by Ashanti Luke
Jang moved to connect the cable leading to the control unit that would remotely control the gravity drive, and he noticed a strange discoloration at the back of the Xerxes unit precisely where the neural processor was housed. He froze in place, horrified, thinking backward through his movements for the last hour, trying to figure out what he could have done to burn out the unit. Then, when the Darius avatar appeared behind him to peer over his shoulder, he realized that the unit was still functioning, and that it was not a burn mark at all. The back of the unit housing had been caved in slightly, and what he was seeing now was a large cluster of cracks in the paint.
“What is that?” the Darius avatar asked.
“I’m not sure,” Jang said, plugging in the cable and looking closer at the aberration, “It looks like someone kicked it, but the dent is too subtle and the cracks are much too uniform.”
“Well, unless you or my father kicked it, I don’t know who would have. No human being has set foot in this room for hundreds of Earth years other than you guys.”
And then it hit him. Although it eluded him why this type of damage would be here. “This looks like the kind of damage Cyrus warned Thendyr a faulty gravity drive could cause, only on a much smaller scale,” Jang stood perplexed. “I’m not sure what it is. Maybe it’s nothing. But if it does mean something, maybe your father will have an idea.”
Jang found Cyrus and brought him back to help him put the Xerxes unit back in place. Jang showed him the cracks. “Do you have any idea what might have done this?”
“None at all,” Cyrus said, getting a closer look, “but it looks like someone put a miniature gravity drive inside this thing. Maybe that’s why it’s so heavy.” Cyrus joked, but he could see Jang was still confused.
Finally, Jang shrugged it off. “Maybe it’s nothing, but it is strange. I suppose it could have happened when the original Apostates stole it. Who knows?”
Cyrus laughed to himself, “Indeed. Who knows anything anymore?”
twenty-four
• • • • •
—Dada, I can’t find my stylus.
—Your datadeck stylus?
—Yeah, and I have a composition due tomorrow.
—Didn’t I just buy you a new pack?
—Yeah, but none of the others have been print-synced and verified yet.
—Where did you look?
—I looked in my rucksack, the deck compartment, and in my desk, but I can’t find it anywhere.
—Weren’t you in your mother’s office earlier? Did you look in there?
—Why would it be in there?
—Because it’s not in any of the places it should be. You know every person who every lost or couldn’t find something, couldn’t find it for the exact same reason.
—What’s that?
—Because they only looked in the places it wasn’t. The reason you can’t find it is you keep looking in the places you expect to find it, but if it were in any of those places, most likely it wouldn’t be lost. People get hung up on where they think things should be all the time, even people who you would expect to know better like scientists, historians, and anthropologists. It’s a human weakness. But what should we do with our weaknesses?
—Turn them into our strengths.
—Exactly. People like Michael Faraday, the guy who solved the electromagnetivity equations, Richard Feynman who came up with sum over histories, Albert Einstein and his relativity, Jurg Klugmann who discovered gravity wave generation, all those guys looked in places the other eggheads refused to look.
—So if I can’t find something like my stylus, the first places I should look are the places I’ve been that don’t seem like places it should be?
—I’m sure if you do, things will turn up missing less often.
—You do say the only reason I don’t lose my head is it’s always in the same place.
—Ha, true. Maybe half the battle is just keeping an open mind and realizing your own fallibility.
—And the other half of the battle?
—Taping everything of value to your head so you can’t lose it.
• • • • •
When the blast horn sounded to alert the compound of the approach of a friendly vehicle, no one had expected the vehicle that half Paeryl’s van had left in to be followed by another large black vehicle with Six standing atop it, his arms folded, basking in the rays of Set in a triumphant pose.
Everyone had stopped as they rode in, and Paeryl watched the procession with a look of distress on his face that Cyrus had not imagined possible from such an imperturbable man. It was the look of a predator that had just caught scent of a furtive scavenger creeping through the tall grass, bent on devouring the predator’s brood.
As Six pulled in through the iris, Paeryl walked toward the compound with a determined, and yet protracted, gait. Cyrus moved behind Paeryl along with Cyndyl, Paeryl’s betrothed, who looked as distraught as her husband. The other scientists followed behind.
