by JB Penrose
All of the transvela’s met at Tiphereth, a beautifully chiseled oblisk tower that rose gracefully from the floor and connected the many levels of Delphi with a central elevator.
Each vela ran alongside a stationery walkway filled with people on their way to finish a task or errand. Everyone smiled like old friends; some of them even felt like old friends.
“Welcome, Spokesmon.”
“Happy Arrival, Spokesmon.”
Their greetings were reserved and polite; she appreciated the restraint on their curiosity to know more about her.
Rachel counted twenty-one levels inside the cavern, all very busy. Yet the peacefulness she felt was something she’d only dreamt of. Is this what it’s like to feel at home? If home is where the heart is, Peter had better like it here, too.
“What are the differences between the colored lights?” she asked. Blue, green, gold, and red lights were sprinkled around the emmense cavern.
“A blue light indicates a residence. There are about 21,000 Delphians, most of them live here. Those stationed in the outer world are returning now that you’ve arrived.”
“I can see why it’s a cause for celebration, although it seems a difficult place to grow up. It must be lonely living in secret,” Rachel wondered.
“We choose to live this way so there’s no reason for loneliness. Anyone could venture to the outer world if they wish, but, why would they?” He motioned around proudly. “The world is looking for a reason to have hope. Delphi is living it.”
Rachel sighed. It was easy to understand their desire to remain in Delphi; the beauty and peace she felt had never been matched anywhere in the world she’d been before. However, there was much to do and so many reasons to keep her from remaining in Delphi; she tried not to love it too much.
They passed a shop marked by a green light at the entrance. Machinery inside ranged from mechanical to technical and it smelled lightly of oil. All activity stopped, as it did everywhere they passed, and all heads turned to watch the Septorian show the Spokesmon around Delphi.
“We use green lights to indicate a service-stop. Craft, crop, or crew, they say of themselves,” he laughed lightly. “Laborious tasks come about in many fashions. We design and build our own tools for the job. Sometimes it’s a matter of clearing the peri-strata for a new residence; occasionally we need to rescue someone from a caving incident but that happens rarely in these times.
“The gold or amber lights would mean a store,” he continued, “although there is no monetary system in Delphi. It’s just a way to manage supplies between the neighborhoods.”
“And what about the red lights?” They were fewer in number, but she noted them randomly placed throughout the cavern.
“Ruby colored lights mark a study hall; educational exploration we call it. Groups meet in those locations and have in-depth discussions on all types of subjects and around the clock. The smaller rooms are used for meditation.”
“I’m sure they are very interesting conversations, between psychics, I mean.”
“Not all psi-talents are considered paranormal, of course. Some have talents in strength, or languages, math or music. The Oracle has gathered the best in every field and the city is quite diverse.”
Rachel didn’t have time to ask about it. The large round hole in the wall where they stopped was obviously part of the kitchen. Delicious aromas poured out as fast as the trays and servers went in. She stepped aside quickly to let a cart stacked with dishes and utensils roll past her.
“Welcome, Spokesmon.”
She heard the silent greeting in her mind. “Thank you, Christopher,” she said aloud. He smiled and pushed on through.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to regenerate the large items to their destination?” Rachel wondered. “I mean, I know you have the technology.”
“Oh, sure, we all have access to that technology, or the talent. But we’re not lazy, and Delphians aren’t purists, either. We find enjoyment in our daily routine. It’s very satisfying, and besides everyone wants to be a part of the Spokesmon’s Arrival.”
She was glad when they finally stopped walking; and if the smells indicated they were close to the kitchen - the heat was a confirmation. All clatter and chatter stopped the moment they stepped inside the warm cave.
The first cubby she saw was full of tables and benches; dinner plates had been abandoned by those gathered at the doorway to catch a glimpse of the Spokesmon and the Septorian. Rachel waved and the excited responses rose in volume, physically as well as mentally. She was relieved when Iscar directed her through another opening.
