“Huh,” Joud said, considering her words. “Carla, that all sounds really amazing. I’ve seen a few pictures. I’ve seen pictures of seasteaders too. And I’ve heard, the Coalition provides transport and equipment for anyone interested in going; but after that…well, I guess, you’re on your own.”
“Sure, practically speaking, you’re on your own because there’s almost no infrastructure. But, obviously, it’s in the Coalition’s best interest to do everything possible to support success. They even allow you to count time on-planet toward your service.” Carla’s eyes grew large. She leaned past Joud to address Ziggy. “Ziggy!” she said, “Why don’t you come to Varun?”
“What?” Ziggy said, to the abrupt inclusion, “What are you talking about?”
Carla’s head bobbed excitedly. “You wouldn’t even have to do actual service; but you could become a full citizen with all the benefits!”
Interceding, Joud explained, “She’s talking about going to Varun, Zig.”
Intoxicated with possibility, Carla exclaimed, “You could both go!”
Joud dropped his head, to stare at his feet and think, while Ziggy formed a protest.
“I was born and raised in this desert. This is where I belong,” Ziggy said.
“The desert isn’t going anywhere. You can always come back. Why not try something new?” Carla argued.
Joud was staring at his feet when Ziggy looked to him for validation, so Ziggy persisted unaided. “This is my ancestral home, Carla.”
“You can live on the island in a prefab; or you can requisition a hydroliner. You should be a seasteader, Ziggy!”
Ziggy wasn’t having it. “My heart knows that my fate is tied to this place. Even the stars tell me that here, right here, is where I meet my destiny.”
Speaking to his feet, Joud murmured, “I can swim, but….” His eyebrows drew together, still speaking to his feet, he said, “that's about the extent of my survival skills.”
Turning to Joud, Carla asked, “What did you say, Joud?”
Lifting his eyes from his feet, he asked, “How's the colonization program set up?”
“Wait. What? You’re considering it?” Carla asked.
“My service is coming up,” he shrugged. “So, how does it work? What’s the first step?”
Voice quavering, she said: “You sign up through your local home government. They sponsor you…supply all your gear…. I think I heard there’s a list of suggested items. But whatever you want, they provide it.” Hope thickened her voice. “Like I said, anything to encourage participation. If I were you, I’d take a look at a map before you even leave. That way you can go ahead and decide where you want to put your house.”
“Who says I'd stay on the island?” Joud dissented.
Delighted, she challenged, “You’re seriously considering this?”
“I am seriously considering this,” he agreed. “As a matter of fact, I haven’t felt this jazzed in a long time!” he enthused.
“And you want to be a seasteader?”
“Well,” he spat out, “I’m not going all the way to another planet just to limit myself to some itty bitty island!” He laughed in shock, collapsing back in his chair. “I’m going to do this thing!” he declared.
She laughed, “Then you'd better order the boat as soon as possible.”
“Hydroliner,” Joud corrected.
Witnessing this exchange, an idea startled Ziggy. He’d cast an astrological chart for the bot. Using Chance-bot's first digital time stamp as a birth date, Ziggy had determined Chance was a Sagittarius. In the chart, he’d noticed a perplexing preponderance of water, including the mysterious Pisces in the North Node. Ziggy suddenly recognized exactly what he had to do. Sliding to the edge of the bench and preparing to stand, he leaned toward Joud and said, “Joud, if you really are going to Varun, take Chance-bot with you.”
Ziggy's words shocked Joud. “But, Zig, that’s your bot!” he protested.
“Joud, he's not my property. He’s my friend. Consider how much help he’d be.” A scrape of the chair, Ziggy out the gate and gone.
When Ziggy emerged from the patio, I could see his depression had lifted. Energized, he swept up the street. I matched his pace to fall in beside him.
“Chance, I just had the most amazing flash of insight about your chart,” he exulted. “Maybe you remember when I talked about your North Node. Or, maybe I didn’t. I’m not sure if I mentioned it because I wasn’t certain of the meaning. No, matter,” he chattered. “Anyway, the point is, I believe your destiny is to go to Varun, Chance.” Our eyes met. Turning a corner, we had to careen around a group of commuters hopping from the mover.
