“Absolutely!” Teo said, beaming, “They have been awesome.”
Hantaywee joined in, “There's so much that has happened!”
Aziz was next, “Dad, we can't wait to tell you everything!”
I took my Father in. You could see he wasn't operating at one hundred percent. An eye patch was affixed around his head and his left arm was in a sling. He was moving a little slower than usual too.
“Papa, are you OK? You shouldn't have come all the way here. And what about Mama? Have you heard from her?” I touched his arm while Aziz supported him on the other side.
“Oh, Ill be Ok,” Papa said, his smile smaller now at the mention of Mama. “I haven't been able to contact her at all. And now with this Governess message...the time is getting critical.”
Brother Sigvard brought out some chairs while the rest of us settled on the mats on the floor.
“I made it here just in time. I had to duck into a Safe-house and hide to avoid a Governess on the way here. But I had to be here for the Showcase. We need to try and gather as much support as we can. I know I can help convince them.” Papa had been one of the first ones recruited to train the rest of the tribes. He was also know for being a supporter of human rights issues across the Sectors.
“I'm sure you all heard their message. Mama and many other prisoners are being held there. We must make our stand soon. “
A young woman entered the room. “Peace of The Most High to you all. They are ready for you at the Meeting House.”
Butterflies began to do their usual ditty in the pit of my stomach. This was it. We just had to gain some support. Lives depended on it. And I knew I would feel a whole heck of a lot better with as many people on board.
~~~
Henken turned off the Governess-Com system. Borche had ordered him to send a team of the Governess machines to all of the Sectors to try and squeeze out the Gifted 5.
If you're out there, you had better hide, he thought to himself. Rumors of the Prophecy had been spreading around the city like a gang of diseased mosquitoes, transferring the fear from one person to another at an alarming rate.
To Mama Ninu, the Prophecy had been very real. Stories of five gifted children who would rise up and help bring about a new peace between the oppressed and the unjust people of the planet had never left his mind.
They were supposed to be able to help change the face of Mercia, and it awed him. He wanted so much for it to be true.
Henken sat in the control room supervising the team of Techs as they maneuvered the disks to investigate every nook and cranny of the Sectors. Teams of disks can been sent to every Sector, and there was a Tech to manage every group of four machines.
Henken stood behind Tech #42, watching the live video feed of the faces of the people of RoAam as the lasers scanned them. An array of varying emotions stared back, some fearful, some tense, and others defiant.
How he wished he could just get away. He involuntarily reached up to touch his wiry copper colored hair. They probably wouldn't even receive me if I went to join them, and I wouldn't blame them, he thought. Well, then, he would just have to dye his hair. Yes. That was it. He and his family would try to blend in. Then maybe...
A quick motion on the periphery of camera 42.4 caught his eye. He glanced at the Tech. Tech #42 was studying the feed from another camera and hadn't gotten to the last one.
Henken cleared his throat. He leaned down close to the Tech. “I have some...sensitive mail arriving at the mail room today. Would you mind retrieving it for me?” He raised his eyebrows slightly for emphasis.
There was no such document, but he needed a moment to study the video feed without the Tech being there.
Henken glanced from side to side, trying to deepen the secrecy and importance of his made-up task. “Tech, I cannot stress to you the High Priority of this task. I trust that you'll be discreet?”
Tech #42 nodded quickly. He was relatively young, and stood eagerly. He had been waiting for just this sort of opportunity. If he could rise in the ranks of the throne, it would mean a big change for him and his family.
Viakee was connected to each Sector by an ultra fast monorail train which brought in workers from the other Sectors. Every job from the lowest valued servant job to the low level tech positions made the 5 hour round trip commute. The train, powered by a series of magnets which propelled the train along the tracks, was also heavily guarded.
Tech #42 was from Boralia, and unlike most of his fellow tribes-people, jumped at the chance to complete a task that could improve his rank.
“Of course, High Chief Henken. I'll see to it immediately.”
Henken sat down casually in the Tech's chair. “I'll monitor your feed until you return.” he said with a dismissive nod.
The Tech left, and Henken began to study cameras 1, 2 and 3, while adjusting camera 4. What had caught his eye was the glimpse of a man with an eye patch and limp slipping into a house, apparently to avoid the camera. Instinct told him that this man was connected to the Gifted 5.
The man's silvery-white hair was a sign, as well as his burlap twill trench coat. Both told him that he was from Deloira. If this man was connected, he would help to give him a fighting chance.
He waited a few moments, hoping to give the man enough time to find a hiding place inside of the house. His mind was already racing to what he would do if the man was visible and was captured. Not searching the house was not an option. Its omission would surely be noticed on the reports sent to Borche, and he would have to answer to why he didn't check the interior of the tent.
Ready or not, here I come, he said to himself. He guided the disk into the open door and began scanning the room. He held his breath as the Governess did its work. Moments later, the scan came back negative for anomalies, and he let out a breath. He gave another quick glance to the right and left, but the other Techs were engrossed in their video feeds.
He maneuvered the disk out of the tent, with an inward smile. The small exchange gave him hope.
