Lords of Kobol - Prelude: Of Gods and Titans

by Edward T. Yeatts III

great profit to Baraz Bio Medical." Karin's eyes steadied on Saeros' face. He no longer seemed genial. "With each medication you release, your bottom lines increase …"

  "And do you know when the last new medication by BBM was approved?" The PM seemed surprised at having been interrupted. "Two years ago. It had been in development for eleven years and was cleared by reviews and trials four years before approval."

  "And how much money has BBM reaped with it?"

  Baraz tilted her head to one side and said, "I was not aware that corporations had been outlawed." Saeros chuckled. "Or that profits were made illegal."

  "They are not, my dear." He straightened his collar and said, "History is full of examples of companies that … take advantage. Our job is to slow everything down. We need to make sure what you're offering is safe and worthy of the marketplace."

  "Regarding the latter," she began, "isn't that for the marketplace to decide?"

  "You may know medicine," Saeros said, softly, "you may even know business, but you don't know government and you don't know history."

  Baraz straightened her jacket again. "I know enough."

  "Really?"

  "I know," Karin hesitated for the slightest moment, "that on the desk of the health minister, there lies the means for the rejuvenation of bone marrow."

  Saeros blinked.

  Baraz studied the man's face but he didn't reveal any emotion. He took in a deep breath and looked toward the floor. He breathed quietly and Karin replayed her words in her head. She thought of other answers and other questions. She decided on this one, however. She had to play it out.

  "How long has it been ready for use?"

  "Two years."

  The PM was still. Then, he nodded slowly. He cleared his throat and nodded again. Saeros looked at Baraz but there was something new in his gaze. Respect.

  "Very shrewd," he said.

  She didn't respond.

  "I appreciate the effort but our procedures will remain in place."

  "While Huban and Nandia surpass us on so many fronts? Not just medicine, but electronics and …"

  "We are finished." Saeros stood and returned to his desk. Karin was slow to stand, but when she did, she looked up and saw his outstretched hand. "I will be interested to see what you do in the future."

  Baraz shook his hand quickly and left. The assistant from before guided her down the hallway and into the waiting area where Mione still sat.

  Karin nodded toward the exit and the woman followed. They rode in the lift silently and emerged in the lobby shortly thereafter. Mione tapped on her wristband furiously as they walked. The pair dodged the crowds and emerged on the street moments later.

  A long, luxury car pulled up by the sidewalk and Mione opened the door for her boss. Baraz got in and then Mione sat on the long seat beside her.

  "Still going to lunch?"

  Karin was quiet. She looked up and saw the assistant trying not to be nervous. She saw the driver looking back at them. "Yes. Let's go." The driver nodded and the car quietly moved into traffic.

  Baraz turned to the right and watched the Forum recede. She took in a deep breath and said, "My great-grandfather was a doctor in Ordoga."

  Mione glanced up and then back at her wrist. She had heard this before.

  "He came to Attica for freedom and prosperity. They didn't recognize his license to practice medicine so he started over again. Then he started BBM. My grandfather took over the business, and then my father …"

  Mione interrupted, "Didn't go well?"

  Karin's nostrils flared as she inhaled. "I ended up … 'dancing dirty.'"

  "Oh." Mione stopped what she was doing. She used to hear about "the dance" from Karin's father. "You brought up his wife?"

  "Indirectly."

  "It didn't work?"

  Baraz looked out the window as they passed a statue of Cronus, complete with sickle and lightning bolt, juxtaposed against the front of a Median church. Once in the intersection, tall office buildings and monuments stretched toward the crest of a hill.

  She decided not to answer.

  III

  AHLJAELA

  162 Years Before the End

  Mar Ahljaela stood in line behind dozens of others. He wiped his bronze-colored nose and pretended to not be bothered by the smell. It was sharp. Almost metallic. Once the initial blast of old perspiration subsided, the underlying filth odor crept in. It may not have been as bad as an open sewer, but it was still bad. Like a stagnant drainage pond that's home to migratory birds, Mar decided a few years back. He had passed one on his way home then and was immediately surprised by the similarity.

  After a week of sleeping at the factory, everyone stunk.

