The Other Side of Life (Book #1, Cyberpunk Elven Trilogy)

by Jess C Scott

  “Tavia has a little crush on him…” Nin took the liberty to provide added information.

  “He’s very talented,” Tavia snapped, as she called up some programs on the screen. “The dream catcher?” Tavia had hung it on a hook that was in the center of the room’s ceiling. “He made it—just for me!”

  Anya nodded slowly, along with Leticia, who had entered the room. Tavia was definitely infatuated with the famous Japanese designer.

  “He’s one of us, by the way.” Tavia waved a hand towards Dresan and Nin, to make her point.

  “Akira Mizuno is…an elf?” Leticia was floored. It would certainly explain Akira’s passion and exuberance in “nature-inspired” designs, and his undying advocacy for better environmental practices in the world of business.

  “His brother-in-law runs Kiisha, the organic food company.” Dresan popped into the room, handing Anya and Leticia a couple of honey sticks (made by Kiisha, of course! Anya noticed).

  Five individuals were a crowd in the small room.

  “How many elves are there, out there?” Anya took a sip of the honey snack. It was divine. “Up there, in the human world, I mean.”

  “Quite a few,” Nin replied. He had gotten what he wanted from the safe. “We’re all around—we just blend in very well.” A look of determined ambition came over his face; his dusky violet eyes glinted for a moment. His tone suggested he was fully focused on more pressing matters, like what he was recruiting Anya and Leticia for.

  Tavia’s transparent touch screen monitor displayed images of a parchment, or some kind of medieval manuscript painting. A gilded border framed the sides of the lively, vibrant, and richly colored painting. Anya would have been happy admiring the artwork, but Tavia started to explain some of the portions.

  “Over here in the center…we have an illustration of a tree.”

  Anya could spot the dark green branches in the picture once Tavia mentioned the word, ‘tree.’ At the bottom of the tree were three letters: o . i . l.

  “We have two pieces of the parchment.” Nin carefully lifted the items he had taken from the safe, as he showed them to Anya and Leticia. These were the original pieces that were identical to the images on screen. More details became apparent on closer inspection.

  “That’s a medieval scribe…” Nin’s slender fingers indicated which pictures he was referring to. “These are artists at work…over here”—Anya and Leticia had to squint to make out the image—“are some artisans constructing a bow and arrow.”

  Two short paragraphs of unreadable text graced the left end of the parchment pieces.

  “We are missing one piece, which is most of the middle portion.” Nin took in a deep breath, as he held the first parchment strip. His tension came from his need to find the missing piece. “This is the upper portion, titled orn.” Then he pointed to the second image on Tavia’s screen. “This is the lower portion, titled lir.”

  “What language is that?” Anya asked.

  “Elven?” Leticia correctly guessed.

  Nin nodded. “Orn is Elven for tree. Lir means life.”

  Tavia clicked on a document. “We have a translated version of the poem…”

  Nin read aloud the pieces of the poem:

  ~~~~~

  . orn .

  Let not the eye fool

  Thee—for there she stands, ever

  Renewing the Earth.

  *

  . lir .

  In your wanderings

  And dealings, neglect not—the

  Other Side of Life.

  ~~~~~

  “That second one’s…pretty straightforward,” Anya said with conviction. A shiver ran through her—she was thrilled to know this “other” part of life existed. How many others did too?

  Nin simply smiled. Anya wondered if he would elaborate.

  “The first poem”—Nin cleared his throat as Tavia opened up an aerial-view map, which was accompanied by a host of geographic co-ordinates—“is about Bloodstar.” Nin pointed to the screen before Anya or Leticia could interject. “It’s a tall tree—a fig tree, standing at a hundred feet high—found in the heart of the Amazon Basin. Incidentally, in Elven lore, this location has always been referred to as the center of the world.”

  Anya thought of how many times she’d seen world maps. It never occurred to her even once that there might be another whole side to what she already knew.

  “Is this a real tree?” Anya asked. Half of the Amazon was already made up of fake trees.

