~~/*\~~ Leahe ~~/*\~~
Leahe had returned to the Pottery Circle. Like many tasks, she felt useless, but appreciated the company. She was able to watch as the quality of pottery improved. She practised her fine motor skills by painting patterns on some of the discards. The children were experimenting with ways to make pigments, trying to find color, even in the wasteland.
Takarut did take up teaching. He started with only a few students. Moses had asked for his assistance in transcribing the history record he was writing, and word got around. Knowing that Takarut’s skills were called on by Moses made him acceptable as a teacher to the younger ones, though some of the families joined the lessons, just to make sure of what he was teaching them.
The routine had well and truly set in. Life was just difficult enough to keep them working at it, but food and water was available enough that people were left with plenty of time to think. A nation of former slaves were used to far more hardships than a desolate view.
In truth, they had lived their whole former lives under a death sentence, too. A life of hard, brutal labor, brutal weather, until they died. In truth, their lives were still easier to live through now. But far worse than the fear they had escaped, was the defeat. They had spent their whole lives waiting for God to deliver them to their Promised Land, and now the same God had decreed that they would never see it.
Defiance and Faith had kept them going under the unfairest of brutality. While some were clutching at whatever they could to stay strong, there was just… defeat. The people had all but given up on ever seeing anything good happen.
And then, one day, the Camp had wandered close enough to a trade route that Odeda came to visit Leahe, mentioning that their pottery had improved, and was now worth trading.
Which meant Leahe couldn’t put off the conversation with Takarut any longer.
~~/*\~~
They kept a watch, of course. Distance protected them from possible invasion, or at least gave them plenty of warning. But there was still the odd wild animal waiting to take an animal in the night, or serpents slithering about. For some reason, they never seemed to enter the Camp.
If we’re protected, why do we bother to watch? Am I trying to keep people out, or keep people in? Takarut thought absently. He dismissed the thought at once, of course. Sitting and peering into the night for hours at a time led one to paranoid thoughts.
He heard the soft tread of footsteps behind him, and tensed, but he recognized the stride after a moment. “Leahe? That you?”
“Thought it was a nice night for a walk.” She said softly, coming to join him. “And I missed you.”
“I’ve been gone less than an hour.” He teased, inordinately pleased she’d sought him out. “Who’s got Emet?”
“Reba took him for the night.” She grinned. “As much as I’d like to say it was generosity on her part, she wants me to talk you into something slightly sordid.”
Her husband smirked. “You’ve never had any trouble talking me into that.”
~~/*\~~
She explained about the plan for a trading convoy. She tried not to influence him, giving him both points of view. He said nothing while she broke it down for him. After she was finished, he finally gave his opinion.
“It feels like they’re trying to have it both ways, with me.” he said finally. “They don’t think a ‘foreigner’ would be as much of a risk if he tried to leave. How is that a proper test to see if it’s safe for one of them to go, even temporarily?”
“I had the same thought.” She admitted.
“There’s an easy way to find out for sure, and that’s to ask Moses. But they don’t want to do that, because that would mean facing him and asking to leave.”
“I had that thought too.” Leahe agreed.
“What about you? What’s your position on this?” He challenged his wife.
Leahe bit her lip. “I can’t think of any reason why you should be punished for making a trade. You’re not abandoning your faith in Jehovah, or your family here in the Camp.” She let out a breath. “But I won’t deny I’d prefer it if someone else tries first.”
Takarut was about to answer, when he heard a sound. He turned, still on the Perimeter watch. “Who’s there?!”
“Fear not!” A voice called from the distant dark. “I am not your enemy. I am alone!”
Takarut felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Nobody had ever approached their camp out here before. He fingered the horn at his belt, ready to sound an alarm. “Come where we can see you. Slowly.”
The shape of a man riding a camel emerged from the darkness. He slid to the ground, and came over. “I am Tzuriel. I have come from the land of Uz.”
“You’re a fair way from home.” Takarut observed. “If you were looking for the nearest city, I’m afraid you’ve taken a wrong turn.”
“I am seeking the Prophet of Jehovah who leads this Assembly.” Tzuriel said, bowing deeply. “I had wondered, when told to ride out into the wastelands, but…” Their visitor gestured at the pillar of fire over the centre of the Camp. “Somehow, it was hard to miss.”
