by Kurt Johnson
Why would Jenna not want him to talk to me? “Nonch, about that…,” I started.
Jenna giggled nervously, interrupting each of us with a hand to our respective shoulder-ish spots. “You guys need a life. Human machines? No offense, but that was a bajillion years ago. Guard attacks? C’mon, it’s day two of school. Can we talk about something different? Like Mieant and Raystar?” She made a kissing noise.
Nonch looked at her like she was a bug before turning back to me.
“Truth and revelation?” I asked. “Nonch, what in the Architect’s nova does that mean?” I rested my hands on my hips.
“Broodmother says it is like the old times, but not. Lethians will send ships to destroy the machines, and the Humans controlling the machines. It is as the Lethians have always done. But THIS time will not be as it has always been.” He looked at me.
“Nonch,” I waved toward the kids on the playground and leaned in, letting my frustration come out. “It may not be apparent, but I’m the only flipping Human around here!”
“Anger, friend Raystar. If I was intent on ensuring your anger with me, I would have chosen different tactics than information sharing.”
I ran my hand through my hair and took a deep breath. Purple strands flowed through my Human, brown, kid fingers. “Shells, I’m sorry for losing it. For pushing you. Listen, Mieant mentioned his parents are coming to talk to Principal Entarch. He said something strange was happening. I should be careful. And Nonch, we need to talk about this machine thing your Broodmother keeps referring to.” I wondered if Nonch’s Broodmother was aware of the two battle groups on their way to Nem’.
Jenna interrupted us. “What we need to do is sit together at lunch today. I’ll make sure Mieant is at our table.” She turned to go, waving two hands randomly in the air. “And you guys seriously need to talk about something else.”
Nonch and I watched her walk away. She disappeared into the crowd, the sound of her beads quickly fading into the roar of the kids. We turned toward each other.
“Nonch, let’s go to the library before lunch. We can talk there. I could use some help researching information about,” I gestured to the air with both hands, “everything.”
The deep chime signaled the start of the school day and set off the mad rush through the school’s military-sized doors. The crowd moved around us, and we were pulled apart.
I looked at him as his figure retreated. “If you want to help me, that is.”
“You should be certain of me, Raystar. Let us meet. I will share information that I believe is important. Between then and now, Raystar, have care, take care,” he said, bobbing his head. The current of kids swept around us, and he turned and thrummed away.
Careful sounded good. Information sounded better.
18
Principal Entarch wasn’t in history class. Neither was Alar. Nurse Pheelios was our sub.
She stalked across the platform at the front of the class, much like Entarch had. Except, well, she floated. And she was round. And black. And had whip-like arms.
Pheelios was a Sylltha. If Gleans were the giant, high-gravity citizens, Syllthans were their wispy, low-gravity opposites. Originating from gas giants, they were lumpy, soft, vaporous intellects. While they had evolved sentience, they hadn’t become spacefaring until they were discovered by the Convergence—much like the Elions hadn’t been truly spacefaring until they’d met the Humans.
Syllthans couldn’t manipulate heavy metals so they couldn’t build spacecraft. Instead, they bartered the mining rights of their gas giants in exchange for environmental suits and interstellar passage. Syllthans needed Galactics to build suits so they could manipulate the world around them, or even just to leave their planet and exist on other worlds. That evolutionary dependency made them perpetually mean. I wondered, Does being independent make you nicer?
Given my developing awareness of the galaxy’s obvious and emerging threats pointed at ME, I could relate.
But my sole experience with Syllthans was Nurse Pheelios. Trips to her office, for everything from a headache to a scrape, were filled with so much pain that I would usually forget the reason I had gone to her office.
Syllthan environmental suits were round and black and had tentacle appendages that could hold, tow, grapple, slice, or defend. Behind her suit’s round, clear, metal view surface was the darkly colorful, swirling essence of our nurse. She pivoted in the air to face us.