  It was the last day of his work cycle, though. He had two days off coming to him. He would get paid and then walk the twenty kilometers out of Gargamus to his little village. It would be late when he arrived. His wife might be the only one awake then. He smiled at the thought.

  "Name?" the man behind the desk asked.

  This man had seen him once a week for nearly ten years. Still, he asked for his name. "Ahljaela. Mar Dohl Ahljaela." The man scanned the paper, drew his finger under the name and then reached under the desk. When he handed over the small bindle of money, Mar said, "Thank you."

  He walked from the office and into the courtyard of Siler River Plastics where hundreds of other workers on Mar's cycle had gathered. Some were smoking, others were talking. Ahljaela walked past them all toward the street. He stopped at a bush, though, and bent down. He unfolded the currency and began to count it. Twenty-two denars. Five years ago, he had been promised a raise. It never showed up, of course. He separated the bills into three groups. He stuffed one into his pocket and then stepped out of his worn shoes. He pushed bills toward the toes in both, put his feet back in and started walking.

  As soon as his foot hit the sidewalk, he sighed and turned right. It was a straight road, but it was long. Barely a block away, he heard the engine of an old bus rumble to life and depart from the factory's courtyard. He watched it pass and waved to the people he knew on board. He used to take the bus out of the city. It saved him five hours of walking but it cost two whole denars for the trip.

  "Mar."

  His head whipped to the right and he saw his co-worker, Rand. "Hello."

  "Walking again, I see."

  He only nodded.

  "I'm going to stop for a lunch. Did you want to join me?"

  Ahljaela inhaled and shook his head. "No, sorry."

  "I understand." Rand looked across the street to a restaurant. "Did you hear about Thun?"

  Mar stopped walking and squinted in the sunlight. "I saw him today on the line. He left yesterday, right?"

  "He did," Rand stepped closer and continued, "but he got robbed on his way home. Took everything he just got paid."

  "Damn." Mar knew what that was like. "He didn't hide his money?"

  Rand shrugged. "I don't know. He didn't talk too much about it."

  "I'm sure." He took another step and asked, "So he just went back to work? Didn't go home?"

  "Yes."

  "They let him change cycles like that?"

  Rand laughed. "I guess so. So many robberies lately … Bo said that it was the least the company could do since they wouldn't give him his pay again."

  "Right."

  Rand stepped onto the street and waved behind him, "See you."

  "Bye."

  Ahljaela walked. He passed by restaurants and bars. There were magistrate buildings, a police station, a recruitment center. A fountain marked the edge of the city and he left the path for a moment to dowse his head in the spray. The day was sunny with no breeze. With more than seventeen kilometers to go, he needed the respite. He dipped his old plastic bottle into the water, closed it and returned to the path. If he lingered too long, the police might chase him away again.

  The sidewalk turned to dir
t and the asphalt of the highway lost its painted stripes. Trucks veered from one side to another. Cars whipped past him at more than one hundred kilometers an hour. On the main straightaway, he left the path and waded through the tall grass. For nearly an hour he walked like that, swatting away large flies and flicking beetles from his canvas trousers. Better this than the alternative.

  He saw it two years ago. Crisus was his name. He was half a kilometer ahead of Mar. They didn't know each other that well so they didn't bother to walk together. On this section of the road, a truck moved from its lane and drove into the dirt walking path right in front of Mar. The truck never left the path until it hit Crisus. He was far away but Ahljaela saw the man's body flung into the air. The truck stopped for just a moment but then drove off. Mar ran and ran but when he reached his co-worker, it was already too late. He stood and walked into the road, waving and screaming for someone to stop. Three trucks and five cars swerved and honked around him. Finally, one man stopped and placed a call to the police on his wristband. He drove away, leaving Mar to wait with the body for an hour before anyone arrived.

  This was the spot.

  He paused and looked into the grass. Nothing remained, of course, but he could still see the blood in his mind. The man's face was swollen and streams of red left both eyes, his ears, his mouth, his nose. His clothes were torn. One shoe was still on the walking path. There was the smell of feces, too.

  He swatted a large dragonfly and moved on. The road began to crest and the curves returned. He stepped back to the path and breathed a little easier as he walked. He played his usual games. Counting certain colored vehicles. Spotting