Aquifer

by Jonathan Friesen

  “The Council.” I stare at Seward, who stares back. “The beginning of the Council of Nine!”

  The ground heaves and shakes. Walls and statues rattle. And from high above, one small chunk of marble tumbles downward, exploding on the rock behind Etria. Throughout the hall, concern ripples along with the tremor. Faces turn grave, but Etria raises his hands. “We know the life.” He turns to me. “The rock bed is a product of the tectonic plates. It exists due to their shifts. Where was I?”

  He clears his throat and glances down at the book, taking one more peek at me before continuing. I know the look; I saw it on Walery. He wants to know if I believe his explanation, if I believe him.

  It is not true.

  The voice is clear, and once again not mine. I glance over my shoulder to find its source, but no one stands behind me. What’s not true?

  The voice is silent. I’m going insane.

  “Rabal has therefore —” Etria raises his gaze. “Are you paying attention, Luca? Rabal has therefore, in his wisdom, felt it necessary to create a barrier between the world above and the world below. That barrier will be the route. Only Rabal knows it. The nine of us who remain, along with our wives and children, are in agreement with his decision. Though a barrier is needed to protect the Aquifer, to protect the beautiful, we hold no ill will against the Toppers, many of whom we remember as friends. We covenant never to turn off water to the surface. Those above are our brothers. At the same time, if the news is true, the darkness that settles over the surface cannot be allowed to reach the light we enjoy below.”

  Etria glances up at me. “Are you following?”

  I rub my face. “So the water flows no matter what? What of the exchange? Of my father? Of the light rods?”

  “Hear this well. There is no exchange. I’ll say this again: there never has been any exchange. True, your father brings us light rods to continue the ruse, but we learned long ago how to exploit the Aquifer’s energy and reuse them. They are of no new value.” He pauses. “Water flows upward because it should, not because a yearly deal is struck.”

  “We call you Rats, monsters …”

  “And this we accept. In fact, this misconception is helpful …” He flips a few pages forward.

  “We could not imagine the hate of the Topper’s Council. Their desire for power and control is insatiable. Rabal has retreated to an island home with his two sons. His shrewd business dealings have secured the finances available for us to build a life belowground, but it has created enemies. The Council of Nine has offered Rabal their consultative services, but it is clear that they only seek the route to the source, and the power they could obtain through its possession. They have ordered countless excursions to find us, and many have reached the dome. Rabal has imposed this final safeguard: The directions to the Aquifer will pass solely through his family line, to his sons and their sons. His esteemed position as peacemaker of the surface world should protect their family from the Nine’s wrath.

  Yet even this may not be enough. Rabal believes he must sow the seed of untruth about us. Our names must vanish. Our humanity must be forgotten if we are to live. He has declared us unhuman, animal in nature. It is to be taught, accepted. Sadly, we have come to this point; fear alone protects us from those above.”

  “You started the lie about this place? Your ancestor did that?”

  Etria shakes his head. “Yours did.”

  A heavy silence descends in the hall. “Do you ever wonder how it is that you, Luca, you were chosen to be the Deliverer of the surface world?”

  “Every single day,” I say quietly.

  “Of course.” Etria stands. “You were chosen because you know the route, and the only ones who know the route are —”

  “Rabal and his descendants.”

  For eleven years I have stood and pledged allegiance to my ancestor. I stare at Seward, who nods. Of course. His story, Etria’s story, they all fit; they all make sense. All except for one thing.

  There is no PM.

  “Seward, you said there was no peacemaker.”

  “I wouldn’t lead you wrong, lad.”

