The Apocalypse Script

by Samuel Fort

  Chapter 28 - Guests

  At mid-day the first of reception’s visitors arrived. He was Wilfred Barnum, Esquire, and he had flown in on a customized EC 135 with three fetches and enough luggage to test the load capacity of the luxuriously upgraded aircraft. Lilian, seeing the helicopter, had gone to the helipad to greet him.

  “Ah, Lilitu, it’s good to see ye,” he said in English with a Scottish brogue, holding open his arms so that she could embrace him. As tall as the average Nisirtu but a bit wider at the waist than most, the fifty-seven year old man wore a gray three-piece suit and a black silk bowtie. Atop his head was a lush if unkempt mass of red hair that was matched by an equally lush and unkempt red beard.

  “It’s so good to see you, Willie,” the woman yelled over the whine of the blades as they slowed to a stop. “It’s been years!”

  “Ay, fower! A misst ye sae muckle!”

  Lilian released him and said in Agati, “Four years, really? Time is a wicked creature.”

  Barnum replied in the same tongue, though the accent remained. “Yes, the older you get that faster it moves. So is life. I was pleased to receive your invitation even if the announcement of the marriage threw me for a loop!”

  She took one of his arms in hers and walked him toward Steepleguard. “It was my intent to throw everyone for a loop. I had to do it quickly, you understand.”

  “Most assuredly. You’ve put the Seven on their heels, lass.”

  “You’ve reviewed the marriage contract?”

  “Yes, and Ridley has done an excellent job, as I’d expect. Still, I would like to sit down with you and your husband and sister to sift through some of the finer points. I think there are some implications you should be made aware of.”

  Lilian’s pace slowed. “Nothing that affects the legitimacy of the union, I hope.”

  “Nothing like that, dear. Your marriage contract is iron clad.”

  “Good.” She patted the man’s forearm. “Would an hour be adequate for you to recuperate from your trip?”

  “One hour and some whiskey, yes.”

  “Then you shall have both.” She twisted her body and motioned for Mr. Fetch, who was trailing them by twenty feet, to catch up. She said, “Mr. Fetch, please see Mr. Barnum to his suite and ensure he is provided a bottle of Glenfiddich.”

  Mr. Fetch said, “We have a bottle of the 1937. Would that be satisfactory, sir?”

  The attorney laughed merrily. “It’ll do in a pinch, lad.”

  Soon dozens of additional guests began to arrive by air and land. Ben was initially amazed that such ostensibly powerful men and women could drop everything they were doing to respond to Ridley’s invitation, especially given the short notice, but then recognized that it was their power that allowed them to do so. They ruled their own lives and answered to no one except their kings and queens, who, from what he could tell, required nothing but their subjects’ loyalty.

  The guests were an exceptional lot, physically. The Nisirtu men were generally tall and chiseled, the women were slim and gorgeous, and the children were adorable and seemingly wise beyond their years. Most newcomers arrived dressed in the kind of leisurewear that could only be purchased from specialty stores. Two hundred dollar polo shirts and five hundred dollar khakis. Sneakers, boat shoes, and sunglasses that topped a thousand dollars each.

  By midday the parking lot held a great variety of luxury and sports cars, many of a make Ben had never seen before. He stood outside the doors to the Great Hall admiring them and contemplating a closer inspection. He wasn’t a gear-head but he didn’t need to be to appreciate the mechanical marvels that were collecting in his new front yard.

  “There you are,” came a voice from behind him. He turned and saw Lilian and Fiela striding toward him, hand in hand.

  “Just enjoying the view,” he said, turning back toward the cars. Lilian appeared to his right and Fiela to his left, though the Peth had stopped a half step back.

  Lilian said, “A friend of the family, Willie Barnum, would like to meet with us in about an hour. He’s an attorney who has reviewed the marriage contract and wants to make sure all the T’s are crossed.”

  “That’s probably a good idea since I didn’t understand most of what was in it. I signed it anyway, of course. That’s how I ended up in the Marines. I never seem to learn.”

  “We’ll meet in Ridley’s study,” said Lilian. “The three of us and Willie.”

  “Okay. Fiela!” yelled Ben over his shoulder, “you’re giving me the creeps standing back there. Did you forget your sunglasses?” He knew the girl was extremely sensitive to light but the skies were overcast.

  “No, Mutu,” she said, taking hold of his arm but not moving.

  “What, then?”

  Lilian made a clicking noise with her tongue. “Don’t be silly, Sister. Stand next to your husband.” To Ben, “It’s customary for the serretu to stand a little toward the rear if the asatu is present. I doubt you care about such things.”

  “You’re right,” he replied. “That’s ridiculous. I’m officially nixing that custom by whatever authority that document I didn’t read gives me.”

  “Done,” said Lilian decisively, and motioned Fiela to move up with a wave of her hand.