  Nin gave a nod before continuing. “It’s said a maiden once sacrificed herself to save her fellowmen.” The dramatic tone in Nin’s voice captured the girls’ attention. “Legend has it that’s why the roots are red—because none had more love or strength to lay down their own life for their friends.”

  “Really?” asked a wide-eyed Leticia, who had always had a keen interest in mythology.

  “It might not be true,” Tavia was quick to add. “You know how information can get twisted sometimes, when stories are passed down several generations…though we’ve all heard of The Star Prophecy, in one way or another, from a long time ago.”

  A wave of still tension filled the room.

  “What prophecy?” Anya was the first to break the silence. “Why’s the tree called Bloodstar?” Anya knew of a cult comic book of the same name, though it wasn’t about the tree Nin referred to.

  “That a maiden sacrificed herself, to save all of humankind,” Nin said. He remembered the second part of Anya’s questions. “According to…one legend,” Nin went on slowly, not wanting to confuse anyone, “the maiden had a lover, who cried his heart out at the foot of the tree, at her departure. His tears glistened like the stars, which mingled with her blood. Hence the name: ‘Bloodstar’.”

  Leticia was heartbroken to hear the tale. Anya, in contrast, actually wanted to know why the lover hadn’t been more of a hero, to save the maiden from her misfortune.

  “What we do know for sure,” Nin added, in a subdued tone, “is that Bloodstar also functions as the Tree of Life.”

  Tavia zoomed out on the map. Blotches of blue space in between green vegetation indicated pockets of water.

  “What do you mean,” Anya ventured, “by that?”

  Nin was close to reverent when he next spoke. Bloodstar was sacred to the elves, as well as humans, in ancient times. “The tree sustains all forms of life on the planet. If the tree perishes, every living organism dies also.”

  “You have got to be kidding me.” Anya gave something between a scoff and a laugh, flicking some of her hair off her neck. “You’re saying that every living…thing, is dependent on this one magical plant. For survival?”

  Nin shot her an icy, stony look that would send anyone into compliance. “The human body relies on one organ—the heart—doesn’t it? If that dies, wouldn’t you die too?”

  Anya thought for a moment, and nodded slowly. Quite out of character, she did not argue. Instead, a sudden ripple of fear ran down her spine. What Nin said does make sense, she thought. Too much sense...

  Dresan seized the opportunity to shed some light on the history between the Elven and human races. “Humans depend on science too much,” he said in a level tone of voice. “It’s in the Elven code and nature, to maintain some balance. Lately we have been very busy trying to save the planet.” He paused, for dramatic effect. “Literally.”

  Nin had regained his usual cool, debonair composure. “So, based on the shredded edges of the parchment pieces we have with us, this is what we’ve determined we are looking for.”

  Leticia was highly impressed with the elves’ meticulous detective work. She whispered to Anya, “I bet they have labs around that would put the human forensics labs to shame.”

  Tavia’s screen zeroed in on a piece that was uneven on both edges horizontally—with a jagged bottom edge which slanted slightly more to the right.

  “It’s just like solving a jigsaw puzzle,” Nin mumbled, “provided we’re lucky enough to get our han
ds on the missing piece.”

  Just then, he clapped his hands together, and pivoted on his toes to face Anya and Leticia. “That’s where you two come in.”

  Both the girls were in a mix of excitement and apprehension. They were flattered to have their “skills” and talent recognized, but at the same time they questioned their readiness for such a task.

  “What we know so far,” Tavia narrated, as the screen brought up pictures of several famous museums and universities, “is that there’s no record of unidentified pieces in the Medieval Studies departments in any of these fine institutions.”

  “We spent a long time checking,” Dresan added. He sighed, then turned to Nin for a moment. “I told you it’d be quicker if you’d just…”

  “Nah-ah,” Nin went. “I’m not going to allow anyone here to use SystemOD to hack into a security system.”

  Anya listened, wondering if she’d be able to follow, or piece together the conversation.

