The Restoration of Flaws (The Phantom of the Earth Book 5)
Page 1
The
Restoration
of
Flaws
BOOK FIVE
THE PHANTOM OF THE EARTH
Raeden Zen
New York
2015
Copyright © 2015 by Raeden Zen
All rights reserved.
The Phantom of the Earth is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.
And the shadows of tree trunks and shadows of leaves interlace with low voices and footsteps and sunlight to divide us forever.
—Conrad Aiken
What is now proved was once, only imagin’d.
—William Blake
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Maps and Charts
Part I: Metamorphosis Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Part II: Violent Heart Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Part III: The Timescape Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Part IV: Emergence Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Marstone’s Database
Appendix 1 Thirty Precepts of the Commonwealth
Appendix 2 Terraforming the Underground
Appendix 3 Interstellar and Time Travel
Appendix 4 Dictations and Songs of the Underground
Appendix 5 Transhuman Theology
Appendix 6 Transhuman Terminology
Acknowledgments
Maps and Charts
World Map circa 368 AR
Capital City Map circa 368 AR
Cartographic Notes
Archimedes River: runs from Area 51 in Boreas to the Shore, Piscator, where it mixes with the man-made lagoon at the border of the continent where the earth meets the Gulf of Yeuron; the portion of the river from Wenlock City, Jurinar, to Pragia Village, Luxor, flows beside the Visea Basin rather than running off into it; the portion of the river from Alpinia City, Marshlands (approx. 2,457 meters deep), to Vivo City, Vivo (2,527 meters deep), descends deeper into the Earth.
Beimeni River: runs from Area 51, Boreas, to Yeuron City, Yeuron.
Beimeni zone: a layer of the Earth that is, on average, between two thousand and two thousand five hundred meters deep; some parts of the commonwealth are deeper and some parts have shallower depths.
Haurachesa Territory: cities of Port Newland and Huatervian City accessed from the sea and established in 217 AR and 227 AR, respectively; territory not reachable via traditional transport until 335 AR, when a tunnel was constructed beneath the Gulf of Yeuron to the Phanes Beltway.
Hillenthara River: runs from the North Atlantic Ocean to the fork in Gubertiana Territory where it empties into the Archimedes River.
Inaccessible: the regions in the Beimeni zone considered to be off limits to expansion owing to seismic activity within Earth.
Island of Reverie: known as Manhattan, Before Reassortment; lies in the surface zone above Reassortment Hall.
Lochkafka River: runs from Nurino City, Zereaux, to a fork in Portage Territory where it empties into the Beimeni River.
Masimovian Center: though it’s labeled as #23 in the city map key, it’s unlabeled on the city map; includes Masimovian Tower and Buildings #2–#7.
Nyx Territory: known as Angeles Territory prior to the collapse of Angeles City in 214 AR. Angeles City was renamed the City of Eternal Darkness the same year.
Phanes Beltway: the commonwealth’s largest transport terminal. (See Appendix 6.)
Phanes Citadel: unlabeled in the city map key and on the city map; is on top of the Swann Tower in the capital’s Plaza District.
Reassortment Hall: located in the Earth’s crust beneath the Island of Reverie in the Beimeni zone.
Surface zone: the surface of Earth.
Valanginian River: runs from Palaestra City, Palaestra, to Phanes Lake, Phanes.
Visea Basin: a network of deep prehistoric caverns that served as a runoff for many natural underground rivers and streams.
Zwillerzweller River: runs from Area 55, Boreas, to Zanclea City, Reanaearo, where it empties into the Visea Basin.
Fountain of Youth, Beimeni City, Phanes Territory, Underground Central
Livellan vs. Gregorian Calendars
Source: Office of the Chancellor.
Pregnancy and Development Timelines
*Low and high ranges are approximations; there are exceptions.
**See Appendix 6 for additional details on “Development.”
***Data from 368 AR to 370 AR is estimated.
Source: Department of Communications and Commonwealth Relations.
Harpoon Exams and Lower Level Data: 185–335
*Candidates who do not receive a bid at the Harpoon Auction are sent to the Lower Level.
**As of 367 AR, 180,776,206 candidates have been sent to the Lower Level since the inception of the Harpoon Auction in 186 AR.
Source: Department of Communications and Commonwealth Relations.
Harpoon Exams and Lower Level Data: 335–400E
*Candidates who do not receive a bid at the Harpoon Auction are sent to the Lower Level.
**As of 367 AR, 180,776,206 candidates have been sent to the Lower Level since the inception of the Harpoon Auction in 186 AR.
***Data from 368 AR to 400 AR is estimated.
Source: Department of Communications and Commonwealth Relations.
Solar System’s Population
*Years based on a combination of the Gregorian and Livellan calendars.
**Data from 368 AR to 370 AR is estimated.
Source: Campanian Consortium.
Solar System’s Population: Before and After Reassortment
*Years based on the Livellan calendar.
