horns up with her off hand, and held the front-facing camera up at an angle that captured her top half and the crowd behind her. Snap. 

That should get a lot of likes, Juniper thought. 

Thank you SO MUCH! Juniper hollered into the microphone. We’ll see you again soon!

Juniper spread her arms wide to let her bandmates duck under, so they could take their final bow, having just finished their encore. There was her bassist, the fiery & flamboyant Jean-Paul ‘JP’ Francois, who was her best non-Enlightened friend in the world. This guy could go from super chill to thermonuclear in the blink of an eye if someone messed with her. Sometimes, you need an enforcer in your corner when you’re playing in a rock band. Juniper was Amazonian in height, but JP was taller and much broader. He was rangy and lean. Tonight, his stage getup consisted of a glittering football jersey, neon pink do-rag, bedazzled short shorts, and some knee-high white leather boots.

Then we had Gemma Gauthier, or as Juniper called her, ‘the fuckin’ new guy.’ F-N-G-G. They had signed her out of ‘The Big Easy,’ the N-O, Naw’lins: New Orleans, Louisiana. She was tall like Juniper, but her strong features were more severe and striking. Gemma called it her ‘resting bitch face,’ like she was deciding on whether or not the situation was her hill to die on. Right at this moment, her jet-black hair was braided into several small rows on both sides of her head, with the rest styled as high and wild as a horse’s plume. Her usual stage apparel was solid black corsets, leather pants, bright silks, and knee-high, lace-up boots. 

Juniper loved her look, and more than that, her company. She was under Juniper’s left arm, and damn near nose-to-nose when Juniper turned her head to face Gemma’s bewitching hazel eyes. So close. The smell of sweat, expensive perfume, and adrenaline hit Juniper’s nose, and it was intoxicating. 

Juniper impulsively kissed Gemma, and she kissed her right back. The crowd roared their approval while the cameras flashed around them with cat calls galore. You see, this wasn’t the first time that had happened. Gemma and Juniper had shamelessly become a thing while touring on the road, much to the chagrin of Jean-Paul and Tom. People (who can’t mind their business), had told her that it was over-the-top. Juniper didn’t care. Juniper didn’t give a shit. 

Gemma was Enlightened. Like Juniper, she could command certain energies by willpower alone. Unfortunately for Gemma, she had a mental block when it came to her abilities; she couldn’t make anything happen unless music was involved. The thing is, Juniper had badly needed this time on the road, and Gemma fit right in. Her new lead guitarist didn’t judge Juniper, she was a fantastic P.I.C. (Partner-In-Crime), and she would even join in on Juniper’s bouts with booze and narcotics. Bonus!

Oh, right. There’s Blonde Tom Long Dick Bravis. A wild man on stage, he was quite docile off it. He was a damn good drummer though. Apparently, he had desperately needed some time away from his wife Holly and their brood spawn of children. Juniper was sure that Tom’s edge as a musician stemmed from his Catholic guilt. 

Hey, if whipping himself with a cat-o’-nine tails is what gets him going to play professional music, then blister away, buster, thought Juniper. 

Even though he was smiling and waving to the crowd, Juniper could tell he was drenched and nearly gray from exhaustion.

Juniper had thrown together the tour in a couple of months, investing a sizable chunk of her, as she called it, Wendigo money, into the band. Brand new gear, roadies, advertising spots, a chartered tour bus; the works. Great Nights & Bad Decisions had plenty of talent before, but the trouble was always the money. That, and Juniper’s sometimes crippling addiction to painkillers. She liked hers top shelf. So, there might have been a couple of times that hard-earned band money disappeared when she was dry. Leigh had understood. Her first guitarist and her on-again, off-again paramour. Oh, had Juniper loved her. 

Blinking back an unexpected tear, Juniper turned away from the crowd and skipped off towards the back of the stage. Taking care not to trip over any snaking cords and wires, she took a running leap off the back and landed in the awaiting, hastily constructed backstage area that her roadies had built. It was a red pavilion tent with partitions to mark off a couple of dressing rooms. Her room was the one in the far corner all the way to the back. It was the one that had a cheaply made sign reading Juneeper Applejack, with two crooked glittery gold stars. Grinning, she shoved the bare wooden door open and stepped inside.

