Finally, having dispensed all of his gadgets and weaponry, Teller fumbled for his ray gun. He attempted to charge it, but with a minute of freedom, the soldiers tore off his armor and stabbed the wizard to death.
With the others gone, Fermi toiled on, but soon he too succumbed to defeat by our sheer numbers. The wizard attempted to flee, rocketing into the sky with his jet shoes, but lost control and tumbled to the ground.
I marveled at this sight, noting how many soldiers it took to destroy only three men. Truly, the technology of the past had made them powerful. If the wizards had numbered but a few more, I do not know what would have happened.
Arthur has never seen a wizard before, so of course he cannot know.
I crush a watch with my hammer and see the numbers scatter across the face and the hands detach from the mechanism. It may only keep time, but this is an object of the past, not the future, and it has no place here.
“Did you hear?” Arthur says this frequently. “There’s a hero coming. A real one!”
“Those are just stories. No one knows if they exist.”
“They do! Rumor is one came to Argos and cured the entire village of all their sicknesses. And they say he’s on the road now, headed straight for us.”
I want to believe him. Part of me needs to believe him. I promise myself that if this hero visits, I will ask him to heal my sick mother. Whatever the consequence, I will make sure it is done. Even if I must pledge myself as his servant for life, I will gladly do this.
***
A week later, talk spreads at the factory of a hero approaching Ilion from the north. By midday, no one speaks of anything else. They wonder what this hero must look like. How magnificent he must be. What fantastic powers he must possess.
When work ends at sundown, everyone bolts out the door with one clear destination. Arthur follows me as I weave through the crowd. I stand on the tips of my toes and look over the masses to the gates opening just ahead.
“Can you see?” Arthur says. “Is he there?”
The gates part, and I catch my first glimpse of the hero.
He has magnificent blonde hair, a strong chin, and an even stronger build. He wears a dark cloak, but he glows, as if the sun were directed only to him. The hero pulls his sword from its sheath and everyone beholds its radiance. He raises it into the air, and the shining metal bursts into red, glorious flames. As I watch the hero walk forward, I know for certain magic has come again.
“My name is Perseus!” he speaks. Like the others, he took the name of a great hero from tales before the old world. “I have come from the far north, where I have vanquished the wizards who opposed me. Wherever I have traveled, evil has cowered before me. Now I have come to grace your city with my presence. I cannot stay long, for I have an arduous journey ahead, but I promise that as long as I am here, no evil shall breach these walls.”
The crowd roars, and I watch, awe-struck, as the hero sheathes his flaming sword.
He speaks again. “In payment, I ask only that you carry my name to all corners of the world, for in this way I can live forever.” Perseus walks through the crowd, and everyone reaches out to touch him, to feel a measure of his radiance. I lose sight of him and soon the hero is gone.
***
Days pass, and I hear nothing of the hero Perseus. It is as if he has vanished from the city, yet no one has heard word of his departure. My mother’s illness worsens. She now cries in the night from pain, and I attend to her as best I can, but of course there is little I can do. As if the knowledge will quell her agony, I tell her of the arrival of Perseus.
“He has come,” she says weakly. “Does he have magic?”
“He does,” I say. “I saw his flaming sword for myself.”
“That is good,” she says. “I told you… Magic has come. I told you…”
She sleeps soundly that night, but the pain soon returns. I bring her water, blankets, and my love, but these things are not enough. She needs magic. She needs Perseus.
***
The next day, I make it my duty to find this hero and ask for his help. I search the city for any who have seen Perseus, but I learn only bits of information. He has walked by this inn. He has sent a boy to gather food for him. He has smiled at this girl and told her she is beautiful.
Finally, I lose all hope. In my thoughts, I see my mother crying out for help, but no one listens to her. She suffers alone, while blank faces stare. I enter a tavern and drink a tall glass of ale before the uproar starts.
A man bursts inside, screaming, “Wizards! Wizards from the north! They have come to test our hero’s strength!”
