A peal of bells interrupts him. “Noon! The show is starting.”
They run through an arcade, where taverns and shops alternate, among masked people. At the end, they cut across the square, along the façade of the church adorned with mosaics. A flock of pearl gray pigeons alights a few meters from them. Meanwhile the bell ringing continues. Victoria turns back. On the terrace of the building behind, two automatons are sounding a big bell with their clubs.
“The Moors,” explains the guide. “Part of a mechanical clock, together with the astronomical quadrant you see below, and a procession of the Magi.”
They enter another square. On the right, a bell tower with a spire soars into the sky. In front, the placid waters of the lagoon spread out. On the left, next to the basilica, is a marble structure with an arcade dominated by a loggia. The façade is a succession of stone carvings like lace, giving harmony and lightness to the imposing building.
The guide opens his arms with a theatrical gesture. “The Doge’s Palace: residence of the first authority, seat of the government and Court House!”
Now the two squares are overflowing with people. They are all turned towards a tightrope walker with false wings, who is going gently along a rope between the bell tower and the balcony of the Doge’s palace, where important people are waiting for him.
“The Doge is the one with the horn-shaped hat,” explains the guide. “Members of the government and nobles are gathered around him. The guests with exotic clothes are foreign ambassadors.”
When the acrobat arrives, he bows before the Doge who welcomes him with a bunch of daisies. The crowd bursts into a flood of applause.
James turns towards Victoria. “Dinner time!” He gives the guide permission to leave, then leads the girl by the hand, pushing his way through the crowd, up to the Doge’s Palace. At the entrance, they pass by two rows of armed guards standing to attention. Sparkling armor, long halberds.
In the huge reception room, Victoria stops spellbound in front of the frescos.
“Tintoretto’s work,” explains James. A few meters further on, a black man is discussing with the Doge. “Martin Wing, the champion of Civil Rights.”
Victoria notices an Arab wrapped in precious fabrics and with a mushroom-like turban who tries to draw a young lady’s attention. The woman seems uninterested in him, looking insistently around, nervously waving her fan. Her glance stops on Victoria; she takes the mask off, and winks at her…
Eve! The girl replies with a wave, and while James is discussing something with another guest, joins her.
“How did you get in?”
“I have come along with Martin.”
They chat animatedly.
“Will you introduce me to your friend?” asks James from behind.
Victoria turns abruptly. “Eve was a school friend. We haven’t met for a while.”
The girl is surprised by her naturalness. Most of all, she realizes the trust the Elects place in her, to the point of letting her go out with their most dreaded opponent.
When the bell rings, the guests go to the tables. Wing sits by the Doge, James and Victoria among the guests of honor. Eve joins a group of noblewomen. The Doge, after a short speech, opens the dinner. Swarms of servants pour into the hall with gold trays. The place becomes incredibly noisy.
A bang. Some throw themselves down, others take flight. The armed guards crowd round the Doge, Wing is bent over the table with his head in the soup. A dark figure is running towards the exit. Eve dashes in the pursuit, Victoria pulls her skirt up and rushes forward. When they are a few meters behind, the fugitive turns. He aims, then fires.
MURDER
@ Venice, ten minutes later.
"Where has Victoria got to?" wonders James in the panic-stricken crowd. Ladies and gentlemen are running to and fro, others press around the exits blocked by the armed guards. Swarms of soldiers are bursting from the adjoining Piombi jail. There is no trace of the Doge and the other members of the Republic of Venice, safely in another part of the palace.
James kicks a fallen wig out of his way. He brushes against a lady who is yelling from an attack of nerves. Two noblemen are assisting her. Impossible to calm her down.
Everything happened so fast: the shot, Wing falling on the table, the general stampede. When he turned, Victoria was not there anymore! James tries to contact C573Y, but Security has blocked all communications.
He reaches a squad of armed guards at an entrance. “I want to talk to your superior. Tell that James Bogart is looking for him.”
The soldiers spring to attention. Now James is in an empty room. In front, an officer in a blue uniform. “At your disposal, Mr. Bogart.”
“Have you reconstructed the facts?”
“Wing was shot in the head from twenty meters.”
“How is he?” urges the Head of Security.
The other is embarrassed. “We have lost trace of him.”
“What?”
“He has vanished.”
“Tell me about the assassin.”
“Disappeared, as well. We took his picture while he was without a mask. This is his hologram.”
The guide! James feels a shiver running down his spine. “Did you identify him?”
“Not yet.”
“What else?”
“A woman dashed in pursuit. Eve Dirac, who is wanted by Security. We filmed her.”
The figure of a lady materializes. She springs from a chair, knocking it down, and rushes towards a shadow behind a group of guests… Victoria’s friend!
Suddenly, in the foreground a feminine head appears, from the back. She dashes in pursuit of the two, holding up her yellow skirt so that it won’t get in the way…
“Magnify that face!” orders the Head of Security, when her profile appears.
Now the photogram occupies the whole screen. James stares petrified.
“She ran after the assassin with Eve Dirac. Before disappearing, they were engaged in a shoot-out. They literally dissolved,” explains the captain.