Everything was where she had left it. An open performer’s trunk overflowing with loud and stinking stage clothing lay catty-corner from the doorway. Her vanity, if you could call it that, was the standing cheval mirror from her loft and a stained and ripped black leather ottoman. The woman standing in the mirror wore a sweat-soaked, ripped sleeveless, white t-shirt that read DON’T FEED DRUGS TO THE WHORES, in large black letters across the front. Her dramatic, panda-thick eyeshadow and mascara ran down her silver and lavender-accented cheekbones. 

Her lavender eyes looked puffy from underneath long, twisted, and wavy locks that were dyed bright and vivid shades of silver, which hung freely down her back and chest. She had gone with a midnight-black leather skirt to avoid the late June swamp ass that would have come with leather pants. Though the black hot pants she wore under it were not much better. Her look was completed by a pair of Roman-style sandals that wrapped her firm and defined calves in soft leather laces. 

Juniper unslung her blackburst Gibson Les Paul guitar, set it down in its hard-shell case, and began rifling through her trunk. Her .45 caliber 1911 handgun and two extra magazines? Check. An unmarked and nearly empty pill bottle with one, two, and five potent hydromorphone tablets. Got it. A wad of cash next to a couple of grams of not-as-stepped-on-so-much coke? 

Don’t mind if I do, smiled Juniper, quickly sticking a rolled century note up her right nostril to rip a big bump of Columbian nose candy straight from the bag. The ether wafting off the blow made her eyes water as she loudly exhaled the fumes through her mouth. She dipped the tip of her middle finger into the cellophane baggie, rubbed that little bit across her gums, before stripping off the few ounces of clothes she was wearing. Then, after dropping her mic pack and inner ear monitors, she pulled on some comfortable gray leggings. 

Gemma walked in right as Juniper was ripping the black tape pasties off her nips. 

Oh, just in time! Nice little PR stunt with the make out sesh, by the way, teased Gemma, as she crossed the small wooden-walled and natural grass-floored room. She already had her bedroom eyes burning as she pressed her body against Juniper. Their arms enfolded around one another, and Juniper melted heavily into her lips. Juniper was just getting into a rhythm when Gemma coughed. 

Sorry! I held it as long as I could, said Gemma, waving the fumes out of her face. "It’s rude to get started without me, cher."

Whatever, you were right behind me. Did you enjoy the view? quipped Juniper, raising her eyebrow. She spun on her heel and sash-shayed away. Like to watch it walk away? Juniper arched her back to stick her ass out and slapped her right cheek with a hearty smack! Make ya wanna grab it? She winked over her shoulder at Gemma.

Mm-hmm. Sure does, Gemma’s voice was thick when she walked across the space between them. Her smooth left hand slid over Juniper’s exposed skin and cupped a handful of the Primeval’s breast. Full, wet kisses rained down on Juniper’s silky neck trailing down to her shoulder, where Gemma bit into her skin. The lead guitarist squeezed the same cheek Juniper had smacked earlier. Her hand slid slowly underneath the front of Juniper’s tight leggings to tease her there as well. 

Fuck yes, moaned Juniper, as she leaned back into Gemma. 

Fuck naw! Nuh uh! Y’all white bitches are like cats in heat! chided Jean-Paul from behind them. Juni, put a shirt on! Hooker! 

Busted, lamented Gemma. 

What’s the matter, JP? asked Juniper, slipping out of their embrace to turn and face Jean-Paul. Wanna switch teams? she asked, shaking her girls at him. 

Hell naw! First, you stink. You need a showah. After a show, Juni, you be lookin’ like you taste bad. It be like a smell you can taste, offered Jean-Paul, smacking his lips. 

What! exclaimed Juniper, who even had the decency to look mortified. 

Ya nasty, said Jean-Paul. 

Gemma laughed, her face brightening as her cheeks turned bright red.

Ew, naw. You like ta rub up on that, GG, explained Jean-Paul. That means, you just as nasty, he gestured at her. But for real, get dressed. We have to settle our affairs here.

Gemma handed Juniper a crimson halter top that she donned while whining in protest, Can you please-please-PLEASE take care of it?

You the lead singer! deflected Jean-Paul.

I’ll-pay-you-my-share-of-the-take, just-pleeEEEeeease handle it for me! She hadn’t used that tactic before. 

You for real? Aight den. Bet. Imma hold you to that though, J, he intoned, with a pointed finger.