Maybe this was it. The Governes system was pretty reliable, so the fact that the man had been able to elude it was a sign of some kind of greater working. He hoped they would be successful. And he would do everything he could to help.
Henken touched the dials for camera 4 and rewound the feed back to where he saw the glimpse of the man at the corner of the screen. A quick keystroke paused the feed at just the right instant. Another key tap and the seconds of video were erased.
If anyone asked, he would just say that it had been erased because of interference. Sometimes, a bird or other object flew in front of it, so it wasn't unheard of. And because he was the High Chief Officer, he wouldn't be questioned.
Henken relaxed, and went back to checking video feed. He greeted Tech #42 with a pat on the back when he returned.
Henken felt a little sense of accomplishment at the thought of doing these small things that could help make a difference. He thought Mama Ninu would be proud.
Henken went along the rest of his day, wearing a smile on the inside. He was completely unaware that as soon as he had sat down at Tech #42's desk, his every action had been watched
Chapter 3
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. “
The Holy Bible KJV, The New Testament
Matthew 5:3
Beema could feel it. Something was wrong.
For years, Beema had been trained. She knew the rules. She knew the codes. The religion. The Houdakin philosophy. It was a part of her and came out like a reflex. She was groomed to be a perfect and powerful Empress.
But something was making that foundation seem threatened.
Earlier that day, something had happened. She had been getting ready, sitting in front of her oversized vanity, applying her favorite shade of plum lipstick when a song came to her mind.
She began to hum it, and realized that she knew the entire tune. But for the life of her, she couldn't remember where she had learned it.
And it bothered her that it bothered her. The song itself was beautiful. It was enchanting and lyrical. But it just wouldn't go away.
It bothered her so much that she had summoned Mother Reeds to ask her about it. Mother Reeds had served as her nanny until the age of fifteen. The woman had been given the task of accompanying her everywhere. Beema had questioned her, but the little old woman was clueless.
Beema let herself revel in the past for a few moments, smiling. Beema had been overjoyed when she finally turned sixteen. She had been old enough to roam the palace premises freely, as long as she had her Body-Com attached.
When she turned sixteen, she had no longer required a nanny, and her tutoring and training sessions had increased. The Politics of Power. Martial Arts Training. Banquet Dancing. Superiority and Wealth. Weapons Mastery. Ruling Minds. The endless list of course titles ran past her memory.
She had been taught how to deal with the Inferiors. How to loathe and despise them. She had been taught how to lead and how to battle. How to be strong and confident. But the song. Somehow, this song was like some tiny thread that was being pulled, slowly unwinding itself from some unseen fabric. She didn't like how it felt at all.
She put on a mask around the palace. Everything was fine, and nothing was wrong. But behind the facade, this song had opened some door a tiny crack, and made her feel something she had never felt before.
Doubt.
~~~
“Our Tech Specialist is working now to get a secure Partix shadow line. It is extremely important that no one be able to trace it or decipher it.”
Brother Vasyl updated us on the impending Showcase. We were all gathered in the Meeting House as Sister Violine connected wires and typed into her dilapidated laptop.
The equipment she was using was pretty ancient. Laptops, an invention of the 20th century, had once been on the cutting edge of communication and information devices, but today were severely outdated. Even still, they were one of the few pieces of technology we had access to.
The Houdakin were light-years past us. Their personal computers were all digitized holograms. By simply pressing a button on the navigational pads of their Bio-Skins, they had a ready computer with them at all times.
We had purposefully been left behind in the realm of technology. But that did not prevent tons of brilliant minds from being born amongst the tribes- people. And with their inventions and ingenuity, we had found roundabout ways to stay “connected”.
I looked around the room. This Meeting House, like the Pavillion's Training facility, was a big open space. Chairs had been assembled on one side for us. To the left of us sat the members of the High Council for RoAam. We had met them before being seated.
Each Sector had elected 3 officials to be members of the High council. These Senators as they were also called, represented their Sector in a range of matters. The Senators from RoAam were Quiana Jones, Xing Hong and Hiawatha Jacobs.
The Senators who represented Deloria were Muneer Karam, Akahana Kiyomizu and Laurent Arceneau. And the Senators representing the Boralian Sector were Joanna Echevarria, Theresa McGee and Joao Pedro Oliveira. Members of these Sectors would be joining us over a secure shadow hologram line.
Other groups would be joining us as well. The Arms of Justice, and two warring gangs, The Venoms and The Scavengers would also be in attendance.
There were other smaller fringe gangs, but The Venoms and The Scavengers were the two largest and had the most influence. They both sold drugs as their main stream of income. They also had made many failed attempts to raid the Houdakin Aoki manufacturing facilities.
You had to jump through numerous hoops just to qualify for the Aoki and then, when you did, it was extremely rare to actually receive it. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to if you did or didn't qualify to get the treatment. In fact, I wouldn't have been surprised if all of the paperwork was simply for show, and the real deciding factor was subject to Borche's whim. You would think that the appeal of making money would have made them open the market to buy it. But it didn't.
