by Migration
“That’s what the two bars on the dollar sign stand for,” Furch said.
Korshak had been looking around while he listened. In a far corner, four figures in dark gray robes with deep cowls that concealed their faces even while they ate were sitting apart from the general company. “Who are they?” he inquired, inclining his head in that direction.
Furch turned to follow his gaze. “They’re called the Genhedrin,” he replied. “An inner sect of adepts who have attained the highest level of spiritual insight. The source of the deeper wisdom that guides the movement.”
“I see.”
“Fascinating!” Rikku breathed. He stared at Furch curiously. “How did you find the path that led you here yourself? What part of Earth did you come from originally?”
“Those are things we’re taught not to discuss,” Furch told him. Rikku checked himself and nodded that he understood. Well, at least that would save him the bother of having to explain a lot of things, Korshak thought to himself.
The conversation turned to the philosophy of Dollarism, serving Rikku’s impatience to hear more and giving Furch the opportunity to air his own further-advanced insights. Basically, what had made it a force capable of sweeping across the world was its recognition of the universal law that the key to advancement lies in competition, and progress results from selectively accentuating the positive and eliminating the negative. The idealization of cooperation and equality that had been enshrined into Aurora’s charter was misguided and could only result in the misdirection of resources to ends that were unworthy. It was early days yet, and the beginnings were small. But correction of the error by whatever means it entailed would eventually be unavoidable if the system failed to reform itself.
Korshak listened while Furch elaborated, and said little. Whether he was backward-looking and unenlightened he didn’t know, for he had never been able to relate much to the machinations of power politics, let alone the more sophisticated intellectual environment of Sofi, which was outside his direct experience. But it all sounded to him like a recipe for generating the kind of conflict and divisiveness that would be the last thing that an extended space mission like this needed. On the other hand, he saw what could be the basis for dividing opponents among themselves as a means of clearing the way for a focused group to move in to a controlling position.
At any rate, it gave him a better idea of the kind of answers that would be in order at his interview.
Banker Lareda had a pugnacious, darkish countenance, with a full head of black hair, a shaggy beard setting off a set of powerful white teeth, and immense eyebrows that hovered over his eyes like bat wings, contrasting with the whites to intensify their stare. He sat with his hands clasped on the heavy desk in the office where Korshak had been brought, the hood of his dark gray robe thrown back on his shoulders, and the front open to show a black shirt with $insignias imprinted on the breasts, over a barrel chest. Seated to one side of him was a younger man with fair hair and a clear face, wearing a brown cloak over a tan, two-piece tunic, whom he had introduced as “Broker” Ningen without elaborating further. “Broker” was seemingly an inferior rank to “Banker.”
“So, Mr. Shakor, you are interested in joining us,” Lareda said, running his eyes over the screen of the viewpad lying in front of him. His voice was deep in the bass register, with a trace of an edge that had a crisping effect. “From the central part of Asia originally, I believe.”
“More to the east, the Parthesa region,” Korshak replied.
“Where specifically?”
“A city called Escalos, in the Arigane country of Parthesa. My father was a maker of clocks and mechanisms, which I apprenticed in.” A factor that worked in Korshak’s favor was that as part of the policy according the highest value to personal privacy, it had been decided early on not to keep records of individuals’ previous lives. The life ahead was deemed to be what mattered, and that had begun with Aurora.
“How did you come to be recruited to the mission?” Lareda asked.
“My father was widowed, and when he died, I was put under the care of an uncle called Mirsto, who was physician to the royal court at Arigane.” Lareda and Ningen exchanged meaningful glances at the mention of the name. Korshak continued, “Later, when I grew up, I became a traveling vendor and repairer of mechanisms. But I ended up on the wrong side of the prince of a neighboring realm, who had a reputation for malignity and violence. I went to my uncle for advice and protection. He told me about Sofi and Aurora, and that people from there that he was in communication with had offered him a place, which he’d accepted. He felt that my life might be in danger after he was gone, and was able to arrange for me to go too.”
