Lords of Kobol - Prelude: Of Gods and Titans

by Edward T. Yeatts III

that?"

  "You're dead sexy." He chuckled and Gaia grabbed his hand. "You know it. Women know it, too. Even if they don't think about it, they feel it." Zeus stopped laughing and he stared at her intently. "Humans and Psilons alike can feel it."

  Zeus slowly lifted his head and inhaled. "Use it."

  Gaia nodded. "No pun intended, but it's another tool in your arsenal."

  He looked toward the floor and said, "It would be difficult to get in close enough to the Titans."

  "Difficult," she said. "Not impossible."

  Zeus nodded now and said, "I just have to look for an opening." Gaia smirked and he shook his head. "I don't know how much longer I can stay."

  "I understand. It's not safe."

  "Is there anything I can get for you?" he asked. "Anything at all?"

  She frowned and rolled onto her back. Gaia let her eyes glaze over as she stared toward the ceiling. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. A few moments later, she coughed and said, "Tell me, in all your research at the Institute, did you ever find out if there's an afterlife?"

  Zeus grinned weakly and said, "No. I'm sorry."

  "Me too." She sighed and blinked. "I'd like to be with Karin again." She closed her eyes and began to rest.

  Zeus leaned over, kissed her forehead, and then left the room.

  LXXXIV

  CAESAR

  6 Years Before the End

  "'All things atrocious and shameless flock from all parts to Tiber.'"

  The emperor stood and walked toward his balcony doors. He made no move to open them. Instead, he pressed his shoulder against the wood and looked out the windows. "Four million people now. Some have come to us to put their minds in new bodies. Mostly metal and plastic, of course. A few of the really rich ones want flesh and bone." He chuckled. "They want their younger selves again."

  He turned his head and looked down into Viminal Square. His eyes danced over the cobblestones and toward the road that led to the Synoptic Church. "The vast majority are content to float." He looked over his shoulder and spoke softly, "I was. For decades, I was the only one. It's like," he raised his arms and began to gesture, "being on a toy raft or tube and drifting down a soft river. The water embraces you and if you lay down just right, it comes up to your face, just there. It's an energy, like a static shock, and it runs around you, pleasantly. You think of a thing and you're there. It appears. And you keep floating."

  Caesar looked back outside. It was night and the stars shone relatively brightly, considering the city's lights. "I did it alone for a long time. It was peaceful." He shook his head. "Others began to have their minds placed in the Matrix. Either from their artificial bodies or in place of them, it didn't matter. The quiet river became too crowded." He clasped his hands behind his back and began to amble away from the doors. "Oil. That's it. You pour oil into water, and it's separate, yes? Distinct. If you pour another oil in, you can't keep the oils separate. They begin to blend."

  He stopped walking and looked at the large deactivated monitor beside him. "Think of the thing that now calls itself Prefect." The emperor pointed at the screen and said, "Where is Gallian? Where is Titus or Cleon or Aelia? They're blended together. There are elements of each individual you can occasionally discern, but when they're here, on that screen, they are an amalgam. They are not who they were." He spun on his heel and walked away. "Etne had the right idea. She prolonged herself and lived in a mechanical body for a while, but she let even that die eventually." He sighed. "She was wise beyond her years."

  Maxentius slowly lifted his head and looked to the far corner of the conference room. His closet still stood there; his old mechanical puppet still sat inside. "I would try to float on the river and it was useless. I felt myself being pulled in different directions. I heard and felt the thoughts of thousands of others. As immortal as an electronic existence is, I cannot fully commit." Caesar sighed and paced back along the length of the room. "I have to remain separate. I cannot lose who I am."

  He stopped and leaned over, pressing his palms against the marble table. The emperor felt the warmth of his metal skin and bone radiate from himself and into the cold stone. "Almost two million Tiberians, already in that world." He straightened up and began to walk again. "If projections hold, we'll have three million patricians within a few months. By this time next year, four going on five million. That doesn't count the millions of wealthy from outside Tiberia who will come to us to do the work. Our optimates demand this. The census still counts them as citizens, but I would say they are not."

