A Division of Souls - A Novel of the Mendaihu Universe

by Jon Chaisson

  *

  “Ladies and gentlemen, emha si edha of the province of Bridgetown and surrounding provinces; members of the Crimson-Null Foundation, the Bridgetown Metro Police and Fire Departments and their subdepartments, and members of the press. Thank you all for coming or connecting.”

  Anton stood behind the podium, quickly wiping a bead of sweat from his brow and nervously scanning the crowd before him. Shirai’s words still hung on his conscience…he wanted, so desperately now, to divert from the script in front of him and speak from his heart, speak the truth for once! He'd reread the speech four times since Shirai left, and it sickened him each time, knowing he’d have to play by the rules out of fear. Not exactly his fear…but everyone else’s. The CNF counselors had taken his words, a speech he’d slaved over on his own for six hours straight until he knew it was perfect and true…and in return they’d given him yet another lifeless, go-by-the-book piece of talking point drivel. He sighed quietly, frustrated by his own lack of spine, knowing there was little else he could do at this moment. All that was needed was his fatherly gaze upon the crowd and a knowing look of intelligence for the cameras. He was good at that…he’d been trained well, and he’d had the practice over the years. The speech spoke for itself; he knew the pattern by heart. Introduce yourself, gently bring up the problem, make them believe it’s not as bad as they think, pad it with promises, and tell them we’ll keep them updated, he thought. Nothing but empty words. His only consolation was that they’d decided not to go full-on with the fear route, giving him a blockbuster of a speech that would scare everyone senseless so they’d do the work behind the scenes in relative peace while the populace stayed paralyzed. If he’d had his way, though, he would have flat-out refused their script before even setting foot in this room. That time had passed, and the community needed an answer. He had to give them something, even if it wasn’t the full truth.

  It’ll be truth enough, he reminded himself. He adjusted the lapels of his jacket, looked out over his audience, and continued.

  “Mere hours have passed since the crimson cloud of an Awakening Ritual surrounded the Mirades Tower. Mere hours we have spent, questioning, studying it all: who was behind it and wondering, ‘why the Tower?’ Mere hours, sifting through the situation for answers. Who could have performed a ritual of such magnitude? What could their motives have been? Were they even aware of the consequences behind their ritual?

  “Citizens, I will say first that both the Mendaihu and Shenaihu Elders, and many other spiritual leaders worldwide, all find this act deplorable, and have graciously stepped forward to assist in the welfare of anyone who has been affected, directly or indirectly, by the shockwave created by this ritual. At the end of the speech, your local networks will run an interactive list of all leaders and Elders should you need help.

  “We do have a shortlist of suspects right now, and a course of action is being planned by the Branden Hill District Headquarters of the Alien Relations Unit at this very moment. It is our understanding that there are eyewitnesses and spiritsensers, both Meraladian and human, who have witnessed or been impacted by the event, and many have come forth to give their side of the story. We are hoping to have the suspect apprehended and this case closed by the week's end.”

  He paused, taking a breath to calm his nerves. All this was true, all of it helpful…but it just was not the real truth!

  “As for the shockwave...” he started again, calm and introspective. “Reports say that the shockwave lost most of its strength nearly two miles from its epicenter, the Mirades Tower, according to ARU ground and FireFlighter aerial observation. Most of the physical damage is condensed in the half-mile radius around the Tower, where the shockwave was strongest. Many of the skyscrapers in the immediate area took the brunt of it and because of this, damages were at a minimum.

  “We do not have a concrete number of lives possibly lost from the night before, though initial reports state there were no fatalities. It is the lowest in history when compared to similar spiritual incidents in this city, including the schisms of twenty-five years ago.

  “The souls of Bridgetown were being watched over by a Supreme Being last night, it seems.”

  Anton paused and took another deep breath. It was a contemplative pause, one he’d mastered so perfectly during these speeches. He added to it by taking a quick sip from his water glass. He hated putting on this act…but given the situation, he didn’t think it would have made any difference. For all the public knew, this had all been a freak accident. Well, then, he thought. Let them believe that for now. They’ll find out sooner or later. They always do.

  He took another breath and continued.

