Aspiria Rising

by Douglas Barton

  “The eagle!” Genna shouted.

  “No, the eagle had long since flown away.” Garin smiled. “She’d forgotten about the eagle, but she attained a vision more precious. She had seen Aspiria from the vantage point of the eagle. She perceived the academy in a new way, and from then on she was a different person. She realized that, unless she adjusted her perspective, she’d never rise to the next level.”

  “What did she see, Master?”

  “The academy in its unity, as a whole, transcending individual students and masters.” Garin searched the ground. He picked up a palm-sized granite stone, rubbed one side, flipped it over in his hand, examined the rock as he would a timepiece and hurled it over the steep mountainside. “Everlen told the Parable of the Eagle to me and Talia as I’ve told it to you. We were both confused. I had lost a championship, and Talia had her own problems with her old master.” Garin shook his head. “That was the day my friendship with Talia truly blossomed.”

  A cool breeze swept over the peak. “Master, you two are so different, yet…”

  “And yet we’re so close. Yes, we’ve overcome our differences. My love for Talia is not based on a static view of who she is now, but includes how I imagine her in the future.”

  Love? Dominy imagined Talia had never loved anyone before Garin. And probably no one had ever shown any interest in the odd man before Talia.

  “Both of you, close your eyes.” Garin gently shut his own eyes.

  Dominy peered over the cliff. Divinity! Is Garin going to do it? He snapped his head around to face Garin and closed one eye.

  “Talia, she’s such a wonderful person now. Can you imagine her a generation from now? Can you picture that in your mind?” Garin paused. “I can. I envision a remarkable, radiant being. Can you see her?”

  “Yes,” Genna said.

  “You, Dominy? Dominy? What’s wrong?” Garin opened his eyes.

  Dominy turned and stared at Genna. He rubbed his own eyes and massaged his temples. “Yes, I see her, but she’s so bright, so radiant, it hurts my eyes.” He squinted, and his face cracked into a smile.

  Genna, her hair puffing in the breeze, smiled back—a rare smile of late, where the skin crinkled around the eyes—then it faded away.

  A gust of wind blasted the mountain. Garin sprinted at Dominy.

  Dominy’s eyes bulged and his knees locked. Oh, no!

  Garin swooshed by him and grabbed a bird nest lying on the ground at the edge of the cliff. Garin examined its egg and gently scooped up the nest and placed it back in a white pine tree.

  Dominy shook his head and laughed. He gazed down at Aspiria one more time, perhaps with the eyes of an eagle. He’d forgotten how much he loved those buildings, how much he loved the academy. The rising sun’s rays angled off the mirrored surface of some sort of tower in the undeveloped area to the south. He pointed at the lighthouse-like structure. “Master, what’s that?”

  “The monolith. In ancient times that was the heart of the original academy. The galactic diaspora scattered the Academics throughout the colonized worlds.” Garin pointed at the southern area. “On P1, they originally settled there.”

  “But why aren’t there any other structures? No crumbling brick buildings or rusty steel skeletons, no ruins whatsoever. What happened out there, Master?”

  Garin shrugged. “A long time ago there was some research conducted in those wastelands. Nothing came of it.”

  “Who was the researcher?”

  “Sergian.”

  Could there be hidden clues about Lucean and her reforms down there, something Sergian’s hiding? Dominy surveyed the vast fields. But where to start? “Master, why haven’t researchers excavated the area? It’s our history after all.”

  Garin rubbed his chin. “I think it was Sergian’s old master, Windlar. He placed certain restrictions on leaving the developed area. Safety reasons. Seems silly now, but it’s still off limits for unaccompanied students. Unless they’re on Retreat.”

  Dominy looked to the horizon. Jagged clouds below the two moons formed a ghastly grin. He gazed back down at the wasteland. I’ve got to find a way to explore down there.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Cal barged through Dominy’s door and held out his notepad. “Help, I don’t understand these planets’ runaway growth rates.” He stopped short. “What in an uninhabitable planetary world happened?” Cal rotated 360 degrees, surveying Dominy’s empty cell. “It’s like an infirmary in here.”