The entire tavern pours into the streets. I follow the current of city-dwellers uptown, this time pushing and shoving to get ahead. I cannot submit to decorum now. My mother is dying, and Perseus is her only chance.
Even as the crowd thickens, I squirm through, viewing every inch I gain as an inch closer to a cure. In my persistence, I find a spot on the wall very near the place where I saw the wizards attack one year ago. The soldiers line up beside me, but there are less of them this time, and they have smiles on their faces. The soldiers do not expect to fight. They await the arrival of our hero, our savior, our great protector.
I shudder as I see five wizards approaching, riding great silver discs that hover over the ground. I realize these vehicles are hover boards, of which I have destroyed many.
As I wait, I wonder whether Perseus will come at all. Powerful hero that he is, it would take a great deal of magic to destroy five wizards.
To my relief, a lone figure passes through the gate.
“Wizards!” he cries. “My name is Perseus. You violate the law by assaulting this city with your forbidden technologies! Speak your names, so I may know the identities of you lawbreakers.”
A wizard guides his floating disc closer, reaching for the ray gun at his side.
“You can call me Oppenheimer,” he says. “And you speak falsely, hero. We violate no law which the universe has set in place. We simply seek to use what the world has given us. If a city does not approve of our ways, we have no choice but to destroy it.”
“Enough,” Perseus shouts, no doubt aware of all Ilion watching and listening. “I will not hear your lies. The past is over, lawbreakers. There are new forces now, and if you are foolish enough to come closer, I will show you just how powerful these forces can be.”
Evidently, Oppenheimer doesn’t believe him, for an instant later, he raises his gun. It must be one of the newer models, for it only needs seconds to charge, and then the air is broken by the rippling energy.
A cry builds in my throat. Blinded by the burst of light, I almost call out when I realize that no explosion has followed the blast. Perseus’s arm is raised, and a transparent, blue-tinted bubble surrounds him. He lowers his arm, and the bubble disappears.
All five wizards raise their weapons and fire. Untroubled, Perseus blocks each one with a ray of magic. Next, the great hero draws his sword. A wizard glides to him, but Perseus waves his hand in a great arc, and bands of electricity burst from the hero’s palms and engulf his enemy. The wizard sags to the ground, his armor hollow and dead.
The others do not hesitate. At once, they fly at Perseus, flinging gadgets from their belts. With his arm raised, the hero deflects the grenades, lasers, and spiders. He shouts, and two wizards fall to the ground and turn to ash. As another approaches, Perseus’s sword bursts into flame. He waits, and as the wizard zooms by, the hero takes a mighty swing, slicing him in half from head to toe.
All goes quiet. Only Oppenheimer remains.
They eye each other, waiting. With perfect precision, Oppenheimer fires three powerful blasts with his ray gun. This time, rather than deflecting them with his magic, Perseus simply disappears.
As the smoke clears, Oppenheimer sees the charred earth and scans the area for Perseus. He hears a whisper in his ear and turns around to see his enemy standing right behind him, on his own hover board.
“I… I
don’t understand,” the wizard says, and Perseus smiles.
“And you never will.”
Glowing with light, Perseus heaves the wizard skyward, consuming him in fire. Like a comet, Oppenheimer leaves a great trail of smoke before he crashes to the earth, where Perseus finishes him off with one last discharge of lightning. The wizard’s body is devoured until only the scorched armor remains.
I wait no longer, scampering down the nearest ladder. But as fast as I move, when I reach the battlefield, only the bodies of the fallen wizards remain. With his mission complete, the hero Perseus has disappeared as quickly as he has come.
Defeated, I clench my fists and kick the dirt. I have failed. I have failed miserably. And now my mother will suffer for it. I stare forward into the endless desert and shout the hero’s name. I look upon the wizards he has defeated and swear that he could heal my mother if only I can find him.
Before returning to the city and resigning to my defeat, I notice, absentmindedly, that one of the wizards’ hover boards is missing.
