Dark Matter

by Luke Donegan

  “Clara!” Sian shook the sobbing girl. “Stop it!”

  Erys pushed his way through the debris of broken capsules towards them.

  “Sian,” he said. “She can’t help it.” He moved between them.

  Exasperated, Sian pulled free. She turned away and covered her face.

  “Go and help the others,” ordered Erys.

  Without pause Sian consented.

  Erys turned to Clara. He drew her into his arms and held her, the Golden Tamarin hugged between them. He stroked her short, brown hair.

  “It’s okay,” he soothed. He looked over the girl’s head, watching Sian join the children.

  We’ve lost everything, and you have lost your master.

  “It’s okay to cry,” he whispered.

  He watched Sian taking one of the small boys into her arms. You have lost your master, he thought. And now you have to be in control. You have to look after all the others. It is okay to cry. But only for a little while. You must take this sorrow and hide it deep inside where the others cannot see. If not, your sorrow will fuel their own and they will cry and cry and their sorrow will never find an end.

  They excused Clara and all the workshop children except for Felicity. The children were at the end of their endurance. The last four worked through the afternoon and early evening carrying the remaining mammals out through the Museum to the beach.

  Later in the day Jaime joined them in the cistern. The acting Curator of History worked silently. Erys noted that Masodi had not come to help, but he did not ask Jaime the whereabouts of the Curator of Science.

  Two hours after the sun had set they carried the last of the animals to the beach. Erys and the Builder placed two infant gorillas gently on the pile of animals.

  They sat on the sand and gazed at the mound before them, too exhausted to move.

  “Felicity,” the Builder said to the girl sitting beside him.

  “Yes, Builder?”

  “I am sorry it has taken me so long to choose a scion. But I know now. You are the strongest.”

  The young girl looked at the Builder, his face dark in the night sky.

  “Builder?”

  “I want you to be my scion.” He turned to her and offered a smile. “Scion-Builder. What do you think?”

  “Yes Builder,” she replied. “Thank you.”

  She placed a hand on his shoulder and they turned back to the animals.

  After a few minutes Erys forced his weary body up. “There is one more,” he said to the small group. “And then we are done.”

  He held out a hand to Sian. She looked at this tall man standing over her, framed with stars, brooding sea behind.

  “Are you ready?”

  She grasped his hand and he pulled her to her feet.

  “Yes,” she said, as they embraced.

  The Taxidermist’s body waited on the bed in his private room. He lay on his back, open eyes staring at the ceiling. It had been the custom for hundreds of years to leave the eyes of the prematurely deceased open. When someone died before Passage, their body remained. People believed that to die before Passage was a terrible tragedy. In their understanding Passage led them to the Spirit world. When someone died before Passage their Spirit was lost.

  But for the Museum staff who knew the truth about Passage, this experience of premature death was a mystery.

  Where was the Taxidermist’s Spirit now?

  By avoiding Passage, had his Spirit avoided being drawn to Dark Matter?

  Was his Spirit lost, or had it found its way on the great wind?

  They left his eyes open. The eyes were windows to the Spirit world. His yellow, animal eyes were gazing somewhere. Erys and his companions could only hope he had found his way.

  Erys and the Builder lifted the Taxidermist gently onto a stretcher. Clara held onto her master’s hand as they carried him from his room and through the dismantled laboratory.

  “Felicity, help me gather the children.”

  Sian and the Scion-Builder broke left the others and headed to the children’s dormitory.

  Erys, the Builder and Clara carried the Taxidermist’s body into the elevator and rode it to the ground floor.

  Emerging into the foyer they faced a crowd of people gathered beneath the great, three-legged statue. The collected employees of the Museum waited silently. Masodi wore his red robes of Science, and Jaime the yellow robes of History. The Attendant waited with her collection of red-suited attendants, including Ismet and Jordan. The Doctor and his scion, and all the employees of the Museum, except for the Workshop children who were following behind, were present. Only the Teacher and the Director were absent.