  Dominy followed Cal’s gaze around the cell. “I know, crazy. But it’s cleared out because I’m developing a portable hologram system.”

  “Another research project?”

  Dominy nodded. To become a master he needed multiple projects. “I came up with the idea so I could investigate Talia. She acted suspiciously after returning from her mission.” He padded around the cell, adjusting a beam-splitter and refocusing the lasers positioned in the corners of the room. “Still a work in progress. I’ve accessed the Data and Simulation Centers. My clearance was actually approved—by Garin.”

  “Garin!” Cal yelled. A grainy, jumpy image of a virtual Garin meandering in his garden popped up in the middle of the cell. “Not bad.”

  Dominy smiled. “I configured it for voice activation.”

  “Can you imagine what would happen if you spent your time walking?” Cal poked his finger into the flickering image of Dominy’s master. “Think about it. Garin doesn’t compete anymore. His mind has softened. Imagine his unfortunate, neglected brain, its neural connections weakened, atrophied from a lack of thinking. Frightening.”

  “Like the Bricklayer.”

  “Huh?”

  Dominy rolled up a sleeve and flexed his bicep. “My arm’s finally feeling better—after the explosion and getting smacked by that Armband. I’ve been stacking ancient-style bricks to strengthen it. Garin’s idea.” And I’m using both arms.

  “He’s infirmary-strange.”

  “You know the tingling sensations generated from a strenuous brain workout? He gets joy from traipsing around his roses and bamboo. He says with practice, I, too will learn to trigger the shift into a creative mindset with a cue—he walks as one of his methods. The odd thing is I’ve concluded he’s right in some respects. I’ve measured my own brain’s gamma waves, and they do increase while doing Garin’s exercises. The surge in gamma waves is a clear indication of increases in creative thought.”

  Dominy shook his head and spoke into his notepad. “Garin. Research.” His master reappeared, standing next to perennial cornstalks that reached the ceiling. Dominy turned to Cal. “But, hey, I convinced Garin to let me go on Retreat.” He could hardly wait. He’d soon get some solitary time to excavate the undeveloped area and finish his HTS research.

  “But that’s your research on creativity. His, the corn stuff, is so basic.” Cal addressed Garin and pretended to rip a cob from a stalk. “Chomp! And he doesn’t compete.” He pretended to spit out the corn and tapped his temple. “I think he’s lost something up here.”

  “Him or you? His master scores are solid.” Dominy couldn’t believe he was defending his master.

  “Were solid. We don’t know now—they’re unpublished. Don’t you understand? They’re all against us. Garin surely doesn’t believe in the Meritocracy. Now he’s allowing you to go on Retreat, probably waiting in hiding for you. And before that, Talia, the Algorithm, released you. We were right all along. Either she’s part of the reformation or, or, she wants you to fail! Who’s Sergian’s most likely contender for the guardianship?”

  Talia. Dominy let the idea—long thought about, but never articulated—sink in. Was it possible? He felt he was carrying the weight of the old builder bricks on his chest. It was the logical answer. But he didn’t understand why Sergian didn’t stop Talia’s peace mission. She was his potential competitor and would surely be hailed a hero. “Talia.” An image of his former master appeared. The feathered edges of red light coming off her big robe dominated the room. “Talia.
Mission. Update.” Talia dissolved into three-dimensional words: “Mission Failed.”

  Dominy and Cal, speechless, stepped back from the seemingly oxymoronic words. An envoy was only sent if requested by the host government, practically guaranteeing success. No Aspirian Conflict Resolution Mission had ever failed.

  “She’d waited and waited, desperate to contribute to the peace effort.” Dominy’s eyes glistened and he dropped his chin. “And then to fail. Talia. Mission. Itinerary.”

  Talia stood smiling prior to departure and spoke. “Tensions have risen at this once peaceful world. I have brought with me two trained mediators and we have forged a multilateral, tentatively-approved, peace treaty. I am optimistic.”

  The image refreshed, showing Talia arriving at a world in chaos. Talia’s face turned to a blank mask as she stood, post-mission, ready for departure back to Aspiria. She and her team were bundled in heavy winter jackets. In the background was a boundless body of water. At the horizon, stacked against a light, pinkish-blue sky, was a glacier.

