by Jillian Dodd
He gives me a grin. “Maybe it’s a sign.”
“Of what?”
“You making history in the galaxy.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Maybe in the Battleground galaxy. It’s not like this is real.”
“Maybe not, but it’s fun.” He stuffs a dip-filled chip into his mouth. “Go explore this place but keep a gun at the ready. It could be dangerous.”
My character slowly spins in a circle to get visuals in all directions, but I end up following the path. I assume it’s there for a reason, leading me somewhere important. The path is made of bricks, just like the wall was, and leads to many of the domed huts, but there is a faint green undercurrent running through the mortar as I walk over it. If I turn the wrong way, the current stops.
“It’s leading you somewhere specific, I think,” Daniel says. “Can you run?”
“Sure I can. I was just trying to take it all in.” And get my bearings.
I walk past the spot where the girl and I played in the sand, the town center, and the entrance to the underground facility where her father worked, and then head toward the hut where my mother and I stayed. I take off running, the green glow following me, even when I veer to the right.
I push open the door and enter the space.
“Don’t you think it’s weird that you haven’t encountered anyone?” Daniel comments. “It’s making me nervous. Like you’re going to get ambushed.”
“Maybe I’m going to a treasure vault filled with riches,” I tease but then realize that might be exactly where I’m heading.
Did Ares build a vault like the one in Peter’s home in the TerraSphere? Is the TerraSphere like the old silo doomsday condos that the rich are supposedly snapping up? Will some magic dome pop up to cover the Sphere and protect it in case of catastrophe?
The room looks exactly like I remember. Comfortable, modern, even luxurious in a crazy way, considering all the walls are made of concrete. A screen with a video of the ocean fills one entire wall, making it feel like we are at the beach. There is an upholstered sofa made out of colorful woven textiles, banquette seating around a table for meals, and a large kitchen with worn wooden counters. The floors are made of brick, but the green glow is gone.
“Dead end,” Daniel says. “Go back outside.”
“No,” I say, scanning the walls and stopping once I find the indention. I place the ring in the correct spot, causing a door to slide open and a set of stairs to appear.
“Stop!” Daniel says. “You know going down a set of stairs makes you an easy target!”
“I know,” I say but run down them anyway.
What I find at the bottom is a room filled with screens of meadows set in rolling hills with sheep and goats grazing in the distance. Lorenzo the Magnificent’s swirling mark is prevalent in the design of the room, and scenes give the feeling of being in Utopia, except in the center of it is a large, round table with ten chairs, which seems to be an exact replica of what we saw at the Basilica di San Lorenzo.
I take a seat, choosing the view of the swirling mark rather than the sheep. The second I sit down, the screens change, and another character appears to join me in the room. But yet, it seems like he’s not really part of the game, especially when I notice there’s a time stamp, indicating that it was recorded some twenty years ago.
“That dude looks kinda like your brother,” Daniel says.
“He’d love to hear that,” I say jokingly while my insides feel like they are on fire. I’m pretty sure this is a twenty-something Ares Von Allister. And I’m pretty sure this is an actual recording of something important, made to look like part of the game.
The avatar of Ares starts speaking.
“Gentlemen, our population is racing toward critical mass, and an extinction event will occur. If we don’t change our ways, the world as we know it will cease to exist. These are the facts. We can’t continue to deplete our natural resources. The planet we live on cannot support our predicted population. It’s imperative we take measures now to change this outcome.
“What I am presenting to you today is a project that will usher in a new era. Imagine a world with no crime. No inequality. No hunger. Using quantum computing and environmentally sound practices, the people of the world will live in harmony with our great planet. Rather than chasing profits, we will focus on quality of life. Everyone will have what they need, eliminating greed and damaging wars. Gentlemen, this is our Renaissance.”
The Ares avatar pulls a sheet from the middle of the table, showing off a model of the TerraSphere. As the video pans out, I realize that the table in the recording is also round, much like the one in this very room. And much like the one my brother and I saw in Florence.
“Are you saying that we should dispose of our gold?” A man laughs. The camera stays focused on the project, so we cannot see the man’s face. Or identify any of the other men seated. “I don’t think I could spend it all if I tried.”
More chuckles.
A man with an authoritative tone says, “It’s my understanding that this idea of yours started out as a doomsday scenario.”
“Yes, that is correct, sir. Catastrophic events caused by population, disease, war, weather, or space could change the world as we know it. I believed there needed to be a plan, a way for life to survive after such disasters. Once I designed the TerraSphere, I realized that we had the power to make changes now for the good of all people.”
“You mentioned the Georgia Guidestones in your proposal.”
“Its guides, or instructions, are in alignment with the great thinkers of the Renaissance period.”
“Ah, yes. All of them, except for the population. What do you intend to do about that?”
“In a perfect world, all men would be treated with humanity and equality,” he says.
“Except it was the wealthy patrons who funded free thinking and the arts during the Renaissance.”