**Data from 368 AR to 370 AR is estimated.
Source: Campanian Consortium.
Solar System’s Population: After Reassortment
*Years based on the Livellan calendar.
**Data from 368 AR to 370 AR is estimated.
Source: Campanian Consortium.
For clearer versions of the maps, settings, and charts, please visit: http://www.raedenzen.com/
Part I:
Metamorphosis
On the Surface: Summer
In Beimeni: Second/Third Trimester
Days 240 – 263
Year 368
After Reassortment (AR)
ZPF Impulse Wave: Broden Barão
Region 7
Lower Level
4,000 meters deep
Brody dipped his toe to the gravel. A sign overhead read LOWER LEVEL REGION 7 in neon maroon letters, surrounded by burning salamanders. The region’s wind struck him, leaving a crawling sensation all over his skin. His arms, fingers, and toes tingled. The more he moved the more it felt as if his fe
et and legs functioned on their own, independent of his brain, body, and the zeropoint field.
Lichen grew from the gravel and spread over his feet and up his legs.
You did this, it said, when you snapped Vernon Lebrizzi’s neck.
Yes, he should’ve known, all those late nights, those days when Damy disappeared. Going to dine in Ope City, going to the Spas in Gaia, going to see Veronicella in Hammerton Hall or the Haydn duet in Artemis Square. Never with Brody.
You did this when you were born and left unregistered, when your father killed himself.
He remembered the day when he and Xylia had nearly suffocated in the malfunctioning bunker in his father’s apartment unit. His father had pulled them out into the cellar and said: “Son, please forgive me … I can’t go to the Lower Level.”
Hari’s dead body disappeared, replaced by Lady Eulalie of House Variscan, who held his hand and said, “I see a champion in you, Broden Barão, and when you take off, no one will stop you.”
He’d taken his master’s place in the RDD, the shadow for the master, the master for the shadow, and Antosha, his former shadow, took his woman the same as Brody took Antosha’s, and he took Brody’s place in the RDD the same as Brody took Jeremiah Selendia’s.
The shadow covered the master twice.
Antosha stole the Reassortment project from him, along with his life, and he knew what came next: the twins, his legacy, his punishment.
Don’t hide, the lichen said, don’t run. This is everything you deserve.
“You can’t stop here,” a Janzer said.
The lichen disappeared from Brody’s feet and body. It no longer spoke. The Janzer took him by the arm and escorted him over the limestone pathway.
“Here,” the Janzer said to a black bot labeled TYLER, “this is your responsibility.”
“I was on the … stairs,” Tyler said. Slits for its eyes and mouth glowed maroon, and it didn’t have noticeable audio captures the way the bots in Beimeni did. And its voice sounded deep and synthesized, like Marstone’s. It examined his tags. “Mister … Broden. I’ll be your escort until you die in the Lower Level.”
The Janzer extended his hand. Brody moved on with Tyler through the corridor.
The letters and arrows swam together, then apart in the wall as if a stream flowed behind them. Something approached. A beast! Brody fell against the wall.
“Stay back!” He held up his palms and closed his eyes. He opened them. Nothing there.
Tyler injected him with a violet fluid, and his senses normalized. He saw the words, the arrows. An exiled Beimenian with brittle bluish-blonde hair and a black bot walked toward them. She stared at him, face empty, her skin paler than the walls. Her head swiveled as she passed. The bot with her nudged her and she turned abruptly.
Tyler led Brody to the right. They walked for a time. He felt strangely calm.
“Here it is. Your itinerary is on your cot. Follow it precisely. I’ll be waiting for you. You don’t want to risk censure.” Tyler waved its hand over the door. The joints turned and screeched as if not used in a hundred years.
Brody entered, observed a cot, toilet, and stone sink, wondered if this was all somehow not happening, if perhaps he was in an insomniac haze, like he was so often in the commonwealth.
The door slammed and locked with a ker-slink, waking him.
Dark blue phosphorescent light brightened in the upper corners of his unit.
Brody knelt and bowed and closed his eyes. Gods, protect me from this Region 7 atmosphere and give me strength to stay alive long enough to see my twins, and should I never hold them in my arms again, gods, protect them, guide them, see to it they live a life more honorable than mine.
On his cot lay folded clothing, enough for a few days, and a paper scroll.
The digital clock on the cracked wall read 1647.
What’re you waiting for?
Brody turned, for he heard a voice, subtle, feminine, peaceful, but how could he have missed her? Impossible. He examined the room. It barely fit one person, let alone two. It was like a tomb.
Are you waiting for me?
The tone was more distinct. He recognized it.
Why do you blame me?
Brody closed his eyes.
This isn’t real, he told himself. None of this is real. He inhaled the stale air and held it in as long as he could. He let it out and, with a sob, moved along the bare wall. He grasped stone-gray pants and a matching hooded shirt and put them on. At the door, he punched the digital button labeled CONTROLLER.