“Destiny,” I said.
“Destiny,” he confirmed.
“Destiny: an inevitable or irresistible course of events,” I said, to clarify.
“Yes, I’d say that sums it up,” he nodded, his face open and agreeable.
“You are saying it is inevitable that I will go to Varun.” I further clarified.
“Yes, that’s right. And when it comes to destiny, you’re always better off if you cooperate. Everything goes more smoothly, in the absence of resistance,” he explained.
“How does a thing become inevitable?” I asked. “What sets a destined event into motion?”
“Beautiful question,” Ziggy observed. “But, I don’t have an absolute answer,” he confessed. “Some would say God sets every event into motion.”
“God.” I touched the corresponding thread in my mind, and saw the patterns light up. The patterns came in every color. Each time I touched a pattern, an array of alternate ideas spun off to become a brand new constellation of supposition. “Which god, Ziggy?” I asked.
An enigmatic smile took up residence on Ziggy’s face while his lips whispered along with an internal dialogue. Deciding on a tack, he began, “There are so many different ideas about God. God is a mystery. God is the underlying impulse of the cosmos. God is balance. God is love. God is everyone and everything. Not everyone believes in God.” Ziggy pondered in silence for a few beats more before continuing, “Chance, we are each on our own journey of understanding. And as I said, not everyone agrees with the idea of God. For example, there are some who believe everything is random, and that all occurrences can be ascribed to good luck or bad luck.”
“God. Luck.” I pronounced the words then touched the new thread named, luck. Again, I watched the thread scintillate into a vast display.
Meanwhile, as if newly born, Ziggy breathed. We were walking along the ancient street named Guadalupe. The drought had broken a few days earlier, meaning that later the clouds would roll in with an afternoon storm. But for now the sky was clear and brilliant blue.
Ziggy sang out, “Some believe destiny is momentum. I’m talking about the journey of consciousness, Chance-bot. Think of each conscious being, as a drop of water contributing to the river of universal consciousness. Consider the momentum of the resulting force. Then consider how difficult it would be for a single drop of water to change the direction of an entire river. Now imagine yourself as a single drop of water, simply trying to change your own course, inside that flow.” He stopped speaking for several steps, then continued, “Some believe, God is an influence capable of altering that flow. Others believe, God caused the first rainstorm of consciousness, and has allowed the river to define itself since then.” We’d come to the center of a bridge over the river. Ziggy stopped to lean on the bridge railing. Mimicking Ziggy’s posture, I canted onto the rail beside him. Side by side we faced the humble flow of the little river.
Staring at the stream, Ziggy said, “I’ll tell you what I believe. I believe God is an agreement; and that all of us have a piece of that agreement. Destiny is my portion of the agreement. Destiny includes everything that I chose to accomplish in this lifetime. Destiny is that choice I made as a conscious being before I was born again into this life.” Ziggy stopped talking and moved his gaze away from the view, to look at me. I met his gaze. Speaking del
iberately, Ziggy explained, “I believe you are also a part of God. You are a conscious being who awoke into this physical realm with the responsibility to accomplish your part of the agreement.” Throwing his eyes back to the narrow basin, Ziggy continued, “But that’s just what I believe, Chance. You have to decide for yourself what you believe. And as I said, there is always the idea of luck. Some think luck is a random occurrence. Others believe you are born with good luck, or bad luck. Most who ascribe to luck, attempt to control the outcome by using specific rituals or charms. Like a lucky rabbit's foot.”
“A lucky rabbit's foot,” I repeated.
Ziggy threw his head back and laughed.
CHAPTER 12
The shrill cry of the tiltrotor swallowed Danel's senses when it tore straight up, in front of him. High above, the machine seemed to drift, as if recuperating before suddenly shooting from view. Standing alone with the silence of the shushing sea, Danel’s attention stayed captive to the cloudscape, an extravagance that signified Varun to him.