“Yes, sir,” Ares agrees. “And, although there are many conspiracy theories about who erected the stones, I’m pretty sure I’m currently in that group’s presence.”
“You are a brilliant young man, and you will have our full support—with a few modifications.”
“Such as?”
“While we all agree that Montrovia would be the ideal location for the capital of your proposed new world order, we also realize that your TerraSphere is still just concept and theory. We’d like to commence with the testing of this model near the thirty-third parallel, which is said to be the bloodline of the world. And, if we play our cards right, we can get the United States government to fund the whole thing.”
You can read the stunned look on Ares’s face, but he quickly recovers, saying professionally, “I am fully amenable to that.”
“And, because you have impressed our group with your forward thinking, we are about to do something we don’t normally do.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“We’d like you to join us at this table.” A hand reaches out to present Ares with an emerald ring. “Rings like these have been passed down for generations—since Lorenzo the Magnificent, the first King of Montrovia, started this group. Much like you, he intended to create a new Renaissance. A worldwide Montrovia full of wealth, power, and beauty. What did you say you wanted to call it?”
“Arcadia, after the—” Ares gets out before he’s interrupted.
“To Arcadia,” the man says as he raises a cut-crystal glass.
“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen,” Daniel complains. “I thought the key was going to allow us to do something cool. Go on an adventure. Rack up some kills. Not study the history of the Montrovian Renaissance. In fact, I never want to hear the word Montrovia again.”
“Except that you have to go there for the Olympics,” I counter.
He rolls his eyes at me.
“Maybe this is just the beginning. Maybe our goal in this level is to find Arcadia—or better yet, an amazing treasure.”
Daniel lets out a yaw
n and stretches. “I’m tired. Let’s go back to bed.”
MISSION:DAY FIVE
Daniel doesn’t compete today, so this morning, his mother invites me to explore Omaha with her.
“Specifically, their retail establishments,” she says. “Did you know they boast the largest independent jewelry store in the nation?”
“I didn’t know that. And I’d love to, except—”
“You look troubled,” she interrupts.
“A little. I’d like to go shopping, but I’m flying to Georgia today. Just a quick day trip.”
“I like Georgia,” she says with a grin.
“You’re welcome to come with me, but I plan to visit the Georgia Guidestones, not shop.”
“Oh,” she says knowingly.
Next thing I know, First Lady Amanda Spear has made up a story about an amazing little clothing boutique in Athens, Georgia, that she’s always wanted to visit, and has waived protection, against the wishes of her security detail—although she does allow them to drive us the short distance to the airport.
She seems practically giddy at the thought of having a day to herself.
Once we’re settled on the plane and take off, she turns to me with a grin on her face. “Tell me everything.”
“I already told you everything.” Well, almost everything. I didn’t tell her about Chauncey and The Priest. Or about taking Dupree’s ring.
“Everything, except what you are going to do about Lorenzo. And I know that you’re staying in the same room as my son.”
I laugh at her eagerness to gossip. It reminds me of Allie.
“Staying in the same room, yes. Sleeping together, no. We’re just friends.”
“Do you think that might change?”
“Like we’ll become enemies? I hope not,” I tease, knowing that’s not at all what she meant.
“Oh, come on. I haven’t had a girls’ day in forever.”
“In that case, Amanda, what about you and the president? He’s got awfully dreamy blue eyes.”
She flicks her hand in the air, like I’m being silly, but she blushes. “Ryan’s flying in from Washington later tonight.”
“You seem like you are still in love.”
She smiles to herself. “We are.” She launches into the story of how they met at a New Haven college bar, how she was casually dating a couple of different guys at the time, and how she was smitten after only a few dates.
“It wasn’t love at first sight, but I did think he was quite the hunk.” She pulls out her phone and shows me a Polaroid of the pair. “This was taken nine days after we met. He told me he loved me later that night, and we’ve been together ever since.”
“You never fought or broke up?” I ask. Honestly, I have no idea how this side of love works.
She rolls her eyes. “Well, we did have one big blowout and broke up. It was right after we got engaged actually.”
“What happened?”
“Another woman.”
My eyes get huge.
“Oh,” she says, “not like that. Well, it was sort of like that. We met our sophomore year of college and got engaged six months later. Ryan had dated a girl all during high school and into college even though he went to Yale and she went to Penn State. Things were different back then. There was no video-chatting or texting. Long-distance relationships survived on phone calls and letters. When she learned through the grapevine that he was engaged, she came running into town. I walked in on them kissing in his dorm room.”
“That must have been devastating,” I say, imagining seeing Lorenzo kissing someone else. That’s the main reason I don’t want to ever go back to Montrovia. My heart couldn’t bear it.
“It was. I actually let out this guttural scream-cry sort of noise because I felt such pain. He heard me and tried to tell me it wasn’t what it looked like. I called him a cheater and a liar, threw the ring at him, and ran out.”
“Then what happened?” Obviously, I know they worked it out, but having just felt a similar betrayal, I can’t understand it. I still love Lorenzo in spite of it all.
