Reality: The Struggle for Sternessence

by Daniel A. Liut

  The door was soon completely closed. The chamber was sealed. The diamond-shaped booth glowed with an intense blue, screening out the inside from their view. For an instant, it seemed to Clara as if Erina were hitting her hands violently against the walls. All activity quickly ceased, and the chamber soon recovered its pristine transparency.

  Erina was not there anymore.

  111.

  Outside the window, the moon was rising gently over a lonely silo. To the left, a pair of shoes lay one on top of the other, just as they had been left minutes before. Behind the door, the lights from the small corridor that connected to the living room were shimmering again, tenuously but irregularly. Low-pitched noises could be heard coming from there.

  For a while, the living room remained still, but then the lights began flickering with an irregular pattern once more. Strange noises followed, apparently coming from every place in the room. Soon, the noises were pounding with deafening strength, until they ceased brusquely, giving way to a high-pitched rasping beat.

  A blast of light flashed from a dimensionless dot in the center of the room. A glassy tongue of surreal luminescence followed, emanating from the incandescent ignition point. It was not an empty drop of light. As the glaring tongue gradually took shape—over a period that spanned several minutes—its content grew increasingly definite.

  A living entity was moving inside it. It had a female appearance, but it was not moving quite like a woman, and much less like a man. The face, desolate, was filled with anger and frustration. In desperation, she finally drew her nails onto the inner membrane of light. The tips of her fingers protruded through the glassy realitic membrane, but there was no way they could pierce their own reality. For something to transcend its reality, it needs to be pulled, in some way, by a different reality.

  The boundary of the realitic protuberance began to wobble. The expansion process had reached its limit. For a minute or so, the bubble struggled to keep its volume and its existence. However, the quickening that was keeping it alive was rapidly being reabsorbed, and without it, the trans-universal globule could not be sustained for much longer.

  Abruptly, the protrusion collapsed back into its ignition point. Before it disappeared, a cry of defiance pierced the bubble’s own vanishing reality as it went to naught.

  112.

  “She’s gone,” Duncan whispered, staring at the silent crystal chamber. Although he had a heavy sense of loss, his pain was shallow, like a very sensitive superficial wound. In experiencing the reality of Clara’s beauty, his physical attachment to Erina had been severed. Although he was not aware of it, his feelings towards her were fading quickly. Clara could see his eyes reflected on the walls of the chamber. They looked different from the ones she knew. They were calm and composed. But the peaceful moment was very short.

  “We’ve got thirty minutes to get ourselves out of range,” Duncan said, looking at the active T.A.T. by the chamber. “We must reconvene with O’sihn and Laida,” he added, pointing at the structure where they were to be picked up by the Veridiawan flyers.

  Clara grabbed him by the hand, but no sooner had she taken the first step than she slipped to the floor, and Duncan with her.

  “Clara?”

  “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

  Clara stood up with a muffled groan, enough for Duncan to realize she was not fine. Indeed, she had injured a shoulder. He helped her up and led the way, only to fall again at the first step. They tried again three more times, falling down each time.

  “This is crazy,” Duncan said.

  “It’s called creep crystallization,” Clara explained. “It happens to psamosites197 when they are bathed in plasma. It will get only worse, more and more slippery.”

  Duncan frowned. “Let’s try crawling.”

  Crawling seemed to work, but they moved very slowly. Ten minutes later, Duncan sat up and took a distance fix to the chamber using his visor. They had only covered fifty yards, and they still had more than one hundred to reach the edge of the crystallized field. Duncan sighed and grabbed Clara by a hand, pushing himself forward, but she held him back. “We will not reach the boundary of this field before the T.A.T. explodes,” she said. “And by then, we should be at least four miles away from here, anyway.”

  “We can’t just give up,” Duncan replied.

  Clara shook her head. “I will crawl back and try to deactivate the T.A.T. You just keep crawling forward. I will catch up with you.”

  “It took us more than ten minutes to reach this spot. It will not take you less to get back to the chamber. The math doesn’t add up.”

