Children of the Divide

by Patrick S. Tomlinson

  “Yes, a good day.”

  “Maybe when I was still in my thirties,” Benson lamented. “Now, a good day is lying in the hammock on my roof with a bucket of lagers.”

  “Maybe tonight, if Xis smiles on our efforts.”

  “Maybe,” Benson agreed. He was not a believer, not in any of the triumvirate of Atlantian Gods, or the endless pantheon of deities mankind had dreamed up over the millennia, but he appreciated his friend’s sentiment nonetheless.

  Light spilled out into the hallway ahead of them from just around a gentle bend. It didn’t have the warm yellow glow of torchlight, or the bluegreen of Atlantian skinglow. It was sterile white light, artificial.

  “They ran LEDs down here?” Korolev asked.

  “Certainly looks that way.”

  Kexx leaned in. “Not to Jack shit, but–”

  “Jinx it, Kexx.”

  “Oh,” Kexx pondered. “Who is Jinx?”

  “No, it’s… Never mind right now. Not to jinx what?”

  “I was just going to say how much these walls look like the entrance to the Dweller’s Temple of Xis’s Womb.”

  “Yeah… but you just said it wasn’t a temple.”

  “The main entrance was not, but the tunnels are quite a bit more extensive than just a single temple.”

  They turned the corner, and déjà vu hit Benson like an unblocked defensive end. The ramp down and the entrance to the chamber didn’t merely resemble the temple from the Dweller caverns they’d visited fifteen years ago, it looked like an exact duplicate, down to the millimeter. All that was missing was the patina and worn edges left by centuries of use. They entered the circular chamber itself, ringed with columns and seats, exactly as he remembered.

  “Well, that’s unsettling,” Benson quipped.

  “What is, honey?” Theresa asked.

  “That looks exactly like the Dweller temple Kexx and I almost got shanked in back before Black Bridge. Like, exactly, except brand new and with LEDs instead of torches.”

  “Like the ancestors themselves returned from Xis’s womb to rebuild it,” Kexx added emphatically.

  “You don’t think it was, you know, already here?” Korolev asked.

  “No,” Sakiko said. “This mudstone is fresh and unstained. Less than ten years.”

  “Seven years,” Sco’Val said. “Ze wanted the Dweller Temple copied after hearing about the Bearers who ruled from under the ground. We agreed.”

  “Ze who?” Theresa asked.

  “Sco’Val speaks about myself.”

  As one, they all turned to regard the source of the small, yet firm voice. An Atlantian bearer stood there, hunched over with age and burden, held up by an attendant at each arm, yet somehow standing taller than anyone in the room. Sco’Val fell to zer knees.

  “Oh, shit,” Kexx mumbled.

  “What?” Benson said. “Who is that?”

  “It’s zer, the Bearer with No Name.”

  That got Benson’s attention. The Bearer with No Name, the spiritual parent of every last Atlantian in Shambhala. The figurehead for an entire community.

  And someone who went missing a decade ago.

  “Are you sure, Kexx? No one’s seen zer in ten years.”

  Kexx regarded Benson with a pained expression.

  “The truth-digger is correct,” ze said. “I have no name. Many have tried to give me one, but I resist. If I have a name, I could speak only for myself. Without one, I am free to speak for all my people.”

  Memories came flooding back to the surface of Benson’s mind. A missing person, an underground hideout, a forgotten leader.

  Still, Benson had enough experience with this sort of thing to know when to show deference. Lord only knew how he’d survived long enough to learn that lesson. He leaned down, not prostrate on the ground like Sco’Val, but enough to bring his face level with the frail figure before him, signaling that he considered zer an equal. Ze was old for an Atlantian, wrinkled and dulled by the years. The contrasting bands of color on zer skinglow lacked the sharp definition of youth. Permanent spots where the chromatophores had simply forgotten how to constrict had cropped up like broken pixels on a video display.

  Ze had been old for a bearer of fertile age when ze’d come to Shambhala asking for asylum. Now, ze was ancient. But no one seemed to have the courage to tell zer.