  As Erys and the Builder carried the Taxidermist through the large space, the employees of the Museum bowed. No-one spoke.

  Walking past the mourners Erys stared ahead, jaw clenched and aching. Tendons strained along his neck.

  He walked on, ignoring the growing weight of the body. Jaime ran forward and opened the doors, held them open as Erys and the Builder passed through. The mourners followed.

  The procession made its way around the Museum, down through the dunes onto the beach. With the help of Jaime, Erys and the Builder lifted the body and placed it high on the waiting mound of animal bodies. They positioned the Taxidermist with his hands folded on his chest and open eyes facing the stars.

  The group gathered around the pyre and sat silently on the beach sand. As they waited, the Builder poured glycerol over the bodies of the animals and the Taxidermist. The sticky liquid glistened in the rising moonlight, seeping over feathers, fur, scales and skin.

  Sian and Felicity arrived with the children. With the rolling ocean at their backs they faced the pyre. Sian joined Erys and the Builder, composed herself then turned and faced the employees of the Museum.

  “My colleagues and friends. Thank you for coming, and for the respect you have shown.

  “The Curator of Nature is not with us. Xia Tsang should be standing before you. I will speak for her. Forgive me for I do not possess Xia’s wisdom or her elegance. I will not speak with the eloquence of language that this moment demands.”

  She paused, brushed her long, dark hair from her face.

  “Behold the work of the Taxidermist and the Curator of Nature. Behold what remains of thousands of species. We hoped to bring these species back to life. We hoped to release these animals into the world. We hoped to ... we wanted to ...”

  She gripped Erys’ hand to steady herself.

  “... to rebuild something that was once beautiful. Something we have lost.”

  A wave crashed on the shore behind them.

  “I am sorry but it is not to be.”

  Erys glanced at the Museum beyond the dunes, crouching like a beast in darkness.

  “A crime has been committed,” continued Sian. “We broke the First Law of Nature – ‘One shall not create unnatural life.’ We broke that Law and have paid a terrible price. The Taxidermist ...”

  Sian turned to the body on the pyre.

  “Taxidermist, you have paid the ultimate price. But I do not believe you were wrong.”

  A number of the people gathered on the beach murmured in agreement.

  “You lived your life with dignity and beauty. I hope you find passage to the ocean of souls. Please, lead the Spirits of these animals with you. Lead them on the great wind and take them home.”

  She bowed deeply, giving respect to the Taxidermist and the animals on the pyre. She then faced the Builder and nodded.

  The Builder struck a flint and brought flame to a torch. He laid the torch gently at the base of the pyre. Flame licked at the glycerol, slinking quickly through the bodies. Red lines lit along wings and legs. Fur singed and blackened.

  The fire hungered for these bodies. It danced with excitement, building up until the pyre was consumed with fire.

  As the furnace raged the workers of the Museum moved back to cooler air. They watched with glowing faces as the animals disappeared behind a wall of
red fire.

  Erys stood between Sian and Clara. Their hands sought his. Together they braved the growing heat. They wanted the heat to somehow consume their anger and sorrow, and leave them cleansed.

  The Taxidermist’s skin blackened and crackled. Waves of fire washed across his body. Sparks exploded from his eyes.

  The heat stung Erys’ eyes. As he watched the Taxidermist rose into a sitting position. The animist looked around until he spied Erys through the flames. His jaws opened and flames roared from his lungs.

  Erys stepped towards the fire.

  “Gregor,” he cried. “Do not despair! We will salvage something out of this!”

  The animist transformed into a reptile. Not just his head. His entire body changed, became covered with scales. The reptile looked around, raced up the mound of charcoal animals, claws scrabbling against dust and ash. It reached the hottest flames. It twisted and lifted up with the fire.

  The animist glowed and was now a body of sparks. The body exploded and the sparks raced up into the sky, a glowing river of showering sparks. It rose up and up, above the bonfire and the beach, above the Museum, above the dark Earth, and up ... into the cold silence of the universe.