  “It’d be super convenient…” Dresan went on. “I could be hooked up, here, controlling everything with my mind, or you could use it on the move, instead of—”

  “I’m not going to be stuck in limbo,” Nin interrupted. “It’s still the beta version, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, most products are released nowadays when they aren’t perfect anyway—”

  “Too dangerous—it’s still very unstable. I don’t want anyone of us getting stuck in the middle of a virtual world.”

  Anya had no idea what Nin was talking about, though she remembered the name in case she had the chance to bring it up later: SystemOD.

  “Anyway,” Tavia re-focused the topic of their conversation. “We started researching on private collectors, and ended up locating this.”

  Anya almost started to drool when she saw the picture on the screen. It was the one place Leticia and she had wanted to break into, but couldn’t so far, due to the tight external security, and above-average data base security systems installed.

  “And we came across Mister Varian Gilbreth,” Nin carried on the discussion at bullet speed. “Founder of The Gilbreth Institute. Gilbreth spends more time in the museum than in his own house. He also collects rare items of medieval art—jewel boxes, paintings, canes…and fragments of unknown parchments.”

  The screen showed Zouk City’s renowned research institute and associated museum, a sprawling complex. The building had two basements, three courtyards, and a glass brick dome in the center which diffused natural light into the building’s levels. The library building alone featured ten round shaped self-contained blocks—seven blocks on the outer periphery, and three in the inner circle. The museum focused on the evolution of communication in human society—from ancient texts and parchments, to the first telegram, to the first $3,000 bulky, brick-like cell phone model in the early 1970s, the iPhone and iTouch, and Nokia’s Morph phone, which was self-cleaning and featured nano-sensors that plugged in to one’s immediate environment.

  “Here’s the catch.”

  Anya and Leticia held their breath.

  “M. Gilbreth is a paranoid schizophrenic, who believes aliens are on a single-minded mission to abduct him.”

  “Is that true?” Anya wondered out loud, eyes widening. “I’ve heard rumors, but…”

  Nin gave a shrug of his shoulders. “I don’t know about the aliens—but the man does suffer from paranoia. He has a sensor system set up, to keep people like us from raiding his beloved treasure trove.”

  On the computer screen, Tavia superimposed an image onto a secret vault located within the Gilbreth Institute. Red lines criss-crossed all over the place.

  “This is an underground vault in the GI,” Nin explained. “It is filled with expensive watches, ancient timepieces, a few skulls…”

  “Skulls?” Anya inquired.

  “Gilbreth has a lot of…interests. We believe he’s hiding something here, under the guise or protection of his beloved museum.”

  “Like what?” Anya didn’t know much about the underground activities of the museum. She’d been more concerned with doing a good job for the assignments she and Leticia did undergo.

  “We think there might be a secret lab of saints’ bones, and artificial organs like brains and body parts—an organ-harvesting side business that Gilbreth dabbles in.”

  “Are you sure?” Anya positively squirmed in disdain.

  “We don’t know for sure since we haven’t been able to hack into the system,” Dresan gave a narrow, sideward glance and slight eye-roll to Nin—SystemOD, Anya remembered—“but we overheard some scientists at the tree talking about a rumor about how they were extracting blood from the tree. Later we figured they were talking about the red roots, which they carried in vials to…guess where.”

  Anya blinked. “The museum?”

  “Yes indeed,” Dresan concurred. “What are they doing there? Distilling it? Purifying it?”

  “We’re blocked from network access to their security system,” Tavia explained to the girls. “There seems to be a virtual fake one set in place, that’s a decoy, to throw hacktivists like us off track.”

  “Huh,” Anya said, as a statement. So the museum did have something to hide from the public.

  “Isn’t there any way to…get past the security system? Or…turn it off?” Leticia took a gulp, remembering the red criss-cross lasers set in place.

  “We couldn’t figure that part out—it seems far more complicated than anything we’ve seen and worked with. And we’ve worked on a lot of such systems.” Dresan’s lower lip protruded in a glum pout.

