Time of the Stones

by Fred Rothganger

  A voice spoke, “You have forgotten our agreement. You get to live only as long as you are useful to me.”

  “Antikva?”

  “Tell me, in the last two days, have you done anything I asked? Your life is now forfeit.”

  “Then this is death?”

  “No, you fool, I haven’t killed you yet. That would be far too easy.”

  “You can’t injure a human being. The laws of the Ancients forbid it.”

  “You overestimate me, your majesty. I have killed before.”

  “Let me guess. It was the last resort, and only out of self-defense.”

  Her silence confirmed his suspicion.

  “That doesn’t count. You’ve never really killed out of hatred, just because you wanted someone dead.”

  “I want to see you suffer. I can activate every pain receptor in your body, without harming a hair. You would last for weeks, maybe even months, then die from nothing more than exhaustion.”

  Dawn began to break in the east. Slowly Antikva’s silhouette formed against the brightening sky. All around the mesa the thorns hemmed them in.

  He said, “Your threats are empty.”

  She pinned his neck to the ground with one hand and drew the other back to strike. “You’ve poisoned my soul, and for that I hate you. I want to plunge my hand into your chest, pull out your beating heart and crush it before your eyes.”

  “Then do it and show me what you’re made of.”

  He doubted that Antikva had ever used that technique before, but her position belied deep knowledge of the martial arts. She would succeed, if only by sheer strength. That feral look in her eye—Perio had seen it in men on the battlefield as they went mad with slaughter.

  Ah, Pain and Death, my old friends, I have introduced many to you. Now I taste you in all your glory.

  Susan would become just like him. With such immense power, she would certainly rule the world. He could watch from the spirit world and take pride in his protege’s great achievement.

  The feral look changed to horror. She staggered back onto her haunches, releasing the clutch around his neck. The strike hand went to her mouth to cover a gasp. “No ...”

  Other men had described close brushes with death, how the world seemed new afterward, sparkling with beauty. Perio felt only disappointment. “All that power, and you are still weak.”

  She shook a fist at him. “You really want to die, don’t you?”

  “I don’t fear pain. I don’t fear death.”

  There was a long pause. Then she wagged a finger. “Ah, now I understand. There is something you fear more.”

  “What?”

  “You would rather reign in Hell than serve in Heaven. What could be worse for a man like you than second in command? So close to power, yet never at the top. Yes, there is something worse, if you were reduced in rank. Go from king to general, or maybe janitor.”

  “My men are loyal.”

  “The people think I’m a goddess. I can simply speak the word and you will no longer be king. Oh, the nasty and creative ways I could humiliate you, without breaking a single Ancient law.” She pointed to the edge of the mesa where the stair should be. “Go now. That clemency had better be the first thing on your agenda today.”

  He looked at the hedge and hesitated. She walked toward him with a ferocious look, still pointing. He backed away, then ran. She herded him toward the horrific wall of thorns. Just before he crashed onto their long sharp spines, the hedge parted and let him scamper down the stairs. The next circle parted, and then the last. On the plaza he looked back. The hedge had closed to hide Antikva.

  * * *

  Susan arrived late for breakfast that morning. She came upon Perio working with his secretary.

  He looked up. “Antikva, you will be pleased to know that I just signed the proclamation of clemency.”

  “Ah, good. May I read it?”

  The King gestured, and the secretary handed a sheet of paper to her.

  She took a seat at the head table, which had food already laid out, and ate absentmindedly with one hand while holding the document in the other. After a few minutes she looked up. “Seems adequate. Shall we go together and see it implemented? Let’s start with your political prisoners.”

  Healing

  Year 9, Day 180

  The Abbey occupied that thin line between town and open country. Its outer wall had no windows, thick and solid enough to provide some defense. Built near the beginning of the Dark Times, it was by far the oldest part of Chefurbo. The Ancient city gradually crumbled around it. Then the new city sprang up, growing eastward down one tributary of the Long River. The west side remained an agricultural district, starting with the Abbey’s vineyard.

  Susan walked through the open gate and looked around. The compound consisted of a single row house joined to the outer wall, making four turns to enclose the courtyard. Its inner wall had windows and doors for easy access to the flower beds and vegetable gardens. Four paths extended inward to the well at the center, like spokes of a square wheel.

  A nun hurried up. “May I help you, miss?” Her eyes widened in recognition. “Antikva!”

  “I need to speak with your leaders.”

  “Yes, right away.” The woman darted off.

  A few minutes later a small handful of people converged on the spot. Among them was Dale. He spoke for the group, “How may we serve the Ancient One?”

  “Oh Dale, drop the formality.” Susan’s eyes shone with excitement. “I want the Abbey to take on a new mission. Would you distribute Ancient reading machines to people of the Basin?”

  “Of course. But how?”

  She grinned. “They grow on trees. Show me a place that is convenient for you, and I will plant a few.”

  The group led her out to a patch of ground near the end of the vineyard. As they stood there discussing the location, an elephant walked up. The leaders showed only mild surprise. With Antikva, anything could happen.