  On it continued, past stars and endless clouds of gas, a great river of sparks, a stream of spirits, the Taxidermist and the animals, each a red spark braving the cold ... searching ... searching for home, for an ocean of Spirit that was no longer there.

  Erys rode the elevator to the Doctor’s rooms. He leaned his forehead against the wall of the elevator and closed his eyes. Smooth vibrations flowed around his eyes and massaged his cheeks.

  Did the Teacher betray us? he asked himself. Could he have done it?

  He did not believe the boy was evil. Ariel could not have chosen so badly. If anything her choice had been too good. She had chosen a scion so obsessed by the Law that he would protect it to the end, no matter what. Perhaps the boy had betrayed them to protect the First Law of Nature.

  The soothing vibrations ceased as the elevator doors opened.

  Or perhaps he had been corrupted. Jay had brought Dark Matter back with him and had been infected by it. Perhaps it had corrupted him morally as well as physically.

  Determined to discover the truth, he made his way to the hospital ward. On arrival he found his way barred.

  “You cannot go in,” said the Doctor.

  “Is something wrong?”

  The Doctor stood in the doorway. “He is resting. He should not be disturbed.”

  Erys sidestepped and the Doctor mirrored him.

  Erys grinned without humour. “What are you up to?”

  He shoved the man aside and entered the ward.

  The Teacher was sitting up. Coils and fibers of Dark Matter emerging from his body slunk across the bedclothes and up the wall behind him, moving slowly, feeling the air. Some dissipated like smoke or mist, others seemed to emerge from thin air. But all were tied to his body, sprouting from his eyes, his legs and arms and chest. Like charmed serpents they swayed back and forth, testing the texture of the objects and surfaces around them.

  Masodi stood beside the bed. In his hands he held one of the smoky fibers. His lips moved close to the Teacher’s ear, speaking words Erys could not hear. As Erys watched, the Curator of Science gently manipulated the tentacle so that it looped back towards the Teacher’s chest. Slowly, the head of the tentacle burrowed back into the Teacher’s flesh, forming a perfect loop.

  The Teacher nodded. He grasped the writhing fibers of Dark Matter and twisted them so they re-entered his body. Each time he laid his hands on a tentacle the smoky fiber thickened and became more substantial.

  The Doctor stepped beside Erys and cleared his throat. Masodi and the Teacher saw him in the doorway. The smoky tentacles turned towards him also. Each splayed out with many fingers, writhing in his direction.

  “Scion,” greeted the Teacher with surprise. Black cords of smoke drifted from Jay’s eyes, concealing his expression.

  Masodi on the other hand looked guilty and quickly cast his eyes down.

  “Are you alright, Erys?” asked the Teacher.

  “I ...”

  He did not know what to say. He did not understand what he was seeing. He was exhausted, used up and empty. Something inside him gave and he wanted to sit on the floor and cover his eyes in defeat.

  “I just wanted to tell you that ... Xia Tsang’s trial is this afternoon. I thought you would like to know.”

  He shambled away, the vague hope that the Teacher was on their side now gone.

  “Erys,” called the Teacher after him. “Erys! We need to talk.”

  Tendrils of black smoke shot from the Teacher’s body and writhed through the air after the receding man. Coiling, reaching, snapping. Erys never realised how close they came.

  Like morning mist they reached their limit and dissipated into the air.

  The sun hammered the Earth with a relentless fury. Erys and the Builder walked along the Boulevard to the Central Square. Middle Day heat generally kept people indoors. But Erys liked the heat. And this day was a special day. The excitement of a trial drew people into the heat. Profiteers were already setting up their markets in the distant piazza.

  The Builder thought about the primary Laws: One shall not create unnatural life. One shall not explore the subatomic. One shall not kill. They were the three pillars of their society. A three-legged beast supporting moral certainly on its shoulders.

  Laws which in the end were made to be broken. He, Xia Tsang and Gregor had broken one. Even Ariel, guardian of the Laws, had ratified their crime.