  Dominy dropped his notepad. “Surely, a coincidence.” His stomach rolled with dread. He snatched his notepad. “Talia. Mission. Destination.”

  Talia froze momentarily and reanimated. “P9.” The Icy Planet.

  Dominy and Genna left the Student Compound flicking their heads left and right. He clasped Genna’s hand. His eyes welled and he bit his upper lip. I never did have the confidence to hold Hallie’s hand—or Mother’s or Father’s. Now he wasn’t sure if they were alive.

  “How come you’ve never talked about your family before?” Genna’s eyes weren’t darting around anymore. They were brilliant sparkles, staring at him.

  Because I have a certain grandparent. It was if acid from the swallowed document was smoldering in his gut. “Not much to tell. We were a no-drama family. Let’s just say my sister, mother, father, they’re all unemotional. I have, or had, perfect parents.” I have no excuses for my rotten behavior. Months earlier he wanted to announce his secret to her, to the Alliance. But the longer he waited, the harder it became. He couldn’t imagine what they’d think of their leader, the one trying to save the Meritocracy. “Genna, I have to tell you—”

  Two Armbands popped out from the shadows of the Compound and trailed them. Dominy and Genna picked up the pace. He swept his hand across the quadrangle and whispered, “We need to make a plan now. Talk in private.” But where? “They’re everywhere, even in our cells, eavesdropping, marking our every move.” He pinched the fabric of his robe. “I hate this yellow beacon.” He spotted the violet lights in the distance. The Impromptu Games—my favorite, Genna had said before he ruined their miniature Sanctuary. It seemed so long ago, playing games for fun. “I have an idea.”

  They hustled to the Pow. Two sharp midday shadows tracked their movements. They were the Armbands stepping aboard and hovering a couple of meters away.

  “Nervous?” Genna whispered.

  Of course. He grabbed her hand. “Not anymore.”

  The ribbons of light in the quadrangle at night did little to diminish the brilliant display of stars as fireflies appeared to have been descended upon the sky.

  “The Star-a-Wheel!” a student announcer yelled.

  Dominy and Genna stepped off the Pow and bounded over to the Midway and the star-identifier game. A mixture of grinning and worried faces broke out amongst the students. Players encircled a large, circular horizontal platform. Like a wheel, the platform rose to a cone at the center.

  “Two minutes.” The announcer’s voice was punctuated by chirping crickets.

  At least Dominy knew the rules to this game: strap into one of the sixteen slots with your head at the center, wait for the hydraulically-raised platform to stop spinning, and calculate—based on star constellations, deep-sky objects, and the time of day and year—which compass direction, of the sixteen possibilities, you faced.

  Dominy and Genna slipped into two adjacent player stations. “Too bad this isn’t a team game. I hoped for a chance at redemption.”

  Genna’s face softened and her cheeks dimpled. “Just try to keep your robe on.”

  “We’ll be able to talk privately when the wheel rises.” Dominy, like the other fifteen players, strapped his body into his station. His head locked into position near the peak of the cone, his body at a forty-five-degree angle. The wheel mechanism, placed on a rotating plate, rose on a cylinder high into the night sky.

  “We have a minute to talk. I’m close to solving HTS. I’ve decided I’ll make a deal directly with Sergian. Get a guarantee. Save you.”

  The wheel turned faster and faster. He flung his hands out, flailing wildly in exhilaration, whooping it up as the warm night air blasted his face. The spectators, the stars—everything was a blur.

  The pneumatic air brake hissed and the wheel slowed abruptly, sending his head rattling and his mind spinning. Get my bearings. Constrained by the slot, his head could move only up and down. He checked the horizon, tilted his head back and studied the constellations and planets in his viewing sight. There was C16, C68, and C52. Star cluster M213. And there: P20. All in northeast. He pressed the button on a tiny monitor in front of him labeled Northeast.

  CORRECT.

  The wheel lowered. Three losing players got off. He looked at Genna. “We own the night!”

  The wheel rose again.