“After two excruciatingly long days, he called and left me a message, saying we needed to talk. Of course, by then, my sorrow had turned to anger as a way to cope. There was no way I was going to talk to him. But he showed up at my door with a bag of doughnuts.
“Sounds silly, but when we’d met, neither of us had wanted the night to end. We’d closed down the bar at two in the morning and then gone to an after-hours place. At five a.m., he had taken me to this little mom-and-pop doughnut shop.”
“And that’s all it took? Doughnuts?”
“The doughnuts softened my heart, I guess you could say. Because I couldn’t be angry with him when he was at my door with doughnuts, like he had been so many times before. I listened to what he had to say. He told me that she unexpectedly showed up and wanted him back. Told him that he was making a mistake. That they were supposed to get married. That she kissed him to prove her point. He said it took him by surprise. That he had grabbed both her arms and was pushing her away when I saw them.”
“If that was true, why did he wait two days?”
“Because he said that he needed a few days to reflect. Ryan’s father is a judge. Let’s just say, his daddy let him know that he’d better never end up in his courtroom when he was growing up. He was taught reason. He told me he learned that, sometimes, life caught you off guard and that I was the best and only rash decision he’d ever made.”
“And you lived happily ever after,” I say with a dreamy sigh.
“Life isn’t a fairy tale, Huntley. But, with the right love, it certainly can feel like it sometimes.” She studies my face. “You should talk to him.”
“Only if he brings me doughnuts,” I tease.
Upon landing in Athens, we hop in a rental car that I had waiting for us on the tarmac and head north on Highway 72.
“How far of a drive is it?” Amanda asks.
“About an hour.”
“I’m getting hungry. What do you say we drive through Chick-fil-A?”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“What? They only have the best fast-food chicken sandwich you will ever have in your life,” she says with a laugh. “Actually, I like their tenders. And the waffle fries, oh my gosh.”
“Driving through sounds perfect.”
We watch the highway for signs and make a quick stop, choosing to eat and drive, making the trip go faster. We find the Georgia Guidestones in what seems to be the middle of nowhere.
The second we pull up, Amanda stops jabbering, clearly remembering what I told her about my memories. As I’m parking, it all comes back.
“It’s huge,” I told my mom. “Who put it here? And why?”
“You’re asking a lot of questions,” she said but then told me the story.
I find myself repeating my mother’s words for Amanda as we circle the monument.
“The story goes that, in 1979, in a small town about ninety miles from Atlanta, an elderly gentleman went to a granite wholesaler and commissioned a unique project for a small group of loyal Americans who believed in God and country. The monument is supposed to be instructions for future generations, inscribed in eight modern languages as well as four ancient language scripts, on how to rebuild society after a destructive event.
“The four outer stones are arranged so that they mark the lunar declination cycle. The center column has a hole carved at an angle for viewing the North Star as well as a slot that is aligned with the sun solstices and equinoxes. And a small aperture in the capstone allows a ray of sun to shine a beam, indicating the day of the year, meaning the stones can be used as a compass, clock, and calendar.”
“I will admit that I did a little research on the stones while you were driving. It’s my understanding it’s the guidelines that upset people and started all the conspiracy theories about who had built it and why.”
“I know. Upon first glance, they seem to be basic life lessons, right
? Things like: Rule passion - faith - tradition - and all things with tempered reason; Protect people and nations with fair laws and just courts; Avoid petty laws and useless officials; Prize truth - beauty - love - seeking harmony with the infinite; Balance personal rights with social duties; Be not a cancer on the earth - Leave room for nature - Leave room for nature; Guide reproduction wisely - improving fitness and diversity.”
“But some of them got conspiracy theorists in an uproar,” she says. “Like, Let all nations rule internally, resolving external disputes in a world court—which you wouldn’t think was that big of a deal. We already have the United Nations, the World Trade Organization.”
“Except the same conspiracy theorists say the United Nations—whose flag literally shows the world in its crosshairs and also has thirty-three sections and is flanked by olive branches similar to the Masonic symbols—is part of an elitist group of authority.”
“Well, there have been elitist groups in every society in history, so …” she counters.
“I remember my mother telling me that, when it says, Unite humanity with a living new language, some believe this to mean the English language. But it’s the very first one—Maintain humanity under 500,000,000 in perpetual balance with nature—that concerned her. She told me that conspiracy theories suggest there is a group who wants to make this happen. Some call it the Big Culling and say that only the strong will survive. They believe humans are being poisoned with things like fluoride in our water, chemicals in our sweeteners and soft drinks, and genetically modified food that destroys our immune systems. While it’s true that those things are causing cancers and other health issues, if that is the great culling, it’s taking an awfully long time. If someone wanted to make it happen faster, how would they do it?”
“Nuclear?” Amanda asks.
“We’re talking thirteen out of fourteen would be dead. Ares’s idea of Arcadia was one with nature, something you couldn’t have after a nuclear fallout. When I was here with my mom, I asked her why put the Guidestones here, in the middle of nowhere.”