“Sweet children. Principal Entarch is focused elsewhere. I am proud to be your teacher today. I know each of you intimately, as I have cared for your bodies. And now I get to touch your minds.” Yuck. Just, yuck. “My people, we come from gas giants, where matter and thought are not so far apart in weight. With me, you can let go of your mass. Together, we will free ourselves from gravity and nurture our thoughts. I am honored to be your very personal guide on this journey.”
I shivered and spared a glance to Alar’s empty desk. Day two, and we’d already lost a student. I hoped he was OK. He was too fluffy and cute not to be OK.
Frowning, I shifted my gaze to Mieant. He sat, back straight, and stared impassively at Nurse Pheelios. His bruises darkened his face like a bad makeup job.
“I understand from our honored principal that you spent yesterday’s class talking about our purposeful enemies. Like gas eludes gravity’s grip, let us turn OUR enlightenment to our borders, and the outward expansion of our dearest, most beloved Convergence. Let us contemplate our immediate future, and our accidental enemies.”
As she said this, a 3-D star map flared to life behind her, rising from the floor to the ceiling and spanning the length of the platform. The Milky Way rotated slowly, a giant starfish with gracefully curved arms. Green lights twinkled toward the Core, marking the Convergence. Our thirteen hundred lights in the darkness were an uneven sphere toward the middle of one of the Galaxy’s arms. A strand of lights extending from the sphere toward the far end of the arm presumably represented the Terran Republic’s inward expansion, and subsequent absorption, into the Galactic society. Red dots created an edge along the most Coreward edge of the Convergence. Pheelios directed the map to zoom in, and the line blurred into a jagged blur of green and red systems.
“Before we begin, I want to confirm that you, brilliant children, have received your assignment for the end of the week. I am challenging you to originate a model of governance that can assimilate a wide variety of races into a single system. Your minds, your different types of lovely bodies, the smells of your cultures, how you use humor, how you wield anger—I want you to apply yourself to understanding how each of these variables can be integrated into a single, unified system. I shall ensure that you have the proper framework to complete this inquiry. Do you understand the timeline, lovely, sweet students?”
The silence was broken only by the rustling of clothes as some kids, including myself, shivered. Ick. Dozens of eyes, sensor stalks, and other sensory organs stared back at her blankly.
“Oh, class. Tender children. Silence will not do. Indicate ‘Yes’ or ‘No,’ and your desk synth will record your answers.”
Like a choreographed drum roll, a classroom of claws, spikes, hands, tentacles, and appendages thumped their desk synths in response.
“Wonderful,” she said in the silence that followed. “I shall proceed. As you know, Humans were the last challenge the Convergence crushed. We destroyed their arrogance, their presumption, the thought that their monkey lifestyle could ever.…” Right. This story, I’d heard a million times, and it didn’t seem nearly as true as it did two days ago. I couldn’t let myself be distracted. I needed a plan.
Because, you know, there were TWELVE THOUSAND ships coming to Nem’. That was nearly ten million in crew, plus who knows how many marines, to presumably occupy my planet. WHY? There was so much I didn’t know. Nova. I didn’t even know what I didn’t even know.
I was meeting Nonch at the library next period. There had to be news that would shed light on who or what the threat was. I mean,
what if it wasn’t me, but something particular to Nem’? That thing that attacked me, for instance? Maybe IT-ME was the reason two battle groups were in transit?
“Raystar?” I blinked upon hearing Nurse Pheelios say my name. “Lovely Human, are you paying attention?”
“I…,” I looked wide-eyed at Nurse Pheelios, who had turned to me some moments before. Students giggled. What had she been talking about?
“I am pleased, soft child, at your attempt for attention. Tell me of the Rass, little one. How are they different from what the Human threat had been? Educate us with your insight, my delicate Human.”
I wriggled at her ick and remained silent. I had no flipping idea what the nova she was talking about.
Mieant’s desk lit up green, indicating he had an answer. Pheelios pivoted to him. “Mieant? Will you contribute to our exploration?”
“With your permission, I am sure my answer contributes more to our group’s knowledge than,” he paused for effect, “the Human’s.” Students tittered.