“Moses is surely asleep now.” Leahe piped up. “If there is danger, or-”
“There is not.” Tzuriel assured them. “I am a humble servant of Jehovah, acting only on assignment. I would not wish to disturb the Prophet’s rest. In truth, I have been travelling for quite some time. A place to sleep and some water for my camel would be appreciated.”
Takarut said a quick prayer, hoping he wasn’t about to make a terrible mistake. “Leahe, go and find someone who can escort our guest. I can’t leave my post.”
Leahe nodded, and turned to run. He caught her wrist. “Tell Zayden I’ll do it.” He said quietly.
Leahe nodded and hurried to her task. Their visitor was allowed to enter the Camp without being stopped by God. Takarut had apparently taken it as a sign that people could come and go.
~~/*\~~
The trading Caravan went out the next morning. Zayden was in the lead, and Takarut was by his side, ready to serve as a translator if one was needed. They’d come across the trade routes as expected, and settled there, waiting for a convoy to pass. Some of them put out their pottery for display, waiting for someone to come.
After an hour of waiting, someone did. Just as they’d hoped, it was a trading caravan. Almost a dozen camels and wagons, heavily laden with goods.
“They have us outnumbered.” Zayden observed.
“That’s good.” Takarut offered. “We’re asking them to make an exception for us. If they don’t feel threatened, they’ll be more inclined to stop and listen.” Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward from the others and approached the caravan, raising his hands to show he was unarmed.
~~/*\~~
They had chosen their spot carefully. There was open country all around them, with nowhere to hide an ambush. The Caravan was guarded, and Takarut submitted to a search for weapons. Once the escort was convinced he wasn’t a bandit, the traders came forward. They were on a schedule of their own, but a wagon of pottery wasn’t going to take much of their time. The caravan was made up of several people with wares and goods, and they came to see if there was any dealing to be done.
“It’s not a secret where you came from.” One of the traders said to Takarut as everyone mingled. “Egypt sent word ahead. Every town and city for hundreds of miles have heard stories of Egypt being brought to ruin in your wake. Millions of people, living out in the harsh wastelands. Nobody knows how you’ve survived out there this long, but we all know that sooner or later you’ll decide where to settle. And wherever you go, it’ll mean death for the people who live there now.”
Takarut looked across the convoy and found that he was right. The camels and wagons were all guarded, their drivers armed with swords and bows. More so than would be typical on a well-travelled route.
They’re more afraid of us than we were of them. Takarut remembered the panic that had swept through the Assembly when they’d reached the borders of their Promised Land, the fear of those ‘giants’.
He wasn’t sure whether to laugh at the irony, or burst into tears.
~~/*\~~ Oskar ~~/*\~~
“Johan isn’t saying anything I haven’t thought about.” Oskar offered in a low voice, speaking privately. “This place… It strips everything away from you. Whatever’s left is…” He trailed off. “Johan still has his defiance. He’s decided he won’t have anything left at all soon, so he’s using the last of his strength to fight back.”
“I can respect that. But it’s not just him.” Ignaz said. “He’s asking others to join him. The problem with neutrality is that we can’t take sides. God forgive me for saying this, but unless we tell the guards ourselves; I’m wondering if the guards will see any distinction between his political dissidents and our religious ones.”
“Matheo would say that even if they don’t, God will.” Oskar offered. “But if we warn the guards, isn’t that taking sides too? The Commander told me I could sign. Nobody would care if I really meant it. My daughter’s teachers? They told her she could salute at the start of every class, and she didn’t have to mean it. The day before you got here, they had us digging fortifications for a military checkpoint, neutral or not.” He shook his head. “They only want lip service. Does nobody care how we actually feel?”
Just then, the door swung open, and Konstantin came marching in. “Everyone out! Line up! Line up!”
~~/*\~~
Konstantin was walking up and down the length of the assembled prisoners with his usual satanic grin on his face. “Ugh. You make me sick to look at you.” He shook his head. “Soft. All of you. This pack of animals is meant to work, and none of you can stand upright. What do you say we start the morning with some callisthenics? Some good, vigorous exercise will be good for you.”
One of the elderly men fell over, face first into the mud, exhausted and starving.
“Let’s start with you.” Konstantin strolled over to him, and gave him a kick. “Up and at it!”
