Fortune's Detour: Prequel of the Deka Series by Abigail Schwaig

by Abigail Schwaig

  I twisted the strap of my Federation-issued satchel around my fist into loops and tried to find something interesting besides his profile to look at.

  I didn’t succeed.

  “The way you’re talking, it sounds like you believe that there IS a Creator.” His tone was gentle. A light of friendly teasing and the excitement of a discussion lit up his eyes.

  “Well, yes.” I responded seriously. “I’ve believed my whole life that there was a Creator. Even when I went to college at the University of Trect and we read materials and watched live debates on the subject, I still turned in my paper as ‘Undecided’. Because I didn’t decide, I bombed the course. And my parents were so angry that I had an E for that tutorial. But I don’t know. I’d like it to be true. But how can there be a God when nobody sees Him? I mean, yes, there are texts that describe the supernatural hearings and the “fluid stream of love and understanding that flows from His messengers of Amaranth,” but where is it all now? No texts for almost five hundred years to the present talk about it. Could it have all been a big facsimile? Imbedded into history for the sake of the children and the idealists- keep them believing that there is a power for good in the universe, that there’s a greater purpose, that we’re all somehow special? Or could it have been as simple as science? Perhaps the lights our ancestors saw were from comets and meteor showers and planetary shifts instead of actually being “Divine Spirits.” I paused. “Our origins as humanity ARE explainable. I think either the Formists deliberately falsified historical documents or they came up with an explanation for scientific phenomena that fit their primitive religious temperament.” I shook my head.

  “What if, in the future, enough evidence appears that proves the Formist Theory?”

  “I’d like to believe it- I really would, Sam.” I was sincere, fingering the satchel tie once again, avoiding his warm hazel eyes. We would definitely have to keep our deep discussions on an intellectual bent; I didn’t want to have to look into those probing, beautiful, trusting drops of dark sky for long. “I don’t think you understand how much I want it to be true.” I stopped, touching my forehead for a moment. “I mean, Formist Belief makes the world seem like a better place than it is, and yet it also raises the stakes. I’d really like the former to be true while skirting the issue of the latter.”

  He nodded, his eyes thoughtful and serious. I looked away.

  I thought of my grandmother’s sweet face. Her expression had been soft and kind even in the cold rigidity of death. I remembered the funeral pod they placed her in. And then the launch. I remembered straining my little twelve-year-old eyes, trying to discern the speck as it soared on toward the solar star.

  I remember clutching the pendant necklace she gave me my tenth year. It was a jewel that washed up on the shore of the ocean, a lump of minerals I couldn’t distinguish, distilled by the ocean’s solution.

  My grandmother had told me it was an Amaranthian jewel left over from the tenth planet, Yotta, (the one you can’t reach because of the radioactive asteroid belt) of the Deka system as it went back through the Black Hole into the “Everlasting Arms of Amaranth,” as she called it.

  At the beginning of the season, I had asked Osbourne, my Biofuel Science professor, to tell me what it was. He had an extensive background in chemistry and he was actually the professor that encouraged me to go into the field of Oceanic Exploration Science, as it was a hobby of his. He answered that the pendant was made by minerals collected by ocean currents and trapped in rock crevices with lots of scrap and rubble for hundreds of years. In other words made by Process, not Divine Formation.

  I related as much to Sam. He took it well. I wasn’t sure if he was convinced or just really polite on this subject. I continued, finally finding my tongue loosened after spending a week with this man while in prison. “That thought about the ten planets is ridiculous now that I think about it. Gran was always an odd one. I’m sure she was aware of the ten planets already in the galaxy, but I don’t know if she understands that the tenth is too far away and a black hole doesn’t allow for any debris to be found, let alone caught without burning up in another planet’s atmosphere.”

  “Maybe she was taking into account the Doorways.”

  “Seriously? You think Doorways had something to do with us?”

  His eyes were now mischievous.

  Apparently so. “But the Doorways have been blocked off between several of the planets in recent history, and for 500 years now, they haven’t had any contact with us at all.”

  “How do you know that last part?” Sam continued, “You don’t spend all of your time monitoring the levels of energy surrounding the darkened planets, do you?” He nudged my arm with his own. We had forgotten the urgency of leaving the building, so caught up in our discussion were we.

  “I just know that I loved my grandmother more than anyone else I can remember, but she was a crazy old lady.” Maybe that’s why. I smiled. “I guess I have a weakness for skates and spacers, and my grandmother was a spacer if ever I saw one.” I added quickly, “She wasn’t a skeggar though, if she ever lied to me it was because she believed it to be true.”

  “Sounds like she was a good woman; loved you a lot.”

  “Yeah, she did. She talked to me. My parents don’t really do that. Unless they have something in mind that they want me to change about myself. She left me that house on the beach, you know.” I sighed and crossed my arms. “I think that’s the most devastating part of losing the place. I have memories there.”

