Sel was a tiny kingdom located east of Vetiver, across the Sea of Voices. It shared most of its southern border with Tux. When Tuxedo demand for moon poppy nectar exploded, the Selenite monarchy imposed import duties and borrowed against future yields, which made the nation–or at least the royal family–suddenly extremely wealthy. The crown projected its sovereign power not through prudent policies; effective diplomacy; or air, land, and sea dominance; but through the conspicuous accumulation of Indigo Empire paintings and decorative arts, and the breeding of dogs that, with each subsequent generation, were larger and more precarious of health and balance.
Whereas Sel considered itself a sovereign nation, Vetiver regarded Sel as a kind of autonomous region of Vetiver. The latter conception was probably the more accurate of the two, given that Vetiver made substantial–and clandestine–monthly "donations" to the Selenite crown in exchange for the right to maintain basic infrastructure on, and rapidly deploy troops and other assets to Sel's border with Tux. One could say that it was Vetiver, not "moon poppy mania," that was the reason for the continued existence of Sel.
Sel may have been poor at statecraft, but it excelled at the fabrication of illusions. It supported a thriving film industry through which the country exerted a modest level of cultural soft power. A requirement that all films produced in Sel be entirely in Selenite ended up playing a not insignificant role in preserving the tiny kingdom's language through subsequent waves of colonization.
The montane bogs of Sel were the only place on the planet where this flower and its pollinator, the "plague doctor" moth (so named for its bulging eyes and shaggy gray proboscis), existed. And here I must apologize, for "moon poppy" is a very rudimentary translation. In the original Selenite, the name meant something more along the lines of "flower whose essential character is activated by the moon." And in fact, the moon poppy was not a true poppy, but rather a kind of heather, with delicate, bell-shaped flowers that seemed to vibrate in the moonlight.
The raw pollen from the moon poppy was fatal to all fauna except for the plague doctor moth. But after being shipped to Tux and undergoing a process whereby the grains of pollen were plucked from the nectar, the nectar could be distilled to produce an essential oil used as the dominant middle note in Silhouette, a luxury fragrance produced in Tux by Maison d'Être.
Moon poppy nectar could only be harvested twice a year, during spring and fall, and only during a full moon. To harvest the nectar, technicians in positive pressure suits mimicked the behavior of the pollinator, stimulating the petal and stamens of the flower with three soft metal filaments until, like a sigh, the anthers exhaled a burst of pollen encased in beads of nectar. The precious nectar was collected in glass flasks for transport to Tux. Technicians needed to be careful to seal the flasks as soon as the nectar was exhaled by the flower. If a fly so much as sneezed into the flask, all of the nectar would be rendered completely unusable.
What people remembered most about Dimitri Phalaenopsis were his eyes. They seemed almost as large and gentle as a doe's, with long, thick eyelashes that from a distance looked like eyeliner. The irises themselves were of an undefinable color. Depending on the rake of the light or even on Phalaenopsis's moods, they could appear blue, gray, or even violet. When watching the films of Dimitri Phalaenopsis, fans knew to always pay attention to his eyes. By raising or lowering his eyelids by a mere fraction of a millimeter, he could either underscore or completely subvert the lines he was speaking. Co-stars of all genders unfailingly fell in love with him, and Phalaenopsis was happy to indulge them. At the height of his career, Dimitri Phalaenopsis was said to have commanded salaries upward of 30,000,000 Selenite dollars per film, enough to purchase a lifetime supply of Silhouette eau de parfum.
Although Phalaenopsis had been expelled from his native Vetiver for "sexual deviancy" (that is, homosexuality), he remained a Vetiverian nationalist–quite a toxic one, I might add–for the entirety of his career in Sel. He appeared on right-wing podcasts condemning Tuxedo immigration to Vetiver; he maintained a xenophobic email newsletter, and was a regular commentator on conservative television programs–all the while starring in epic Selenite romances with larger and larger budgets and flimsier and flimsier plots. Perceptive readers might detect something slightly desperate and performative about these media appearances. It was almost as though Phalaenopsis was, from across the Sea of Voices, trying to prove his legitimacy to Vetiver. Indeed, the reader should understand that every word Dimitri Phalaenopsis spoke on screen was a message of supplication to the country that had rejected him.
The director of These Very Stars, Arabella Rye, was a drunk and a visionary, whose films were characterized by massive kaleidescopic dance numbers. She had immigrated to Sel from Tux, where she was a gifted aerial choreographer and director of military marching band performances. However, she soon came to recognize the role of image-making in upholding the repressive Tuxedo regime, as well as her own complicity in this endeavor. She called it out loudly and publicly, drawing the attention–and ire–of those in power. Proclaiming that she would never again make another political work, Rye fled to Sel, where she was granted asylum. The Selenite crown went so far as to declare her its own national treasure. Though a bit presumptuous, this designation was quite convenient for Rye: the more her international renown grew, the more difficult it became for covert Tuxedo operatives to disappear her with any modicum of discretion.
Unsurprisingly, Arabella Rye detested her Vetiverian nationalist star Dimitri Phalaenopsis. These Very Stars was in fact their first–and last–collaboration. Rye had a seemingly bottomless well of creative epithets for Phalaenopsis, the most polite of them being "fucking twat." Phalaenopsis, in turn, merely shrugged, and attributed her abuse to the fact that she was as homely as he was beautiful.