  I walk toward Etria. “But you just said Rabal was the first, and his two sons …”

  “That history lies in another book, but it is easily and painfully told. Rabal passed, and his oldest son assumed his position. The new PM. Once again, the Nine placed themselves in his service, all in an attempt to attain the directions that were buried in his mind, now in your mind. He refused their assistance, and was, as is said by the Toppers, undone. By committing this foolish act, the Council unknowingly cemented the barrier between the Toppers and us. They destroyed one of two who knew the route. Wisely, the younger son fled the island, and proclaimed he had knowledge of the Water Rats’ demands. He would be the Deliverer. He would come and meet with us. And he has — he and his descendants — for hundreds of years. Through the myth of exchange. Through the myth of a hideous underground race. Through the myth of our need for light. Through the directions the Deliverer alone knows. These myths have protected the Aquifer all this time.”

  I step around Etria and pace back and forth. I know nothing about who I am, nothing about who my father is. I’m lost.

  “So the Council —”

  “Took over. Instituted the Amongus. Coded your children. Robbed you of humanity. The legend of a peacemaker lives on to cement their control.”

  “And this chair …”

  “And this chair” — he smiles broadly — “is where Deliverers come when they pass on the route to their offspring. There have been none so wise as Rabal’s descendants. For hundreds of years, they have been our judges. Without crime, we need no enforcement, just the wisdom that rests in here.” He points to my head.

  “No, no. That can’t be how it works.”

  “Thinkin’ it be true, mate,” Seward interrupts. “Janus disappeared, as did Linus before him. There was no sign of undoing.”

  “Two good men. They made two fine judges.” Etria pauses. “We had hoped Massa would assume his place, but from Wren I heard the Fates held otherwise.” He spins me toward the crowd, his hands on my shoulders. “But now again, ill winds have shifted, and our fortunes are favorable. With one so young, we can rest for many years.”

  “Blime!” Seward screams, and jumps to his feet. “What a fool I be! How could I not see the possibility?”

  “What?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”

  “The exchange be a sham? This changes everything. Massa has no reason to share the route. He knows water will flow either way. But the Council doesn’t — they would never believe that — and their desperation to secure the Aquifer will grow.” He looks Etria in the eye. “So follow it through. By now Massa has been shown to the world as undone. New Pert searches for Luca and finds his shanty burned to the ground. There is no Deliverer, and the world wails, believin’ that come the next seventh of the seventh, water will cease to flow as the exchange fails. What would you do if ya thought you had less than a year to live? Toppers know nothing of your … kindness. Do ya have an inkling of what this news be doing on the surface? In the best of worlds, people patiently hope the Nine will save them. In the real of it, without Luca and Massa, what carnage may follow!”

  Etria nods, as if thinking, and then shakes away the thought. “The years, and I believe the need, for a Deliverer are over. Toppers will find out in time that they no longer need fear us.”

  If any Toppers remain.

  Seward paces back and forth. “Then think on the reverse! What if my brother breaks and does speak the route? He endures more than a little duress. Have you no sympathy for him?”

  “He would not do this. He will not speak our destruction.” Etria addresses the crowd. “Massa’s death is tragic, but it ends forever all presence of the route on the surface. There is no one who knows how to reach us now that Luca is home.” His face lightens. “Yes, Luca is home.”

  Etria spreads his arms. “The coronation of Luca, our new judge, is in one week. Un
til then, People of the Rock, rejoice!”

  “I … I … need some time.” I run out of the hall to thunderous applause. Once outside, I scan wildly. I could escape. I stare down the mountain at the Aquifer shimmering in the distance. I could cross and ascend and maybe the Amongus have left …

  A hand pulls me into the shadows.

  “What my father does to you is not fair.”

  It’s the Her.

  “Your father?”

  “Etria.”

  I pull away. “The Etria?” Oh, this relationship would never work. My mind’s a blur. Beside me, her warm breath breezes softly on my neck.

  “Luca, do you want me to leave?”

  “No. I want to go home. I want Father and Old Rub, Seward and Wren … Well, they’re down here, but Lendi’s not, and he can’t give me the silent treatment forever. I need to … What is that place?”

  Deep in my mind, I find a match for the small triangular building before me. “I remember the windows, looking in those windows.”

