by Ander Nesser
alert. And I don't know how someone from Tier 35 could get the attention of someone in Tier 1.” Aoi glanced at the chronometric display on her drone. “How many hours until the ship arrives?” she asked the Akran.
“About sixteen hours.”
“My Goddess . . . . It will be here tomorrow before sunset. I should go to my chamber and get onto the communication terminal. Though I doubt anyone is awake at this time. Are you permitted to follow me to my chamber?”
“If you give me the direct command, then yes, you are permitted to remove one Akran unit from the Archives.”
“Good. Then I command you to follow me.”
The corridors were quiet, dimmed, and yellowed. Aoi and the Akran encountered no other people on the long journey back to her chamber. When Aoi arrived, she stepped through the curtain and stood still for a moment. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and then opened them wide. The Akran was still there, whirring over her shoulder, next to the buzzing drone. She moved to the communication terminal in an alcove of the curved wall. The electrode unit on her scalp detected the pulses in her brain, then sent the signal to her personal drone which in turn sent an encrypted signal to the computer terminal, granting access. Her fingers twitched slightly as she continued to relay commands through her drone, navigating Eabzu's communication network.
Aoi went directly to Tier 1, but was blocked with a message: “ACCESS DENIED: TIER 2 IDENT REQUIRED.” She backed out and requested access to the Tier 2 comm portal. A similar message appeared: “ACCESS DENIED: TIER 3 IDENT REQUIRED.”
She sighed and turned her back to the screen. “I knew this would be the case. I can only talk to someone in Tier 34, and then somehow link in a chain to the top. Can you help somehow? Maybe hack your way in?”
“No,” the Akran said. “Though I might be able to get you physically through doors to the top tier.”
For the next four hours, Aoi continued attempting to open a comm portal through the tiers. Shortly before dawn, she heard the Akran's voice from the dark.
“I have been gathering data and doing probability calculations. I have concluded that the citizenry's best chance of surviving an attack lays in seeking refuge in the Underrealm because of its structural reinforcement and radiation shielding.”
“But how likely is an attack?”
“Based on my historical analysis of similar contact events, extremely likely.”
“Then I must get everyone down to the Archives. I must convince the Mayor, and fifteen million people, to go down below Tier 60.”
Four: Confidence and Faith
At dawn Aoi put on a red robe with a fine weave. On the other side of the room, the Akran was balanced on the floor like an abstract dolomite sculpture. “Akran,” Aoi called out. The machine rose to eye level. “You said you might be able to get me up to Tier 1.” She consumed a compressed powder stimulant and some water from the wall dispenser. “Someone might try to stop us along the way. Are you able to lead me?”
“Yes,” said the Akran.
“Alright. I want to leave my personal drone behind. If anyone asks, you're my drone. People probably will think you're just an unusual model. Let's go.”
From the moment she left her room, Aoi's eyes glanced furtively at each face she passed. They all seemed to be staring at her, or perhaps at the Akran. Near the axis elevator column, she came upon a common area with a large statue of the Great Sky Goddess Uaiaeu at the center. The dome above lit the stone in tessellated panes, a simulation of orange-tinged daylight. The angular shadows sectioned frames of smooth rhythm on the sculpture. The Goddess was portrayed with her right hand held tensely overhead, fingers splayed, while her left seemed softly posed at the waist; yet her left hand shot a stone lightning bolt, angling to the ground like an inverted tree.
“Wait a moment,” Aoi said to the Akran. “I want to perform the ritual, just one last time.” She stood before the trough at the base of the statue, arms straightened out front, fingers interlocked. She tilted her head back and whispered “O Great Sky Goddess, hear my meek prayer, if you are listening. I beseech you to save your children from their foolishness. Please, do not punish them because they have rejected your wisdom. They need more time to learn and to mature. They do not yet understand. Save them. Save us. Amen.” Aoi lowered her head and spit into the trough. She took a step back and regarded the expressionless face of the statue. Others in the chamber passed by and spit into the trough. One of the worshipers approached, wearing a light blue robe laced with thin yellow threads.
“Aoi, I never would have expected to see you here, paying your respects to the Goddess.”