The door groaned open, and Tyler was waiting. Its eye slit glowed brighter, and Brody expected it to speak. It instead grabbed his arm and led him to the archway that opened into the main hall. It was larger than Brody imagined, taller than Palaestra Hall and wider than Hammerton Hall, but the walls and ceiling were bare of Granville syntech. Thousands of exiles, dressed similar to him, sat around tables, though unlike him, most all had porcelain skin. The squeaking of boots and scraping of chairs were all he heard.
Hullo, Brody tried to say, but he found that he couldn’t. Odd, he thought.
Tyler took him to the elevators after finding the one labeled OFFICE OF THE CONTROLLER. Holographic burning salamanders slithered around it.
Brody stopped and turned. Tyler grabbed his arm to pull him in the elevator but Brody broke free. Damy dangled from one of the rafters by her left hand. Her dark blue hair flowed around the shoulders of her gown. She looked beyond Brody, as if he wasn’t there.
Brody couldn’t move. Damy?
Now his fellow exiles turned in unison as if they and he were part of a silent pantomime.
Janzers surrounded him. Where had they come from? He shook them off and clenched his fists and teeth.
He tried to call to Damy, Why are you here?
Why couldn’t he speak? He lunged toward her, but the Janzers corralled him and tied his arms and hands and legs.
You think I betrayed you. Damy’s voice.
I went to the forest, I tried to save you!
I heard you, heard your doubts.
I killed Verne for you!
No, my darling, you killed Verne for yourself.
A Janzer stuck Brody with a syringe.
His vision blurred.
I’m sorry …
He passed out.
He awoke, confused and sore, sitting in a chair. A mahogany desk sat near, a Granville view on the far wall. He stared longingly at the mountains and silver trees with silver leaves. A tangerine sunrise. A flock of robins flew beneath a looming eagle, leading it away from their young.
A slender man in a silver tank top sat across the desk, his legs crossed at the knee. He yawned and glanced at his armlet, then poured orange juice into a silver cup. “Here, take this. You look like you need it.”
Brody blinked and downed the juice. He stared at the opposite wall where a map of the Lower Level hung suspended beneath a Granville sphere. A radial design, Regions 1 through 7, units around the central octagon labeled HIGH CASTLE OF THE CONTROLLER, and floors beneath, beginning with a 1 and ending with a 250. Brody noted that Region 7 occupied most of the Lower Level.
Soothing piano music echoed through the room. Brody turned back and forth as if to find the source.
“Frédéric Chopin,” the man said, adjusting his silver fedora, “Preludes for Piano, a melody that skips the ears and penetrates the body.
“I assume you’re interested in hearing what I have to say.”
I suppose you’re the Controller of the Lower Level, Brody mouthed. He still couldn’t speak.
“At your service, Captain.”
How the Controller could hear him, Brody didn’t know. Maybe he was a lip-reader or a skilled telepath who could discern thoughts in transhumans without neurochips. The Controller smiled, revealing perfect teeth.
The Lower Level is meant for Beimenians who cannot handle life in the commonwealth, to provide a transition to a new life for those who didn’t garner a bid in the Harpoons,
to punish lawbreakers and heathens, not this, this— “Yes, this. The Harpoons are man-made natural selection and though our judicial system rewards the loyal and skilled and removes the traitorous, ultimately the Lower Level is all about …”
Attrition. Population control.
The Controller stood, plucked a moonstone pipe from a box, and lit it. Smoke puffed from his mouth. “Part of you has known this, part of you never wanted to believe it, and another part of you believes, stupidly, that a new option will emerge for you and the rest.”
He puffed his pipe again. “You’re in Region 7 of the Lower Level, where exiles go to die.” He sat down again and crossed his legs. “You’ll serve before your death. No doubt about that, you’ll clear out the … stairwell, sort the minerals.”
My mind isn’t lost, not yet.
“Just your voice?” The Controller grinned.
I was a supreme scientist in Palaestra.
“I don’t care what you were, exile. Down here you’re no higher than the rodents that scatter the ashes of the dead. You’re a traitor, a disease to our modern civilization. There’s no reeducation in Region 7.”
The Controller swallowed his drink and removed his fedora.
I’ve been wrongfully accused of a crime I didn’t commit by a system I didn’t create, by a chancellor who betrayed me. I can speak these traitorous ideas to you, Controller, because if he wanted me dead, I wouldn’t be here. I can speak freely because you’re here in the Lower Level, and that means somewhere along the way he decided you didn’t belong in the commonwealth, and I know you want to go back. Brody smiled wanly. I can see it in your eyes, you want more, you need more, deserve more— “You will remember your place, exile.” The Controller’s lips curled back over his teeth. “You can’t speak because your brain is already rotting. You and your exiled brethren are shells in a poisonous sea, and you, like they, will learn why you never should have failed the Great Commonwealth.”