Dragging his eyes from the sky, Danel turned his focus over to the sleek lines of the waiting hydroliner. The wing shaped cabin looked flattened where it sat on the pinnacle of the four hydraulic stilts that rose from impressive skis. The skis, touched down on a thin black hook of land, were long enough to evince a vanishing point.
“Ahoy there!”
Startled by the voice, Danel jerked his sight onto the figure who waved with the whole of one arm. Grabbing up his duffel bag, Danel mounted a ski. Cautiously, he made his way forward while waves washed across his freshly printed water shoes. He scrambled up the midladder, stepped over a narrow deck, and bowed in through the hatch.
“Welcome aboard. I am Captain Frederik Kokolakis of the Space Confederation, at your service.” Captain Kokolakis was dressed in full Space Confederation regalia, a stark contrast to Danel's informal garb of cropped green water pants topped by a billowy gray shirt that matched his shoes, and intended to match his eyes.
“Pleased to meet you, Captain Kokolakis. Waterman. Danel Waterman,” he said extending a hand.
After a quick grip of hands, the captain said, “I understand you’re a Water Architect. I am pleased to welcome your expertise. Please allow me to explain my own expertise. For the past six months, I have dedicated myself to identifying stable environments for possible development. In accordance with my recommendations, our target destination today is the East Abyssal Plain.” Placing his fingers into the slanting rib-high pockets of his confederation uniform, the captain rocked to his toes. “You’d be hard pressed to find a more stable environment than the East Abyssal. It is the very definition of stability. It is stability embodied.”
What an odd bird, Danel decided, holding his smile securely in place.
Bouncing up and down on his toes Kokolakis rambled on. “You are no doubt aware that abyssal plains on Earth, as a hard and fast rule, are also highly stable environments. As underwater environments go, there is nothing more stable than an abyssal. The East Abyssal on Varun is the same…well, actually, I’d argue, the Varunian version is rather more alive with sea creatures...albeit, they are somewhat shy. Doesn’t mean we won’t see a sampling of species down there. Be assured, you will see some local wildlife. Yes, indeed, you can be assured of that.”
“Great, Captain.” Danel looked away from him. Out the cabin window, he could see the tilting roll of the open ocean, causing a surge of adrenaline. Pulling his eyes back to the captain, he asked, “But we are still on for the East-ridge after the Abyssal. Correct? I've heard some pretty thrilling stories about the Ridge; and I imagine there will be a good cross section of species to be seen there.”
“Oh, the East-ridge is certainly on the itinerary. You are quite correct. The East-ridge is teaming with life. It is a veritable stew of life. And it has quite the dramatic landscape as well. Quite dramatic. And not at all stable, I’d like to warn you.” Leaning forward, the captain appeared poised to launch into another stretch of pontifications when a series of falling notes eluded from his body. Holding a palm up at Danel, the captain said, “Yes?” Following a brief interlude, the captain announced, “Come. Let's go meet the rest of the team.”
In the pilot room, Captain Kokolakis introduced Danel to the first mate, Saml Canossa, and the science officer, Smit Ostrovich. Danel noticed these men were dressed nearly identical to him in the local attire of water pants and blouses. Also, on board was a service-bot called Nine. Nine-bot was briefly presented to Danel, as a servant to be shared by all on board. Danel noted the unusual features of the specialized unit. The bot had flat silver eyes, with deep blue centers. Its head and body were pale gray. It had finely sculpted features that delivered a persuasive aliveness despite the hypothermic coloring. Its upper torso was essentially human in proportion, having two arms and a chest tapering precisely to a thickset waist. But the hands were unusual, having oversized palms with long delicate fingers, bridged for half their length by translucent folds of webbing. From the waist down, Nine-bot looked spectacularly amphibious. Designed to ambulate through water, it had powerfully proportioned, pearl-gray legs, terminating in shapely flukes that stretched the definition for feet.
After quickly stowing his duffel in his assigned quarters below, Danel settled into an empty seat with the others in the pilot room. So smoothly did the liner cut through the silvered sea, Danel was initially unaware they had commenced the journey. Not until Captain Kokolakis began a running commentary, discussing the various features of the hydroliner, did Danel realized they were under way. The h-liner was designed such that, as long as the cabin was held aloft the waves, it stayed level regardless of weather or water conditions.