  Clara shook her head.

  “Besides, deactivating the system will not be straightforward, assuming it can be done.”

  “I can handle it!” Clara said with frustration.

  Duncan grasped her hand. “And I won’t part from you either.”

  “Don’t—” Clara could not end the sentence.

  “Our orders are to destroy the complex, not to stay alive,” Duncan added, with a resigned smile.

  “I want you to live.” Clara started sobbing.

  “And I will live, holding you, and loving you, right here. Nothing else matters now.”

  Clara moved her head down. Her blond hair, covering her eyes, brushed the diamond-like floor. Her tears fell delicately on the pristine surface.

  Duncan embraced her tenderly and kissed her head. His decision of staying in Reality had sealed his fate. And yet, perhaps for the first time in his life, Duncan was happy, truly very happy. For what was left of his life had more meaning than a thousand years. Loving Clara, and holding her, had become more precious than his own life.

  It had been a long and difficult journey, but in the end, sternessence had seared its mark through his heart.

  As they held each other, Duncan stroked Clara’s hair, moving it to one side. In doing so, he discovered something remarkable: Clara’s skin was rapidly losing its tori features.

  “The chamber,” Duncan muttered, enthralled by the warm feminine appearance quickly materializing right before his eyes—perfectly earthly, beautifully human.

  Clara raised her eyebrows. “The chamber?”

  And at that point, they were snatched up into the air.

  113.

  The chamber began to glow yellow again. Its brilliance was mild but steady, until a burst of light flashed from it with all the colors of the rainbow. Spectral fans stayed on its surface for a few seconds, radiating in all directions. When all the luminescence had faded, one of the three triangular walls began to melt down, turning into a stream of fluid that soon crystallized into a thick tongue of phosphorescent ice-like material that refused to melt.

  A soundless energy surge was ebbing back and forth with a regular beat between the sides of the opening, veiling the interior of the crystal chamber. To one side, the setting Althean sun was exposing the silhouette of a distant mount far on the horizon. Above it, the tail of the comet remained steady.

  As the sunny rays softly warmed a passing gentle breeze, a shivering limb reached violently through the chamber’s energy screen. An entity began to emerge with slow and heavy movements. As it crawled out, it looked into the sun, but its eyes did not blink. A moment later, the creature began to regurgitate and agitate violently. A wiry device was expelled convulsively out of its mouth, along with white oily fluids that rapidly turned brittle.

  The individual was breathing with difficulty. Its complexion gleamed with an earthly human likeness. There was a womanly resemblance in her.

  Digging her nails into one of her arms, she ripped off a shred of what appeared to be her human skin, all the way down to one wrist. The true appearance of her real skin underneath was revealed. It was rugged and brittle, and it looked like an old hide that had been burnt by time. Not being able to withstand it any longer, she tore away the deteriorated genetic mask that covered her face. For a long time, the device had allowed her to breathe and pretend to eat198 in an environment alien to her physiology.
Together with her synthetic skin, they had effectively masked her true nature, even from the piercing scrutiny of medical and scanning instruments.199 A brilliant greenish skin was exposed on her forehead. The female’s head was covered with seemingly blue hair roots, with pronounced receding temples exposing the scalp all the way up to the crown.

  The female knelt, managed to get on her feet, and even to walk a few steps.

  “My never-ending-naked-nothingness,” she uttered, turning to the remnants of her mask and her synthetic skin, which she could not see. The parts that had been in contact with her body were still emitting an intense white luminescence, like the interior of an active optical fiber.

  The female the Realitians had known as Erina was in agonizing pain. Her long life was now passing in front of her like a series of movies all played at the same time: each episode, each word she had said, each act she had performed became as clear as the reality of her agony. But suddenly, the flow of time stopped. One experience from a very recent event stood out as a final trial, invoking a final realization, a crucial choice.