Once inside, Paeryl’s courtesy, his most prized characteristic, was overshadowed by his distress. “Have you misplaced your senses?”
The triumph melted from Six’s face as he jumped down from atop the vehicle. He must have expected a hero’s welcome, but Paeryl’s rage seemed to pour from his eyes, his calm shattered by some deep aversion to the spoils of Six’s venture.
Six opened his mouth to speak, but Paeryl’s bellow quelled anything that might have issued forth from his mouth, “This is an Echelon vehicle. You are inviting them to descend upon this place as they descended upon Avalon.”
“Thendyr disabled the tracer. They’ve already been spoofed. They think this thing went down in the Miasma.”
“You attack the Echelon without orders, you challenge our guest openly—the father of our Patriarch no less—and now you openly defy me with an unsanctioned excursion into the Miasma. You have stepped well outside of the sunlight, young one. You are becoming a liability.”
Six started to reply, but stopped short and hung his head. Cyrus could see what had happened here. Six had been satisfied with the fact that Cyrus was what everyone expected of the father of the Man of Swords, but in the discovery of that fact, his pride had been more deeply scarred than he had gambled, and he had gone out of his way—way out of his way, risking not only his own life, but the lives of Paeryl’s most prized warriors as well—to salvage the dignity he had imagined had been lost.
But it had been unnecessary. If Cyrus was in danger of taking anyone’s place it was Paeryl’s, not Six’s. Paeryl himself knew that, but was too wise to fear it; it was absolutely implausible in Cyrus’s mind, and he would never accept such a position, de facto or otherwise. Paeryl was as good a judge of character as he professed to be, insofar as Cyrus could tell. Coupled with the understanding that Cyrus would never allow himself to be a threat to any other Apostate’s power, Paeryl had so far given him carte blanche, because he knew Cyrus’s ambitions, however self-centered, would never supersede anyone else in the compound’s best interests.
However, Six’s latest apportion had crossed that line. And however wise he was, Paeryl’s love and protection of his charges was now overwhelming his better judgment, a judgment that untested, would have allowed him to see that berating Six in front of elders and Cyrus’s van would only stoke whatever fire had already consumed Six’s self-esteem. The same weakened self-esteem that moved him to barrel headlong into a mission that, as jetwashed as it seemed on the surface, had borne obvious, although dangerous, fruit. Even as Fenrir and Thendyr emerged from the black fighter with supply crates, Cyrus found himself at Six’s defense, “Perhaps this is a good thing…”
Before Cyrus could finish, Jang’s wonder got the best of him, “This lev will help Darius and I finally crack some of the ciphers in the Echelon network. I can use their own protocols to manufacture completely indelible spoofs against their safeguards and countermeasures.” Jang looked like a kid on a cred spree. He was literally shaking with excitement. And then Aerik
, who had emerged from the forge upon their entrance, pried open a supply case marked ‘Artillery,’ and became giddy himself as he withdrew one of what must have been, given the size of the case, thirty Valois Squibs.
Chandra opened her crate, revealing a stack of black body suits. There was another box inside labeled ‘Subvocalizing Units’ that sent Aerik and Doree into unintelligible jubilance.
Although Paeryl’s admonishment had already taken its toll on Six, he seemed to absorb the thrill of Jang, Doree, and Aerik—but it had not been enough. Six met Cyrus’s eyes as he turned to walk outside of the garage and Six nodded, acknowledging the attempt Cyrus had made to absolve him. It seemed as if everything Six’s wife had said about him was true, and Cyrus found comfort in the fact that even in the midst of the maelstrom that must have been raging through his skull, Six still found the presence of mind to not fix the blame on Cyrus—and that meant, no matter how much of his dignity Six thought had been lost, somewhere, inside his wayward soul burning for attention, Six still had it in spades.
