Aspiria Rising

by Douglas Barton

  Dominy nodded to Rohan. He fingered the soft robe material at his neckline and mouthed the words, yes, it’s damp.

  “Hey, Dreamer, it’s over. Snap out of your trance. We’ve won!”

  Dominy smiled at Genna. Vernan and Nalton joined them in a group hug.

  Cal rushed over, fluttering his fingers toward Nalton. Cal embraced his teammate as one might hug a sibling. The team held hands. “Search for the Truth!”

  Spectators joined the frenzy, forcing their way closer. Surrounding Dominy, they cheered and pawed at him.

  More and more spectators arrived from the stands, shouting accolades:

  “Logic lives!”

  “Rationality rules the day!”

  “That decision was pure Marika—genius!”

  Dominy extended his arms out, demanding space and allowing him to concentrate again. He shut his eyes and replayed the game in his mind, recalling every move, analyzing each situation and storing the analysis in his memory. He opened his eyes. The team sprawled out on the field exhausted.

  He lingered, maybe that’s why all eight did—to savor the moment, ensuring it lasted forever.

  Cal turned to Nalton. “I owe you.”

  Nalton raised his eyebrows. “You don’t owe me anything.”

  “You. Are. Wrong!” Cal shouted.

  “You going to start in again with—”

  “You’re wrong.” Cal’s voice turned soft. “I owe you one thing—I owe you respect.” He grabbed Nalton’s arm. “C’mon, let’s celebrate.”

  Dominy hunched over, stared at the now-darkened winning square. “Not yet, one more win.” He spotted Genna sitting a few squares away. Her face was drawn so tight her dimples were gone.

  “You sure you’ve recovered?” Nalton searched Dominy’s eyes. “It’s over—championship game, remember?”

  Dominy remained silent. One more game. There’d be no second-half chance. He must keep winning and finish his research and become a master. The revolution continued.

  A cheer sounded across the game field. Dominy stood. Spectators pointed up at the Cubevision: PROTEST

  Dominy sprinted over to Rohan.

  The young master clapped his hands. “I demanded a replay, of course.”

  Dominy seethed. “Of what?”

  “Fools.” Rohan gestured at Team Neuron 8 splayed out on the field. “Pandor predicted you were all emotional time bombs. Conduct Violation.” He pointed at Cal and shook his head. “We just needed to light the fuse.”

  A game official with a notepad walked over and joined the two captains. Rohan turned to the official. “Show me the coordinate bordering the sideline, thirty-two minutes into the second half.”

  Dominy palmed his chest. His spiked heart rate slowed. “That incident happened after the game was halted for player loss.”

  “I thought you would’ve memorized these rules.” Rohan’s lizard-grin returned. “Rules of conduct.”

  They looked up at the Cubevision. A side view showed Cal following Pandor toward the sideline. The two adversaries came together and Pandor simply dropped to his knees.

  Dominy wiped sweat from his brow. “See, nothing.”

  Rohan shook his head. “Show me an overhead view.” The Cubevision revealed a blurred flash of flesh between the two adversaries. “Show super slow motion.” Cal’s fist drew back and slammed into Pandor’s midsection.

  “He was goaded.” Dominy’s mouth quivered. “Go back earlier on the replay.”

  The official shook his head and walked over to conference with two sideline officials. They studied a tablet monitor.

  The Cubevision flashed: Protest. Upheld.

  CORTEX 8 CHAMPIONS

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Dominy approached Talia’s lab. He hadn’t seen her since she left for her mission.

  She waited at the door, arms akimbo. “I’ve unpleasant news.”

  He ascended. Her face was speckled with sweat. Sure, summer was in full beast mode, but he’d never seen her perspire before. “Master, your mission?”

  “No, no, this isn’t about that. I met with Sergian.” She forced a tight smile. “Have you solved HTS?”

  “I need your help on the diamond anvil technique you once researched and—”

  “I’m sorry.” She swiped the sweat off her face with her robe cuff. He peeked into her laboratory. It was unusually quiet—no centrifuges whirring, no liquids boiling, no gases hissing. Something wasn’t right. She walked him away from the laboratory door toward the quadrangle. “There’s nothing more I can help you with.”

