Earth Keepers

by Jorge Alejandro Lavera

  “There’s a crown?” he asked.

  “It’s figurative. There’s a crown that a queen used once, but I think it would be a little feminine for you. Although, we could make you a crown if you want one. You want one?” countered Althaea.

  “Of course not, I’d feel ridiculous,” he assured her.

  “We could even put you in a cape like the Jedi,” Althaea said.

  Juan Carlos rolled his eyes.

  “Now you’re messing with me.”

  “Hey, I like the idea of the Jedi cape,” Sofía said.

  Althaea laughed.

  “Yes, from what I know of you, I know you won’t do it, but we could if you wanted. That’s what’s important. So, what is it you think should be done?”

  “We have two small cities full of people and a world empty of humans, except a few who may have survived. There are probably people shut in bunkers, or I don’t know, in submarines, who were completely isolated somehow and didn’t get sick. There may not be many, but there has to be somebody besides us. If we’re going to think long term, we have to find them, tell them what happened and ask them to join us. We’ll look for those of us who want to travel and explore, so they can serve as ambassadors and warriors if necessary. We also have to start to reproduce...” Juan Carlos paused, looking at all of them. “I don’t mean the humans, I mean us. Now that we have the technology and the means, we need to reconstruct the Atlantean species or a hybrid, with the best of each. We have to make sure that the destruction of the planet that was going on doesn’t happen again. Well, the destruction that’s still going on,” he emphasized. “We’ll have to teach our descendants and all the citizens the Atlantean laws and incorporate them as a moral guide. We have to prepare the harvests, and we have to...”

  “How about if for now we organize a New Year’s party for the whole city? We have time,” Raquel interrupted.

  Juan Carlos looked at her in horror.

  “I could never do anything like that.”

  The four women laughed.

  “We’ll take charge of it. Besides, it’s time that all the citizens get to know each other, and you. We’ll do a real party for the year 2028,” exclaimed Althaea.

  “No,” clarified Juan Carlos. “It should be a party for the Year One of the new era. The era that human beings ended. We had our chance and we ruined it.”

  “And what will this new era be called?” asked Raquel.

  Juan Carlos looked at her and then at Althaea.

  “I have no idea...maybe we could ask for suggestions or put it to a vote at the party. Meanwhile, we’ll just say new era.”

  He thought about everything that would need to be done. He reflected on everything that had happened the past two months and asked himself how much time he’d have in front of him. He remembered Tzedek, and all the thousands of years the Atlanteans spent trying to make things better and while he was thinking about it, for a second something jogged his memory. A memory? He couldn’t pin it down and let it go.

  “What I do know is that everything that’s happened in the past few months was easy compared to what’s ahead. The past events were inevitable; however, the future that we have ahead of us depends on us not making the same mistakes.”

  “I want you to repeat that to the people during the party. That was brilliant,” Althaea praised him.

  Juan Carlos huffed, and rolled his eyes.

  “You’re making fun of me again.”

  Althaea took his face and forced him to look her in the eyes.

  “Not even a little bit. I was serious,” Juan Carlos heard in his mind. He sighed.

  “Everything that happened...all the battles, the deaths, the bombs, wasn’t the end. It was barely the beginning of the new world,” reflected Juan Carlos. “We have to ensure that it wasn’t all in vain.”

  “It wasn’t. And it won’t be,” Althaea replied.

  “Do you know that in Atlantean society, the highest rank is always for a woman?”

  “I know, it’s in my memory. I just wanted to see how far you’d let me get with this being a king.”

  “The royal consort is the first counselor to the queen, you know?”

  “You can keep that position. And now, let’s get to work. We have too much to do to waste time looking at sunrises,” growled Juan Carlos, but he didn’t move.

  “If we don’t take a minute to enjoy the good things in life, what are we living for?” Althaea reflected, putting her arms around him.

  The five of them kept watching the sunrise until its rays filled the room, and only then they separated and went to their tasks. There was a lot to do.