  Benson thought of Devorah, the undead museum curator (or cybernetic, depending on who you asked), saw yet another parallel, and smiled.

  “Something amuses you, truth-digger?” the bearer asked pointedly. Benson looked back at Kexx, assuming ze’d done something to raise the bearer elder’s ire, but Kexx only blanched at him.

  “I was speaking to you, Ben son.”

  Realizing his mistake, Benson’s head snapped back. “I’m sorry, bearer. I’ve just never been called a truth-digger by an Atlantian of your… standing before. I assumed you meant my friend, Kexx.”

  “You dig through the dirt and filth of lies to find truth as Kexx does, do you not?”

  “That was my job, yes. Long ago. My wi… mate, Theresa, holds that job now.” Benson held a hand out to his wife, who gave a curt bow in reply.

  “We cannot stop being who we were, truth-digger. We can only add to it.”

  “That is very wise. And I’m sorry, I did not mean to offend you. You just remind me of an old friend.”

  “How?”

  Benson paused, unsure of how to answer, but fairly certain “You remind me of a tiny, ancient, angry Jewish woman who terrorizes school children and council members equally” was the wrong approach.

  “Her strength lies in her wisdom and resilience, not in her physical body.”

  “Oh, you mean Devorah,” the bearer said.

  Benson flinched. “You know her?”

  “Oh yes, very well. Ze’s crazy.”

  It was so unexpected, Benson laughed easily for the first time in days. “That she is. And she still won’t stop working.”

  “Ze will work for zer people until ze returns, then ze will work for zer people before Xis. Who do you work for today, truth-digger?”

  “I…” Benson stammered, caught off guard by the question. He looked at the bearer’s face, into zer eyes. They were clouded over with many years of seeing too much. Ze was almost certainly blind, but Benson couldn’t help but feeling like ze was looking through him like a recently cleaned window.

  “I’m supposed to say I’m working for Shambhala, or whatever.”

  “But?”

  “But I’m here for my child. I’m working for Benexx. Everything else can burn behind me, as long as ze’s safe.”

  “You would watch your village fall for one who is not even of your blood?”

  The muscles in Benson’s neck flared involuntarily. He grabbed Theresa’s hand and squeezed. “Benexx is our child. We named zer in the proper Atlantian ceremony overseen by Chief Tuko zerself. We’ve raised zer, cared for zer, tucked zer in, taught zer everything we knew, and learned from zer things we never could have known without zer. Blood is irrelevant. We chose our family. Now, can you help me find zer, or are you wasting my time?”

  It was the Bearer with No Name’s turn to smile. Ze looked up at one of the attendants who helped steady zer. “I would like to sit, please.” Benson watched quietly as they maneuvered zer into the largest chair and waited until ze was settled and comfortable.

  “Let us talk, truth-digger.”

  “Let’s.”

  “My eyes are not what they once were, but my ears hear farther and clearer than they ever have.”

  Benson nodded. “And what have your ears heard in the last few days?”

  “Much, but first, we’re going to talk about what they’re going to hear before I help you.”

  A pit opened up in Benson’s stomach. “I’m not authorized to negotiate on behalf of the city, bearer. I can promise you the moon if you like, but I can’t deliver it.”

  “You are influential among your people, truth-digger. And ours. You, your ma
te, and your child are powerful symbols across the city. When you talk, all listen.”

  “You flatter me, bearer. I just don’t want you to walk away with… inflated expectations.”

  “I understand. But we’ve gone through the… what do you call them? ‘Proper canals’?”

  “Channels, bearer,” Kexx said.

  “Channels, thank you. We have gone through the proper channels for years without success. Time for something different.”

  Benson’s jaw tightened. “Is that what the attack at the parade was? Something different?”

  “We had nothing to do with that despicable act.”

  “Then who did?” Benson snapped. Theresa put a soothing hand on his shoulder.

  “Patience, dear. Let zer speak.”

  “Your mate is wise, Benson,” the Bearer with No Name said.

  “And if ze doesn’t get to the point soon, bite zer head off,” Theresa added.

  The bearer’s attendants stiffened, but ze waved them off. “I sometimes wonder how humans manage to keep that fire of youth burning for so long.”