  He studied her blank face. Her eyes were soft, like damp artist putty. “Master, am I on my own?” Pride. Fear. The two emotions churned into a bizarre mixture inside him.

  “I said ‘I’. Nothing else I can help you with.” She smiled weakly. “Dominy, you require a new master.” Her chest heaved as she said his name. “Oh, and congratulations on becoming a Third. You recovered admirably after your MetaMath loss.” She blotted the corners of her eyes.

  He was the one that got emotional, not Talia. But surely that was why she was acting strange. She had become emotionally attached to him, and now, for his benefit, she was passing him on. His mother was right again: Emotional attachments degrade judgment. His mind raced through all the masters, but no name surfaced as logical. Compared to Talia, no one existed. “But if not you, who? No one compares to you.”

  She nodded. “Go on.” Her eyes bloodshot, she pointed down Masters’ Row. “He’s waiting.”

  He? Waves of heat weighed down on Dominy as he walked along the row of studies. Talia had said she had just met with Sergian. Is he my new master? He heaved in mouthfuls of humid air, nearly hyperventilating. His mouth opened to scream, but no sound came. He pulled out his research notes. Sergian wants this. He scanned the quadrangle for a hiding spot. Where? He spun in a circle, searching. Breathing became harder, his head turned woozy.

  “Welcome.”

  Oh, no! Dominy jammed the papers in his inner pocket and slowly turned around. “Master Garin!” His voice trilled with excitement.

  “I don’t often get such an enthusiastic reception.”

  Now it made sense. Garin was a master who couldn’t be compared to Talia because there was no scale for comparison. But the odd man might as well have been from a different galaxy. At least it wasn’t Sergian. His gaze ranged over Garin’s slender body, out of proportion with the other masters—everything from his face, lean and sun-bronzed, to his ankles, thin and defined. Garin didn’t resemble masters or students.

  “Master, so you’re to help me with HTS?”

  Garin laughed. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

  Dominy tossed his hands in the air.

  “Follow me.” Garin led him through an arched passageway, under a drooping canopy of leaves and blooms. They stepped off the quadrangle’s composite surface into a garden. A breeze carried the upsetting scent of unfamiliar flowers. The visual shift out of the gray quadrangle set his nerves firing, signaling high alert. Swaths of green were sprinkled with pink, lavender, and crimson. Nonsensical, meandering paths wound around botanical varietals, ponds and benches. A misting system of recycled water cooled the air and softened the ground.

  Dominy’s sandals clomped on a moist, clover-covered path. He sighed and glanced at his timepiece. Why meet here? There was no access to research, to equipment, to anything.

  “Once, many generations ago, Aspiria had a student known as the Bricklayer. When he studied a subject, he became obsessed. After studying architecture, he decided to test out his designs using only old-style bricks. Almost every waking moment, he laid bricks, each one set with painstaking precision, building his masterpieces. And you know what happened?”

  “No, Master.”

  Garin stopped, rolled up one robe sleeve, clenched his fist and flexed his thin arm. “He developed one huge forearm, completely out of proportion with the rest of his body. Bricklayer’s Arm.” Garin closed his eyes and laughed. “Can
you picture one spindly arm and the other looking as if it was pumped full of air?”

  “Master, why didn’t he alternate arms?”

  “Exactly.” Garin pointed his forefinger to the sky. “But no, not the Bricklayer—no need, for he was creating masterpieces.” He paused, inspecting Dominy. “Perhaps Talia believes I can now develop your other limbs.”

  “I’m aware of Master Talia’s strengths, but…”

  Garin nodded for him to continue.

  “You don’t have the reputation. I’m curious as to why you, out of all the others? Talia’s helped me with math, brain research, philosophy, everything.” Dominy reached into his outside pocket and rubbed the metal backing of his timepiece. “I only have so much time.” He still had one more point threshold to reach. He must continue winning and finish his research. Only 0.45 actuarial years were left. And now this—stuck with Garin. “Master, how can you help me?”