I thought back to the bus boycott of the 1950s . African Americans were not allowed to sit on the front of the bus if there were white passengers who wanted to sit there. Racism had made them segregate the bus system, along with other public services.
There had been a lot of tension concerning how to handle the situation. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. , a minister and peace leader of the time, was a supporter of handling race issues non-violently.
As story goes, an African American woman named Rosa Parks sat in one of the available front seats of the bus after a hard day's work. When a white passenger boarded, asking for her to give up her seat, she refused.
All hell broke loose. Rosa was carted off to jail and both communities were in an uproar. Dr. King decided to answer with peaceful protest and structured the famous bus boycott. African Americans banned together and refused to ride the bus. They walked or car pooled to their destinations.
The bus companies felt the loss of business. It lasted for 381 days, and the bus company couldn't take it. They changed the rules and integrated the buses. African Americans could sit anywhere they pleased. Racism and Bigotry had denied them equal use of public facilities. But the desire for money forced a change in the rules. It was an important time. They had forced a change in the rules, but not the hearts of many people. It wasn't total and complete, but it was an important start.
And that brought me to the issue with the Aoki. People on the Sectors would gladly pay whatever they had for it. But even the lust for more riches didn't move Houdakin. Their bigotry ran very deep.
For them, it was more about making a statement. Withholding the Aoki was a tool they used to demean us.
A way to make the continual statement that our lack of wealth made us unworthy to be healed, and less than them. It made me feel sick inside when I really analyzed it. What in the world can move their hearts to change I thought.
A young girl of Haitian ancestry who had been working on an elaborate set-up of laptops and wires came over to us.
“Peace of the Creator to you all,” she said giving us all a nod and smile. “I was able to establish a secure line and it is shadowed. The Houdakin have put up extra detection radars, but I was able to bypass them. “
We all looked at her in awe. She couldn't have been more than twelve years old.
“Very impressive, young one. And it wasn't a problem at all for you, was it?” Father Zouadin questioned, a twinkle in his eye.
The girl smiled back, “Nope, not at all. Technology is...kind of my thing,” she said with a lopsided grin.
“Thank you, little Sister,” Nonkululeko said. “This is Daughter Violine, and she is one of our brightest young engineers She developed this entire shadow line system.
“That's amazing. Thank you so much for setting everything up for us,” I said, giving the girl a grateful smile. I was still in awe of her talent at such a young age.
“I'm so glad I could help. You all are such a blessing to us all. Thank you.” The sincerity in her voice and eyes spoke volumes. She was part of our future. She was one of the things we were standing for.
Daughter Violine went back to monitor the equipment and we all took our seats.
I looked over to the members of the High Council who represented RoAam. They were dressed in regular clothes, but their stature definitely made their presence known in the room.
Mother Quiana Jones was an older African-American woman who reminded me of one of the great poets from Earth, Maya Angelou. She was a tiny old lady, but she was a spitfire, quick to speak her mind. She was known for being fair and just. Her matter-of-fact wit was coupled w
ith a warm spirit that let you know the tough love came from the heart.
Xing Hong, a Tibetan Buddhist monk held the next seat. Extremely wise, he always pondered every side of the issues, and also had an awesome sense of humor.
The last seat was held by Laurent Arcenaux, a man of Parisian descent. He was also an artist and classical cellist.
The judges were regular people who had been voted into office by their Sectors because they were known for their high morals and humanitarian efforts. They worked together like a well oiled machine.
Our attention was drawn to the middle of the floor after a few minutes as the other groups joined us via the Partix hologram line.
“The High Council from Boralia is coming through,” Daughter Violine said, and their holograms appeared seconds later. The seats were held by Sister Joanne Echevarria, a Catholic woman of Puerto Rican descent. Mother Theresa McGee, a Caucasian woman with North American ancestry and of the Seventh Day Adventist faith, and Brother Ibrahim Ansari, a man with Pakistani heritage who was a follower of the Sikh religion.
“Greetings, greetings! Peace of The Most High to you all!” the Senators greeted us.
We all responded in kind. They looked at us with smiles of pride. “Oh, Gifted 5, what a tremendous blessing it is to see you with my own eyes. Today is indeed a great day.” Mother Jones said.
We glanced around at each other. The welcoming feeling was so wonderful. It was like going to a family reunion where you didn't know half the people there, but they all embraced you like their own kids.
“And now, Deloria,” Daughter Violine announced.
Heads topped with silvery-white hair from my Sector appeared on the screen. Father Muneer Karim, a Muslim man with ancestry from Zimbabwe, Sister Akahana Kiyomizu, a beautiful Japanese woman, and Mother Mary Schwartz, an Orthodox Jewish woman popped onto the screen. Their reactions were the same as the other Senators. It was absolutely wonderful to virtually be in a room with all of them.
“And next, coming through we have the Arms of Justice.” Everyone in the room quieted down as the face of Janto Eliswear came on the screen.
The Azurean Trilogy (All Three Books: 1, 2 & 3): Essentia, Burgeor & Manifest Page 18
