shapes in the clouds. Thinking about what he would do with his time off.
Mar came to the large tree that marked the halfway point. He left the path and crossed toward it, stepping over fallen branches and high weeds. He patted the trunk and walked around to the rear, sliding a little down the embankment toward the creek. He dipped a hand in the water, sniffed it and sipped. Ahljaela reached into his small pack and removed a cloth napkin. Inside were three wheatballs. Like hardened oatmeal, Mar took scoops of the food from his breakfast this morning, balled them up and squeezed them to express any water. He hid them in his pack in his room. Even though he shared space with twelve people, he knew no one would look in his things on the last day of the cycle. Still, if he had been caught, he could be fired.
He pounded the wheatball with his fist and it cracked into three pieces. He scooped water from the creek, popped a piece in his mouth and then chased it with the water. He let it sit for a moment to loosen the paste up. He swallowed and closed his eyes. Mar reached behind him and removed the now-empty plastic bottle and filled it again in the creek. He put another shard of the wheatball in his mouth and sipped from the bottle as he climbed the hill and sat against the base of the tree. He rested for only ten minutes. Sipping and eating. Then he walked again.
The sun set and he saw the hills in the last orange light of the day. The green expanse of fields receded to gray but he kept walking straight. A few minutes later, lights popped on in the homes ahead. He smelled the field of cabbage to his right. The thick scent of chlorophyll and damp soil. It must have rained here earlier. On the left side of the road, the fumarella plants smelled the same. There was a slight spice to it, though, carried across the street on the breeze of the now-infrequent passing vehicles.
The moon was barely half full. Its light wasn't much, but it helped keep him on the dirt path. His white and beige clothes made him visible to that occasional car. He passed three houses and their fields. Then the fourth. The fifth was his.
Mar's hand touched the wood of the fence and gate and he sighed again. He pushed it open and closed it quickly, latching it. He walked down the small slope between the sections of wheat and up the hill toward the house. The only light on was the porch lamp, so he knew he was too late to see his sons. He set the pack on the step, knocked on the wood and walked to his right. He passed a goat and shuffled through the thick green grass before it tumbled down toward the stream. He groaned and let his pack drop. Then he slipped out of his shirt and pants. As he kicked his shoes off, he heard his wife coming.
"Hello," Laphé said.
"Hello." Now nude, he turned toward her and kissed her on the mouth.
She pulled her head back quickly and said, "Yes. Please, get in the water." He laughed and put his foot in. He gasped and she tossed the bar of soap to him. It was waist deep and he crouched down to wash a week's worth of filth from him.
"How is everyone?"
"The boys are good," she said. Laphé sat on the hillside and kept speaking, "Father is the same."
"Of course."
"The indoor pump broke again."
"Again?" Mar splashed water onto his head and shivered. "Is it fixed now?"
"Yes. I traded with Stam over the hill. She wanted a barrel of milk to do it."
"All at once?"
Laphé laughed. "No. Of course not. She's gotten about a quarter of it so far." She paused. "I hope that was the right thing."
Mar shook his head in the near darkness. He looked to his wife and saw her silhouetted against the orange-yellow porchlight. "Your decisions don't need my approval. You run the house." She nodded and he left the stream. He took the towel from her and said, "The walk home was uneventful."
She leaned over toward his clothes and reached into the shoes and pockets, pulling together the bills. She held them up to the light and squinted to see the color of the Caesar's faces. "Twenty-two."
"Yes." Mar pulled on his pants and said, "Any unexpected expenses this week?"
"Rovil's birthday."
He playfully smacked his head. "Of course. He wanted that toy plane? That's just one denar." She nodded and hugged him. "Still leaves two for the jar."
Laphé smiled and kissed her husband. "Siler River's the best thing that's ever happened to us."
IV
DONOVAN
162 Years Before the End
"Your attention, please," an unseen announcer said over the image of the emperor's seal, a stylized golden eagle whose wings encircled a mask painted blood red over a purple fluttering flag. "Lord Imperator, Princeps Senatus, Caesar Maxentius the Ninth."