  “Lots of people do.” She smiles. “That, Luca, is where you and I were born.”

  CHAPTER

  20

  I start to shake.

  Born here. Why was Mother here? Why did Father take her on a descent? There are plenty of clinics on top. “That can’t be true,” I say. “I don’t want to be here.”

  “You’ll need to face truth sometime.” She glances back toward the great hall. “But you heard much tonight. Too much. Come, I know a place.”

  She grasps my hand, and we slip off the main road. In the distance, another prism glows.

  She slows at its edge and removes her glove. Her palm, it shines. “Hold your breath.” She whispers, glances over her shoulder and grabs my arm, reaches down and presses her palm onto the light.

  Falling. I’m falling, but only for a moment. A current wild and free catapults me forward. We’re in water, and I force open my eyelids. Lights pierce down from above. Thousands of orbs race above our heads, while shadows streak by. Figures. People?

  My body chills and then warms, and for an instant I feel myself implode.

  And then I am fine.

  The Dwellings, the hall, the triangular building have disappeared. Wet spray coats my face and I step backward, pressing against a rocky hollow.

  I stand behind a waterfall, the girl at my side. She releases my arm and comes forward, reaches her hand beneath the torrent.

  “What was … How?” I feel my arms. I’m still whole. “Where —”

  “First the how.” She slips on her glove, and the night falls dark. “Our city is built upon the solid surface layer of the Aquifer, but ten feet down something else exists. We call it the stratus, a fifty-foot deep lake of liquid water, left behind by our miners. When mining operations deepened, the stratus was left unused and free flowing, until by accident a light rod was dropped. Not only did it pass through the hard surface, but for a few moments the light scattered the rock around it, leaving temporary access to the stratus. The rod had been dropped on a crystal node, a uniquely permeable area of rock. We now mark all the nodes we find.”

  “The prisms,” I whisper.

  “We now harness light of the same frequency that exists in the rods, capture it as a liquid, and paint it on the palms of our hands. This allows our hands, like the rod, to scatter solid rock and open the Aquifer at the nodes. The matched frequencies give us moments to drop into the stratus, which is what we just did. After the drop, you must know the city. From underneath, the refracted light on each node draws the light on our hands, and us as well, forward; a simple electromagnetic connection. The closer to the surface we travel, the faster we move, until we upturn our palm and allow ourselves to open the node from beneath. Make sense?”

  “No.” I focus on her hands.

  “These gloves shield our eyes. We remove them only for travel and fresh applications.”

  I lick my lips and stare at my boring palms. “Of course you do.”

  “As far as the where. This is where I go to think. I bring my problems to the falls, open my hand, and let the water wash them away, wash me clean.” She peeks back at me. “Come on, Luca. You’ve been lied to your whole life. It’s time to let the lies go.”

  “Lies? What if this place is filled with them? What if what I learned above is true?” I pause. “I don’t even know your name.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  The girl is the most infuriating, alluring Her I’ve ever met.

  “Would it be too much trouble for me to know it?”

  “No. That would be fine.”

  “What is it? What is your name?” I groan. “Did I ask properly?”

  “Talya. And yes, you did.” I run the name over in my mind. It’s a good name.

  “Now, Luca. Come join me.”

  I straighten and shuffle forward, my eyes on the slick stone beneath my feet. I reach my arm beneath the spray, feel the weighty power of the water, and draw my hand back to my mouth. Fresh.

  “I can’t believe this place. Any of it.” My legs weaken, and I fall into Talya. She eases me back into the cleft and lowers herself beside me.

  “I don’t think my father knows of this node. It’s so dim that when one passes through the stratus as shadow, it’s barely visible, but you don’t need to hear more tonight. Let your mind rest. All you heard will be waiting for you another day.”

  The rush of water washes away Etria’s words, and we sit in silence for what feels a forever. My mind holds nothing. Thoughts flit like butterflies, slipping through my head.

  Talya hums. A quiet, haunting hum. I search for the words, but they remain hidden.