  He squeezed my shoulder in a kind of gesture of understanding. I felt comforted, but then I felt the need to change the subject. Sam had a very pleasant touch and I needed to keep my head above water, at least until David was sorted out of my system. I spoke. “But back to Yotta- don’t you think it’s strange that nobody will be able to reach it through space? Like how is that possible? I thought we of the fourth millennium had unlimited access to the technology! I feel gypped; my whole childhood was a lie.” I teased, but Sam wasn’t laughing. Skegg it. I wished he would.

  “I think the Quadrant was made at the same time the Doorways were.”

  “Then how do you explain the way the Doorways to certain planets never open up anymore?”

  “It’s not necessarily our place to know everything. Sometimes faith is in order.”

  I shook my head. “Faith scares me.”

  “If you’re looking for more of a Processor answer, the asteroid belt alone wouldn’t stop explorers and scientists. The fact that it is radioactive is what keeps the probes from being manned with organic intelligences (humans) and instead sends AIs. The problem with artificial intelligences is that they don’t always have the common sense for simple problems the way humans do. So the pods often don’t make it, or if they do, we lose their signals right after they start orbiting the planet. Why it happens is a mystery.”

  “What a reclusive planet,” I murmured. “Do you suppose the people are still alive on Yotta, or did they go through some sort of apocalypse? Something must have happened or else why would there be so many wild stories of its bizarre “disappearance”?

  “I think something is going on that nobody has hypothesized yet.”

  “Yeah?” I turned my direct gaze on him. “Why?”

  “I just get a sense of it sometimes. Like a foreshadowing feeling. There’s something devious about Yotta. The other planets feel different, but Yotta definitely feels like a sham of sorts.”

  I smiled. “I’m glad you believe what you believe, no matter how crazy it sounds.”

  He laughed and raised his eyebrows. “Thanks? I guess?”

  Now I laughed. “You’re welcome.” I thought of all he had said and was seized by an overwhelming curiosity to know more. “Are you a Formist?” It was blunt, I know, but for good reason. I really wanted to know.

  He nodded. “I am. I believe that we were “Formed” by a Divine Will that set it all into motion. And I believe that Amaranth is the way He communicates with us.”


  “I believe parts of both, but I mostly lean towards Processor Theory.” I stood quietly for a moment, waiting. He said nothing else. I tested him, “Aren’t you supposed to combat my view until I ‘see reason’?”

  Sam chuckled. “Why? That would be rude.”

  I laughed. “You’re really bad at this.”

  He continued to smile. “It would only upset you. And that’s the last thing I want to do, I promise.” He winked, guiding me through the big doors underneath the exit sign. He made no small talk as we popped out of the swollen conference chamber and found ourselves face to face with a gorgeously shiny day. The forceful dayshine belied the tell-tale drips of water sliding down eaves, grass blades and tree leaves. The droplets splashed into large puddles off the uneven road.

  I gloried in the bright dazzle against my closed lids and upturned face. I imagined the beach before me instead of the wet greenery. How the beautiful crystal white sand of Myceania Shores and the water’s cerulean blues and celadon greens provided a stage for the dayshine to dance on.

  Oh, it was heaven.

  I sighed happily. I could always trick my mind into seeing the Shores and smelling them and even feeling the waves wash upon my ankles while my toes dug into the sand even as the ocean tore the granules out from underneath me…

  It was a gift. Something most people, Sam included, did not have. That was a sad

  thought. Sam deserved to be able to imagine life like I was able to. Everyone should. It made me angry that some people were fated to live their whole lives without that blessing.

  “I’d give you a Tao to find out what that expression means.” We were standing outside, just wandering past the steps of the Meeting place.

  “I’m frustrated,” I said, kicking a rock with my new, hand-me-down shoes.

  “You have a right to be. In fact, it’s an important stage of the ‘be ok’ process.” He was reasonable, making air quotes with his tone.

  “Not about that. I mean, I am, but that’s not why I’m angry right now.”

  “Okay.” He was neutral. It was very soothing; skegg it.

  “I’m angry at all the hurt and pain and disease and evilness in life. If this was Divine Creation, then the Designer should have done better.” I clenched my jaw.

  He crossed his arms and leaned against the hood of the car, making himself short enough to look me directly in the eye. “This has been a mistake, hasn’t it? Say the word and we’ll forget this ever happened and be on our way.”

  “No- you’re fine-” I waved my hand vaguely at him.

  He pursed his lips to keep from laughing.

  I tried not to notice. “For all we know, this ‘Designer’ could have a designer who has a designer and so on. I mean, what if he’s just like us, an artist who fashions little self-replicating robots to go about their business to do a specific job or even to provide entertainment for him? If so, then no, you can bet I’m not going to fall on my face in adulation.” I felt irritated. But not at Sam. Not even at his Creator God.

