by Luke Donegan
The boy froze. The scars on the Builder’s face twisted and did not seem so kind.
Sweat poured from Jay’s face.
The Builder’s eyes searched the grill. Two of the children approached, glass crunching beneath their feet. The man’s attention returned to the workshop.
“Move back,” he ordered.
Ismet fled. Jay retreated along the tunnel behind her.
“He saw me,” Jay whispered.
“He couldn’t have.”
“I’m sure.”
“If he had seen you, he would be up here. He knows these tunnels. Come on.”
“No, I’ve had enough. I want to get out.”
Ismet paused to think. “Okay,” she said. “But not that way.”
She moved on. Jay breathed deeply, then followed the girl. They crossed more grills until Jay could see a white corridor lay beneath them.
“Can we get down there?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
Ismet crawled around a corner and crouched above another grill in the tunnel floor. Light from the room below lit her face. Her cheeks glowed and her eyes were in pools of shadow.
“Is this what you wanted to see?” she whispered.
It was a taxidermy workshop, though not the one he had seen on his tour. The room looked like an operating theatre or a laboratory. On a bench in the centre of the room lay the kangaroo from the Nature Dome.
The Taxidermist and his scion were working on the creature. The fur on the kangaroo’s face had been shaved. The eyelids over the damaged eye were stitched together. A bloody eyeball lay in a dish on the table.
“This area here,” Jay heard the Taxidermist say. “Use alcohol to dry the skin.”
The shy girl nodded. She lifted a large bottle of clear liquid and poured the liquid a gauze.
“Rub it in like so,” he said, cleaning and sterilizing the cuts. He passed her the cloth and moved aside. She cleaned the wounds on the kangaroo’s face and neck. She then took up a large needle from a tray beside the table and stitched a wound closed. At the end she bit the thread with her teeth and tied it off.
As Clara moved Jay saw that a long line of stitching ran along the kangaroo’s belly.
“Good,” encouraged the Taxidermist.
She put down her instruments and hugged the kangaroo.
“Taxidermist?”
“Yes Clara.”
“Will it be okay?”
“We shall see.”
The Taxidermist and Clara were looking across the room. Jay shuffled around in the tight space, lowered his head and looked.
By the wall stood a transparent vat of liquid. Pipes ran from the vat to a pump. Something small hung suspended in the vat not much larger than a human fist. Pink and hairless, curled into a ball. A creature.
“My god!” whispered Jay.
“What can you see?”
A figure strode into the room below them. “Gregor,” said the Builder. “We are not alone.” He pointed to Jay’s hiding place.
“Is it your damn children?” asked the Taxidermist, his voice rising. “This is off limits,” he cried at Jay and Ismet.
The Taxidermist’s face tensed. Then something happened. It can’t be, thought Jay, as scales grew across the Taxidermist’s face ...
As fast as they could the two children scurried back the way they had come. Stone tore at their hands and knees. They turned corners and climbed across grills until Jay was completely disorientated.
Eventually they reached the ladder outside the Builder’s workshops. Ismet scurried down. Jay waited for her to reach the floor, his heart beat hammering in his chest. He climbed down, touched his feet to the floor, and turned to face the broad chest of the Builder. The man held Ismet in his arms.
“Should I tell the Attendant?” the Builder asked Ismet.
They stood before the Builder’s desk. Jay felt so ashamed he thought he would be sick.
“Well? What should I do?”
“I’m sorry Builder. We were exploring. I wanted to show Jay the tunnels.”
“It looked like you were spying.”
“No, we weren’t.”
“When you watch other people and they do not know they are being watched. That is spying.”
“I’m sorry, Builder.”
He looked at Ismet for a long time. “Don’t you understand girl how lucky you are to work in the Museum? It is a privilege to be here.”
Jay tried to shrink in upon himself.
“Okay Ismet.” The Builder gestured to the door. “I won’t tell your master. Go on now.”
She bowed deeply. “Should I wait for ...”
“No. Go on.”
Ismet left the room. The Builder turned to Jay.
“It was my fault, Builder. I asked Ismet to show me the tunnels.”
“I expected more from you. The Teacher needs to be able to trust you. Can she trust you, Scion-Teacher?”
“Yes Builder,” he whispered.
“What were you hoping to see?”
“I don’t know. Just the tunnels.”
“Be honest with me. What were you looking for?”
Jay hesitated. He realized intuitively that his future at the Museum depended on being honest now.
“I wanted to see the kangaroo,” he said. “It was bleeding when we brought it down. I don’t understand how that can be.”
The Builder looked at him for a long time, mulling something over in his mind.
“Come with me,” he said, standing. “I will show you something.”
The Builder led him to the Nature Dome. They entered the desert zone and found another kangaroo, a large red, standing silently on the ground.
“It is the same as the other,” said the Builder. “Look.”
He pushed against the hip of the large beast. With a quiet click a panel of skin and fur flipped open, revealing an inner cavity.
“This is the battery pack,” explained the Builder. “It powers a device that pumps fluids through the animal. This fluid keeps the eyes, ears, mouth and nose moist, and preserves its integrity. Tubes that mimic vessels and veins run throughout this beast. The fluid is heated to warm the animals.”