The prep-kitchen was the size of her small apartment in Georgetown. Again, Rachel sensed the attention directed toward them, toward her, but she felt the open heart of the woman who approached.
Her pace was deliberate, and with each step, she pushed back strands of red hair that fell out from under her cap. After wiping her hands on her apron, she clapped them together and the activity around them resumed.
“Welcome, Spokesmon.” She beckoned them aside so yet another tray of dishes could roll on by. “Septorian, it’s good to see you in Delphi again.”
“Thank you, Lara. As usual, you are working your magic in the kitchen.”
The woman’s ruddy cheeks turned even rosier but her smile was genuine. “You can never have too much love in the mixture.”
“It does smell divine.” Rachel spotted a selection of finger-pies cooling on a nearby counter.
“It’s why you’re here,” Lara said with a smile. “It’s why everyone comes here! Food made with love!”
Lara retrieved the platter before Rachel could ask but when she turned to present them Rachel saw her expression suddenly change to panic.
In that instant, Rachel had the image of a coffee cup hovering behind her; the aroma was also a warning. Carefully, Rachel turned and plucked the cup that was hovering in mid-air. Delphi was doing nothing to curb her coffee addiction.
Lara pushed the tray into Iscar’s hands and put hers on her hips. “Fairidai! That might have spilled on the Spokesmon.”
“She knew it was there.” A young girl in her early teens with matching red hair to Lara’s, stepped forward and smiled broadly at Rachel. “Mother Star said you liked coffee.”
Rachel nodded and sipped again. “Yes, I do. Thank you.”
“Next time please consider the safety factor before you go floating a cup of coffee across the room.”
“Oh, that was nothing. I had it under control.” She caught the stern look from her mother and subdued. “They wanted to deliver it.” Fairidai turned around quickly and motioned.
Acting as one, the children skipped out from behind the counter and ran to hug Fairidai at the knees, shyly hiding behind her to get a better look at the Spokesmon.
“The Spokesmon would have been just as happy to get her coffee in a safer way.” In spite of her admonishment, Lara patted them all fondly on the cheeks.
“Yes, mam’m.” They answered as a chorus. Fairidai corralled them by the shoulders and urged them forward.
Rachel knew they weren’t related from the differences between them, but the group of youngsters moved and answered as one. She knelt to shake each of their hands. “Thank you, Anais, and Lily, and Samuel.” The children gasped when the Spokesmon called them by name.
Rachel stood, and raised her cup in Fairidai’s direction. “You were right. I knew it was there.” She took another sip and tried to sound casual. “So, Mother Star told you I like coffee?”
Fairidai nodded, excited. “She tells me lots of things. She’s an angel.”
“She’s an angel, alright.” Lara took the tray from Iscar’s hands and gave it to Samuel. “And you’ll be angels, too, if you’ll take these pastries to 9-8-14 for me.”
Their heads immediately began to bob in unison. “We will. We want to help. We wanted to meet her,” they said at the same time. Still clinging to each other like a beehive, giggles started with one and spread to all. Fairidai tried to hush
them with a finger to her lips but it was not a commanding gesture.
“I’m very happy to meet you,” Rachel told them. “And thank you for all the help you give Lara in the kitchen."
Lara shared a grateful look with Rachel before she instructed the youngsters. “Fairidai, please check in with Leonard when you get there. He’s got a list of things you can help with before tonight’s dinner.” She kissed the girl on the forehead. “I’ll check on you later.”
“Yes, mother.” Fairidai ushered the group into reverse and they disappeared noisily through the exit, each one waving their hands behind them to the Spokesmon.
“Fairidai used to baby-sit in the nursery,” Iscar offered. “Before we knew it she’d formed a mental link with every child from cradle to pre-school.”
“They trust her,” Rachel confirmed as the last child left through the opening. “She’s a special girl.”