***
Time passes, but I do not take notice. I hear nothing of the hero Perseus who slew the five wizards. Many agree that with our enemies defeated, he has moved on. Others say he remains in Ilion. There are whispers, even, that Perseus camps outside the city, close enough to protect us if the need arises, but far enough to maintain his privacy. If any of these rumors are true, I have witnessed no evidence and see no reason to pursue them.
I am never late to my job at the factory, but I work slower now. Arthur notices my change in behavior, but he says nothing.
It angers me that my mother still hopes the hero will return. Even during her coughing fits, even while she vomits into a pail, my mother raises he head and says, “Soon the hero will return, and this will all be over.”
“But, Mother,” I say, wanting to be honest with her, “how can you be sure?”
She looks at me, her eyes revealing no sign of weakness or failing health. She looks at me as if I should already understand, and she says, “Because he exists. Because he saved us already. And because he won’t abandon us now, not when we need him most.”
I cannot understand my mother. Her faith never wavers, even while I have surrendered mine. She spends more and more hours in bed, not sleeping, but lying awake and restless. She grows thinner each day, and I know she has not long to live. Soon, her body will surrender to death. Even while her mind abides, even while she swears she will be well again, she will pass into oblivion, and I will be forced to acknowledge her death for us both.
***
One day, on my way home from the factory, I stop by the market to purchase a cut of beef. I know my mother will refuse the meat, but I hope that if I make a soup with the bones, she will try it.
As I pay for the food, I overhear two men talking in line.
“It’s true!” one of them says. “He saw Perseus.”
“Why should he still be here, after all this time?” asks the other.
“I don’t know, but it isn’t like him to lie. My merchant friend was on his way back from Argos when he saw the hero emerge from a cave. They took one look at each other, and then the hero disappeared. He didn’t know what to do, so he kept on. But he says he knew who he saw. It was the hero! It was Perseus himself!”
I don’t wait to hear the rest. I drop the meat and proceed at a dead run. Along the way, I go to the stables and exchange everything I have in my pockets for their fastest horse. I do not stop to consider that without this money, I will struggle to pay for food in the coming weeks. I do not pause to wonder what Perseus would still be doing near the city. I do not stop or pause or think at all. I ride, and I do not look back.
Desert surrounds me. Blankets of ash cover the ground in every direction. But the sky has never looked this bright before. If I dare to look, I can almost see the sun squinting through the gray masses overhead. But I barely notice. I am concerned only with the mountains ahead, where I am sure Perseus lies in wait.
The horse wants to slow its pace, but I push it harder, watching the foggy mountains emerge from the gloom and heat. I glance to either side as we pass each boulder and crag. Not here. Nor there. The cave must be ahead.
I stick to the road, because this is where the merchant spotted him. I see no signs of a hiding-place, but I do not lose faith. My mother lies on her deathbed, and this is her last chance, her only hope.
I am almost within the mountains now. The ash and dirt have become stone and weeds. Fog rolls in and obscures my vision. Everything feels darker and heavier. My horse gallops on.
I almost miss the cave in the haze. But as soon as I see it, I immediately wheel the horse around. Dismounting, I walk through the dusty mountainside and enter the darkness, wondering if I have selected the right cave. Perhaps hundreds litter these mountains, and in my haste, I foolishly chose the first one I saw.
Then, without warning, the darkness completely disperses and I find myself blinded by an onslaught of light.
As I cover my eyes, a man says, “What are you doing here?”
Frightened, I stare forward, waiting for my eyes to adjust. When they do, I smile with glee, realizing that I have done it. I have found him!
“O, great Perseus!” I say, and drop to my knees, “I have been searching for you for so long. Please, I am sorry to disturb you. I know you are a great hero. But I am in distress.” I look up. “My mother is sick, and I desperately need your…”
My words remain unspoken as I gaze upon Perseus fully and realize that everything is not as it should be.