  “As of now, the Crimson-Null Foundation takes no active role in the investigation, aside from observation and assistance when needed. It is certain that Bridgetown is not under any kind of attack from terrorists, human or alien. All corners of the BMPD, the FireFlighter Department and choice Mendaihu and Shenaihu agents have taken this case under their wing to help bring this case to a swift close.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen, the end to this investigation is coming swift and fast. Many of the investigators involved have eliminated many of the dead ends that had plagued them over the past six hours. I commend their efforts, and I am confident that their work will be fruitful within the next twenty-four hours.”

  Anton paused again, eyeing the audience. It was here that his ghost-editors had ended the speech with something flowery and consoling, something safe and patriotic to calm the public’s fears until the next time…with absolutely no mention of what the Awakening Ritual may have actually been for. Now that he knew, however, the temptation to tell the public was fierce, but he understood the consequences that would bring. A tightness knotted his throat. He dearly wished that Shirai's prediction would be flat-out wrong, completely off the mark, yet he felt the truth behind it. It was unexplainable, this instinct he felt; it was a truth that dared to be wronged. His thoughts couldn't conjure up an answer to the dare, and his conscience refused to.

  Maybe less than twenty-four hours, he thought. I can't keep this hidden.

  Sitting near the front, alongside the press corps, he saw the frail form of Jack Priestley, frowning at him. He shuddered, hoping no one had noticed. Jack had edited most of Rieflin’s speech himself, turning it into the sterile piece of crap that it was. Well, the little man now had the best seat in the house. He exhaled slowly, and stared straight into the vidcams set up in the rear of the room. This was the unscripted moment, and he wasn’t going to let it pass him by. If he was reprimanded afterwards, to hell with it. His conscience would not let this pass.

  “As an aside…” he started unevenly. He cleared his throat and started again, editing Shirai’s words in his head as he went. “…I have also received reports that there are people gathering at an undisclosed location within the Waterfront District, for what is being billed as a peaceful demonstration, a vigil of sorts to pray for and help those affected. Though permission had not been granted by myself or by my officers, in light of recent events I have chosen to let the vigil continue, as I have been given word that no rituals have been planned. A select number of BMPD officers are already on hand at this location in case of any emergencies, and will remain there to keep the peace.

  “Lastly…I must mention that I have heard a Mendaihu practitioner is allegedly behind this ritual. However, I feel I must remind all of you that the Mendaihu do not condone this act. The Honored Mendaihu of Bridgetown completely understand the ramifications of this ritual, and are already taking steps to ensure that peace remains in this city and that all who were affected are taken care of immediately. And as your Provincial Governor, I do not condone any acts of violence against the Mendaihu in response, whether you are Gharné or Meraladhza, Mendaihu or Shenaihu, whether provoked by this recent event or not. I will not condone any violence at all. None! There will not be bloodshed in my city!

  “I
will also explain this — the effects of an awakening ritual are minimal, as one must actively participate in order for the ritual to cause any change. There are those who have been affected by the shockwave, specifically those within the close radius of the Mirades Tower, and with the help of the Mendaihu, the Shenaihu and other spiritual Elders, they are all being cared for. But I will — no, I must repeat: the effects are minimal, and if you feel you are experiencing the adverse effects, I ask that you seek your nearest Elder as quickly as possible.

  “Until then, I will retain any other information that comes my way, until it is proven without a doubt to be true. As your Provincial Governor, I flat-out refuse to provide my citizens with false or incomplete information. In the meantime, I must continue my stance in alignment with the Crimson-Null Foundation as an observer, and only as observer, until further notice. I trust the BMPD, the FireFlighters and any other association involved with the investigation, fully and completely. I will leave all further questions to my officers.

  “Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, emha si edha, I pray for each and every one of you. Peace, Love and Light to everyone. Good afternoon.”

  The room erupted as soon as he backed away, questions and accusations hitting him in a wall of sound. How dare he not take immediate action! How dare he demand peaceful actions from his citizens! How dare he invoke a spiritual plea! Anton retreated from the podium with no expression on his face, nodding to one of his security guards, who came to his side immediately to escort him away. A group of reporters near the front stood up and leaned forward, as close as they dared to, to question his last unscripted moment. Near the rear, imagraphers triggered multiple camera shutters with their remotes, capturing his escape from far too many angles. As he was being shuffled to the back door, he looked out into the audience one last time, where he found Jack Priestley, still sitting in his chair. His face had been a mixture of surprise and shock. Shaken but relieved, Anton turned and headed for the private door behind the podium, his two security guards following closely behind.