  Eras of Queens

  ATTACK

  Rho, December 2, 2027. 4:50 a.m.

  Juan Carlos couldn’t breathe. Marsan was strangling him with the violence of a maniac, and as much as he tried to use all his strength, he couldn’t break the grip even a little bit. He heard screams and gusts of wind around him. Unable to separate Marsan’s hands from around his neck, he hit him in the head but that didn’t work, either. He felt like he was losing consciousness, until suddenly he woke up with a shout and found himself sitting on the sofa. He was covered in cold sweat. Althaea shouted, too, and jumped up from her bed, taking a firearm that was at her bedside, looking around at what to shoot, ready for combat.

  It took Juan Carlos a few seconds to reorient himself.

  “I’m sorry, Althaea, I think I had a nightmare.”

  “I almost killed you from the scare. Are you okay?” she yelled, slowly calming down.

  “I think so, but I don’t think I can get back to sleep.”

  Althaea laughed, but she looked at him, worried. After Marsan had kept them prisoners in Damaris’ apartment, they had changed apartments and Althaea wanted to go back to her own home, so they added another sofa for Juan Carlos, where he’d just awakened.

  “Okay, it’s best if we have breakfast. I wouldn’t be able to sleep again either after waking up like that. Come on, calm down,” she advised him, putting the weapon down and hugging him.

  Juan Carlos went to the bathroom and washed his face to clear away the rest of the nightmare. When he looked in the mirror, his heart skipped a beat again. A lock of white hair had appeared on his right temple.

  “Althaea?”

  Something in his tone alarmed her, and she came running.

  “What?” she asked, from the doorway, looking worried.

  “Look at this,” Juan Carlos showed her, pointing to his temple.

  Althaea looked at it intently and stroked it, frowning.

  “Do you feel okay?”

  “Apart from being affected by the nightmare, good. What do you think this is?”

  “It isn’t normal, is the only thing I know. It would be best if we go see a doctor.”

  Juan Carlos hesitated for a moment.

  “Do you think it’s necessary? I don’t feel bad.”

  “Juan Carlos, I don’t want to scare you, but it’s impossible for that to happen if the nanites are working right, which makes me think that they’re malfunctioning. Let’s have breakfast later, we should check this out immediately.”

  “I understand. Let’s go, then,” Juan Carlos answered.

  PRACTICING

  Rho, December 2, 2027. 4:40 a.m.

  Sofía was seated comfortably in a chair in Damaris’ apartment. Her eyes were closed, however, she was seeing more than if they were open.

  Damaris and Nikaia were sitting in front of her. Sofía had been practicing every day and her mastery of her abilities was becoming more and more perfected.

  Her nanites worked like a huge sensor that received information from the entire electromagnetic spectrum at a distance. In the case of the other Atlanteans, she could order them to give her information about practically anything: their status, what was in their memory, what they were doing, the host’s state and many other things. She received that information in the form of data, which she could use if she thought about it, or visually, as an ‘aura
,’ if she didn’t concentrate too much. In the case of humans who didn’t have nanites, she could get the same information generated from their cells. Even if it was weak and basic, she could still capture it and see it if need be. The sensitivity of her nanites and her adaptation to them was amazing.

  She was admiring Damaris’ muscular system, when suddenly she felt an itching in her temple. She thought about moving her arm to scratch it. At the same time she was raising it, Damaris did the same with hers as she uttered an exclamation.

  Sofía jumped, opened her eyes and saw Damaris looking at her with her arm in the same position as hers was, and Nikaia looking at both of them. Damaris lowered and stretched out her arm, not taking her eyes off of Sofía.

  Sofía had involuntarily transmitted the order to the nanites and cells in Damaris’ arm muscles to raise it up.

  “Did you just raise my arm?” asked Damaris.

  “It was just a coincidence, that’s impossible,” Nikaia laughed.