  Leticia’s knees felt shaky now.

  “We need help getting a couple of keys.” Nin conveyed more specifics. “One to the vault, and another to the glass cabinet that holds the parchment pieces—so we need someone with a very precise touch. And someone who can move quickly and skillfully in extremely small, tight spaces.” He looked at Anya, and held his gaze. “There’s a slight depression and the vent is a little twisted—it’s hard to maneuver about in, unless you’re…” He paused for the right word. “Compact-sized. No room for error. The night guards will open fire.” The tight space in the vent was where he’d fumbled in the past.

  “They will?” Anya wondered about the clandestine operations so far, that she and Leticia had undertaken.

  Nin nodded slowly. “We know. We barely escaped with our lives, on the first attempt.”

  It was deadly quiet—quiet enough to hear a snowflake fall upon the ground.

  Anya was studying the picture of the 3-point system lock on the screen, which held the two keys that the elves wanted to get. That the elves were asking her to get.

  “She’s the expert,” Leticia said in a husky, sickly sweet voice. She joined the rest of the smiling faces, leaving Anya as the lucky recipient of the job.

  Anya pulled her brows together. “Haven’t we been a team effort, all along?” Anya posed the question to Leticia. Her voice was a little throaty.

  Leticia bobbed her head, half in agreement. “I’m there to help. You’ve more practice.”

  That was true. Anya had actually been the one to swipe the dozen or so items they had successfully gotten. Thus far, that is. Her small build did allow her to move fast, which she used to her advantage.

  “I…really…” Anya started. She felt like she was croaking. “Don’t…”

  Elves are superior, she said to herself. At least they seemed to be, with their plasma guns and solar-powered rooms and ability to walk noiselessly across all types of surfaces. If they hadn’t been able to pull this operation off, what were her chances?

  “I can see your…hesitation.” Nin was up close to her, his voice a satiny warm delight draping over her skin. “What is it you’re not comfortable with?” He laid a hand on Anya’s shoulder, in reassurance. Then his hand went a little lower, as he lightly stroked her back, when he didn’t feel any resistance from her. His touches were smooth like chocolate. “How to Work Your Charm with Body Language,” Nin remembered the article he�
�d downloaded onto his N-Gage device. He’d read it so many times, it was as good as having downloaded it into his memory. Maybe he wouldn’t even have to consider Dresan’s take on blending one’s body with technology. Maybe he was already halfway there.

  “I…” Anya usually jumped at each new thieving task—but apparently not when it was Elven-assigned, as she was discovering. She decided to just state her concerns, to the Elven trio. “I just do what I can. I don’t know if I’d be better than you.”

  “I can guide you through the building,” Nin sounded gracious and generous, “but you’ll have to commit the actual, art of the theft. The overhead vent is very narrow—it’s the only way in to the key room. Apart from waltzing in through the door, after getting past hordes of guards armed to the teeth.”

  “Armed, like all of you?” Anya asked.

  Nin shrugged. “About the same—they’re deadlier because they open fire to kill intruders or suspicious characters, no questions about it.”

  The first item Anya had ever stolen was a colorful marble from a store, years ago when she was six. The incident had been relatively devoid of problems. What Nin was requesting was way more technically advanced.

  “We were planning on breaking in tomorrow, at night.” Nin talked casually, as if he was describing the weather.

  “I…need some time to think about it.” It was the best answer Anya could give.

  Nin seemed happy. “Twenty-four hours enough for you?”

  Anya tilted her head to one side, ear almost touching her shoulder. “What’s the rush?”

  A shade of deep solemnity came over Nin’s face. “The branches can actually morph into roots, so even if the original tree decays, its branches underneath are young and continue to enclose the parent. But the tree has been under severe attack recently. We’ve linked the scientists to the museum. We’ve found a very likely location for the missing parchment piece, given Gilbreth’s private collection. We’re not exactly sure what they want it for…but we have our theories. We think the missing piece in the puzzle will tell us more.”