“Yes, and not because she’s my girl,” Lara nodded proudly. “All the children in Delphi are special.” She smiled. “But Fairidai had a strong focus at an early age and her talent requires strict discipline.”
“I still say she’s special.”
“Thank you.” She wiped her forehead with the back of her arm. “Now that the child-storm has passed we should get back to the reason you’re here - something to eat?”
Although the tray was small, it was heavily weighted with a sample of everything. She presented it to the Spokesmon with pride. Rachel picked two pieces off the top, more for their small size than guessing of its content, and popped one into her mouth.
“I couldn’t possibly eat all that now! But,” and she smiled sheepishly for what she was about to ask. “If someone wanted to take that to my residence I’d love to sample as much as I could, later.”
“It would be our pleasure to send this to your quarters.” Lara turned to the small group of volunteers who appeared at the mention of a delivery to the Spokesmon’s residence and handed the tray to a young man. He grinned largely in appreciation of his assignment and dared a nod to the Spokesmon with a boldness empowered by the tray he held for her.
“Thank you, Lupe,” Rachel smiled.
The young man nodded seriously and turned away with his prize.
The crowd around them had now doubled in size. “I should let you get back to work,” Rachel apologized. “We shouldn’t have taken so much of your time.”
“We’re all,” she motioned to include the group, “honored at your arrival. But before you leave, would you like to see more of the kitchen than just the counter space?”
“No, actually,” Iscar stepped forward, “I have something I would like to show the Spokesmon.”
“Yes, of course, Septorian.” Lara dropped her eyes but her smile didn’t change. “Thank you for coming by.”
Iscar lead Rachel toward an open corner and began to program the cyto.
“Oh, could we walk?” Rachel stopped him with her hand on his arm. “It’s not like I could get tired from riding the vela, and there’s so much to see,” she admitted freely.
“If you’re up to it,” Iscar relented. “It’s a little more remote than most locations, but I think you’ll appreciate what I want to show you, Spokesmon.”
It was difficult, and a little uncomfortable for Rachel to imagine how others knew her as the Spokesmon before she had a chance to understand what that meant for her. Still, Rachel was beginning to feel that Delphi meant more to her than just being Iscar’s city.
“I’ll admit – It’s a bit uncomfortable being turned into some kind of religion.”
“Delphi is not here for religion.” Iscar’s voice rose defensively. “We believe in God’s Love, the Masters’ Lessons, and the Spokesmon’s Dreams.
“I’m embarrassed for Reider and the others, Kerroon especially,” he continued, “for the mockery they managed to make of organized religion. Delphians are dedicated to the Spokesmon and the Awakening, but they understand it’s a part of God’s larger plan.”
“What about you? Do Delphians know you as Judas Iscariot?”
Iscar nodded. “They know my history better than anyone, and they love Delphi. However, their commitment is to the Spokesmon. To them I am only Iscar, the Septorian.” He guided her off the vela and stepped beside her, turning her in a direction as he explained.
“Delphi has isolated itself from practiced religions and instead, worked to purify themselves to be ready for the Spokesmon’s arrival.”
“Purify?” She choked, but swallowed her next words. One look at Iscar’s face and she knew how serious he was. “Just how do you go about that?” she challenged. Iscar chose to ignore her implication.
“It can only be measured by one’s self,” he told her. “Based on how well you fulfill your Divine Mission in this life, not just in Delphi.”
“That sounds like a pretty tall order.”
“It doesn’t take a psi-talent to know when you’ve stepped off the Path. Everyone knows when they’ve gotten it wrong, even if they’ve not the courage to admit it. We have education for things like that, but not structured religion.”
There wasn’t much conversation between them as they headed to the destination he had in mind. The population thinned as they went deeper into the peri-strata of the main cavern. Looking upward to the lighted walkway moving through the cavern above them was like seeing a million stars in a black sky, and it was beautiful. Rachel noted every detail she could, the natural wonders as well as the man-made additions. It surprised her how quickly she had adapted to the opposition of light. From the depths, it was like looking up into a city skyline.