“Of course, young Asrigard. It is expected that you would lead this class in that knowledge.” He nodded like an arrogant jerk at the compliment. Then the façade vanished, and he winked at me. I blinked.
Since when was I on the same team as the coolest kid in school?
“We encountered the Rass nearly one hundred years ago,” he started. “Unlike the Humans, they made no attempt at diplomacy. They simply destroyed our scouts and initial diplomatic missions. From a military perspective, they have proven more than equal to the Convergence in technology and capability. Reports suggest they have greater numbers than we do, and we do not know the extent of their sphere of control. All contact has ended violently.”
“Your mind, Mieant, is the dessert I should not eat before dinner. Little Human, sweet Raystar, will you add to the Asrigard’s dish, or leave him alone for us to consume his thoughts?”
She was the worst substitute teacher in the world.
I stared at her blankly, not knowing how to respond. She continued, “No? Can anyone tell me about Rass bodies...? Their physiology? Let me expand your understanding about their vessels in contrast with your own delicious bodies.” Her creepiness resumed, reciting the same old gratcher excrement of insults about Humans I’d heard a million meters before. Original, she was not.
My sleepy overcame her creepy. I snapped my head up somewhere during Pheelios’s lecture to wipe drool from my mouth and rub the crick out of my neck.
I glanced over at Mieant. What he’d done was kind. Was he setting me up for something? His bruises argued against it. I wished that AI was there. I moved my jaw from side to side, wondering how long I’d been asleep, and tapped my desk’s console to message Nonch:
>still meeting @ library 4 recess?<
Within a second, I received my answer and turned my attention back to Nurse Pheelios. Having concluded the first part of the lesson, the nurse was wrapping things up. Her cloudy essence swirled behind her suit’s faceplate.
“You have your assignment, children. Since there are no questions, we shall adjourn after a brief word from our special and esteemed guest, Jurisdictor Godwill, head of Nem’s Planetary Defense force.”
On cue, the same squad of four NPD officers that had invaded our house, led by Godwill, marched into the room, down the stairs, and up on to the platform. I froze while my heart pounded against my ribcage. Without pause or hesitation, Godwill nodded to the nurse and turned to face us.
Fear made it impossible to move anything else except my eyeballs. I was seated way too flipping nova close to the front of the classroom.
“Students. I’m sure your gossip webs have made you aware of the vicious attacks in your school.” He paused. His eyes scanned the class, touching each of us, but not making direct contact. “Be assured that we are questioning students who have either witnessed or been involved in the incidents. You will receive red or green notifications on your synth. With a green notification, you are free to leave once school is finished. Otherwise, you must report to Principal Entarch’s office.”
Mieant’s desk lit up with a question. “Will our parents be contacted if we have a red notification?” he asked.
Godwill flowed three steps forward, off the platform, and through the first set of desk rows to stop precisely between Mieant and me. The skin around his mouth was pulled tight in a half-grimace; his eyes bulged large from his skull as he studied us speculatively.
“Mieant Covent Asrigard, isn’t it? I’ve been told your parents are SO very important,” Godwill gritted his teeth as he spoke. His spit flecked onto Mieant, my bully-turned-ally.
Mieant swallowed.
Godwill grabbed Mieant’s face and pulled him out of his desk. “The question is, are you?” He shoved Mieant back into his chair, and the class gasped. Mieant did nothing, just looked down.
Godwill surveyed the class. “Is who your parents are the thing that makes you important, Asrigard? I am the law on this planet, child. Your parents have no power here. I will have them, I will have you. I will have whatever I want, whenever I want it.” He leaned into Mieant’s face, almost kissing his cheek with his pursed-lipped anger. Mieant squinted away, waiting for the touch.
His skeletal, Lethian, cold-grey face whispered into the teen’s cold-grey face. “If you receive a red notification, I expect compliance.”
Godwill rose, discarded Mieant, and turned his gaze to me.
“You…,” he said softly. Leaning over slightly, he reached out with a cupped hand toward my face. Paralyzed, I didn’t move. I couldn’t move. I wanted to RUN. TO SCREAM.