Bogart says with a thin voice: “Keep me informed.”
Then, without adding anything else, he disappears.
Net tunnel.
A shooting pain in her head. Thin fingers touch her temple lightly. “Don’t move. You have been shot.”
Victoria opens her eyes. She is lying on the ground, her head on a soft cloth scented with violet: Eve’s cloak. Her friend is nearby with a loving look. She is dressing her wound with delicate and careful movements.
Victoria breathes a sigh. What happened, has marked a turning point in her life. James saw her escaping with Eve. Now he will know who her friend is. He will be looking for them everywhere. Victoria can’t pretend any more; the moment of choice is near.
“It will clear up in a few days,” announces Eve. “Now you can stand up.”
Victoria gets to her feet. They are in the tunnel she walked along a few days before with Eve, to reach a small beach hidden among the lake ravines.
“After answering the fire, I transported all of us here,” explains Eve. “If I had been a single instant later, the armed guards would have caught us.”
Five meters away, is a dark figure lying.
“How is Martin?”
Eve answers with a sad look: “Dead. The Council entrusted him with tracing Nihil. He was going to report the results tomorrow…”
She emits a sob, and then goes to the corpse. In the center of his forehead, a tiny purple hole. His face is serene, he didn’t have time to realize.
The woman kneels down and caresses his hair. She takes a small box out of her pocket and starts sliding it back and forth on the man’s head.
Victoria is standing by her in silence. She has a dazed expression.
“Some brain areas are still in good condition,” murmurs Eve. “Perhaps I can extract his memories…”
She continues for half a minute. When Eve stands up, she looks anguished. “Now I know where Nihil is.”
They turn towards
the man in dark clothes, lying on his back along a boulder, his arms wide. The dark velvet jacket, with a badge of Lion of St.Mark, hangs loosely on each side. His shirt has a large rent in the middle, from the stomach to the breastbone. His organs are reduced to slush. A brown liquid is dripping from the wound.
“It’s him…” whispers Victoria.
“Who?” asks Eve.
“The guide…”
“The guide?”
“Yes. Or rather, the one who replaced him.”
Eve kneels down and lifts the Venetian’s mask with the tips of her fingers. Then she stops.
Security General Headquarters.
“Are you acquainted with what happened in Venice?” asks the Head of Security stepping into the room.
C573Y raises his head from a report. “I received it half an hour ago.” His words follow each other like a volley: “The murderer is the Wonderful Islands killer. The real guide was found shot dead in an alley. Ah, the Secret Service informed us that Wing belonged to the Elects too. More than a suspicion…”
Bogart takes the text and leafs through. “He was allied with Eve Dirac! They want to stop Nihil.”
“So it seems. This could come in useful. Unfortunately we don’t know their purpose.”
“Wing is not a criminal anyway…”
Puzzled, they look each other in the eyes.
The man is embarrassed: “The report mentions Victoria…”
C573Y gives him a thoughtful look, but doesn’t say anything.
“She doesn’t realize the danger…” goes on Bogart. “For her it’s like a game. Have you got an idea where she is?”
“We are looking for her.”
“Don’t forget, be tactful. The Elects could think she is an informer... If Victoria contacts me, I will try to make her give up... But she is so stubborn!”
James closes his eyes. He remembers Victoria’s silences, her uneasiness, continuous outbursts. When she reappeared, his joy was such that he didn’t ask any questions, for fear of losing her. She has changed so much. Now Victoria has escaped with the Elects.
FAITHS
In the past afterlife was just a tenet. Some religions described worlds of utter bliss and inconceivable punishments, others supported rebirth as new beings. Some believed the final destination had to be decided by God, others that it was the result of the laws of Nature. Almost all agreed upon the ultimate purpose of existence: reaching the Supreme Being.
Many faiths died out with the civilizations in which they had developed, but some of them passed the test of time and continued thriving for millennia. They adjusted to the new environment learning to manage it and developing into complex organizations that made an important contribution to progress.
With the soul digitization, the religions of the Earth went through a dramatic crisis and a few Cassandras announced their end. However, almost simultaneously, mystical thrills started running through Net. From the very beginning, this phenomenon drew much attention, because the virtual population had begun an extraordinary growth, and those first signs indicated a huge potential of followers.
For the churches, it was an opportunity to grasp straight away. They got rid of anachronisms, revised their mission, priorities and strategies. Their structure was not downsized, contrary to detractors’ expectations, but profoundly reorganized. Above all, they became vital and competitive again. When they threw themselves into the fray, conversions began slowly, but very soon their growth spiraled. So the virtual world, which in taking possession of the afterlife, had triggered an unprecedented crisis of religions, was now promoting their incredible development.
Actually the experts had forecasted churches would survive. Their message is clear: they propose an afterworld, but also models for life. They provide material and spiritual assistance, intervening in the areas neglected by the other institutions. They succeed thanks to the abundance of means and to their experience. But the first reason for their success, is that they are strongly motivated.