  She finishes, and I don’t want to speak, or for her to speak. I want to rest in the song’s afterglow.

  Minutes pass, maybe longer, and the beauty of the melody blends with the rushing of the falls and the song that seems to sing on.

  “Is it all so different?”

  “Huh?” I ask.

  “Above, is it all so different?”

  “There are few smiles. There is no laughter, except on Holiday. Feelings …” I peek at her. “Songs — all forbidden. We live but we don’t live. And beneath it all is an anxiety, a strange below-the-surface fear. We’re taught to hold that emotion in check.”

  To speak it, to speak my world plainly, sounds so harsh to my ears; I feel a need to defend it. “It’s beautiful too, with the warm sun and the ocean breeze …” I glance down. “But it’s dry — dry and lonely and cruel.”

  “But you’re not those things.”

  I think of the march of the undone, the hundreds of times I watched worlds end for errors made, not for guilt. For fear of those cursed dials, I did nothing. I was nothing.

  I peek at Talya. “Sometimes I am.”

  “Not when you were little.” She smirks and folds her arms. “You, Luca the Golden Child, you were a brat. Our little star. Everyone adored you, cared for you, loved you.”

  There’s that word again.

  “Not that they didn’t love the rest of us. It’s just that you were the first of your kind —”

  “What kind? The first confused, anemic kid? You know, on top I’m Other in every way. Why should it be so different down here?”

  Talya pauses and touches her fingers to her lips. “Maybe this is best left for my father to tell.”

  “Please,” I say. “I need to know who I am, and I’d rather hear it from you. I need my truth, from the beginning.”

  “Yes, you do,” she whispers. “It just had never happened before … a love union between a Topper and a Person of the Rock, and then a child …”

  “My father is a Topper.”

  Talya gently sways.

  “Which means my mother was a Rat.”

  “Of course.”

  The world spins, and my body collapses into her lap. She strokes my hair as the rushing of water fades into the distance. But her hum, it remains with me, softly, gently ushering me into the darkness.

  “Luca, Luca.
My apologies for my daughter.” Etria leans over my cot.

  My room is spacious, and light pours through the open window. It’s morning. Or the morning after morning.

  “Talya is filled with … enthusiasm. She had no right taking the judge of our city on a pleasure tour through the stratus before he had adequate rest.”

  I grunt and prop myself up on an elbow. “Where is she?”

  “Contained.” Etria rolls his eyes. “For her good and my sanity. Which brings me to another, more pressing issue. We have a guest, and I need a judgment as to how we should proceed.”

  “I haven’t taken the job yet. I … need some time with Seward.”

  Etria sighs, and for the first time I sense frustration. “I’ve not asked you to take a position. I’ve called you to assume your position; it is who you already are. Your birth, your descent in the line, dictates this for you. Centuries of judges have taken the chair before you arrived, each with joy, I might add. Their blood is in your veins. You are like them in every way —”

  “Every way?”

  Etria bends and speaks slowly. “You are like your ancestors, including Rabal, in every way.”

  “Did any of them have a Rat for a mother?”

  Etria stiffens and tongues the inside of his cheek. “No, in that tiny point you are correct. You are unique. But should that fact not draw you to this place all the more?”

  “Did any of them have a father who was still living? Who was trapped by tormenters? How about those tiny points? Did any of my ancestors have a father in the hands of a wicked council when they happily assumed their position?”

  “No.”

  “Father Massa is your rightful judge.”

  I lie back down, shut my eyes, and wait. When next I crack an eyelid, Etria hasn’t moved.

  “You don’t take a hint. Fine. One time. What judgment do you need? Can’t I make it from this cot?”

  “Come.”

  We exit my dwelling, situated just beneath the great hall, to sunlight — only there is no sun. Instead, sourceless beams of light dance off the rocky ceiling and mirror against the sea, shining in the distance. We march down the mountain and into a dwelling with no door.