  Clara had always been an enigma to her. As much as Erina had tried to understand her feelings, her motivations, and ultimately her ideals, Erina had not succeeded in reconciling her personal view of reality with Clara’s actions. Trying to decipher why Clara had risked her life to save hers before the sinking of the Intrepid had become a recurring riddle for Erina. What was Clara trying to achieve, what was she trying to prove? What had been her true purpose, her ulterior motives, perhaps, or real gain in doing what she had done? All these questions, which now appeared as one, had surfaced several times since the forced landing on Veridiawa. Nothing seemed to explain those actions, except for one reason. But Erina despised that reason, and so she had rejected it every time.

  For only love, sternessential love, seemed to be the basis of Clara’s actions and motivations. Em-Rasinka, the female behind Erina, had fought most of her life against such a culturally imposed degrading notion, which bluntly contradicted her own inspired Equity principles. For if everybody could eventually sternessentially love each other, the unity that would ensue would be absolutely inclusive with the diversity of each individual, challenging the perfect uniformity the Equitarian philosophy of life stood for. Perfect love would foster and mutually strengthen the non-repeatable, unique, and irreplaceable qualities of each person. Only in this way, the seamless fabric of the multifaceted unity of love would be maintained.

  And yet, no matter how much Erina felt repulsed by that, it would seem that this Realitian love had saved her life a week prior. So what? Wouldn’t it have been better dying rather than going through the current torment and defeat? What could possibly be the torturous purpose of this extra week?

  Her thoughts were silent for a moment, gradually and unexpectedly being filled in by the notion of a last choice she could still make, a final surrender she could still afford.

  Had she been wrong for most, if not the whole, of a very long life? Erina shook her head. Too late is always punctual, and the time for change was over for her. Yet, such surrender would have enabled reality to quicken the fabric of her being with one last drop of a sternessence more stubborn than death.

  As long as we live, we will not know if, at the last moment, Em-Rasinka opened her heart to that ultimate reality. I, as a witness, would only like to add that the last expression I saw in her face suggested that she did.

  114.

  As the defoliation process progressed rapidly inside the inert body—induced by the realitic insufficiency and subsequent catastrophic failure of the chamber’s procedure200—the two-hundred-and-fifty-six-year-old tilian now rested motionless on the glassy ground. Off the forehead, the genetically imprinted emblem of the Equity began to defoliate in thin scales, swiftly carried away by a light breeze.

  115.

  Zeenthy, Zainy, Jasiris, and Jasindon were flying in a tight V formation led by Daihyouleeby. They were flying fast, very fast, gaining some altitude but mostly concerned with covering as much distance as they could. How far did they have to go to be safe? It was hard to tell, but they knew that if the Mahyoudee river was not behind them before the sun had set, “the mighty” light would swallow them, as O’sihn had warned them. Daihyouleeby constantly turned back to check on the sun: it was more than halfway below the horizon already. Ahead, the waters of the Mahyoudee shone red as if with blood. But it was a thin red line; the river was still too far away.

  “We must fly much faster!” Daihyouleeby cried out, turning his head. The other four fliers behind him knew that, but they were exhausted. Each one was carrying a Realitian solider, and despite his superior physical strength, Jasindon, who was carrying O’sihn, was lagging behind.

  “Free formation!” Daihyouleeby shouted and soared up into the sky, looping down rapidly. He was the only flier who was not carrying a solider. Soon, he was approaching Jasindon from behind.

  Laida, carried by Jasiris, turned back and saw O’sihn being dropped into a free fall, to be immediately caught midair by Daihyouleeby. It was a well-practiced Veridiawan maneuver.

  “Don’t you worry, bear-Commander,” Jasiris said, looking down. “Daihyouleeby is almost as strong as Jasindon.”

  Laida nodded slowly with resignation as to the outcome of their desperate escape. She looked down and let her eyes wander over the giant fern forest below, not daring to look ahead, lest she would find the Mahyoudee river still too far ahead.

  A moment later, the soft reddish twilight of the new evening, along with the deep green of the giant ferns, turned into a blinding white blue. The Realitians covered their faces, as the Veridiawan fliers shut their eyes tight.

