Stones: Theory (Stones #4) (39 page)

The masses look up and begin to hum the same tone until the sound fills the Plaza.

As Miyazawa watches on bluescreens scattered through the crowd, the harmonics touch the torii gates of Shinto shrines across the world. They vibrate and emanate an identical sound. As if in answer, the voices of nineteen billion Shinto faithful join the chorus. Hands reach up to the sky in ecstatic displays of passion.

For a full minute, Miyazawa watches while the world is united in one body.

As the crystalline sound fades away, the tones continue within Miyazawa. The multitude of voices inside him comes together and speaks as one.

We are the Kami.

M
iyazawa steps into the transport after the close of the dedication ceremony. His eyes drift up to Ryzaard.

“You have come,” Miyazawa says.

Ryzaard bows with arms stiffly at his side. “A magnificent ceremony. A most noble end to the Shinto worldwide campaign. Please accept my humble congratulations.”

Miyazawa nods. “Your assistance has been most appreciated.” The outside door slides shut behind him. Another door opens to his left. “Please join me in my personal quarters.”

Ryzaard bows again and follows Miyazawa in.

This time, Miyazawa notices the blue jewel that rests flush with the skin behind Ryzaard’s right ear. The priest turns his back to the old man as two assistants quickly slide off the stiff outer robe, tunic and black hat. They disappear into the other room.

The door silently moves shut behind them.

“Why have you come?” Miyazawa says. “We have done all you asked. Shinto has mastered the world, and the world has embraced it.” He sits on the foot of his bed. Trembling fingers reach out for a thin square of purple film and lay it on the exposed skin of his forearm. “What more do you want of me?”

“You have performed with exquisite perfection. All I ask is that you now fulfill the agreement we made.”

The priest stares ahead. “I already have.”

Stepping forward, Ryzaard assumes the posture of a university professor with hands clasped behind his back. “Then you have forgotten our agreement.”

With an arching eyebrow, Miyazawa visibly breathes in and calms himself. “Please refresh my memory.”

“Gladly.” Ryzaard brings his left hand out in front and uncurls the fingers to reveal a small blue jewel in the shape of an animal claw.

When Miyazawa sees it, he lurches forward. Muscles ripple under his skin like insects crawling just beneath the surface. He glares up at Ryzaard with fully-dilated eyes. As Miyazawa opens his mouth, the voice of a thousand fiends screams as if from the bottom of a bottomless pit.

Ryzaard thinks he hears the voice of a particularly high-pitched female voice among the throng.

“We have seen it before.” Miyazawa’s hand flashes out to take it. “You took it from us. Give us back the power.”

Ryzaard snaps his fingers shut. “I’ll gladly give it to you.” He steps forward to apply the implant to Miyazawa’s right ear.

But Miyazawa recoils backwards. “We will not be your slave.”

“Who said anything about a slave.” Ryzaard grabs Miyazawa’s arm and twists it as he pulls the priest back into position close to Ryzaard’s face. “I offer this to you to free your soul. You will be wise to take it without argument.”

The priest lifts his head back. Reptilian screams break from his throat. His body jerks as if full of poisonous snakes about to erupt out of his mouth. Ryzaard lets go of Miyazawa’s arm and wraps his fingers around the priest’s throat. Taking a step back, he lifts Miyazawa off the floor with one hand as he flails and squirms to get free. His fingernails slash out at Ryzaard, ripping at the flesh of the old man’s forearms.

“Release me!”

Ryzaard smiles. “When you have received the gift I have brought.”

“We know the gift.” The voices move up and down in sing-song fashion. “We know its purpose.”

Ryzaard squeezes his fingers tighter. A wheezing sound comes from Miyazawa’s mouth. His lips turn purple.

In one smooth motion, Ryzaard swings his left hand, opening the palm just before making contact with the flesh behind Miyazawa’s head. A faint hissing rises up as the blue jewel bonds with the skin and becomes one with it. Releasing his grip on the priest’s throat, Ryzaard lets him drop to the floor, a haphazard pile of arms and legs.

Miyazawa’s screams fill the soundproof compartment. The voices now come from outside his body.

Give us the power.

“Behold the power.” With both hands, Ryzaard rips open his shirt to reveal row upon row of Stones arranged neatly above the rippled muscles of his chest and abs. “
I
am the power.”

Miyazawa’s body goes still. Staring with wide eyes, he speaks with his own voice, a single rasp that barely clears the throat and makes it out of his lips. “Give me the power.” Trembling fingers reach forward to touch the Stones.

Taking Miyazawa’s hands by the wrists, Ryzaard lays them directly on the Stones. “You will have the power by being one with me.” He lets Miyazawa’s fingertips slide greedily over the Stones.

A giddy laugh tears through Miyazawa’s vocal cords. “We need the power.” Each of his hands grasps a Stone and begins to pull.