“Who was this prince that you were in trouble with?”
“His name was Zileg. He was heir to the throne of Urst.”
Lareda looked at Ningen, who returned a faint affirming nod. “And what kind of trouble was it?” Lareda asked.
Korshak summoned a sheepish look and spread his hands in an attitude of candor. “One of those romantic affairs that young men are prone to fall into. But what I was unaware of was that the maid in question was also a favorite of Zileg’s.” Korshak shrugged. “He wasn’t the kind to take such a slight lightly.”
Lareda snorted in a way that dismissed the matter. “Where does your uncle live now?”
“He died about a year after the voyage commenced.”
Lareda nodded. Korshak got the feeling that he had known that. “And so, tell us what you’ve been doing since.”
Korshak took a moment, as if to organize his thoughts. “In the early years, I was entranced by all that I saw. I had several residences on Astropolis and Jakka, all the time devoting myself to the study of Sofian science and technology. Nothing had prepared me for the like of it. In return, my contribution was to work as a technical assistant to Masumichi Shikoba, who did research into machine cognition and robotics. As far as I know, he still does.”
“Yes, we’re aware of him.”
Korshak spread his hands briefly. “But as I learned more about Sofi and its history, it seemed that something was missing. With their lead over everywhere else, the Sofians should have dominated the world. Instead, they isolated themselves behind mountains and deserts, and when the spirit to build a new world became uncontainable, they left Earth to go elsewhere. I remembered the holy men and the orders of priests that I had known on Earth, and I thought that perhaps the problem with Sofi had been that it became too fixated on material things, and had lost touch with a higher reality. That was the time when people were talking about building a retreat for the pursuit of such matters, which became Etanne.” Korshak indicated the surroundings with a gesture. “So I discontinued my technical studies and went to work in various mundane positions on Beach and Evergreen, while I meditated upon such things and discussed them with others, many of whom became involved with the sects that now exist here.”
“But you didn’t join any of them yourself?” Lareda queried.
Korshak shook his head. “I may have been missing something, but I couldn’t escape the conclusion that much of what they were saying was wishful thinking…” He hesitated. “And, I have to say, in many cases the masters that they followed were deceiving them with trickery.”
Lareda gave the impression that that didn’t come as a surprise, either. “And then?”
“I was confused and disappointed, and needed to be by myself to think. Many aspirants to Etanne go through a preparatory period on Plantation. I decided I would do that, too. And from some of the people that I met there, I learned about the Dollarians. This was what I had been searching for! Not a fantasy built on supernatural imaginings and daydreams, but a secular, pragmatic philosophy that related to the real world. The formula for expansion and universality that the Sofians had missed. I spent many months as an itinerant on Plantation, studying the lessons and practicing the disciplines that were required. When I felt I was ready, I made inquiries and was directed to Rikku.”
“That is for you to decide, not I.”
Lareda gave Korshak a final long, searching look, and then turned to Ningen and sat back in a manner that said it was his turn.
Ningen studied the back of a hand while he massaged it with the other, and then looked up. “You were from Arigane originally, you said? You grew up in Escalos.”
“That’s right.”
“And traveled extensively in the region.”
“Yes.”
“Hm. A fortuitous coincidence. It turns out that I’m from that part of the world myself. A place called Belamon. You might have heard of it.”
“The seaport in Shengsho. Yes, I was there a few times. They sailed the big ships.”
“I had occasion to visit Arigane, too. Can you tell us who the ruler there was at the time?”
“That would have been Shandrahl.” It was clear now why Ningen was present.
“He had a hunting lodge about twenty miles out from the city, that I stayed in once – in the hills to the north.”
“Er, the hills were to the south,” Korshak corrected. Good try, he thought.