Rye's directorial method was quite unusual, and merits some discussion here. She would lie in the center of the set in an open casket (so no one would step on her) staring up a mirrored ceiling that reflected the entire stage, which could accommodate hundreds of precision dancers, can-can-ing themselves into interlocking shapes. Through a bullhorn, she would bark orders at the dancers: "Nine fifty-six! Left leg is too low!" "Eighth line, tighten it up!" "Seventeenth line, you're sagging in the middle!" This was the most effective way, she claimed, to evaluate and adjust the dancers' symmetry and form. Though it would have been much easier for her to suspend herself from the ceiling the same way the cameras were suspended, or to set up a scaffold from which she could direct the action from above, Rye seemed to take perverse delight in lying in a casket and shouting up at God.
In Sel, These Very Stars became the highest grossing film of all time, breaking the previous record set by You and Me at the Edge of the World. Many hot takes circulated among Selenite critics and academics, among them that the "land without rivers" was, depending on the nationality of the critic, Tux, Vetiver, or Sel; that the ambassador was a surrogate for Arabella Rye (or the real-life Selenite princess rumored to be Rye's partner); that the princess represented Dimitri Phalaenopsis, with the hermit and ambassador being his lesser self and better angel. Theorists analyzed the choreography and visual effects, musing about the implications of abstracting, fracturing, and multiplying the human form, particularly as it pertained to the vast military-industrial complex in Vetiver. Bloggers wondered: "Was These Very Stars truly a non-political film, as its director claimed? Can creative acts ever be non-political?"
Nevertheless, the film was met with almost universal acclaim and especial praise for Dimitri Phalaenopsis (despite Arabella Rye's much more foundational contributions to the film, and the fact that the role of the princess was far more emotionally and vocally demanding than that of the hermit). The few who questioned the film's substance could at least grant that it was audacious in its ostentation.
As was the case with all foreign films, These Very Stars was not distributed in Tux on account of its potential to incite subversive or treasonous beliefs. Undeterred, Tuxedo residents scraped pirate satellite feeds, downloaded clips, generated fansubs, and reassembled the clips into narratives which were circulated (along with karaoke versions of all the songs) throughout the district of Penumbra, where they were screened in abandoned warehouses and gyms. "Songs from These Very Stars" even became its own category in several Penumbra karaoke circuits.
Because Tuxedo pirates were unaware of the original order of the scenes, however, and because no one in Tux was allowed to learn or speak Selenite, the various Tuxedo "cuts" of the film bore little resemblance to the original. Among the Tuxedo variations of the film: the fisherman was actually the ambassador in disguise; the princess--not the ambassador--was the spies' target; the spies succeeded in starting a war; the spies ended up in prison; the film ended where the official version began: with the princess and fisherman sitting beside each other on the beach.
These Very Stars was distributed in Vetiver with Vetiverian subtitles and only one substantive change: the Vetiverian Decency Board objected to the imagery and lyrics in the reprise of "Pretty secret smile," so when the film was screened in Vetiver, audiences were expected to sit in silence and darkness for four minutes and thirty-three seconds.
Vetiverians quickly made up alternative lyrics and choreography that were even racier and–dare I say–even more "creative" than the original. When screens abruptly cut to black for the "Pretty secret smile" reprise, entire audiences would leap out of their seats and perform the alternative number with tremendous gusto. The Vetiverian version of "Pretty secret smile" circulated among all three countries on pirate radio and cassette tapes, becoming an underground hit in Sel and Tux–particularly the Bubblecore, Stankwave, and Fungal remixes.
Soon after Tux restored its democracy, Vetiver denaturalized Dimitri Phanaenopsis. Shattered, he began pickling his organs in gin. He never worked again. The skin on his gorgeous face turned the color and texture of dried cuttlefish. In a freak accident on the twenty-fifth anniversary of the theatrical release of These Very Stars, the glass roof on his atrium shattered and fell on him, killing him instantly. He was found by his maid, face bloodied, eyes staring up at the sky in disbelief.
In Sel, overharvesting of the moon poppy led to the extinction of both the poppy and the plague doctor moth. When the poppy bubble burst, no amount of debt restructuring could save the crown from its creditors. However, it turned out that the monarchy's loyalty was less to their kingdom than it was to "the lifestyle to which they had become accustomed." In exchange for their abdication, the monarchy received full immunity and protection in Vetiver. Vetiverian military transport airlifted to safety the royal family, along with its furniture and art, and a menagerie of giraffes, monkeys, camels, and sharks. They continued to live a lavish life in Vetiver, while Vetiver set about establishing an officially recognized puppet government in Sel.
Arabella Rye was never heard from again. There was much speculation about whether she had fled to Vetiver with the Selenite princess, whether she had finally been captured by Tuxedo agents, or whether she was simply sitting on stacks of cash, living her best life far from the public eye.
Over the course of several generations, the pro-democracy party in Tux gained some ground, lost some ground, and then gained some ground again. Tux's electorate was one that could be by turns fickle, vindictive, and sanctimonious; but it was nevertheless always vigilant. The Ninth Republic remains in place as the current and legitimate government of Tux.
I must confess that I question my motives for documenting and sharing this story. Do I offer it as a cautionary tale? As a message of hope? Perhaps I am only trying to fill the silence with my meaningless little words. Thank you, reader, for your indulgence.
Since the events documented here transpired, all known prints of These Very Stars were destroyed by the governments of Vetiver, Sel, and Tux, though the raw footage may still exist somewhere, in the hands of collectors or in one of several "shadow archives" that emerged during and after the Tuxedo protests. References to the film were purged from official sources. Nevertheless, bootleg copies continue to circulate widely among inhabitants of of all three nations. Hundreds–maybe thousands–of versions are extant, versions featuring all variations of the plot, versions in which myriad futures are possible.