  Garin tightened his belt as his robe threatened to slip off his shoulder. “Someday they’ll produce the red ones in small scale.” He smiled at the sight of a side pocket positioned over his stomach. “Let’s take a stroll.”

  Dominy stole a glance at his timepiece before whipping his head around, hoping his master hadn’t caught him. He shooed a buzzing bee from his ear.

  Garin brought his finger to his mouth. “In silence.”

  Walk. Leisurely. Silently. Aspiria! Dominy wiped sweat off his brow and headed down the trail.

  The grassy path turned to dirt. Garin stopped to examine a bird nesting in a tree and inhale the fragrance of some pink flower newly emerged from its bud. What’s the purpose? Dominy pressed his hand to his pounding chest. The bee tickled his ear again. He swiped at it. “Buzz off.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Sorry, Master.” Dominy kicked a pebble off the trail.

  Garin led Dominy deeper into his garden. The sun’s warmth radiated from the smooth pathway stones through his thin sandal soles. Midday had passed, he was losing time. Where the stone was thick with green moss, Garin removed his sandals and gestured for Dominy to do likewise. Dominy fidgeted with his timepiece, frowned and reluctantly slid off his sandals. The silence was broken only by the sound of the rushing water at Falling River.

  “Master, I so desperately need to get back.”

  “Why?” Garin spread his arms out. “Do you ever enjoy times like this?”

  “Master? I don’t follow the question.”

  Garin lowered his eyelids and softened his expression as one did when communicating to a young child. “Do you enjoy those times when you’re not studying or competing, your mind free to skip from one idea to the next?”

  This was Aspiria. Talia, why punish me? Surely, she and Sergian were isolating me with this, this freak. “No, my time’s limited, and every second I’m not studying and my competitors are, I’m falling behind.” Rivulets of sweat coursed down his cheeks.

  Garin leapt with graceful ease from one boulder to the next. Dominy was dumbfounded. His new master stretched his lithe body out on one of the granite rocks cradling the river. Dominy followed him in slow motion, his feet rebelling against the slippery water-smoothed slabs. Dominy’s knees buckled. He reached down to stop his fall. He rubbed his right arm, the one he had injured in the chemical explosion.

  Garin studied him. “Not used to this much physical exertion? Aspirians always must be achieving something of grave importance, whether studying, lecturing, or competing. They’re afraid to be alone without their fellow students or their precious notepads.”

  Dominy looked up to make sure it wasn’t Sergian speaking those sacrilegious words. He loosened his belt, letting the breeze cool his chest. Perhaps Falling River was where Garin developed his Retreat idea. He recalled its description from the encyclopedia: The Aspirian Retreat: a quest for renewal, self-discovery, an awakening of creativity. Research has concluded student separation leads to variation in thinking, sparking creative insights. At the end of the entry, there was an addendum: potentially therapeutic for students with anxiety issues. He grimaced at his master. Just the idea of going on Retreat hadn’t been therapeutic for Matham.

  Garin repositioned his head to catch the unblocked rays of the sun. “Sometimes it’s a pleasure stretching out on a rock in simple reflection, letting your mind wander.” He rolled over, exposing his back to both the sun and the river-cooled air. He patted the boulder as if it were feather-bed soft. “Here, try it.”

  Dominy sat on the hard surface and awkwardly unfolded his arms and legs. “Sorry, Master, I haven’t prepared for this.” He sneaked a glance at his timepiece.

  Garin sprang to his feet like an animal set to give chase. “Yes, you’re past due for your next lesson.”

  “Yes, Master.” At long last.

  “Hand me your timepiece.”

  “Master?” He slowly detached it from its chain.

  Garin hefted the orb in his hand, flipped it over, and gently rubbed the glass facing. “Essential lessons sometimes require drastic measures.” He raised the timepiece high overhead and flung it down against the boulder, shattering it into tiny shards.

  He is crazy!