  “It’s the hot blood,” Theresa said. “We have a hard time cooling off.”

  “Perhaps so.” The bearer adjusted zerself in the chair and smoothed out the scales of zer skirt. “Have you been so deep into our part of the city before, truth-digger?”

  “Not this deep, no.” Benson shook his head. “Honestly, we didn’t even know these tunnels existed.”

  “Although it does answer how some of the suspects we’ve pursued managed to disappear into thin air,” Korolev added.

  Theresa shushed him, but Benson thought it brought up an important point. “My… colleague is right. Have you been harboring criminals down here? Helping them evade the constables?”

  “Your constables are one of the things we wish to talk about,” the bearer said.

  “Go on.”

  “We want our own truth-diggers and warriors walking and working in our part of the village. Your constables, they see rule-breakers everywhere, not children. You humans poison our children with your drugs, then beat and arrest them for being sick with them.”

  “We didn’t bring bak’ri here, bearer,” Benson said defensively.

  “No, but your science made it into a weapon against us. You cannot even use it. What other reason would you have for doing it?”

  “Well in the beginning it was to isolate the active ingredients and see if they could be used in medicine, but the process got out. The people who purify bak’ri into a drug are criminals, and we come down on them even harder.”

  “We are veering from the path. Our own truth diggers in our own spaces. Yes or no?”

  Benson crossed his arms. “They already are. Theresa has been recruiting and training Atlantian constables as fast as she can. Three of my football players are already walking the beat in their own neighborhoods.”

  “As bracelets!” the bearer snapped back. Benson didn’t get the reference, but Kexx was there to lean in his ear.

  “Tokens,” Kexx whispered. “Village elders will often wear bracelets made by rivals during trade disputes to ease tensions, but it’s sometimes seen as an empty gesture.”

  Benson nodded his thanks, then addressed the bearer once more. “They are not bracelets, they are trusted and valuable members of the force.”

  “If they are so trusted, why are there not two fullhands of them in the entire city? And why are none of them leaders? Always following along behind their human master?”

  “Honey, maybe you could…?”

  “Sure.” Theresa stepped up. “There are so few Atlantians on my force because there are so few of you here that are old enough to serve. You know as well as I do that most of your people here were born after you, personally, arrived. They’re still adolescents. I want more Atlantians on my force, as soon as I can have them. But the adults and elders who are here are busy working, building, and raising the kids.”

  “They are busy in the fields, digging water trenches, laying seeds, doing the mindless work of animals or your, your… machines, while human children are taught your magics and sent into the sky.”

  Theresa opened her mouth to object, but what could she say, really? The bearer’s words were true. The fact every effort was being made to move up the day that Atlantian children would be given plants and the ability to compete on an even playing field with their human counterparts didn’t change the reality of the situation as it existed in that moment.

  “Our children are not taught magic,” Theresa said finally. “Everything they learn, your people can learn. Will learn,” she corrected herself. “We just need more time to build the tools we need to teach you.”

  “Because we are too stupid without them?”

  Theresa put up her hands defensively. “No, bearer, that’s not it at all. The truth is we’re too stupid to teach you without them. We’ve been using these tools for hundreds of years. We don’t remember how to learn or teach without them. This is our failing, not yours.”

  The self-deprecation seemed to do its work as the bearer’s features softened. Ze pointed at zer attendants. “These two will leave with you. You will teach them to be con-staples and send them back here. There will be others.”

  If the attendants were surprised or distressed by the development, they kept their emotions well hidden. Not even a ripple of color or light passed over their skin.

  “Good,” Theresa said. “The academy takes three Varrs, and they’ll still have to be supervised by one of my human constables.”

  “Why?” ze asked sharply.

  “Because that is their tradition as much as it is ours,” Kexx stepped in. “Do we not pass our knowledge from master to apprentice?” Ze put a hand on Sakiko’s shoulder. “This is my apprentice, Sakiko. I believe you know zer mother, Mei.” The bearer fluttered an acknowledgement. “Sakiko will eventually replace me as G’tel’s truth-digger. But not until I am satisfied that ze’s ready. I don’t think it’s unreasonable for our human friends to ask the same.”