“Ah yes, quite so. If your uncle was the court physician, do you also happen to know the name of the princess there, Shandrahl’s daughter?”
“There were two. Vaydien was the elder. Her half-sister was Leetha.”
“Anything else about them?” Ningen asked in a curiously suggestive voice.
Korshak had seen where this was going. “Vaydien is here, on Aurora,” he replied. “She was one of the party that escaped from Escalon, that included Mirsto.”
“And not yourself?”
“I joined them later, with a group of Masumichi Shikoba’s relatives. That was how I first became acquainted with him.”
“But the party that escaped from Escalon did include another person, who is quite well known,” Ningen prompted.
“The entertainer and magician, Korshak. He had come to Shikoba’s attention somehow. I don’t know the details. He and Vaydien later married. I have visited them on Astropolis, where they live – although not for some time now.” Korshak paused, then allowed a faint smile as if a thought had just struck him. “It was probably things I saw of Korshak that made me suspicious of the wonders I was shown by some of the other sects that you share space with, here on Etanne.”
A short silence ensued. Lareda and Ningen looked at each other, but neither of them had anything further to ask at that point. Lareda stared down at his hands for a moment, then raised his head in a way that said he was satisfied. At least, for now.
“Very well, Mr. Shakor,” he pronounced. “We approve your acceptance as a provisional member of the order as a novice with the rank of junior clerk. Since you have technical aptitude and experience, I’m also assigning you to the workshops, where I’m sure the supervisor will find many useful things that you can help us with. Accountant Furch, whom you’ve met, will acquaint you with the entry procedure. We will expect to see you, Junior Clerk Shakor, at the daily General Meeting, first thing tomorrow morning.”
TWENTY-NINE
The General Meeting took place every morning as a pep talk and recitation of faith to spur the troops, but also with trappings of ceremony and symbolism that carried undertones of a religion. It was held in a large auditorium known as the Assembly Hall, where rows of seats faced a raised dais with a pulpitlike speaker’s rostrum. Korshak had been told that all members of the sect were required to attend. They were seated in groups according to the part of the order they belonged to, with rank descending from front to back within each section and the various classes denoted by the attire worn. The major division, reflected by a central aisle dividing the right and left sides of the hall, was between the robes and the military-style uniforms, which Furch had described the day before as representing the “spiritual” and “action” sides of the order. Korshak had learned since that these were the “Speculative” and “Executive” branches respectively, both terms apparently being derived from the old-world system that had inspired the movement.
Korshak and Rikku, clad in the white tunics without cloaks of the junior-clerk rank, sat with the other novices at the back, several rows behind a block of darker robes that included Furch. The hall was almost full, permeated by a murmur of voices in subdued tones. However, a line of maybe a dozen or more seats was still empty, right at the front on the left-hand side. Korshak touched Rikku’s shoulder and indicated them with a nod of his head. “Who are those seats for? Any idea?”
“No, I haven’t. Must be a special category of some kind.”
“There don’t seem to be many in it.”
But even as Korshak spoke, a side door opened, and a line of robed figures with cowls covering their faces filed silently out and took their places in the empty row. He recognized them as the Genhedrin caste that he had seen in the refectory at lunch the day before.
Then a burly, bearded figure in a dark gray robe with the hood thrown back – Banker Lareda, no less – appeared from the wings and mounted the rostrum steps to commence the proceedings. He extended his arms, and with the exception of the row of Genehdrin, who continued to sit solemn and motionless, the hall rose. Korshak’s briefing the day before had prepared him for what to expect. The first item, led by Lareda in his resounding bass-baritone, was the Dollarian anthem, “Prevail and Prosper,” in keeping with the general spirit, somewhere between a hymn and a march, delivered by the entire company with full-throated fervor. Memorizing the words had been one of Korshak’s initial tasks, and he sang along with all the vigor and expression of an earnest believer and seeker at last finding his element. The chances had to be pretty good, he figured, that the place was monitored by recording cameras. Everyone then sat, and Lareda proceeded into a series of inspirational messages and announcements for the day that turned out to be the buildup for the principal dignitary to be appearing that morning, who had materialized from the rear and moved forward to the rostrum side of the stage as the introduction was made. Lareda then descended the steps and stood aside deferentially to make way for Archbanker Sorba. Applause was evidently not in order. The hall sat in rapt and expectant silence.