• • • • •
At the eighteenth hour, all the elders were already sitting before the slowly receding sliver of light. They had met on the information that Cyrus, Milliken, Tanner, and Jang had relayed to them on the existence of the pyramid, which, as far as Jang and Darius could discern from collected data, appeared to be the Echelon base that housed the two Arks from the strange temple in the underground city. Milliken had suggested calling the city Zion, but Tanner had starkly opposed that moniker, suggesting Mu instead.
They had also discussed the usage of the items Six had procured in his apportion, and at Jang’s behest, had discussed whether or not it was safe to dabble in phreaking the Echelon network. In the end of it all, they had—given Cyrus’s growing reputation—conceded to every stipulation the scientists had given them except one—that Cyrus’s van would take on the burden alone. The elders offered all their resources, with blessings from Cyndyl and Paeryl alike, and those blessing were confirmed by the nods from all the Ashan warriors who would carry out that offer as they were told the outcome of the meeting.
• • • • •
Cyrus sat talking to Tanner when he noticed Six get up from his place next to the water duct and walk over to Paeryl. When Six moved to leave his discussion with Paeryl, Cyrus intercepted him.
“I can’t take this,” Cyrus said, unveiling the Amphiphoreus from his pack.
Six looked down at it with a slight sense of regret in his eyes, but when he met Cyrus’s eyes again, he was smiling.
“You already did,” was his only reply. He patted Cyrus on his back and took his hand, shaking it awkwardly, but it was awkward only because Six was not used to the gesture. He then turned and walked away.
Cyrus watched Six as he passed into the shadow next to the mound Jang and Doree had perched on, but Six stopped and turned to Cyrus again.
“Trust my words, next gyre, I will get it back the right way.” He smiled again and walked to where Loli was waiting. She took his arm and they retreated to their own shaded corner of the compound. Loli had been right. Six wanted to believe that Cyrus deserved the card he had drawn, even at the expense of his own pride, and although it had not graced Six’s plate in quite some time, defeat, for the proud, was indeed the toughest cut to swallow.
The Forum seemed dimmer with so many people. Cyrus, Paeryl, Uzziah, and Darius presided over the gathering. It had taken the Apostates, who had never ventured inside the vault, almost an hour to process the existence of the Knight of Swords inside the room that had been closed to them for hundreds of years. The matriarchs stood at the front of the mass, prepared to scrutinize any idea that put their people in immediate danger. Cyndyl in particular had opposed most of the weapons and martial supplies that were being amassed in clear sight of the children, but she could see the sun setting, and she had listened openly to the stories of the Echelon’s ever more foreboding presence in the wastelands. Even with her great reluctance, she had begun to see the possible necessity, and whatever reservations she had she only communicated to Paeryl and Loli.
Paeryl himself had had a great deal of difficulty with the Darius holoprojection. He stood and stared at the image of the Sword Knight as if he were watching the ghost of an old friend. And then Cyrus understood. Six had to be at least four hundred gyres old from what Loli had told him, which meant the Eos had extended the life of a man who appeared to be in his twenties to about 110 years. Which would mean that Paeryl, if he was born with the Eos, would have been at the least, three to four hundred years old himself—which meant, if Darius had also taken the Eos later in life, that Paeryl, in his childhood, would have known him.
While Darius had been addressing the group, Cyrus had moved over to Paeryl. “You knew him?” Cyrus whispered.
“He was my teacher,” was all Paeryl said. He then patted Cyrus on his back and smiled as he moved back to his wife and daughter.
When Darius was done, it was time for Cyrus to take the floor. The vault was silent. It seemed as even the machines that allowed the Xerxes unit to mimic life had stopped whirring and humming. “Before I speak, I have one more question to ask.” There was a brief silence, and then Cyrus continued, “There is no information from Earth at all that we can access?”
There was a quiet din among the Apostates, and then Aerik spoke up, “Perhaps there is some hidden codex deep within the bowels of the Praetoriate, but everything from Earth was either hidden or destroyed. According to the image of the Sword Knight, there were a few things he managed to salvage, but they were mostly things of personal value.”
“What is the chance that we could get into this Praetoriate codex?” Cyrus asked.