  “You’re not awake in the moment. Your mind isn’t here but lies somewhere else, perhaps in the past, replaying a game, or in the future, contemplating a competition you’re preparing for. One day, years from now, you’ll realize you’ve spent your life merely reliving the past or planning the future. And you’ll wonder, what happened? Dominy, when you’re awake in the present, you’ll achieve creative breakthroughs.”

  “But—”

  “Follow my instructions.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Breathe in deeply. Experience the air, cooled as it passes through your mouth and over your tongue. Picture your lungs swelling, the tissues absorbing the oxygen, and now, exhaling the warm air back into the atmosphere.”

  Dominy panted rapidly like the bellows he used to stoke their furnace back home. He would master the technique quickly and return to real life.

  “Whoa. This is no competition. You’re impatient for change. Here, come stand in this pool.” Garin disrobed and stepped into the river effortlessly, as though the water didn’t exist.

  Dominy’s eyes bulged at Garin. The peculiar master stood with hands on his bony hips, the outlines of muscles and even the contours of his veins visible despite his darkened skin.

  Dominy stripped off his belt and his robe fell from his rounded shoulders. He edged into the river where it pooled, marking his master’s path one halting step at a time. He snapped his head back and forth between Garin and his robe, his unprotected research. There was no way he could outrun his master.

  Garin motioned him over to the surging current. Dominy hadn’t swum since he was on the Icy Planet. He struggled against the powerful force. Garin laughed. “Trust me. Spread your legs and form a foundation. Now, how do you feel?”

  Dominy dug his toes into the slimy river muck and flexed his every muscle. The water rushed by, carrying leaves and twigs on their journey downriver. He stared, mesmerized. “Like I’m standing still, and everything’s passing me by.”

  “Now, dunk your head and relax underwater.”

  “What?” Dominy heard him, but the word came out regardless. He didn’t budge. He eyed his robe on the riverbank. Garin’s trying to kill me! Makes sense, have the crazy guy do it.

  “Here, I’ll speed up the process.” Garin shimmied easily alongside Dominy, palmed the top of his head, and plunged him underwater.

  Dominy thrashed, bucking upward, but the pressure from above was unyielding. He bent his knees and sprung off the river bottom. His head peeked above the waterline. He gasped for air but took in a noseful of water instead.

  Garin said something, but it didn’t register. Dominy’s head was driven down. He flailed with no success. It’s over. Relax?

  He gave in, and his body went limp. Silence. Underwater he heard no sounds of the current, of leaves rustling in the breeze or of birds chirping.
No sound of Garin. He opened his eyes. Darkness. He couldn’t even see his hand centimeters from his nose, for the churning river was a dark cloud of sediment. Someone tapped his shoulder and tugged on his injured arm. Dominy raised his head, spit out river water and gasped.

  He followed Garin out of the water and collapsed onto the rocky bank.

  “What happened down in that current?”

  Dominy sat up, and water drained from his thick hair. “Thrashing. Uh, I, uh, loss, uh, control, I panicked.”

  “You froze? That’ll happen to you during competition.”

  That was a unique teaching method. Dominy caught his breath and spotted a lone tadpole swimming in the opposite direction from the others, struggling against the tide. The tadpole, like his new master, headed against the current, but Dominy wondered what the point was.

  “And, after you relaxed, what were you thinking?”

  “Nothing—only darkness and silence. How long was I under? I lost track of…” He snapped his head back in realization.

  “Time?” Garin said. “You lost track of time. Remember when you were a child, how the days seemed so long? It was because you constantly created new memories, slowing your perception of the passage of time. You need to reconnect with that ability. What were your thoughts after you surfaced?”

  “Breathing, controlling my balance, not falling.”

  “And?”

  Dominy closed his eyes, recreating the experience. “How the water cooled my skin, how the moss-haired stones tickled my feet. Unusual sensations.”

  “Upcoming competitions?” Garin asked.

  “No.”

  “Good. Your mind remained in the moment.”

  “Master, are you suggesting progress is not paramount?”

  “Of course not. However, we must adjust your definition of progress. What other thoughts did you have?”

  “Thoughts I’ve never had before.”

  “Ah, not a bad definition.”

  “Master?”