  I was just a conduit for the universal voice, and it cried out in anguish at the crimes humanity inflicted upon itself.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  If I was more of a sensible person, I’d probably be terrified and neurotic, but really, I was just enjoying the drive. Sam found my lack of fear amusing. I could tell he was interested to know why. So I told him. “I’m not scared, because I know David’s style. The moment he gets a good clear view, he’ll shoot. And then I won’t have to worry about ever seeing him again.”

  He shook his head in disbelief. “Never have I had a witness like you.”

  “Well, this has never happened to me before, so I don’t suppose you have a manual on how I should be reacting right about now.”

  “Actually we do; but I won’t force you to read it- just yet.” He chuckled with me and we left it at that.

  ~

  Sam had a taste for inter-planetary music that I found curious and surprising. For such a serious man, he had a wacky side.

  We listened to music from the “Kila Underground Warriors.” It was emotionally charged and we chanted and sang with them until we were hoarse and laughing. They were just war chants and fertility blessings anyway- really insane stuff. As it rocked out in the background, I forgot to pay attention to the words.

  There is nothing so freeing as speeding away from the dark cloud that lingers on the far horizon. For me, it felt like a questionable dare I had taken. I wasn’t sure if I was breaking the rules by taking a new life, certainly where David was concerned I was. But I gazed out the car window and let that thought slip away. It had no business in my brain. The truth was, I didn’t owe David a thing, and I was beginning to believe it.

  On the ride over to Tera’s capital city where the shuttle ride would be, I must have dozed off. When I woke, Sam’s jacket was spread atop me. I was curled so tightly that it covered me all up. I opened my eyes groggily, feeling cozy. I stretched a little bit, trying to stay within the warmth. I stared out the window at the passing stretch of desert that was bordered by the Caterland Mountains. I glanced over at Sam.

  The solar star was hot and hung in midair as if on a string. It seemed so close. I could see the city we were heading toward sprawling way up in the sky far ahead of us. Every planet tried to have their own prestigious version of Sky City, but only some of them succeeded. I’d never been to Tera’s capital, though I’d lived here my whole life and was a Tera Lander. We would reach it within a few hours I surmised.

  “It’s good you got some shut-eye.”

  “Hmmmm,” I agreed, fingering the jacket lapel. “Thanks for the makeshift blanket.”

  “No problem.” His smile was genuine. He seemed more relaxed now than when we stopped at the Formist Meet.

  I raked a hand through my mess of hair. It was brown and average-looking, hanging down a little past my shoulder blades. My clothes and limbs were rumpled and my eyes felt achy and hot from lack of deep sleep. I probably looked like a harbinger of chaos.

  “Can we talk about what happened back there at the Formist Meet?” I hazarded. I wasn’t sure how I had decided that this was the right time for an in-depth discussion, but like I said earlier, I was being eaten alive by a hunger to know more, to find out exactly who Sam was. Maybe I wanted to find something out that would destroy the connection I felt with him. Maybe I was just bored. Or maybe pretending to be Nicki-Ray was already changing me, inside out, making me bolder.

  He seemed a little taken aback, but quickly accepted it with a nod, forming his thoughts. “Okay. You sure you want to talk about this? I can be persistent once I get started on something.” A smile seemed to be lurking in the corner of his mouth.

  “Bring it.” I shifted in my seat, ready for a lively conversation. It was like a weird sort of energy had come over me and I felt like I was allowed to ask him things. Things I would never have asked David. Or anyone else, for that matter.

  He smiled, shifted the vehicle into automatic drive and got into debate posture- elbows on knees. “Tell me what you know.”

  "So... the Processors believe we were made by Gradual Integration either by nature's fickle will or by other fickle beings who were processed by other beings processed by other beings; their calculations don’t allow for one universal deity…?"

  "Yes," he affirmed.

  I deferred to him, wondering which tack he would pick for his first argument.

  He plunged in. "You know that Formists believe in a universal deity; you cannot be a Formist without that core belief."

  I nodded.

  He rubbed his hands, a silly grin on his face.

  I couldn't help but smirk at him. He had missed his chosen profession- he should have become a Proclaimer. I spoke up. "What about human creation of another human? Doesn't that prove the viability of a race creating another race?"

  He drummed his fingers along the console; I turned in my seat to face him head on. He caught my eye and I felt something in my chest catch. I felt rather breathl
ess looking into his eyes, but the seatbelt was across my throat, so I made allowances.

  "A gestation period of 211 Deka days does not prove Processor Logic. In fact, since it occurs so quickly instead of over eons, it would seem to be in support of a Formist worldview."

  I dropped my chin in my hands. "You have no proof."

  "That's true. But neither do you."

  I sat back, grinning for no logical reason. "I guess we'll know after we die."

  "We might not have to wait that long." He was enigmatic.

  I enjoyed listening to debates at home, at Trect, but never figured myself for the kind of person to get involved in one.

  "I think you and I both have faith for living out our lives, firmly believing opposite points of view," he mused.