Jay inspected the pump in the kangaroo’s hip. “When we carried the other down to taxidermy, I saw blood.”
“The fluid is red in colour to achieve a natural pigmentation.”
Jay nodded as the Builder closed the panel.
“The design is clever,” said the Builder. “The taxidermists have been building these animals for decades. They are lifelike. But they are not alive.”
“I understand,” said Jay. “It’s just that ... I thought I saw something else ...”
“What did you see?” asked the Builder.
“I don’t know.”
Animals stood under the blue dome. In each of them small pumps moved fluids through their bodies. They did not move.
“Builder, will you tell the Teacher?”
“No. She does not need to know. But from now on, if you have questions, come to me. Don’t sneak about. Understood?”
“Yes, Builder.”
Immersed in darkness and quiet, Jay sat in a hover car in the Science Dome, thinking about what he had seen.
The kangaroo was bleeding. The animal on the operating table had seemed alive, despite the Builder’s explanation. Could he be mistake? Was the Builder telling him the truth? Was the Builder working with the Taxidermist? Perhaps the Builder was ignorant of what the Taxidermist was doing.
The door to the gallery opened. Footsteps approached along the platform.
“There are three quarks in each proton,” said a man’s voice. “. When Yellis separated the strange quark, the energy released sent shock waves through space. It tore a hole in our universe.”
“Dark Matter,” said another voice. “But Law forbids this approach. All could be lost."
“There is risk. But think of the gains. We have to try.”
Jay rose to his feet and pressed a bu
tton on the hologram control panel, illuminating the Science Dome.
“You are not alone,” he said to the men.
Jay faced the Curator of Science and the Doctor.
“Scion-Teacher,” growled the Curator of Science. “What did you hear?”
“Why did you not inform us to your presence?” asked the Doctor.
“I announced myself when I became aware I was not alone.”
“Sitting alone in the dark?”
“A scion does not listen in on his colleagues,” said the Curator of Science. “I am extremely disappointed.”
“No,” said Jay defiantly. “I was not listening. I was here to be alone.”
“Leave us,” said Jack Gaunt.
Jay retreated along the platform. As he reached the doorway he heard the muffled tones of conversation.
“He could not have understood. Still, it would be better if he goes.”
“Yes,” said the Doctor. “He has no future here.”
The door slid shut behind him.
Chapter 5 RESPONSIBILITY
The Central Square shimmered and baked in the morning sunlight. Jay watched pedestrians pass by, moving between the Ascendancy buildings. All bowed to the Teacher and her scion.
Behind them the Boulevard stretched away to the coast. The Museum perched at its end like a great, squat insect. Across the square rose the Ascendancy, a palace built from quarry granite. Crystals in the granite sparkled in the morning light. In that building sat the Ascendancy, the eight-member governing council of the city. The Ascendant worked and lived there with the Mother, the Instructor, the Treasurer and the Supervisor. The General worked from the Barracks, a red fortress on the northern side of the piazza.
Jay glanced at the imposing Barracks. Children were taken from the Repopulation Program and raised in the Barracks to be soldiers. The army paraded in the Central Square often, training for a future war. Although, there was no-one left to fight.
Apart from the Director, the last member of the Ascendancy sat in the Courthouse. Inside this marble building, people accused of breaking the law faced the Judge.
The sun climbed higher. The odd statue and waterless fountain littered the piazza. The desert wind blew relentlessly across the space, howling amongst the statues. Jay was intimidated by the hardness of the imposing buildings. The members who resided and worked in these buildings were beyond his comprehension, masked figures who rarely spoke to lesser people.
He was nervous as they climbed the stairs of the Ascendancy, anxious about meeting the Instructor. And he was anxious with the Teacher. Jack Gaunt and the Doctor must have approached her. Yet she said nothing.
“Teacher?”
She turned back to face him.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“We should not keep the Instructor waiting.”
“Teacher, has the Curator of Science or the Doctor approached you recently, about an incident that occurred in the Science Dome?”
“Yes. I spoke with the Curator of Science.”
Jay waited. The Teacher stepped down to him, her eyes squinting in the bright light.
“Jack told me his version of what happened. The incident reinforced his impression of you. He believes I should search for a new scion.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” protested Jay. “He thought I was listening but I ...”
“Peace. You do not have to worry.”
“But ...”
“The Curator of Science is an admirable man in many ways. He is supremely committed to the Museum and to his work. But he is not generous. I did not believe his version of the meeting. I know you would not spy on another person.”
Jay flushed as he recalled his encounter with the Builder. “You do not want to hear my version?”
She shook her head. “It is not my role to discipline you,” she said. “You make the decisions in your life. Our relationship is based on trust, not on power. It must be this way between Teacher and Scion. I trust you, Jay.”
Time to grow up, he thought. No more sneaking in the tunnels.
A trumpet blew. Across the shimmering paving stones a gate swung open and a company of soldiers marched from the Barracks into the square. Black uniforms covered these soldiers, tunics reinforced with breast plates and arm guards. Black helmets hid their features. Like of an ordered swarm of giant ants, they marched across the piazza towards the Courthouse.