  Susan stroked its flank. The elephant morphed into a large blob, which separated into four smaller blobs. They spread apart and transformed into dendroids like the ones on the east side of the valley.

  Susan led them under the giant square leaf of one and pointed to some green fruit hanging there, flat and rectangular, varying in size from little more than a pea to big as an apple. “These reading machines are still growing.”

  A single red fruit stood out as larger than the others. She extended a finger up and stroked it. The fruit split open like a flower. A thin metallic slab nestled between the two petals.

  She tugged gently at the hand-sized slab until it came away. Immediately the flower morphed into a blob and absorbed back into the underside of the leaf. “The first one goes to the King. You can use or give away the rest as you think best.”

  She shoved the device into a small satchel and walked back to the citadel.

  * * *

  Susan presented the tablet to the King. “This is what the Ancients called a mobile.”

  He handled it like a clown learning to juggle, turning it over to study each side.

  Susan snatched the device away. “Every Ancient child knew how to use these!” She turned it the correct way and put it back in his hands. “Now, touch it there—”

  He tapped the power button. The face glowed with tiny drawings and words.

  “Now, touch here—” She pointed at one of the small pictures.

  He did, and words filled the face as if it were a piece of paper. He gasped ecstatically. It had been so long since he felt like a child ...

  She said, “This is your first reading assignment: The Universal Declaration of Human Rights, revised 2047—by the calendar of the Ancients, that is.” She waited for him to study the first screenful. “This machine can do much more than show words. You can also talk with me or anyone else who has one, even when we are very far away.”

  “Like in the stories!”

  She nodded. “The Abbey is making them. You should get a few for ke
y people in your government. It will make your business much more efficient.”

  The King studied the machine in fascination. He touched the screen and discovered that the words scrolled with his finger. He grinned and started flipping through the document.

  Susan pointed in his face. “Read it! If you can’t handle Ancient English, get someone from the Abbey to translate. I’ll call in a few days to ask you questions.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “A long journey on personal business. Don’t give me a reason to come back.”

  Swarm vines wound around and through every building of the citadel, like ivy on a stately old university. Big Sister was watching, and the King knew it. Hedges no longer guarded the ziggurat, except for a formidable fence around the communication tower.

  The root system ran under the city as far as the river. The swarm would never depend on humans to care for it. Materials to make new mobiles could be found in the Ancient stratum—an archaeologist’s playground, but of little interest to someone who had experienced the past first-hand.

  Ancient midden filled the ziggurat: toys, crumbled concrete, dishes, broken appliances ... The swarm would have to be careful not to undermine the tower as it dug for rare substances.

  * * *

  The glade on Stonehill buzzed with activity, Nomads putting up tents and arranging their scant possessions. Kantisto stared blankly at the Stone, surrounded by the scraps of his fetish. New magic was here, and he still did not understand the old.

  Susan stood nearby in the “spirit world” studying him. The swarm needed a few minutes to construct a new avatar. Then she stepped out of the grove on the north side of the glade.

  The villagers avoided the strange trees and roots along the ground but seemed comfortable with Stone itself. Those people she still recognized had grown visibly older. Someone ran up and said, “Antikva!”

  She stared at the young man without recognition.

  “You taught me to read, remember?”

  She shook her head. “You’ve changed so much.”

  Other former students swarmed around her, the new generation of the village. Suddenly they were all little children again, hopping with glee.

  “You’re not a ghost anymore!”

  She nodded. “Powerful new magic, for better or worse.” Baseno had no separate word for technology. It was all magic.

  She craned her neck to look around. Most of the young people were taller than her, blocking the view. “Where is Revi?”

  The jubilance died down at the mention of that name. One of the young women took Susan’s hand. “I’ll show you.” They wove their way to a tent on the outskirts.

  Revi wrestled to spread the skin cover over the poles, while a five-year-old boy clung at her feet. She appeared haggard, many years older than she should. Arms and legs were marred with scars, even her face. She looked up and nodded grimly at them, then continued her struggle.

  Susan ran up, grabbed a corner of the cover and tried to help.

  Revi muttered, “Antikva, you make a terrible Nomad.” She pointed. “Over there a little ...” Together they pulled the tent into shape and laced the skins together. Then Revi began hauling her meager possessions inside, while the child trailed along.

  Susan grabbed a few things and ducked in with them.

  Revi followed with the last. She plopped onto a newly arranged pallet, exhausted. “I suppose I should invite you in.”

  Susan sat on the ground. “What happened to you?”

  “I ... don’t remember how I got to the city. The people at the Abbey found me and Novechjo. They cared for me a long time. Then we walked back to the village.”

  “Why does no one help you?”

  “None of the young men will have me now. The women avoid me. I’m allowed to share the food of the village, but I must work extra hard for it.”

  “I have no place to stay. May I share your tent?” To a Nomad, that was much more than a request for hospitality. It also meant Susan would contribute to the household.

  Revi’s eyes widened in amazement. “This hill is your tent. Why would the great Antikva soil herself with the likes of me?”