The hero holds his sword, but he wears only a cotton shirt and pants. Exposed are the wires, tubes, metal discs and blades, and other mechanisms lining his arms and adorning his chest. Even more surprising, his right arm appears completely robotic, only his wrist and hand covered by skin.
“Perseus,” I say, “what… what is going on?”
I observe the rest of the room. Computers and monitors line the walls. Tanks house severed heads, arms, legs and other gruesome body parts. Test tubes filled with strange and colorful liquids lie in countless boxes on the floor and tables. Enormous machines, body suits, armored vehicles, and towering monstrosities I dare not describe occupy different sections of the room. And on the ceiling, artificial lights rain down and leave nothing in shadow, nothing a mystery.
Stunned, I rise to my feet and watch Perseus sheath his sword and approach me, his inner-mechanisms flashing in the light.
“So you found a way inside,” he says. “Got past the hologram, did you?” I mutter incoherently. “It’s all right. There’s nothing I can do about it now.”
“You’re…”
I cannot form the words, but he understands. “Yes, this is the way I look. You must have suspected that I was hiding something beneath my cloak.”
“I… but, you. You’re a machine.”
He laughs. “Parts of me, maybe. But I am still a man. Of course, when I see a defect in my design, I have no choice but to correct it, don’t I?”
“But,” I say, clinging to my ignorance, “what about magic?”
“Magic?” he says, and laughs again as I stare, horrorstruck. “You really think magic exists? Sorry to tell you this, kid, but it doesn’t. How could it? Can you even define magic? It has no rules. No scientific basis. It’s pure fantasy, really. A force like that simply can’t exist in the real world.”
I look around the room, as if searching for something to justify my earlier beliefs, to redeem the hero in my eyes. But everything only supports what Perseus has told me.
On the floor, leaning against a titanic microscope, lies the missing hover board from the battlefield. I approach the device.
“Their suits were dreadfully outdated,” Perseus explains as I crouch down, “but these were worth a look. Who knows? Its parts may come in handy someday.” I pick up the board. It feels like glass, but when I try to place it flat on the ground, it floats. I swipe my hand underneath but feel nothing. I know there is a science behind t
his technology, and I know I’m supposed to despise it, yet I cannot even comprehend its function.
“The wizards have the right idea,” Perseus continues. “But they don’t go far enough. They can’t even fathom our true potential.”
Standing up, I place the board where I found it and face Perseus.
“I don’t understand. You were supposed to be different. You were supposed to oppose the others, to reject the horrors of the past.”
“The past isn’t going anywhere,” he counters. “And neither am I.”
“How could you do this?” I say, outraged at him, but also at myself for believing this man was who he claimed to be. “How could you trick everyone like that?”
“It was necessary. I needed to introduce a system that, real or not, no one would ever feel the need to probe or understand. And what better system than magic, which defies logic itself?” He raises his arms, and I see the open gashes filled with tiny electric motors and even tinier computer chips. “As you can see, I have worked tirelessly over the years, but my efforts have been worth it. Soon, I will reach my ultimate goal.”
“To destroy Ilion,” I guess.
He snickers. “Hardly. What I want should be obvious, really. It is what any hero wants, when you get down to it. It is what I mean when I say to carry my name to all corners of the world. For in this way…”
“You can live forever,” I finish for him.
He nods. “Exactly. For what is a hero, if not immortal? And I’m getting closer. I’m nearly there, actually.”
I back away, but he notices immediately and laughs. “You really think you can escape? Have you any idea of the power I have accumulated?” He laughs again. “Go, then. It’s not as if you’ll convince anyone. Don’t you see? They need to believe in me, to believe in magic. It is the only thing that gives them any shred of hope or happiness, and they will deny what you say to their dying breath. So go on. I will not stop you.”
I walk away, but he calls back one last time. He goes to a table, taking out a vial filled with a clear liquid. Hesitating, Perseus almost puts it away. Then he hands it to me.
Ruined Cities Page 19