“We might have a better chance of going back to Earth itself than apportioning anything within the Praetoriate. And even if we managed to get inside, there is a clear chance that we find nothing at all,” Aerik spoke matter-of-factly, but the grumbles from the other Apostates validated him.
“Why the interest in information from Earth?” Cyndyl asked, sidling closer to Paeryl.
“Because my van has uncovered things on this planet that are undeniable links to early Earth, and as astute as every member of my van is, we all believe very strongly in research. But without information to research, we are in the Miasma just the same as anyone else. These links are links the Echelon has gone to great lengths to hide. The links to Earth may even be the reason why the Echelon allowed all this information to be destroyed. I need everyone to think of anything that might be a source of information from Earth. There is a device we need to apportion from one of the Echelon bases in the Miasma. We will need at least two teams, and my van is not large enough by itself. Unfortunately, we need one of the teams to create some sort of distraction while my van goes for the apportion. The sortie will be very dangerous. It will not only garner the attention of the Echelon, but it will bring us into direct contact with Ashan forces within the Miasma. I would not ask you to risk your lives on a whim. This may be the link that Darius, your Knight of Swords, left this vault here for us, and he needs, I need, your help.”
“What sort of distraction will you need?” Thendyr asked, fumbling with one of the holomonitors.
“I’m not sure yet, but it needs to be big, because what they are hiding in that base got my son exiled and my best friend killed. They have protected it for five hundred years, and they will not let it go easily.”
Cyrus nodded, his own head heavy from the weight of what he was asking. He looked up over the faces of the Apostates who seemed much less disturbed than him by his request. He walked to the iris and left everyone inside the vault to parlay while he went to mull over his own thoughts. Paeryl had confirmed that the degrees of separation between him and Darius were fewer than Cyrus thought, but he could not tell just yet if that closeness, at this place in time, was a consolation or a curse.
Cyrus sat on the mound looking out at the peaks cradling the orange sun. The idea was ridiculous, but he was sure the sliver o
f light strained by the promontories was considerably smaller than it had been yesterday.
“Having second thoughts?” It took Cyrus a moment to realize it was Jang behind him. He sat on the mound next to Cyrus and looked across the valley himself. The Apostates went on about their duties as usual, and as usual, they paid no mind to the scientists perched on their thinking spot. Doree of Sevens was the only Apostate who averted her attention from her weaving to wave happily at the two. Jang smiled and returned the wave and Cyrus nodded.
“She seems to have taking a liking to you,” Cyrus said without much inflection, still transfixed on the retreating wedge of light.
Jang chuckled to himself, “Must be the lab coat I guess.” He ruffled the collar of his coat and ran his hand through his now shoulder-length hair, brushing it from his face.
Cyrus smiled, “You are looking pretty stellar since you got it washed.”
Jang preened himself more blatantly, but then, as if his original thought had come careening back into his brain with the force of a meteor, his expression became starker. Cyrus saw his expression and responded, “You know,” he paused as if the words were stuck in his diaphragm, too heavy to be moved with speed, “Villichez died when we escaped.” Cyrus looked back toward the edge of the crater, “I went back to get him, but I couldn’t stop it.”
Jang waited for Cyrus to meet his eyes, he was about to open his mouth, but seemed to lose the words. He brushed his hair to the side again and then blew air through pursed lips. “The tough thing about artificial intelligence is that a computer can’t mimic consciousness. It can mimic a human being’s behavior, but not his thought process.” Cyrus seemed only partially aware of what Jang was saying. Jang paused for a moment, afraid he was losing Cyrus, and not even sure he could get through the gloss that was forming over Cyrus’s eyes. “The avatar program is based on Villichez’s and Winberg’s work on human consciousness.” Jang almost winced when he invoked Villichez’s name, but he kept going. “They set up a complex set of paradigms to mimic human behavior. It was my job to program the processor to move through the algorithms so fast that physical, emotional, and cognitive responses could be made without making the user aware. We worked tirelessly to create side-algorithms that mimicked ‘human’ responses when the system got hung up. People worried about trying to defeat the halting principle, but Winberg came up with a way to avoid it altogether.”