The Teacher’s eyes were hollow. “For all we do, there are still some who do not learn.”
People bustled in all directions in the wide antechamber of the Ascendancy. The bureaucrats of the Ascendant wore robes of lavender. This space was busier than Jay had ever seen the foyer of the Museum had ever been.
They approached a young woman staffing a desk.
“Good morning Teacher,” greeted the woman, bowing. “You are here to meet the Instructor.” She scanned an appointment book on the desk. “The Instructor will see you soon. Please wait in the courtyard.”
“Thank you.”
The Teacher led Jay deep into the palace. The courtyard where they waited was open to the sky. Water flowed from outlets high in the walls, plummeting into pools set in the courtyard floor. Sunlight diffused through the fine mist that filled the air. A slender, white barked karri grew from an island in the largest of the pools. The Teacher and Jay crossed a bridge and sat beneath the tree.
“Have you met the Instructor?” asked Jay.
“Of course. I met her when I became Scion and then again when I became Teacher.”
“I have seen her before, also. She did not say anything.”
The Teacher smiled. “It is rare to hear an ascendant speak.”
“Why?”
“I think because they have ascended to a place where speech is meaningless.”
“What will the Instructor do?”
“Nothing. She just needs to meet you. Now, enough questions. Let’s enjoy the quiet and this rare opportunity of coolness and moisture.”
They sat beneath the tree for an hour. Moisture dripped from leaves, catching sparkles of light. Two wagtails flew into the courtyard. They touched to ground a few feet in front of Jay, twittering and swinging their black tail-fans from side to side.
Hello wagtails, thought Jay. What are you doing here?
The birds bounced across the ground and jumped into a pool, splashing water with their wing and tail feathers. Memories of he and Rhada were summoned. He closed his eyes and gave free rein to these pleasant, drifting thoughts.
The Instructor stood before him. “Scion, arise now,” said the Teacher with urgency. He scrambled to his feet and bowed. Blood rushed to his face. The Instructor’s feet were bare, her toes gripping the grass. They looked old. The skin was withered and gray like the skin of a sun-ravaged shark long dead on the beach.
The Teacher’s hand on his shoulder guided him up.
“Instructor, allow me to present the new Scion-Teacher of the Museum. He was Teacher of Ocean-Hearth. He will work tirelessly to preserve the knowledge of Science, Nature and History.”
The Instructor, mother of all teachers, stared at him. Like the Director she wore a white robe with no sash of evil. She wore a gold mask – no detail but hollows for eyes. The mask was androgynous. Long brown hair with streaks of gray flowed from beneath the mask across her shoulders.
Time stretched. Eyes blinked behind the mask, dark and without colour. He held her steady gaze. The two wagtails flew from the pond and lit on her shoulder. They chattered aggressively and pulled at her hair with their beaks. She did not seem to notice.
The inspection lasted for half an hour. Presently she turned to the Teacher and said: “I am sorry the other died before Passage.”
The Instructor nodded at the Teacher. They returned with a deep bow as the Instructor walked across the bridge, leaving them alone beneath the tree. The wagtails flew up into the sky and disappeared.
The queue of children wound from the serving table in the kitchen into the dining hall. Ja
y and the Hearth-Father served fish and rice to each child as they passed. The younger boys bandied unsuccessfully for larger plates.
The sun touched the horizon. Two of the older girls lit torches in the kitchen and dining hall, filling the rooms with a warm glow.
“I don’t think the Instructor approved of me,” Jay told the Father.
“What makes you think that?”
“She didn’t say anything ...”
The Hearth-Father laughed. “They never say anything. I once sat in a meeting with the Mother and all the Hearth-Parents of Pars. The Mother didn’t say anything for six hours.”
“It was just a feeling. It was like when I met the Director. Neither liked me.”
The Hearth-Father served some rice into a little boy’s bowl. “That’s enough, Jason.” He turned to Jay and shook his head. “The Ascendancy are beyond liking,” he said. “They have more important things to think about.”
“I understand that I would mean nothing to them. But I really felt that ... I don’t know. That they, not despised me. That’s too strong. I felt that they found me unpleasant in some way.”
The Hearth-Father sighed. “You think too much. You always have.”
The man put his serving fork down and rested both hands on the table. His head hung low.
“Hearth-Father? Are you okay?” asked Jay.
“Just tired, boy. Just very tired.”
After eating the children begged Jay for a story. It was months since he had narrated a story to the children. This night he decided to continue a story that had been left long unfinished.
“If Teacher allows, I will tell a story,” he said.
“Please Teacher,” begged the children.
“Okay,” said Rhada, nodding at Jay. “After chores.”
“We will gather on the western balcony with the ocean below us,” said Hearth-Father. “There must be no messing around. Anyone tries it, and it is bedtime for all.”
The children of Ocean-Hearth were well disciplined. Under the direction of Rhada and Grace they set about their chores. Jay and the Hearth-Father carried oil lamps to the balcony. They sat, overlooking the ocean and waited.
Low in the west hung a crescent moon.
“I remember when you swam out there, years ago,” said the Father. “You were a little fellow.”