For their part, many virtual beings believe most of the life models proposed by Net are superficial. They can be mystical and tenacious, become fond of big ideas and carry out a millenary plan, exactly as religions do. They have postponed their deaths to a distant future, but have not found the definite solution yet. So they wonder, as mankind did in the past, what to expect.
Arthur Barnard, 2298, “The new species”.
FUNERAL RITES
@
Adam walks fast through a tunnel, holding in his hand a torch. He emerges in a cave, then turns to his right, towards a distant glimmer. He reaches an enormous cavity. The vault is hidden by the shadows. In the middle, a catafalque rises, on which lies a corpse wrapped in a purple shroud. He stops in front, gazes at the waxen complexion, then bends forward and kisses him on his forehead. Finally he withdraws into a corner and stands still with bowed head.
One after the other the followers come in, each holding a large lighted candle. They place their lights in front of the body and arrange themselves in a circle. Two women wrapped in white veils, one blonde and the other dark, enter. They move so gracefully, that they seem to skim the floor. They kiss their dead friend on his cheeks. Then they stand still by his side, staring at him.
The fair-haired woman raises her head. “Today Martin takes his leave of us.” Eve’s limpid voice sooths the participants’ pain: “A man of sound principles, who dedicated his existence to an important cause, an example for all of us. When I met him, he involved me in a passionate discussion. That’s how I discovered the many ideals we had in common. He took my case to heart and in the following days introduced his friends to me. Thanks to him, now I belong to the Elects.”
She gets her breath. “It is not easy to live in anonymity. Security uses against us the same weapons employed against the criminals. When in the past a few of us were killed, we grieved over their loss, but we resigned ourselves. But I will never, I repeat never, accept this death, because the murder was committed by a member of our community!”
The news paralyzes the astonishment on the faces. Victoria has the same reaction, too. In a few weeks the Elects have given her friendship, love, a son. And now they introduce her to one of the most painful and intimate experiences: death. And to the most devastating one: war.
Without even realizing it, she speaks: “I have always admired Martin for his social commitment in favor of weak people and minorities. Thanks to you, I have known him personally. From him, I have had a son. I liked his vitality, his enthusiasm; his generosity and demonstrative character. Frankly, I liked everything about him. With you, I grieve over our dearest friend.”
Adam takes a step forward. “I spent only a few days with my father, but I have the honor of knowing him profoundly. The ideals he fought for, the experiences he gained in many struggles, are all inside me, as well as his memories and emotions.” The impetuosity of his speech carries the audience away: “In this very moment, I am experiencing them and I can assure, it is a shocking experience. An experience I want to put at your disposal.”
The followers strike up a sad melody, while the light in the cave increases. An immense cavity crossed by a forest of stalactites and stalagmites, appears.
Silence falls.
A vortex of light bursts out of the corpse, then vanishes. One after the other, each participant undergoes the same metamorphosis. Finally the cave is swallowed by the darkness.
The Elects reappear in the crypt.
“Let’s meet in the Council room tomorrow morning, at seven. We will tackle the problem I mentioned before.”
Eve vanishes, followed by all the others.
ALLIANCE
General Marcus Rand goes out of the headquarters at the end of the interforces meeting between the Defense Secret Service and the federal agencies. The morning had begun with a survey of the situation. The afternoon was dedicated to the analysis of the problems and to the definition of the objectives. These meetings, held systematically, strengthen the coordination, a
nd above all give results.
The virtual secretary reminds him of the meeting with the President of the Confederation, fixed for the following day, during which he will present a report on the new technologies. But for today that’s enough. He gets into the ovoid waiting in front of the entrance. “To the 7th Tower.”
The aircraft gains height, threading its way through thousands of vehicles crowding the aerial motorways. It shoots into a corridor between two rows of skyscrapers, whose wavy forms are reflected on glass surfaces of others, and passes by a spiral-shaped building, that reveals its carbon core from the shining black of its load bearing structures. Below, wide streets and squares adorned with arches and architectural barriers. From time to time, multicolored walls and green spots hiding the entrances to the underground town. The ovoid flies over a park, where evergreen gardens and sheets of water alternate, then heads for a group of buildings silhouetted against the blazing red sky.
It lands on a terrace projecting from a tower. The officer enters the restaurant. The head waiter takes him to table 514, from which can be enjoyed the magnificent sight of the setting sun gilding over the snow capped mountains. A melody spreads from a corner. The artist, a man in his early thirties, his deft fingers gliding over the keyboard of a piano: an instrument as ancient as the Chopin nocturne he is playing.
A young woman with red hair comes up to him. “May I sit at your table?”
He stares at her green eyes. “Have we met before?”
“Long ago. You can verify it from my identification code.”
A black miniskirt and a silk blouse emphasize her sinewy build. Her hair adorned with light threads is gathered into a ponytail behind her thin neck. She smiles, while transmitting the file to the man’s neural chip.
“Eve, what a pleasure to see you again! I wondered many times where you got to. Congratulations, your gynoid is charming.”
He stands up, draws a chair to him and invites her to sit.
“Gallant, as ever.” While sitting down, Eve observes the man. With his imposing height and the eyes shining like sapphires on his tanned face, he is splendid.
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