  Sofía looked at her arm and concentrated quickly on Nikaia’s left arm. She thought about the muscles of the forearm that needed to compress in order to stretch it, and wished it to happen. Nikaia’s arm suddenly stretched out, a little spasmodically. The Atlantean opened her mouth and uttered an exclamation of dismay. She tried to bend it, but couldn’t, and stood up, startled. Sofía concentrated on letting go of her control and suddenly Nikaia could move it freely again. Nikaia grabbed her arm and shouted: “Don’t ever do that again!”

  “Calm down, I just needed to show you that it wasn’t a coincidence and it isn’t impossible. You weren’t going to believe me if I just told you,” Sofía explained.

  Damaris made a face that ended up being a half smile. Nikaia looked at her with annoyance and snapped:

  “At any rate, I need to go, Your Majesty.”

  “Now I’m sure I’ve angered you. I’m sorry, Nikaia, I promise I won’t do it again without your permission,” she said contritely.

  Nikaia settled down and conceded:

  “At least let me know first. Now, seriously, I need to go. Excuse me.”

  Damaris looked at her own arm, and as Nakaia left, praised her admiringly:

  “It’s amazing you can do that.”

  “I find it easier and easier,” Sofía said.

  “I’m going to the Control Center,” Damaris said.

  Sofía went blank and then got up, scared. Damaris looked at her curiously.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Something’s wrong with Dad.”

  “Juan Carlos? What?” asked Damaris.

  “I don’t know, but I’m sensing...panic,” she said worriedly, running towards the door.

  “Wait, I’m going with you,” offered Damaris, running after her. “Where is he?”

  “I think in his room,” Sofía replied, hurrying towards the stairs.

  She ran behind Sofía, who suddenly stopped and let her catch up.

  “Whatever happened, I think it’s over...at least I’m not getting it like before,” said Sofía, as she resumed her path but walking slowly.

  When they got to the floor they were looking for, they headed towards Althaea’s new apartment, but just at that moment they ran into them in the hallway. They stopped as soon as they saw the others.

  “Papa, what happened to you?” Sofía asked.

  “Just a nightmare, how did you know?” Juan Carlos asked, concerned.

  “A nightmare?” she replied, incredulously. “What happened to your hair?” Sofía looked at him more closely, concentrating in visual mode. She was startled to see various stains on his aura. “Dad, something is wrong with you.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “Something is going on with your nanites. Here and here,” she pointed to one side of his head and one arm. “We have to go see Mom urgently,” Sofía pressured him.

  “I told you,” Althaea muttered. “I told him we needed to see a doctor,” she indicated to Sofía and Damaris.

  Sofía frowned for a minute.

  “Let’s go to the technology center.”

  “To see who, Raquel? Wouldn’t we need to call her first?” Juan Carlos inquired.

  “I just did it,” Sofía affirmed.

  “You go, and I’ll go to the Control Center and stay on guard,” Althaea said, leaving them.

  IN THE LABORATORY

  Rho, December 2, 2027. 5:40 a.m.

  Juan Carlos, Sofía, and Damaris met Raquel at the entrance to the lab. She had just taken off her protective suit. The security in that place was equal to that of any laboratory with a high biological risk, and not without reason. They were always developing and testing prototypes of nanites that in many respects acted like viruses. Once in contact with the bloodstream, they fed off of it. They reproduced and interacted with the cells they encountered. Just one failed or badly programmed nanite could kill a person. At the end of the day, they incinerated everything, but meanwhile, to get in and out, they had to do it under the same protocol that they used to deal with incurable illnesses like hemorrhagic fever caused by the Marburg virus.

  Raquel smiled at them, but when they approached and she saw Juan Carlos, she immediately looked worried.

  “I heard your call, Sofía, you told me that something serious had happened to your father,” she said, and frowned looking at the lock of hair of white hair at his temple. “The nanites should have repaired that.”

  “Yes, Mom, that’s why I called, it’s something very strange,” she indicated.