Hey, all the after show party favors are already at the Appleblossom Den. Courtesy of yours truly, said Juniper, as she curtsied. 

See, that’s why you’re my favorite, he said, winking at Juniper, before leaving their shantytown of a dressing room. 

The Appleblossom Den? What’s that? Your bar? asked Gemma.

Nah. My loft. But it might as well be a bar. C’mon, change and grab your shit. It’s not far at all, said Juniper. 

Juniper slipped on some plain white sandals and placed a pair of silver framed, mirrored Ray-Ban sunglasses backwards on the back of her head, while Gemma guzzled a bottle of water and worked her way out of her corset, putting her full assets on display. 

Juniper, focus, said Gemma. 

Right, nodded Juniper.

Juniper turned around and kneeled in front of her performer’s trunk, stuffing several necessary items into a large black leather backpack she had retrieved from inside. Her loaded .45 caliber 1911 handgun with two extra magazines, some pill bottles containing hard-hitting medical grade heroin a.k.a. Dilaudid a.k.a. hydromorphones. They were Juniper’s very favorite. Another contained a couple dozen bars of Xanax, a loaded and capped syringe full of Narcan (in case of overdose), and the Columbian nose candy from earlier that was hitting in full effect right about now.

Looking to her left, Juniper grabbed a half-full carton of Newport shorts, her roll of cash, a small pack of sterile syringes, and a pale gray, genuine Wendigo fang necklace from her maniac adventure last fall up in the Ozarks. Donning that around her neck, she slung on her backpack and turned back around. For some reason, she always felt better when she wore that necklace. It anchored her. 

Gemma had finished losing her stage getup and had switched to a black t-shirt emblazoned with a bright white Jack Daniels logo that was tied up above her toned midriff, some tight black leggings, and a pair of black Doc Martens covered in silver skulls and roses. Her large copper-colored leather satchel lightly clinked with liquor bottles when she slung it across her chest. She wore a modest onyx ankh that had a powder reservoir hidden under a screwed-on cap. Gemma unscrewed the holy symbol to reveal a miniature spoon attached to the bottom of the lid, which was loaded with a hefty bump from her own coke stash. She closed her left nostril with her thumb and snorted up the tiny pile with one sharp puff up the other. Then she mirrored the ritual to the other side of her nose.

Juniper grabbed a water bottle and took a long pull from it. That bit of Columbia’s infamous export from earlier had already made her gums, lips, and sinuses go numb, so some water dribbled down her chin, which she wiped off with the back of her hand. Butterflies began to flutter around in her gut when the thought of mixing her favorite opiate with coke invaded her mind. She wanted to get home. Pronto.

They left the sweaty confines of the pavilion tent to walk down a paved pathway, which was lined with trees illuminated by lawn lighting. The air outside was heavy with thick humidity, but there was a breeze blowing in off the river to provide some relief. There were crowds of people here and there who were all shuffling along to leave the festival, having watched the last of the music acts for the weekend. A nearby fountain, which was built into a large, rocky outcropping, was busy shooting jets of glowing, color-shifting water into the air. Juniper thought it was lovely, and the refreshing mist felt nothing short of heavenly on her face as they walked by. 

On a reckless whim, Juniper focused her willpower deep within her mind and reached out with her invisible feelers towards the water. Her control was sporadic at best, as Hydromancy was an almost completely new territory for her. No one had taught her water manipulation. She had discovered that, like with most Enlightened abilities, she had a knack for figuring out what makes them tick. 

Hers was a talent that never ceased to amaze other Enlightened. Apparently, it took them years of practice (that started in early childhood) to gain reliable control over their gifts. Juniper used to have a kind of mental block on her potential. The most she was able to do was heat up the tip of her finger until it glowed. 

Yes, like the little alien bastard from the E.T. movie. 

Later in her adult years, she met a certain Doctor Tuppence Buckingham. Juniper then had a violent Awakening, which is when an Enlightened comes into their abilities, and after one completely batshit adventure, she had become a master of Pyromancy. Just like that.

Commanding fire had become effortless to Juniper since her bounty hunt up in the Ozarks. She can will the very atoms around her to excite themselves until they combust. Once Juniper has an open flame, it is game over for the bad guys. 