  The bearer was silent for a moment while zer skinglow pulsed in contemplation.

  “If they’re anything like my other Atlantian constables, we will learn just as much from them as we teach,” Theresa added diplomatically, but Benson knew it was true.

  “We agree,” ze said finally.

  “Great!” Benson said, hoping to seal the deal and move on. “Now, about the–”

  “Does ze always interrupt like this?” the bearer asked Kexx.

  “Not always…” Kexx rubbed zer chin, “…but often.”

  Benson flushed, but tried to remain on track. “OK, what else do you need to hear?”

  “We need to be given greater priority in building, water, and elek… elekt…”

  “I believe you mean electricity, honored bearer,” Kexx said.

  “It is so,” ze answered. “Elek-tricity. We are forced to sip from your river with reeds while your houses overflow with it.”

  “Nobody’s houses are overflowing with it right now,” Benson said. “Our main supply has been cut off by someone who almost succeeded in destroying the Ark, where most of our… river still flows from.”

  “Yes, I’ve been told about your city in the sky, although I’ve never seen it.”

  “I have, honored bearer,” Kexx said again. “I was invited, fifteen years ago. I stood in their sky city. It is as miraculous as the stories. Perhaps more. Our friends are very wise.”

  “But they just said they are stupid!”

  “They can be that, too. Just as we can, no? They know they are not the Gods, and they do not pretend to be, even though they could. That has to mean something.”

  The bearer’s skinglow ebbed subtly and reversed direction, drawing its patterns back towards zer chest instead of radiating outward. “One of my early mates worked as a trader between the villages, truth-digger Kexx. Ze was weary of ‘wise’ traders who talked too fast to follow. It was too easy to end up on the losing side of a trade when they knew thing
s you did not. Too easy to get cheated.”

  “Are you saying we’re cheating you, bearer?” Benson said, trying to keep his voice from betraying the offense he felt at the accusation.

  “This is what I see. I see your El-a-va-tors and shuttles filled with rocks you tell us are valuable going up to your sky city. You tell us you build things up there. Where are they? You take from Xis, but what do you return to Zer? What do you return to Zer people?”

  “I thought we were all Xis’s people, honored bearer,” Kexx said sharply.

  “Don’t be cold-headed. You know what I meant.”

  “I know that you came here because our people were going to kill most of your brood, bearer.” Kexx squared zer shoulders. “I know that these humans took you in without hesitation and spent Varrs shielding you from our own people. I know that you knew they would because of the example my friend set when ze wouldn’t stand by silently during a culling. I was there, honored bearer, in the temple where this human…” Kexx shoved a finger at Benson’s face “…pointed a gun at one of our elders, to defend our children, on the same day ze fought alongside us to protect G’tel against a Dweller attack. After ze defeated a trained warrior with a mere fishing trident. I saw it happen. And I will not stand here today and hear his motives questioned!”

  In the fifteen years Benson had known Kexx, he’d never known zer to sound or look so aggressive, not even in the middle of a fight. Ze was too professional, too detached and precise for anger. He’d also never once heard zer use a human gender pronoun.

  He wasn’t the only one to notice.

  The bearer took a moment to compose zerself before responding. “You believe in these humans so totally, truth-digger?”

  “I believe in this human, his mate, and those he calls friend, as surely as I believe in Xis, Cuut, and Varr. They are far from perfect, but they are exactly what they claim to be. I would wager my life on it. I have wagered my life on it.”

  Kexx’s punch landed. The conversation took a pause as if a bell had rung to signal the end of the round. Everyone retreated to their respective corners of the ring to regroup for a few heartbeats. Or, however Atlantians ticked off awkward stretches of silence.

  The Bearer with No Name resumed, finally. “Atlantians,” ze said with a sigh. “We didn’t have a name for ourselves until you humans arrived and taught us just how different two peoples could be. We claimed your name for us, because it was the first one we heard, like hungry infants at their naming ceremony, starving for knowledge. As you named your child, Benson truth-digger, humans named us.”