While the captain lectured, Danel lost himself to the view. The silver ocean rolled empty in all directions. Way up high, the curly tendrils of cirrus clouds sat motionless. Beneath the cirrus boiling storm clouds snaked like rivers through the sky. During his short time on planet Danel had already learned that the cloud rivers were, more or less, permanent features, cutting the sky into predictable portions of real estate. Also there was mist to further dramatize the scene. Each cloud river trailed gauzy curtains of gray mist that sometimes was stained with pastel colors. What’s more, in those places, where the cloud rivers converged, the mist was heaped into energetic storms, textured by diagonals of driving rain and jagged flashes of light.
On realizing the captain was no longer speaking, Danel reeled his focus back in from the clouds. Stuttering his fingers over his new forearm device, he brought up a holographic dashboard. Then he actuated his ten digit interface. These were implants he had scarcely used. They were thin wires encircling the first joint of each thumb and finger. Shuddering anew with a vague aversion to their presence, he examined them. Each time he noticed, the narrow band of numbness, he scowled irritation. Despite their subtlety, he found the location near his sensitive fingertips vexing. Danel clenched his hands to banish the annoyance; then he focused his attention on using them for their intended purpose, to manipulate the three dimensional images, now floating some centimeters from his chest. For the next few hours, Danel methodically went about setting up the notebooks he would utilize during tomorrow’s site reconnaissance.
Bare chested, Danel was finishing his breakfast when sunrise charged his view with drama. Atop the waves, a wide band of warm brilliance joined the h-liner to the sun. While the highest sky stayed a stubborn shade of darkest blue, the cirrus clouds flushed lavender. A cloud river sported golden edges. There was a stunning tangerine mist. After swallowing the last bite of his bowl, Danel stood and cycled through an abbreviated sequence of flexibility exercises. Grabbing up the water shirt draped beside him, he shrugged it on. With a slow pass of fingers along the overlap between pants and top, he caused it to heal snugly around his hips.
In the bottom hold Danl found Smit, Nine-bot, and Saml were busy readying the undersea plane for departure. Built for exactly two passengers, the plane sported twin bubble tops, currently tilted open. Danel would have
preferred to spend a little more time admiring the sleek lines of the undersea plane, but Smit was already seated in the forward cockpit. When Danel crawled into the passenger pit, Smit immediately commenced to recite emergency protocols. The immediate hum of bubble tops tilting closed, obviated imminent departure. Hearing the decisive pop of a vacuum seal, Danel buckled in.
Smit: “Ready to actuate downward advance system, Captain.”
Captain Kokolakis: “Downward advance engaged.”
The undersea plane sleekly plummeted to the waves. Through the bubble top, Danel was startled by the sight of a wave breaking around his head.
Smit: “I am triggering disengagement.”
Danel heard the faint rasp of the h-liner mechanism releasing the plane. Just then, another wave struck from the side. The muscles of his body prepared against the perpendicular assault, even as the forward sweep of the plane sent a rush of vertigo through his head and stomach. In a smooth progression, the forward momentum swooped into a dive. After correcting to a steeper angle, the plane gained speed, pursuing a straight line descent. The reach of sunlight proved shallow when they passed from twilight to total darkness within minutes. The thin skin of running lights enhanced the profundity of the dark. With every meter of added depth their meager view was progressively diminished by the marine snow static. They pushed deeper and the marine snow grew into a blizzard. Staring at the shattered view, Danel lost track of the time passing.
Smit Ostrovich spoke through Danel’s buds: “Approaching the floor, sir.”
As they drew near to the sea floor, Danel felt a pang of disappointment that they’d made it to the bottom without sighting a single living thing.
Smit: “We've reached the center of the project site. How would you like to proceed? Spiral out?”
Danel: “Yeah, let’s do an offset spiral with a 30 meters center line. Where do I find the visual mapping? Oh. There it is…thank you.”
Shaman Machine the Mentor Page 6