“Ouo. I wanted to try praying one last time, to see if it would feel hollow.”
“Did it?”
“My feelings don't matter. I must pass on what I learned in the Archives.”
Ouo scoffed. “I actually wanted to apologize to you. I should not have gotten so emotional last night. I realize that you were not trying to corrupt me on purpose. But Aoi, you know that I cannot associate with a blasphemer. And so I have to remove you from my contact list on my Profile Page. I hope that you will find your way back to piety, and that someday we can be friends again.” After finishing her sentence, Ouo walked away briskly.
Aoi glanced at the other people around, who looked away when their eyes met. She took a deep breath and headed for the elevator doors. When the doors slid shut, Aoi looked at the panel of buttons.
“How do you propose we get to Tier 1?” she asked the Akran.
“Push the button for Tier 1.”
“But isn't there an encrypted access code?” Aoi's finger trembled over the glowing red symbol.
“No.”
“So anyone, even from Tier 60, can freely go up to the mayor's office?”
“Correct.”
“That can't be right. Only people in Tier 2 can interact with those in Tier 1.”
“The citizenry is socially induced with inhibitions. Fear of embarrassment or ostracism are the main methods of behavioral control in this society,” the Akran said.
Aoi paused for a beat, then said “Really? We'll see about that.” And she pushed the button for Tier 1. She felt herself grow heavier for a moment, and the lighting shifted outside the translucent walls. Passing through the next thirty tiers did not take long; but then the elevator slowed to a crawl as it neared its destination, and she took a deep breath, looking at the Akran. They halted at Tier 1, and the doors opened. Aoi's eyes squinted in bright sunlight, but then widened again.
She stepped into a vaulted chamber which appeared very different from other rooms in the tower. Instead of smoothly flowing, creamy walls, everything was dark gray and angular. The floor was a reflective black. From a several-storied vertical slit on the opposite wall streamed the morning sunlight.
“Halt!” Two guards rushed toward her from the sides. They wore form-fitting armor but carried no visible weapons.
“Wait, I have an important message to deliver to the Mayor! The safety of the city is at stake,” Aoi cried.
“You are dressed like a vulgarian,” one guard said.
“And your drone does not display your social rank,” the other said.
“Your humble messenger is of no consequence. Only the message matters,” Aoi said, her palms held outward.
“I disagree,” a powerful, granular voice echoed from the other side of the chamber. A silhouette in the sunlight approached, casting a long shadow toward Aoi. It was an old woman, wrinkled but strongly upright, crowned with a headpiece in the spiral symbol of the city. Her skin was an unusually light gray, with dark spots. The blue robe was cut in a simple, straight shape.
“Lady Mayor,” Aoi said, “what an honor to--”
“Quiet!” the Mayor said. “What tier are you?”
“Thirty-five, but--”
“How dare you! In my century as mayor of th
is city, I have never encountered such insolence. I would not have thought it possible.”
“Everyone in this tower is in danger. We need to evacuate them to the Underrealm before nightfall. And we need to warn the other megacities around the world, too, if--”
The Mayor laughed. “Bring her to my desk,” she said to the guards, and walked back toward the window. Each guard grabbed an arm and escorted Aoi, following the Mayor.
As they drew closer to the tall window, Aoi saw that it opened to an exterior terrace. The Mayor's desk was wide and white, contrasting with the black floor. The Mayor took her seat behind it, back to the window, and looked at Aoi.
“You're lucky I happen to be bored this morning. I'll entertain your insult for a moment. Name?” Her drone, of an elaborate design Aoi had never seen, moved closer to the surface of the desk as it opened a terminal on the Network.
“Aoi,” Aoi said. She could not see the Mayor's electrodes under her headdress, but they must have been there: the drone danced above data-flows like a lotus flower on a turbulent pond.
“Aoi, Tier 35. Let's see,” the Mayor intoned, “the average number of contacts held by a member of that particular tier is two hundred thirty-nine. You have exactly . . . one.” She glanced from the screen up to Aoi and back again. “I'm looking at your Profile Page right now. It appears that you had two contacts, but one of them recently removed you from her list and flagged you as a possible blasphemer.