  Caesar chuckled and looked up at the large hanging map. "My father used to say there wasn't a magistrate elected who didn't owe tens. Not a tribune elected who didn't owe hundreds. Not a consul appointed who didn't owe thousands." The emperor smirked and finished, "Not a Caesar born who didn't owe millions."

  He turned and planted his shoulders against the lines of Eridia. "In the days of the Republic, there was a consul who was elected. Consuls were different then. He was elected and he got his laws passed but to get into that office in the first place, he borrowed millions upon millions of denars. He was enormously in debt." Caesar stepped away from the map and spoke excitedly, "And that wasn't unusual. Anyone in a position of power then got there by spending and spending and buying favor from other people in power. One consul was put in charge of some legions and he waged war. War for a decade across much of Isinnia. The gold and silver he took, the food, the wealth of the conquered nations and tribes … the slaves, it all went to pay off his debts and secure his next position of power."

  Caesar inhaled sharply and folded his arms over his chest. "Now that we're born into the title, we emperors don't have to buy our way up the stairs. But to rule … to get what you want accomplished, to get your laws passed … that requires millions, for certain. Millions of people, not denars. But sometimes," he tilted his head and let the sentence trail away. "Favors. Favors for magistrates and tribunes. Governors. Subconsuls and consuls. The occasional praetor. Businessmen. Prefects." He rolled his eyes. "Useless prefects. A title with just enough imperium to please a fat patrician. Favors for them all."

  He glanced through the windows and watched a distant aircraft's lights blink toward the horizon. "Millions of optimates. In a few years, tens of millions, probably. That's the thing about Transference, you see. They don't die. They remain citizens in that electric river, floating around and doing nothing but existing and experiencing whatever they desire. But they keep their strings on the real world. Not even death can stop them from cashing a chit." Caesar balled his fists and held them by his side. "There is no precedent for denying applications for Transference. I would set one, if I could. I would begin to deny them. But I owe too many of them to say no now. I've been Caesar so long … the ledgers are full of my debts."

  He stomped his foot and began to walk toward the long marble table. "These optimates, our great patricians," he sarcastically waved his arms with a flourish, "they are now Tiberia's greatest burden. They are … wards of the state. They are on the dole and costing us far more than any massive rabble of angry plebs could hope."

  The emperor shook his head and clicked his heels. "I've seen the figures. We can barely support the power and computing needs of those who went through the Transference already. Thousands more every month." He turned and looked back at the map. With an angry punch toward Gela, he shouted, "And we are mired in a war against our former servants because of it! For the resources. For the favors. We have thrown tens of thousands of Tiberia's soldiers into that ore pit … we cannot escape. We cannot back away without losing so much. Honor, respect, dignity." He grimaced, "The drive into the Majellan Mountains failed and yet we press on."

  General Quintus planted his feet on the floor and finally stood from the table. After licking his lips, he asked, "What are your orders?"

  His artificial eyes danced
along the borders on the map and drifted to Tiberia's neighbors. "It's time to implement the Draft in the Expansion territories. Tell your people and the praetors in those areas to make ready for unrest." Caesar sighed and quietly added, "We have no choice."

  "As you command, dominus." Quintus saluted and left the room.

  The imperator turned slowly and caught sight again of his puppet's cabinet. He sighed and lowered his head. "It truly is my fault. All of it. I see that now."

  LXXXV

  AHLJAELA

  6 Years Before the End

  "Move it!" the foreman shouted. "If this spool isn't empty by sunset, there will be no dinner!" There was some mild grumbling, but the muddied workers continued as they had been.

  The trench was dug yesterday, just in time for a rain storm. The clouds parted before dawn and just in time for Thon Ahljaela and his comrades begin their tasks. Large trucks squished into the field and dropped off huge spools of cabling. Machines lined them up and workers fed the lines into the ditch over a long trail of planks. Thon had to place brackets alongside the taut cable as they positioned it.

  A streak of brown-red mud began to drip toward his eyes and Ahljaela wiped it off with a sweaty forearm. "Where are we today?"

  Darro, his co-worker, looked up from the thick, black cable and said,