The old man groaned.
“You! You!” Konstantin bellowed. “Toss him back into the Barracks until we decide what to do with this malingerer!” He kicked the man again. “We look unkindly on people who don’t do their best.” He turned back to the rest of them. “The rest of you, let’s see some push-ups!”
Johan was one of the prisoners directed to pick the old man up. Everyone else moved slowly, lowering themselves down to the ground-
“NOW!” Johan shouted, and the old man lunged, not nearly as weak as he played. Johan and the other man almost flung him at Konstantin, as a dozen prisoners lunged towards the guards, and their weapons.
“Stay down!” Ignaz yelled, and Oskar did so, hugging dirt. He saw that the other Witnesses were doing the same, as the other prisoners hesitated. Only a few of them were in on the plan. The rest were caught unawares, but they wanted to escape anyway. There was a sudden crush of bodies towards the wire, the gate…
TAKATAKATAKA!
A row of bullets slammed into the ground between the men and the fence, sending them diving for the ground. The mounted guns on the guard tower had a clear view of them, and they knew it; the moment of chaotic hope overriding good sense.
Konstantin had slammed the old man hard into the mud, amused by the whole thing.
Johan had wrestled the weapon away from one of the guards and pointed it at the guard tower, squeezing the trigger.
Click.
With a look of horror, Johan pulled the trigger again. Nothing.
Konstantin started to laugh. A deep, hateful laugh. “You thought we didn’t know?”
Johan looked down at the empty gun in his hands, and then out at the prison yard. His fellow conspirators were already rounded up, boxed in by guns that hadn’t been there a few hours before.
Johan took a deep breath, throwing the useless weapon away. “One day, someone like me, is going to round up every single person wearing that *#$&! uniform of yours, and drive them all into the sea.”
“As last words go, that’s not bad.” Konstantin grinned, and made a casual gesture to the nearest tower. A single shot barked, and Johan dropped, folded in half by the impact that hit him dead in the heart.
Still facedown in the mud, the Witnesses hadn’t moved since the doomed battle began, holding each other’s hands tightly, praying for each other to be spared.
~~/*\~~ Takarut ~~/*\~~
The trading went perfectly. Household crockery wasn’t worth much, compared to livestock of precious metals and perfumes; but the Israelites weren’t looking for anything expensive either.
“The most valuable thing we seem to have found was an agreement to meet again.” Zayden told Takarut once the dealing was done, and they were on their way back to the Camp. “We told them what we’re looking for, and what we have to offer.” He looked extremely pleased with himself. “I have to be honest. I didn’t expect it to go so well.”
“Traders are less hostile to foreigners than most.” Takarut offered. “At least, that’s how it was back in Egypt. When someone came down the Nile from parts unknown, all the traders were interested to see what they had, while it was still ‘new’.” He gestured at their own wagon, now filled with goods. “And they’re no doubt laughing about how they’ve cheated us. I think most of what they gave us was out of their own provisions for the rest of the journey. Fruits, Vegetables, and salted meats. All things they can easily replace when they get to where they’re going.”
“Well, the joke’s on them. What is gold and silver to us? Just heavy metals to carry as we hike. Nothing they value will be of any use to us for decades.”
“They know that now.” Takarut agreed. “Pottery might be common, but everyone needs it. High quality pottery is just a matter of practice and time. Two things our people have in great quantities. Given that we’re only asking for food in exchange…”
“You think they’ll agree to keep this going long term?”
“They’re a trading caravan. In this kind of climate, there’s only so many fruits that ‘travel well’.” Takarut offered. “According to the people I was talking to, they sort of schedule their own meals around how long everything will last. They can order more fresh fruit when they get to the city; and then trade their surplus to us before it spoils.”
Tivon came up behind them, munching happily on some grapes. “The weavers did well too. Our herds of sheep provide us with wool, and God makes sure our own clothes don’t wear out. We’ve got more wool than we need.”
“Again, a common item, but given we’re asking only basic goods in return, this was a really good deal for both sides.” Takarut agreed, before he looked back at Tivon. “By the way, what were you talking about, with that man in the purple sash?”
“He was putting in an order.” Tivon told him. “He introduced me to a few stonemasons. We have stone in the wastelands, too. Apparently, that’s worth more than wool. Hammerheads, basins, statues…”
“Idols?” Zayden said, voice suddenly flat.