Fire was easy to understand for her. It’s always hungry and pissed, so you have to keep it fed for it to be obedient. One of the benefits of her trek through Ozark hell had been advancing her grasp of Ignimancy, which was her raw command over currents of electricity. More specifically, explosive blasts of lightning. Calling it down from a storm was like waving a matador’s muleta at Mother Nature. The instant and spectacular fury of it all was one of Juniper’s absolute favorite things to do. She could also generate bolts from herself, but these didn’t hit with the same ferocity as the natural stuff. Also, self-casting fatigued her faster than summoning the ole javelin o’ death down from the sky. Juniper determined through trial and error that it’s more difficult to will things to happen when the conditions aren’t favorable. 

Water on the other hand? Evasive. Slippery. The invisible extensions of her mind, which she called her ‘feelers,’ made contact with one of the glowing orange streams of water. Juniper imagined the basic shape of a heart illustration and tried to bend it to her will. The fountain spray changed direction in midair, forming a loop for a couple of seconds. 

"Uh, Juni, what the fuck are you doing?" Gemma asked, in a hushed voice. She grabbed Juniper’s hand and squeezed it. Hard. 

Juniper immediately released her focused willpower. The water splashed harmlessly down into the fountain. She looked at Gemma with an abashed face, doing her best to let her expression show exactly how clueless she had been. 

You okay? she asked in a normal voice, before whispering, You know you can’t do that in front of all these mouth-breathers.

I know. I know! There’s been something gnawing at me. You know? There’s a part of me, deep down, that knows I should be able to make that fountain-...

A group of collectively shy concertgoers walking in front of them had been whispering loudly to one another while glancing back at the two professional musicians. One of the guys had worked up enough courage to speak. 

Ah, shit, muttered Gemma, under her breath.

Just be nice, said Juniper, shifting to a more polite, but weary tone. She was running on a little coke and the afterglow of playing a show, but she could feel the weight of the road on her. There was a painfully hard knot on top of her right shoulder from where her guitar strap pressed down as she performed. Slightly pulled muscles in her back angrily pulsated their aching protests for proper rest, and her vocal cords were swollen. Her hips felt as if she had two big bruises on both sides that throbbed with each step she took. The party life of a proper regional tour had worn her ass out with the constant influx of booze and drugs into her system. She had lost weight that she didn’t have to lose, and she felt dehydrated more often than not, even though she liberally drank water every day. Let's not even get started on the lack of restful, rejuvenating sleep. Gemma and her had kept each other up on a nightly basis, until the exhaustion finally had its way and made them sleep. 

Your fans don’t want to hear you bitch and moan though, she thought to herself. 

Hey! You’re Juniper Appleblossom, the silver-haired singer that we saw up on stage earlier, aren’t you? said the short brown-haired guy that Juniper nicknamed Underdog. 

The very same! You caught me, smiled Juniper, as shrugged her sore shoulders and spread her hands wide. 

My name’s Jeb Culbercoch, and this is my girlfriend Sophie Dominguez, exclaimed Jeb, gesturing at the pretty young thing next to him.

Jeb looked like a Joe Regular guy with his AC/DC concert t-shirt, cargo shorts, and clean sneakers, but his girlfriend was on the other end of the fashion spectrum.

Sophie had lovely dark skin, brilliant hazel eyes, great cheekbones, a dazzling smile, defined jawline, and a badass, curly, chocolate afro. She was wearing a short and loose, pale yellow, sleeveless sundress styled to gather at the back of her neck, and two diamond-inlaid golden cuffs that spiraled in shimmering twists around her powerful arms, which were now hugging Juniper fiercely. 

Your voice carved raw emotion into my heart! gushed Sophie.

Thank you! beamed Juniper, hugging her back. 

Gemma flatly smiled, but let it go. 

Juniper opened her mind and essence to a life manipulating gift called Sanamancy. This let her see a person’s bioluminescence, which gave her an idea of a person’s general health, temperature, and well-being. She had been bombarded with a blitz of anatomical and mystical assaults on her senses the night of her Awakening. Heartbeats had thundered in her ears, and even the very thoughts of everyone around her had blasted through her psyche. Once, in an act of desperation, she had weaponized it. She didn’t like to think about that day. Instead, she focused on how far she had come. 