The uniformity was equally matched with the natural wonders of being underground. The stone columns rose as skyscrapers, with images chiseled on them that represented something unknown, but she chose to walk in silence and learn their secrets later.
“Gather together our hearts, our minds, and our souls, that we may become as One Fire.”
The voices came from nowhere and continued to grow as they walked. Either Iscar didn’t hear them, or chose not to mention the whispers, but the dimly lit path finally stopped at a large chockstone lodged in the middle of an open passage. She knew they had arrived at their destination. Iscar squeezed past the stone to enter and beckoned Rachel to follow him inside.
As soon as they entered, the lights brightened to reveal a library. Rows and rows of shelving occupied the center of the room.
“Books!” Her fingers lightly brushed the bindings as she walked by and images of different authors projected themselves into her mind. She knew instantly the whispers told the stories written, and as she walked among the rows of bound parchments, she sensed the author intended to share something special with the reader. Then Rachel understood; these stories were dedicated to the Spokesmon.
“These are the Pathways of those who have lived and died in Delphi. I thought you might like to know how seriously we take our dreams from the Oracle.”
“Very seriously, I see.” Rachel was mesmerized by the feelings and stories they held. “Have you read them all?”
“None!” Iscar was genuinely surprised at her assumption. “The Pathways are personal journals. No one is meant to read them but the author, and of course the Spokesmon.”
Rachel’s invitation was being shouted mentally from each volume. Curious as well as cautious, she moved through the aisles gleaning names and dreams from the rows of records. “Very beautiful. I hear their whispers.”
“Whispers?”
“They’re whispering their stories to me. I’m surprised you don’t hear them, too.”
“No, I don’t hear them. But it’s not necessary. I lived those stories with each of them over many centuries.” He followed behind her at a distance to let her browse. “It’s only right that you sense what these volumes hold; they were written for the Spokesmon.”
The chorus of whispers grew into unison: Gather together our hearts, our minds, and our souls, that we may become as One Fire. Acting as One, let us always do God�
��s Work, learn the Masters’ Lessons, and manifest the Spokesmon’s Dreams.
The whispers called to her like the song of a Siren. She could feel the dedication in their words, both spoken and written. There was something she felt she needed to find. Something among these volumes was special. “If you don’t mind,” she wondered aloud. “I’d like to stay a while – by myself. I’m sure you have things to do.” She could tell the idea appealed to him.
“Yes, actually,” he paused. “But I wouldn’t feel safe about you wandering the city alone just yet. You might get lost, and there are a few natural dangers you would be unaware of – especially in this deeper peri-strata.”
Rachel nodded to the wrist control on Iscar’s arm. “I’m familiar with the cyto. If you could program it for my quarters, then you needn’t worry about my safety.”
Iscar unbuckled the unit from his wrist without hesitation, and entered a sequence before he handed it to her. “Malkuth – Zero – One. You are sure you’ll be alright?”
Rachel nodded. “Thank you; I’ll return this later. And in the future, I’ll be sure to wear the one you gave me when we arrived. Malkuth, zero, one,” she confirmed, and strapped the cyto on her wrist.
She had seen the Aurora’s crew use a cyto and she knew the basic instructions for transport, but instantly, Rachel was sure there was more to Iscar’s cyto than just re-generation from one location to another. It was a piece of technology she intended to study further. Maybe there was a way to contact Peter after all.
“Just push this button and you’ll be there.”
“You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be fine,” she assured him, anxious for the chance to be alone. “I have everything I need in the residence, and with this,” she held up her wrist; “I’ll get there with no problems.”
Iscar nodded. “I’ll check on you before the ceremony, but you know if there’s anything at all that you need, well, just think it – all of Delphi is listening for your call!”
“I’ll be fine, and,” she paused. It almost pained her to say it, even if it was deserved; she added, “Thank you.”