  “Strange and nanites should never go in the same sentence. And call me Raquel, not Mom. What were you doing before this happened?” she asked Juan Carlos.

  “Having a nightmare. Excuse me, actually I think I was reliving a memory of Tzedek’s as if I were him. Or maybe one of Tzedek’s nightmares, I don’t know exactly.”

  “Asleep or awake?”

  “Asleep. At least, I think so. The nightmare was short but intense. I woke up yelling and then I saw this in the mirror,” he related, pointing to his temple.

  “And what did you see exactly, if I may ask?” asked Damaris.

  “Marsan trying to kill me,” he explained, and described the scene to them.

  “Mom, sorry, Raquel, I see various colors in Dad’s nanite field,” Sofía noted.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know I can interpret the electromagnetic radiation of the nanites in a visual way, as if it were an aura around the Atlanteans. Or us. The aura is always one color but with Dad, I see two distinct colors, in different areas. One of the colors is the one he had before, the other is darker.”

  Raquel got two syringes and asked:

  “Show me where you see it different from normal.”

  Sofía showed her the areas, one in the head, one in the left arm, and the last one in his chest.

  “Here?” asked her mother, pointing to the area on his arm. Sofía pointed to it more precisely, outlining an area with her hand. Raquel quickly took blood from that area.

  “The other arm is normal?” she asked, and when Sofía confirmed that it was, she took blood from the other arm with another syringe. She quickly wrote something on them and indicated:

  “I must analyze this. It will take at least a couple of hours, so I suggest that you wait somewhere else, this area can be dangerous. I’ll let you know when I know something.”

  “Where are we going?” asked Sofía.

  “I don’t know about you, but I was thinking about going to the Control Center,” Juan Carlos said.

  “Let’s go,” agreed Damaris, and the three of them headed that way.

  CONFUSION

  Rho, December 2, 2027. 6:00 a.m.

  When they arrived at the Control Center, they brought Althaea, who was waiting for them, up to date. Afterwards, Sofía went with Damaris to a console, where she was quickly learning the system operations.

  Juan Carlos relaxed for a minute in the chair that Tzedek used to use. He felt really tired. His head hurt a little
and he ran his hand slowly over it. He tried to relax his shoulders a little, and closed his eyes.

  Buenos Aires, November 8, 2027. 12:50 p.m.

  The phone rang. Juan Carlos opened his eyes with a start and listened. Only it wasn’t his phone or his hand.

  “Speak,” he heard himself say.

  “Sir, excuse me for bothering you. You left me instructions to let you know if there was anything out of the ordinary,” he heard Dr. Martin say.

  He looked at his watch, it was almost thirteen hundred hours.

  “What’s happening?” asked Juan Carlos, looking now at the reflection of his face on the cell phone screen and seeing the familiar face of Tzedek. Then suddenly he knew for sure it wasn’t a nightmare but that he was experiencing another memory.

  “It’s one of the candidates, Juan Carlos Navarro. He passed the preliminary and health tests just fine, and those of ideological compatibility and philosophy, but he smashed the logic and problem-solving ones. His times are simply off the chart,” Martín informed him.

  Juan Carlos Navarro? Were they talking about Raquel Säuger’s ex-husband? He felt cold for a moment. Of course he remembered Raquel’s daughter, Sofía, even though Raquel herself didn’t remember her. They had informed her, but with her amnesia, she couldn’t make any emotional connection and they decided that since her daughter and husband thought she was dead, it was better to leave it that way. Raquel worked in her nanotechnology laboratory in the new city, Rho, trying to replicate the Atlantean technology to achieve a version of nanites that would work with humans and the work she did was brilliant—they were closer every time, especially since they didn’t have to hide their work. Now Raquel could analyze and also work with the Atlantean nanites as a model. Tzedek had arranged for some people to watch Sofía’s upbringing and give her father a hand when necessary, but he didn’t really know the man. He only knew that he was a good hybrid. He never really needed help, and the man didn’t seem ambitious or dangerous.