The next level she’s working on is curing minor wounds, but she hadn’t had much time to practice that while on tour. Still, every ability is similar to a muscle memory, or a skill, in respect to repetition over time, that makes an Enlightened stronger. Potent. Sanamancy wasn’t Juniper’s forte’, per say, but she was confident in the small stuff now. 

That’s why it was so surprising when Sophie pushed back with her own willpower and blocked Juniper’s essence from touching hers. Something quickly flashed across the newcomer’s face and was gone just as fast. 

Juniper was intrigued. Another Enlightened? Clearly, she was trying to keep it on the downlow. Ohhh, her boyfriend doesn’t know, thought Juniper.

Can we get a picture with the two of you? asked another new guy. 

Yeah, of course. But first, I wanna know, began Juniper, as she leaned into the group and smiled at the camera, Y’all wanna come to a party?

Chapter Two

Part-Time Gods, Full-Time Heathens

Juniper led her ever growing pack of ducklings away from the huge riverfront park area and into the Rivermarket district of the city. Her loft was only a city block away, and it gave her a chance to parade herself past a few hotspot bars and clubs that would be hopping after the festival. President Clinton Avenue, which was the main artery through the Rivermarket district, would be blocked off from vehicle traffic by bored cops on horseback. Both sides of the thoroughfare are lined with clubs, restaurants, quaint shops, and bars. With packed dives came lines of chattering locals and tourists, and the two Enlightened were well aware of the effect they had on people. 

Theirs was an exhibition of charisma, as young Enlightened carry their heads high, their chest out, while broadcasting their rich voices with confidence, as only people who can make things happen by will and thought alone can. They passed a bustling piano bar, raucous with drunks who thought they could sing, and Juniper would eyefuck men and women both while she held Gemma close to one side and the dazzling Sophie on another. She knew what the sight of fast-talking, laughing, and vibing women did to everyone around them. People turned their heads. People listened. 

People get fucking curious, lemme tell ya, thought Juniper.

They grew their entourage with each step they took, as the people they passed became seemingly electrified, and those folks suddenly had something much better to do than stand around and wait. 

Gemma turned her head over her right shoulder and called out, Party’s this way fuckers! right before Juniper goosed her ass, which set her to cackling peals of rich laughter. F.N.G.G. fell back into formation, then reverently offered her Primeval a fresh bump of nose candy from her ankh spoon, which Juniper readily sent up main street. 

Whew! Nose squeeze. Nose squeeze. Okay, we’re good.

Here, Sophie purred, while freely offering her an already lit cigarillo blunt. Get some of this bangin’ ganja in you baby.

Gracias señorita, said Juniper. 

She took a few long puffs, letting the smoke fill her lungs up. They were coming up to the intersection where they’d have to hang a right. 

"She ain’t your ‘baby,’ cher," Gemma said sweetly, crossing her arm down across Juniper’s back. The pet guitarist’s hand came to rest on Juniper’s hip.

It’s just a term of endearment. I didn’t mean anything by it, said Sophie. 

Bitches please, laughed Juniper, there’s plenty of me to go around, she continued, grabbing Sophie’s hand to guide it to her other hip. The night is young!

Among the Enlightened, the strongest of them are the ones who run shit. Alphas, Betas, and so on. The Alphas are the top of the food chain. They are capable of breathtaking displays of supernatural might in their primary school of mancing. Alphas lead their own Orders, which are ancient and mythical secret societies full of like-minded Enlightened; some of which were founded a few thousand years ago. So, they said. 

Shit, anything is possible after what I’ve seen, thought Juniper.

However, as a Primeval, Juniper outclassed them all in terms of raw talent and potential. The problem with that, is that upon her outing as this legendary, once-every-kajillion-years, convergence of who-knows-what; these people wouldn’t leave her alone. Representatives from different Orders had been approaching her in each city that her band had stopped at. They wanted her to declare herself aligned with their particular faction. 

Most of them were incredibly well put-together people. They’d claim to have the best connections, or the most cutting-edge tech, all while being impeccably dressed.  Some were shady as hell, with their ambassadors flanked by a few bodyguards in suits. One time, they wore crimson robes.

Juniper had set their melodramatic choice of attire on fire that particular night. She put out the flames after giving them a good scare. No one was hurt. Fire obeys her every thought. Even down to whether or not it is allowed to burn.  

One constant remained the same though; they were made up of people from all over the planet.