Tivon raised his hands defensively. “It came up. I said no. Apparently, that’s where the real money is, but obviously, I turned him down. Making stone tools and such, though? Nothing wrong with that.”
~~/*\~~
Takarut had his own prizes from the trade, and couldn’t bring himself to put his bounty down, cradling some of the best ones close to his chest as they arrived back at Camp.
“I don’t know what you got, but whatever it is, you’re going to make your son jealous.” Odeda remarked as the trading expedition arrived. She looked over the group with a broad smile. “Did it go well?”
“It did.” Zayden said grandly. His tone was one of humble triumph. Like he had just achieved a dream that he always knew was certain to succeed. “You can tell Dathan that it worked out as planned.”
“Who’s Dathan?” Takarut asked, guilessly. He’d never heard the name mentioned before.
“I’ll tell him.” Odeda promised Zayden. “Takarut, Leahe asked me to wait for you, specifically. Apparently, Moses has been asking for you.”
Takarut felt his heart give a thump. The question of whether or not Moses would be outraged at their expedition had been the one part of this whole matter that hadn’t been answered yet. “I should go, then.”
“I’ll walk you there.” Zayden said immediately, and the two of them headed off, as the rest of the Trading Party began unpacking their supplies.
The two men made their way through the camp to Moses’ tent. Zayden waited until they were out of earshot before he picked up the conversation. “So, what are those tablets you got?”
“Writing tablets. They can be wiped clean, like sand; but they are much easier to carry. Back in Egypt, it was the sort of equipment we used to help advanced students practise their writing.”
“Ah.” Zayden nodded agreeably. “I hear your classes are expanding as more children are born. But with so little in the way of papyrus, or hide available…”
“Most of the history is still being taught by word of mouth.” Takarut nodded. “Which is fine for now, but Moses feels there needs to be a singular record we can all work from, to ensure accuracy.”
“Especially if we ever get this Camp somewhere they can spread out and multiply.” Zayden agreed. “You did well on the expedition. Your knack for foreign languages was one of the deciding factors. I’d wager that many of our people owe you a debt.”
Takarut smiled. “It went better than I thought. To be honest, part of me feared a lightning bolt hitting us before we made it out of Camp.”
Zayden chuckled. “I think people are more terrified of such things than we need to be. And I can understand why, but the last few hours have proven we have more resources than we expected.”
“I suppose so.” Takarut admitted. “Dirt, water, heat, time. The recipe is pretty simple.”
“I don’t just mean pottery. We have plenty of water, provided by miraculous provision. We don’t need to devote our time to making food, also by the hand of Jehovah. This Camp could be an unstoppable force of learning, creativity, industry. But everyone’s so… broken. Just waiting out the years.” Zayden said, as though personally disappointed by the whole thing.
“Mm.” Takarut sensed danger, but he wasn’t sure why. “Anyway, I’m a little nervous we didn’t ask Moses about this.”
“If he had said ‘no’, would you have gone?” Zayden asked, his tone light and relaxed.
“Probably not.”
“And why not? We clearly weren't doing anything wrong, or there would have been thunder and lightning, as you so correctly pointed out. If Moses had said ‘no’, what would his reason have been?” Zayden countered.
“If there was no ‘thunder and lightning’, would Moses have said no? The real question is: Why didn’t anyone have the nerve to ask him first?” Takarut returned.
“No. The real question is, why didn’t Moses suggest we do this? Why didn’t he see the potential in our people? Why did all of this have to happen behind his back?” Zayden retorted. “Ask him. See what he says.” He saw Takarut about to argue and put a hand up. “I know. You spent a lot of time trying to be more obedient, more appreciative than anyone else. Your Egyptian heritage meant you had to make a considerable effort when this whole thing began. But you’ve come through the Red Sea, the Golden Calf, and helped us make a profit on today’s trade. If Moses has a problem with what we’ve done, there’s no real justification for it.”
Takarut felt that edge of worry get stronger. “You sound like you’re preparing me for a fight, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to be fighting about.”
~~/*\~~
Takarut hurried into Moses’ tent, where Tzuriel was reclining, apparently a welcome guest.
“Takarut!” Moses greeted. “I’ve had people out looking for you for hours!”