Galactics were so used to their size that they assumed everyone was as big as they were—and often didn’t realize that I was much, much smaller than them. I braced myself for pain. His fingers traced a warm, dry path from my forehead to my cheek and then down my neck to my collarbone. His fingers were cool and smooth as they slipped a fingernail’s length under my shirt. I wriggled away, so his fingers lay on the muscle between my shoulders and neck.
“Little Human female, this pleasure is once again mine.” He made a show of thinking about his next words, even managing to purse his lips. “Your adoptive parents are Ascendants. Yet you are not of the Ceridian bloodline. ”
The class gasped again as his hand traced my flushed profile. “Raystar…of Earth. No,” he paused, taking a moment to consider his next words. “Terra. Raystar of Terra. THAT is a good name.”
He leaned in close, so only I could hear. His breath smelled slightly of musty caramel. “Raystar of Terra, I trust you are staying out of trouble. But should you receive a red notification, I am sure we will work it out.”
He remained that way a moment longer, until, not unlike a hunter that sensed its prey nearby in the ’natch, he stood and looked to the door. Alert and intent, he flowed out of the classroom, his security team close behind.
I shivered. All eyes in the class were on me. Spiders tingled up my spine, and my heart was slamming against my rib cage. I could still feel fingers sliding against my skin. I dropped my gaze, listening to the whump-whump, whump-whump of my fear.
The end-of-class chime shattered the classroom’s shocked silence. Students filed out with barely a whisper. I was rushing to the classroom’s threshold when a cool metallic tentacle wrapped around my bicep and spun me around with enough force to make me wince.
“Raystar? Sweet Human, you have a red notice. Do not leave the school grounds,” Pheelios said, her voice filled with honey.
Since AI wasn’t with me, the school systems placed my notifications on whichever synth I was registered to at the time. I could see that one of the vid-screens at my desk was glowing red. I’d never thought to check my desk synth for the notification.
I nodded to the blackness behind the Nurse’s faceplate. She released me.
Right. I rubbed where she’d gripped me, sure there was going to be a bruise.
Nova and gravity wells. No way was I flipping staying after school a minute longer than I coul
d draw in a life-giving breath.
19
The entrance to the library was inside the school, a bit past the main doors. Its enormous entryway descended two levels. The stairs were as wide as a terraced hillside sinking into a dark canyon’s depths. Rows of thick, grey columns stretched up to meet the vaulted ceiling. As one moved further in and down, darkness pooled above in the unlit ceiling as light glowed up from the base of the pillars. When we were younger, Cri and I would play hide-and-seek around the column bases, endlessly entertained by the giant shadows we cast in all directions.
Our library networked to other libraries across the Convergence’s 1,300 worlds. Two days ago, I would have said all of civilization’s knowledge was available here. Even given my new perspective, thinking about the lifetimes of information accessible in this maze of aisles and workstations made me wish I could live long enough to read, see, and experience it all.
The Galactic net, or GalNet, accessed everything! There were actors, actresses, sports, tragedies, humor…things happening out there that I would never hear about or see. THIS knowledge sat, accessible to little me, right here. For free. For nothing. My imagination was my guide, and the Universe knew I had so many questions.
My one, tiny existence, here, now.
There were trillions of lifetimes of people and places, out THERE.
I took a long, deep breath of the familiar, slightly chemical school air and descended into the forest of columns.
Metallic-grey walls reached down from the ceiling and met dark, ghost-grey carpeting. Blood-red sails, I guessed three meters wide at their bases and six meters long to their tips, hung down from the ceiling’s blackness at two-meter intervals. Between the columns and the sails, the library’s cathedral effect stretched off into the distance.
The sails were sound dampeners. Two people could speak a meter away from you in almost total privacy. Clusters of tables were surrounded by high-backed chairs that morphed to your body type, and the sails enabled study teams to work together at the tables without disturbing the library’s other patrons. Equipment was stacked neatly by each cluster. There were control headbands, low-end synths for research projects, and actual writing tablets, too.