  He wiped his brow and squinted against the harsh light. The world had changed. These Laws no longer applied. Xia Tsang was right. If they were ever to build a world worth living in, a different set of laws had to be devised.

  The Builder clenched his fists. He was angry at himself, and at the people in the Ascendancy buildings before him. Erys was right to criticise him. He should have fought harder. Should have found a way.

  Ariel, he thought. I have been self-pitying since you left. I let myself go. But now I have a scion. You would be proud of her. She worked through the day, carrying the dead. She worked on when the others could no longer work. My scion.

  Ariel, I have been so lost. But I will find a way to build something out of this.

  He walked towards the Courthouse burning with determination. Marketers were busily setting wares out on benches. Food, clothes, trinkets - wares that had nothing to do with the trial about to begin. On one bench a seller laid chicken carcasses out on beds of dry ice.

  They will be rotten before the day’s end, thought the Builder.

  Moments later they faced the gleaming marble facade of the Courthouse. The towering white fortress of the Law was so bright it hurt the eyes.

  The Laws are wrong, he thought. We have to build something new.

  “Builder?”

  Erys’ eyes were pools of black fluid. This young man was composed of something new. He had been to another world and come back. Perhaps a new material lay somewhere within him. The beginnings of new Law.

  “Builder?”

  “Yes Erys?”

  Or perhaps the young man was tainted, corrupted beyond redemption.

  “Builder. I am sorry for what I did to you. You have been like a father to me, and I betrayed you.”

  The Builder remembered back to the last night he had shared with Ariel before her death.

  I cannot choose Erys as my scion, Ariel had told him. I cannot. He can dazzle you with a smile. He can weave a tale around your soul. He can make you cry with less than ten words. But Lucien, I cannot choose him. Not over the boy. The truth is, Jay will make a better Teacher. Erys is ... he is careless with the Law. As I am, my love. As you are. But Erys more so. He is barely contained. I love him, but he is so proud. So volatile. Oh, it will break his heart.

  Erys stood before him, head downcast. His pride lost. Teardrops of Dark Matter dripped from his eyes.

 
; “Builder. Forgive me.”

  Perhaps Erys would be a better Teacher in a different world. A world with different laws.

  The Builder nodded. “I forgive you boy.”

  And he did forgive him. But in that moment he was distracted by the markets behind them, and the sweet smell of meat beginning to turn beneath the fierce sun. The scent of rotting flesh, and the fear of what was to come.

  The Chamber – the massive cavity at the heart of the Courthouse! This five hundred year old structure was like a cave scooped by giants from the gut-rock of a mountain. The floor, the walls, the tiered balconies and balustrades were made of smooth white marble. Erys and the Builder stood in the public chamber, fifty feet above the Prisoner’s Floor. The balconies above and below filled rapidly with onlookers. Some wept openly in anticipation of the Curator’s fate, some gritted their teeth and clutched the balustrades with tight grips. Some seemed eager and excited, and others openly hostile.

  Sunlight filled the Chamber and the marble surfaces glowed with an intensity that stung the eyes. Erys shaded his eyes, trying to see details through the brightness.

  An ornately carved bench was reserved for the Judge. Below it was a wider bench for the Lawyers – the Prosecutor and the Defender and their scions, and the Scion-Judge between them. On the marble wall behind the benches the primary Laws of Nature, Science and History were inscribed with inlaid silver.

  Erys and the Builder were the only employees from the Museum to come. Sian had pleaded and argued with the Builder.

  “You cannot go,” he had told her.

  “But I am her scion. I have to go.”

  “No, Sian. You most of all. Anyone there risks being judged guilty by association. You especially. We cannot lose you as well.”

  She turned to Erys, her eyes pleading.

  “Please, Erys. Tell him. She can’t face the Judge alone.”

  He held her gently. “No,” he said. “They could take you too. I will go for you.”

  Suddenly a hush descended on the Public Gallery as a door opened to the Prisoner’s Floor. Xia Tsang, with an accompaniment of guards, walked into the Chamber.