“I-I’m sorry, I was-”
“I’ve just heard the most incredible story.” Moses didn’t care, too enthused to be sidetracked. “This man has travelled all the way from Uz to tell us all about a servant of Jehovah named Job. I want you to hear it, and get it all down in writing. It’s amazing!” Moses suddenly paused, head tilting, as though he was listening to someone else. His eyes shone. “Apparently, there’s more to the story than even you know, Tzuriel.”
“Oh?” Tzuriel looked surprised, and pleased to hear it. “You are a prophet!”
Takarut was immediately scrambling to get his stylus and scrolls prepared. “Tell me everything. Above all else, be precise. Take as long as you need, but make sure every word is right.”
~~/*\~~
Zayden and Tivon were checking the stonecutter’s work. You couldn’t use just any old rock to make proper tools, but Egypt had used their labor to carve and haul stone for generations. Those that made such tools for a living knew what to look for.
“It looks like we can meet the ‘order’ those traders placed, with time to spare.” Tivon pronounced.
Zayden nodded slowly, mind elsewhere. “Tivon...” He said slowly. “What price was he offering, for idols?”
Tivon blinked. “Seriously?”
“I’m not suggesting we do it. I’m just wondering about the price we could get. According to Takarut, the local towns are worried about what’s going to happen when this Caravan actually goes somewhere. For sure, when we get to our new land, God will command us to destroy all the idols and altars to false gods.”
“So… what? We sell idols, profit, and smash them all later?”
“Now you’re thinking like an Egyptian Pharaoh.”
Zayden looked over and saw that Takarut had arrived, apparently in time to hear some of their conversation. He excused himself from the stonecutters' work, and went over to join him. “So? What did Moses say?”
Takarut blinked for a moment before he realized what he was asking about. “Oh. It didn’t come up. He wanted to talk to me about something entirely different. Nothing to do with the trading expedition. If I’m totally honest, I don’t think he knew about it.” He took a breath. “And I don’t think it matters. He’s in charge.”
“For now.”
Takarut glared. “Whatever it is you’re trying to recruit me into…”
“That’s not what I meant.” Zayden raised his hands soothingly. “Moses is an old man, and he’s led us here. He’s made no secret of the fact that the Plan now is to wander around the wasteland until either he dies, or all of us do. God pronounced a death sentence on everyone over the age of 20? What about Moses? He was in his eighties when our exile began. There’s no way he outlives both of us. Sooner or later, someone else will have to make these decisions. Maybe even more acceptable ones. Ones that God might approve of. Ones that God might show leniency for.”
“Leniency?” Takarut retorted. “You want to know the leniency that God already granted to this Camp because of Moses? Jehovah wanted to-” He stopped himself mid-word, not going there.
Heavy silence.
“All we’re saying is… people are wondering about the future.” Zayden said finally. “And not in a rebellious or sinful way. We just want to be prepared.”
Takarut’s head tilted. “Who’s ‘we’?”
“One thing at a time.” Zayden waved that off. “For now, just know that there are many people who are grateful to you for your help with the trading expedition.”
(Author’s Note: It’s important to note that all of this is my own invention. There’s nothing to indicate if people left the Assembly, even temporarily, or what interactions they might have had with other nations, beyond what is recorded in scripture. The purpose of this storyline is to express how elements in the nation were ‘testing their limits’ and how a resistance to Moses might have grown.
The story of Job is also an open question. The book ‘All Scripture Is Inspired of God and Beneficial’ says: ‘God’s acceptance of Job as a true worshiper point to patriarchal times rather than to the later period from 1513 B.C.E. on, when God dealt exclusively with Israel under the Law. Thus, allowing for Job’s long life, it appears… the book was completed by Moses sometime after Job’s death and while the Israelites were in the wilderness.”
It also says: ‘The writer must have been an Israelite, as Moses was, because the Jews “were entrusted with the sacred pronouncements of God.” After he had reached maturity, Moses spent 40 years in Midian, not far from Uz, where he could obtain the detailed information recorded in Job. Later, when he passed near Job’s homeland during Israel’s 40-year wilderness journey, Moses could learn of and record the concluding details in the book.’
There’s nothing more specific than that, so the inclusion of the man who told Moses the story will not be a major plot point beyond this mention.)