  Genna punched Dominy in the shoulder. “No! The second you give HTS to Sergian, we’re both gone. He’ll just take credit for it. You have to submit it with all your research to committee and become a master, regardless of when you get it done, don’t worry about—”

  The announcer cleared a raspy voice. “Ready.”

  Dominy did a double-take at the voice and looked down. The announcer was now a male. An Armband. He turned to Genna, shook his head, and talked in rapid clips. “I have to save you, I’m going on Retreat, I’ll find something in those fields, implicating Sergian, get some leverage and—”

  The wheel rotated in the opposite direction, spinning faster than the first time. Much faster. Dominy’s head spun, his brain rattled. The colorful Midway went gray. The wheel screeched to a halt, his head slammed into the station partition. The ride changed directions, rotating ever faster. He groped for the elusive handholds. Stars lit his darkened field of vision. The wheel braked, sending his head slamming sideways one more time. He cranked his head forward, sending his noon meal of quinoa gurgling up his esophagus.

  INCORRECT.

  The wheel lowered. Dominy struggled to his feet and staggered about, trying to regain his equilibrium. Genna was on her hands and knees vomiting.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  At dawn-break, behind the row of masters’ studies, Dominy stepped off the quadrangle. The dirt path crunched under his sandals and he bounced his new timepiece in his palm. Timepieces were required on Retreats, ironic since Garin had developed the idea.

  Come back a better person, Garin had said, nothing to be scared about. Dominy cinched up his provisioning backpack and set out south for his three-day trip. Matham never even started his journey, never had a chance to be scared.

  Dominy swiveled his head around. The academy’s skyline grew fainter. Search for the truth inside yourself was his strange master’s other recommendation. Maybe he’d find out some truths about himself on Retreat. Sometimes he felt he was living a life on the surface of an ice sheet. There was something profound to learn under that frozen layer, but he just couldn’t punch through.

  He headed for the academy’s undeveloped area. There’d be no powered walkways—only the basin grasses, the parched meadows, and the rare tree. The sun passed overhead and he welcomed the unusually mild temperature. He pressed on, alone with his thoughts and the sound of his beating heart.

  He checked his compass and deviated six degrees east from the prescribed directions. The monolith glimmered in the distance. Plumes of dust whorled and danced around the beacon in a near-dead meadow of thistle sage. He approached the structure, perhaps thirty meters h
igh. He drew closer, shielding his eyes with both hands as the sun’s rays reflected off the column, its surface burnished without blemish. His eyes filmed with sweat and he squinted to read the engraved words:

  ASPIRIA

  Those Entering Shall

  SEARCH FOR THE TRUTH

  Those words had a long tradition. He walked in ever-widening concentric circles around the monolith searching for signs of an ancient settlement. Nothing. He grabbed his small camp shovel and dug at regular intervals. He sampled the dirt, looking for bits of metal or wood. Still nothing. Strange. The lifeless hardpan held tight any long-dead secrets.

  His shadow was a crisp outline at his feet. He looked back at the monolith and shook his head. Time to get going. He calibrated a new course and increased his walking pace. His time with Garin had some benefits after all.

  He shuffled into the Retreat site and located a fire pit. Ten meters away was a provisioning garden consisting of a few sturdy leafy vegetables, probably kept alive by the previous student—and the plants’ genetic alterations. He didn’t have much to work with, but the plants were a start.

  A chill set into his bones. He stooped over the fire pit. It was actually two connected circles of boulders, the first filled with ash and the second with two tiny pieces of wood left over from the last student. He needed more.

  He hiked along the Retreat’s perimeter, scouring for wood. The descending sun painted smears of red at the horizon and the green and browns in the fields were now grayed by shadows. Straining his eyes, he spotted some wood obscured by overgrowth. He stripped away weeds and scraped away dirt clods, exposing the wood of a rare find, old fallen trees.

  Unfortunately, the wood wasn’t black locust. His original intention was to pass on any white pine to find black locust. The twice-as-dense locust meant less time tending and more time in creative thought. He shivered, warding off the cold. So much for intentions. He split off a chunk of the desiccated material, crushed the porous wood in his hands, and sifted the powder through his fingers.