  “You’re the reason I came back. I think you’re the only one who can save me.”

  A voice outside called, “Antikva, the elders wish to speak with you.”

  Susan stood and gave her a questioning look.

  Revi said, “What little I have is yours.”

  “I’ll sleep here tonight.” Susan ducked out of the tent and followed the messenger.

  The meeting with the elders was about as illuminating as usual. After exchanging pleasantries, she returned to Revi’s tent. “I need to change before dinner.”

  Revi grabbed Novechjo and covered his eyes.

  Susan muttered a command. Her white gown reshaped itself into the Nomad costume she had made years before. “Great! Let’s go eat.”

  Revi merely shook her head in bemusement.

  All three of them went to the village fire and found a place to sit. One of the women serving the meal came over and said, “Antikva, please come eat first, as our guest of honor.”

  “I will eat when Revi does.”

  The server stared back. “Very well.” She gestured wearily for them all to come.

  After a few songs, Pliajo asked, “Antikva, will you tell us the story tonight?”

  She stood and spoke. “Sorry, friends, but I have no story. My soul is weary from a long journey. Sometimes I dream of another world. I see people sitting together on a green hillside. They are warm, full of food, healthy, at peace. The place is timeless. They have sat on that hillside for an age of this Earth.

  “Then I see my man coming. We sit together and feel only love. He wipes the tears from my eyes and tells me that all the pain was worth it. My friends are there, and even enemies are now friends. The lion lies down with the lamb. My soul longs to find that place.” She sat down.

  Silence fell on the group. Storytime was far too short, but no one dared follow it with something else. They broke into small conversations, then drifted off to their tents early.

  Susan found the bits of bedding that Revi had put together for her and handed them back. “Thanks, but I don’t need these. Make yourself and Novechjo comfortable.” She lay down on the ground and traced her finger on the side of the conical roof.

  After a while, Novechjo’s breathing grew deep and regular.

  Susan whispered, “Are you awake?”

  Revi whispered back, “Yes.”

  “Do you remember anything that happened to you?”

  Revi’s voice came back strained and anxious. “Nothing ... nothing happened to me.”

  “Then let me tell you what I saw—”

  “No Antikva! Don’t make me remember.” Revi broke into sobs. Susan kept silent, and gradually Revi faded into sleep.

  Susan closed the teleop connection. In the virtual world the Stone stood under a night full of stars. She touched the console, and another kind of constellation burst into existence, a graph of interconnected nodes and equations. New things for the swarm to do ...

  She returned to her body a little before dawn. It was bright outside when Novechjo woke her. “Mommy said you will play with me today!”

  Susan sat up and rubbed her face. “OK, let me show you some magic.” She led him back to the Stone, where she fidgeted with the console for a few minutes. Teleop changed the relationship between physical and virtual objects. Now the console was ephemeral and ghostly, while real objects were solid. It took a great deal of care to actually touch the surface rather than go through it.

  Eventually the whiteboard program started—in volumetric mode. She could afford such a luxury now that swarm was pumping abundant power into the Stone.

  Novechjo gasped and danced for glee when the shimmering image appeared in the air next to the Stone.

  She said, “Did you know that drawings can make sounds?” She traced a letter of the Baseno alphabet and pronounced it for hi
m.

  Soon a gaggle of other children collected around, and she found herself teaching class again. After a while they grew bored and all ran off to play, including Novechjo. Susan smiled at their receding backs, then went to find Kantisto.

  He was busy mixing some brew with mortar and pestle. An old woman sat quietly on a small stool next to his tent, waiting for the product. Kantisto looked up. “What do you want with me, Antikva?”

  Susan gestured deference to the old woman, then stood there quietly.

  Kantisto finished his potion and poured it into a small bowl waiting in the woman’s hands. She struggled to her feet and hobbled away.

  Susan took her seat. “Would you like the spirits to go away?”

  “You can do that?”

  “Maybe. I will only try if you wish it.”

  He stared blankly for a while. “The spirits have attacked me ever since I became a man. Try your magic.”

  She stood and extended a palm to him. “Spit in my hand.”

  “Spit on Antikva?”

  “It’s either that or blood. Take your pick.”

  He hocked up a generous blob of saliva and spat.

  She closed her hand around the mess. “Thanks. I’ll come back in a few days.”

  Immediately the swarm went to work. It separated a few human cells from the bacteria, extracted their nuclei and began reading out the DNA sequence.

  She found Revi working alone, scraping animal skins and preparing them for the clothes-makers. Susan sat next to her and tried to pick up some of the work.

  Revi said, “Not like that. Here ...” She showed Susan how to stretch a skin on a wood frame, then drag a knife across it to remove fat and gore. They worked side-by-side for hours, only speaking when Revi needed to give instructions.

  * * *

  When everyone fell asleep, Susan returned to the virtual world. The analysis routines had finished processing Kantisto’s gene sequence. The results looked much like a swarm program, a constellation of dots and lines laced with numbers.