The seal dissolved and the elderly visage of the Caesar appeared. He was seated behind his desk in the palace and the sun shone through the window behind him, illuminating his thin, silver hair. He was wearing his usual dark gray military tunic with the gold and jeweled necklace that draped under his plum-colored epaulets and over his shoulders.
"Greetings, Tiberia," he said. With a slight grin, he continued, "I speak to you today regarding a great opportunity, not only for the citizens of our nation, but for all of Larsa." He looked down at his papers and lifted them somewhat while lowering his face. "As you well know, science has afforded us many luxuries and improved all our lives. I have spoken to our science consul and our health consul and I know there are still a great many things we can accomplish."
"Remarkable," Dr. Ryall Donovan said. He was staring intently at the monitor hanging in the hallway. The Caesar's face was still partially obscured and he kept speaking.
"I have established a program to begin research into a life extension project. For this, we will need the help of the greatest minds the world has to offer. Whether by medication or cloning, robotics or gene manipulation, I know an answer is out there. The person who divines the proper path will secure for themselves, not only a vaunted place in Tiberia, but an equally important place in history. The lives of many millions will be bettered, and none more than yours, brilliant scientist or gifted doctor."
He lowered the paper and looked toward the camera, grinned again and said, "Certainly there are governments that may not agree with me and my aims, but I assure you … this is for more than Tiberia's sake." He looked down again, the paper covering the lower half of his face.
"The details you require can be found through the science and health consulates. If you are prevented from this research by your government's antiquated rules and regulations, you will be welcomed to Tiberia. If you would seek entrance to our nation, simply contact the nearest Tiberian embassy and it may be arranged."
He dropped the paper to the desk and lifted his head. The Caesar straightened and put his right hand on the surface. "Today begins a new era. Good fortune to us all." He balled up his pale, arthritic fist and pressed it against his left breast. "Long live the Empire."
The image dissolved back to the fluttering flag and then the news anchors began to speak. Donovan reached over and turned it off before walking away.
"He's expecting me," he said to the guards outside the chamber.
"Yes, sir." They stepped aside and the double doors opened. Donovan entered two paces and bowed, waiting for Caesar's welcome.
"Your thoughts?"
The doctor raised his head and slowly advanced. He hadn't been given the usual formal invitation but he proceeded. "Very convincing, imperator."
"I believe so, as well." The sound came from all over the room, but Donovan kept his attention focused on the large cube in the center. Lights flickered along its surface as its processors worked and the disembodied Caesar spoke again, "I spent a few days recording bits and pieces of video last year. I provided the new audio just yesterday."
Donovan nodded. Caesar said nothing. The doctor lightly cleared his throat and said, "What manner of response do you anticipate?"
"I have scoured the Matrix for businesses, institutes, and individuals who have made strides in this direction. I
have identified three dozen who have great potential."
The doctor licked his lips and said, "Imperator, what if cooperation is required?"
"Elaborate."
"Myself, for example." He folded his hands behind his back and continued, "I am well versed in neurology and developed the memory transfer techniques. But I know nothing of cloning or robotics. My computer skills are … excellent, if I may be immodest …"
"You may," Caesar interrupted.
"But that is not my primary field. For you to become mobile, minituarization of that technology will be required. This is not something that I am able to do presently. I know few in Tiberia who can."
"And you believe multiple people, working in concert, will be necessary."
Donovan tilted his head down. "I do, lord."
Caesar paused and then said, "Perhaps. I will monitor all responses to my message and determine what course of action will be required."
"I may be in error," the doctor said. "Someone may develop an answer on their own." His clasped hands rubbed within each other and he spoke again, "However, I do not believe an organic solution will be found. Our understanding of genetics has not progressed far enough to allow for a true clone of your former self. Or even the implantation of your mind upon another's."
"Given your apprehension," Caesar said, "are you now rescinding your role as leader of the program?"
Donovan nearly scoffed. A flush of fear raced through him as he stopped
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