Sorba wore an ankle-length cope richly embroidered in gold and yellow, with a red cassock and skullcap. He had a white, flowing beard that reached to the top of his chest, and a pink, yet delicately formed face in which his eyes caught the hall lights to gleam like pinpoints of metal as he turned his head this way and that to emphasize a point or underline a pause, every move and tone studied and calculated. As one who had devoted many years of his life to mastering the arts of communication, persuasion, and suggestion, Korshak was impressed – and mindful of the effect it was having on those around him.
The first part of Sorba’s address reaffirmed some of the key articles of party doctrine, most of which Korshak was familiar with by now. The importance that the present administration was giving to unity and cooperativeness conflicted with the ideal of diversity stressed by the mission’s founders. The idea of people wanting to live in harmony sounded nice, but it stultified the spirit of aggressive self-reliance that the descendants on Hera would have to preserve if they were to have a viable future. The way to preserve it was through the dynamic of robust competition and the accompanying cultivation of excellence that had prevailed across the old world. From the Dollarian movement that would protect the vision of Aurora today would grow the power capable of building the new world tomorrow. That was the first time Korshak had heard it openly declared that the aim was to gain political power over the mission. He noted also that all the way through, Sorba made constant references to ancient Earth and its peoples, stressing their cultural and genetic heritage, and kinship to those present. It was an effective ploy for winning the sympathies of people in the present circumstances, alone in the vastness of space with only memories and records to link them them with their ancestral home.
At that point Sorba paused portentously and swe
pt his eyes around the auditorium. His voice lightened to a more conversational tone. “Yesterday evening, I was talking with Banker Lareda, and he told me about a newcomer among us that he interviewed recently, who was drawn to the movement by a desire to learn more of the power that ruled over the old world. And this was very good. It’s a sign that our word is spreading and being listened to. However, this newcomer saw it purely as a secular technique, effective in attaining material accumulation and physical superiority in the battles of human affairs. He dismissed the reality of any higher source of inspiration and guidance because some of the other… shall we say ‘bodies’?… that we are obliged to share space with here on Etanne have professed simplistic beliefs, and used elementary deceptions in their attempts to promote them. I have heard this kind of thing before, and it disturbs me.”
Sorba paused to let the hall reflect on this, his arms braced, hands gripping the edges of the lectern at the front of the rostrum. “It disturbs me greatly, and I want to say a few words for the benefit of any others who may be harboring similar inclinations toward such a mistaken impression…. Can anyone really believe that a force with the potency to win over an entire planet, finally triumphing over all its adversaries and rivals, drew its strength from nothing more than ambitions of avarice and domination? Yes, it had the effect of satisfying such desires, but these were effects, not causes! In the same way, the fact of being alive gives rise to needs for us to eat and breathe, and the needs manifest themselves as desires that prompt us to appropriate action. Eating and breathing are not the causes of life, but serve the needs that are in its nature. And so it is in the nature of human cultures to expand and prevail, and it is this nature that derives from a higher plane of life that calls forth the actions that are appropriate to those ends.”
The whole audience was tense and silent as it took in the message. Sorba raised his hand and extended a finger for emphasis. “Let no one here be mistaken. The universe consists of more than the stars and nebulas and galaxies that we see extending away in whatever direction we look – however far into the unprobed depths of physical space they may extend! Because there is a realm that transcends physical space, from which flows powers that defy the limits that physical dimensions impose, and this is the source from which life and growth are driven. And here lie the roots of who and what we are.”