~~/*\~~ Oskar ~~/*\~~
The Nazi’s were smart enough not to keep a mass grave in the middle of their camp. There were rumors that some of the worst prisons had huge incinerators, but their Labor Camp wasn’t so outfitted.
The survivors of Johan's rebellion were punished by carrying his body to the truck, and going along to dig him a grave. When the trucks came back with far fewer prisoners, they learned that two or three of his closest compatriots were ruled too hostile, and were shot as soon as they were done digging a hole big enough for all of them.
Jonas, one of Johan’s students in the camp, looked sick. “I always believed that people, at heart, wanted peace. I always thought, deep down, that war was the greatest folly of civilization, and everyone knew this. I always believed that people of intelligence would be able to make peace and find a respectful compromise.” He looked ready to retch. “When we were digging… I saw how many other graves there were. All those bodies, starved and mangled enough that they didn’t even look like people.” He spread his hands wide. “How can you make peace with this? How can you ‘agree to a compromise’ with people who want you to die?”
“Even if you could, wouldn’t that drag the middle their way?” Oskar offered. “No matter how you try to ‘make peace’, what would they demand in return?”
Jonas clearly would have retched if he’d had anything to eat. “I… I never told Johan this, but I supported the Anschluss.”
“Really?” Oskar blinked. The irony would have made him laugh, but it seemed strange that a supporter would wind up in here.
“I didn’t like how the economy was going, I was worried about…” The other man squeezed his eyes shut, like he was trying to wake up from a nightmare. “I thought the country would be better for it. Get the factories working back to full efficiency, make the trains run on time.” He looked around. “I never realized I was voting for this.” He looked at Oskar. “You were smart to stay out of the ‘uprising’. Even trying to run away from the whole thing got people shot. The guards weren’t exactly checking for motives.” He lowered his voice. “I don’t think they can even tell us apart anymore.”
Oskar spoke softly. “We weren’t against Johan, you know. We aren’t against anyone.” He gestured at the Guards, who were chatting amongst themselves in the courtyard, replaying the most ‘exciting’ parts of the day’s events, congratulating each other on their courage and skill. “Even them. We aren’t in favor of them either. They decided that made us enemies. Not us. Them.”
“You still feel that way?” Jonas asked, genuinely curious. “I voted for them to take over, because I wanted to improve our lot. I didn’t like the way our government was running things, and I wanted a new one in its place. I joined the uprising here because I could tell that they were not going to improve anything.” He sighed sickly. “I’m ashamed to say that I supported these people. But I’m not ashamed that I wanted things to get better.” He suddenly seemed to think of something and turned to Oskar. “My opinion changes based on what I see, and experience. Why doesn’t yours? I mean, being peaceable with all men, and living in harmony with everyone? I can see that, for a Christian. But how do you have no position against… well, pure evil? Especially when it’s actively trying to kill you right now?”
Oskar took a breath, trying to word it correctly. “There’s a story in the Bible, about Jesus being tempted by Satan directly. One of those temptations… Satan offered him all the Kingdoms of the Earth. In exchange, Satan wanted Jesus to give him a single act of worship.” He almost smiled. “He didn’t ask Jesus to mean it, or to tell anyone about it afterwards. And he didn’t say ‘I can only give you the evil nations’.”
“I don’t buy that.” Jonas shook his head. “If Satan was running all the governments of the world, they’d be united. This war would be him playing a chess game against his own pieces.”
“Satan doesn’t care who runs the world. He just wants people to suffer.” Oskar returned. “But the point I was making was that when Jesus said no, he didn’t qualify anything. He didn’t pick a ‘favorite’ nation to take charge of, and declare the rest of them ‘evil’. He knew that all the nations had the same handicap.” Oskar gestured up at the flag, hovering over the Commander’s office. “Some leaders and governments are obviously Satanic, but none of them are ‘Holy’. Whichever side wins this war, it’s not going to bring about a ‘thousand year peace’ that the Nazi’s keep yapping about.”
“Then there is no hope, as far as you’re concerned?” Jonas looked around. “What are you praying for?”
Oskar grinned. “Well. We’re talking about that tonight at our meeting. About what we hope for. How we hold onto that hope. What kind of leadership will actually make the world a better place for everyone? What might we do in such a world?” He smiled at Jonas. “Would you care to join us?”
~/*\~~/*\~~/*\~
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