  116.

  After the explosion, a column of blue energy surged from what was left of the trans-universal complex. The peculiar energy jet pierced the atmosphere and burst into deep space. As it fluxed, the ionosphere was highly energized, producing an extraordinary display of blue lights.

  Jasindon was the first one to open his eyes. He saw the Mahyoudee river right below him. But the Veridiawan did not pay any attention to it. His sight was transfixed on the sky.

  “Girl-Captain, what is this stern blue essence washing the sky with light?” asked Zainy, his eyes fixed on the heavens.

  Long tongues of blue shining clouds were spreading from the epicenter of the phenomenon all the way to the horizon. They were slender and straight, with gushes of bluish rivulets of light flowing to the sides here and there. The twilight of the new evening had become as bright as a splendid noon, but without a sun.

  “Sternessence, Zainy,” Clara said with joy. “Beautiful sternessence.”

  A formation of Realitian interceptors appeared, flying below the tongues of light. The circular insignias of the Realdom, painted on their fuselages and small winglets, glistened bright with their cyan and yellow colors, with red marks. All the positioning and navigational lights were flashing randomly. That was the custom of the Realitarian Navy after winning a battle.

  The battle was over, and indeed it had been victory for the Realdom. However, there was still a war to fight, and a peace to win.

  The Veridiawan fliers began to resume their original V formation. As they did, Zainy and Zeenthy flew very close to each other. For a few seconds, Duncan could see Clara hanging from Zainy beside him. She smiled radiantly pointing at the interceptors. Turning to Duncan, she made the Realdom’s sign of victory.201

  For a few seconds, Duncan could see Clara hanging from Zainy beside him.

  He smiled back, placing a fist over his chest, the Veritian way of saying I love you. He stared at her as Zeenthy positioned himself behind Zainy. Clara looked so beautifully human.

  ‘The chamber,’ Duncan said to himself once more. He had correctly surmised that when Clara was trying to pull him out, the energy discharge from the trans-universal chamber had set off the process of transformation of her tori features through his hands. What Duncan did not know yet was that, although Clara’s complexion was truly acquir
ing a warm earthly trait, neither the chamber nor his own quickening powers could have ever switched any born-genetic microstructure into another.

  While immersed in the realitic field of the trans-universal chamber, Clara and Duncan had made realitic contact. They had met in their one humanity; they had found their common origin, and as it happened, Clara’s true appearance had begun to emerge.

  _______________

  180 Swiniada of the sky-lights: in some rare instances, swiniadas bloomed in monochromatic white. The natives regarded this as a good omen.

  181 Althea 8 had several satellites, although only one was big enough to have a discernible disk. Its apparent diameter would vary between one and twenty minutes of arc, depending on the distance to the planet, its orbit being highly elliptical and having a large precession of its perihelion.

  182 Not in person, but through classified correspondence.

  183 O’sihn, Laida, Tygrum, Leonidas, respectively.

  184 The procedure was part of Duncan’s transrealization carried out by the RIBA device

  185 There is much more than what O’sihn had succinctly explained here. Most races of the Realitic universe have the mutual ability to link in with the brains of people with whom they talk, being able to speak spontaneously the language of their interlocutor, while having the perception of speaking their own native languages, even if with a minimum effort they could notice the difference. When Duncan’s body acquired its Realitic nature, his transformed Realitic brain was “upgraded,” so to speak, with this ability. Therefore, Duncan could speak the language of any individual that had the same ability, as we have seen from the accounts related in this book. Since the Realitarian language was the first he was exposed to when traveling to the Realitic universe, it crystallized in his consciousness as a kind of a second native language.

  186 Time Anti-Time explosive device.

  187 Chaff consisted of particles spread out as a cloud designed to simulate the presence of a real ship in order to lure enemy weapons to move onto them. They were called “intelligent debris” since all particles interacted in a communications network that enabled them to move in a coordinated manner mimicking a ship.