  “Thank you, Mutu,” the Peth said, kissing him on the cheek when she was beside him.

  “Are all the guests arriving today?” he asked.

  “No, perhaps a third,” said Lilian. “The rest will arrive tomorrow. I’ll need to introduce you to many of them.”

  “That’s what us trophy husbands are for, right? To be shown off?”

  Lilian laughed. “That, and other things.”

  More seriously, Ben said, “Explain something to me. I get that everyone in the Nisirtu is wealthy by proxy. And powerful. But how is it that everyone – and I mean everyone – is either handsome or beautiful?”

  “Do you think I’m beautiful?”

  The man laughed curtly. “You must know that, Lilian.”

  “Yet you have never said so.”

  “Lilian, Fiela, you are the two most beautiful women I have ever laid my eyes on. Clear?”

  “Thank you, Mutu,” said Fiela.

  “Thank you,” added Lilian, before saying, “Yes, Nisirtu women are, by Ardoon standards, beautiful, just as Nisirtu men are tall and handsome. Our ancestors were superb horse breeders and reasoned that it made no sense to carefully breed lower animals but to leave the breeding of high order animals like humans to chance. So for five thousands years we have been selectively bred. The brightest, strongest, healthiest, that sort of thing. As a result our IQs are generally quite high, we have very long lives, and we are immune to many diseases.”

  “And you’re bred to be beautiful? ”

  “Beauty is merely a side benefit of the pursuit for the healthiest offspring. I should point out that the program is voluntary and that the Nisirtu aim only to enhance positive traits. We are too wise to use race, religion, or other unrelated attributes in mapping our genetic futures. Such foolish polices are,” she said, with irony, “exclusive to the Ardoon.”

  “That’s why you’re immune to Cage’s, isn’t it? You’ve got a specific genetic identity. Ridley said the pathogen was designed to bypass you.”

  “That’s right.”

  Before Ben could explore the topic further, a young couple walked up to them. Both were Hollywood-perfect. He bore a marked resemblance to one of those carefree polo players shown in cologne advertisements in gentlemen’s fashion magazines and she looked like the head of an Ivy League sorority that catered exclusively to homecoming queens. Ben was surprised they weren’t both carrying tennis racquets and sipping champagne.

  “Annasa,” said the man, showing his perfect white teeth, and Lilian held out her hand so that he could brush her knuckles with his lips. The young woman next to him repeated the ritual.

  Lilian said, “You are kind but I am not a queen.”

  “But you will be,” said the woman. “Soon, we
hope.”

  “It is time that the world was returned to its proper order,” said the man, eyeing Ben. “Anax?” he probed.

  Ben held out his hand. “Ben.”

  “Rightful son of Sargon,” said Lilian with gravity.

  “Chosen successor of the Great Sage,” added Fiela.

  The younger man took the proffered hand and shook it enthusiastically. “You are an inspiration, sir. Son of Sargon and chosen of the Great Sage. I have made it a point to read all of your books and I am amazed at your intellectual prowess, truly. I am a student of ancient civilizations.”

  Ben was happily surprised. “Really? Any specific region or period?”

  “The Pacific and Southeast Asia are what interest me most. I am preparing a paper on Lemuria, in fact.”

  “Lemuria.” Ben nodded approvingly but wondered who would ever see the paper if the universities were abandoned. “You have an interest in mythos, then. I’d certainly be interested in reading the finished product. I once authored an article on Mu. It was a pop piece for a travel magazine, but I’d be happy to share my notes with you. I didn’t catch your name?”

  “Augustus,” the man said. “Lilian knows my family. Oh,” he said, stepping back. “I’m sorry, this is Theda, my wife. She’s a marine archaeologist.”

  “Anax,” said the woman, gently twisting Ben’s outstretched hand and kissing the signet ring on his finger. She raised two hypnotic blue eyes to meet his as her lips pushed against the cuneiform inscriptions. Ben tried to hide his embarrassment as Fiela’s grip on his arm tightened.

  “Ben,” he corrected her, politely withdrawing his hand. “A marine archaeologist and a student of Lemuria? You two were destined to be together.” He spotted another couple headed his way. Clearing his throat, he said, “It was a pleasure meeting you both but I’ve got some matters to attend to.”

  “Of course,” the visitors said almost at once, and after a few parting pleasantries the couple continued past him to the Great Hall.

  “Sister,” said Lilian, “I should stay here to greet some of our visitors. Why don’t you escort our husband to the sanctuary of his study? I do not think he is desirous of our visitors’ attention.”

  “We can go to the bedroom,” the girl said, tugging at his arm. “Perhaps you would like to nap? In the bedroom?”

  “A nap?” exclaimed Ben. “What am I, your grandfather?”

  “Oh, Mutu,” lamented Fiela as she pulled him away from the door. “Fine, let’s go to your study and stare at your stupid tablets.”