After a few seconds, Ryzaard takes a long inhale. The black Stones glow deep purple. A thin membrane of the same color materializes around him.

It shocks Miyazawa, pushing him back. The implant behind his ear goes from dark blue to a lighter shade with inlaid veins of gold.

“Now that the world has been gathered into Shinto, we will offer this gift to all, that they all may be one in us.” Ryzaard opens the palm of his hand to reveal a dozen of the implants. “They will be delivered to each shrine across the world. Place them behind the ear. See that they are distributed to all, without money and without price.”

Miyazawa stands on his feet. “We will.” His fingers calmly reach up and touch the object behind his ear. “That all may be one in us. That we may have the power.”

“Yes,” Ryzaard says. “That you may have the power.”

“T
ell me,” Jessica says. “When
will
we be able to go back?”

Matt opens his eyes and looks up from his lotus position on the floor near one wall of the mud hut. “The real question is,
what is Ryzaard doing now?
” He reaches out to a plate in front of him and picks up a bright red fruit in the shape of a donut.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Alexa stares out a window as the sun drops below the horizon on the other side of the valley. The sky is violet just above a jagged ridge of dark mountains. “He’s implementing the final phase of his plan. Complete subjugation of the human race. He wants it all to be wrapped up in a nice neat bow before you come back and mess it up.”

“Yes,” Matt says. “But how exactly does he plan to accomplish that?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jessica says. “The longer we wait here, the more solid his grip on power becomes. The sooner we make a move, the better.”

Alexa rolls her eyes at the ceiling. “Thanks for restating the obvious.”

Yarah comes running into the room from outside bringing another girl her age. They jabber and laugh at each other in the native language of the
Chimpotee.

“That’s why we need to be careful.” Matt looks over at the two girls. “The minute we jump back to Earth, Ryzaard will know exactly where we are. He’ll pursue us without mercy. We need to jump to Earth, hide our Stones, get to a remote location and go into hiding.”

Jessica plunges her teeth into a blue fruit. “I have a few ideas.”

R
yzaard walks with his arms behind his back down an aisle between two long rows of black boxes stacked on chrome aluminum racks. His eyes cross from right to left as he inspects the implant fabrication plant.

“The need for a constant supply of seawater makes it necessary to locate the factories close to the ocean.” Jerek walks alongside Ryzaard and runs his fingers across the surface of one of the black boxes. “They consume a surprising volume of liquid. After a month and a half of research, I still haven’t been able to pin down the exact mechanism. I can’t find any moving parts in any of the components. All I know is that the production process works like a charm.” He reaches down and picks up a warm golden sphere from an opening in the bottom of the nearest box before it is grabbed and whisked away by a robotic arm. “Whoever designed this was in possession of technology far superior to anything we can dream of.” Jerek quickly reaches for another golden sphere and walks away from the robotic arm.

“Yes,” Ryzaard says. “In many ways she was an amazing woman. Where do you have the silver cube that produces the black boxes?”

“We call that the Alpha Unit. It’s in a secure bunker a hundred meters below the foundation of this building. With a constant supply of seawater, it produces one of these black box beta units per hour.”

Ryzaard takes the sphere out of Jerek’s hand and admires its perfect symmetry. “Like the goose that lays the golden eggs.” He hands it back to Jerek. “Where are you housing the spheres for the actual implant fabrication?”

Jerek points across the floor and out the window. “We’ve taken over the entire building next door for that purpose, all 175 floors. There is a similar pump system to supply them with seawater.”

“And what is the production rate?” Ryzaard raises his hand to his mouth and takes a deep drag on a black Djarum. As he slowly exhales, the pale blue smoke pours out of both nostrils.

Jerek pulls a clear slate out of his pocket. “At current levels, we can produce just under a million implant units per day. That will ramp up quickly as more beta units come on line.” He turns around, admiring the rows of black boxes. “But keep in mind this is only our first plant. The beauty of the production process is that productivity increases geometrically over time. Ten identical production facilities are currently under construction in remote coastal areas. We can replicate them at will.”

“When will we have enough implants for every human being on the planet?”

“Twenty billion? That’s easy.” Jerek’s fingers dance over the slate. “Thirty days from now.”

Ryzaard nods. “Let’s have a look at the production facilities across the street.” His fingers reach out and wrap loosely around Jerek’s wrist.

Jerek knows from past experience to shut his eyes as the air turns to light. When he opens them, they stand in the middle of a wide floor. Row upon row of golden spheres, each roughly the size of a basketball, are neatly arranged on chrome silver racks twenty feet high.

“Where’s the tubing to carry the seawater.” Ryzaard walks to the nearest rack and peers at his own distorted reflection in its mirrored surface.

“You’re looking at it.” Jerek touches the silver metallic rack. “Water flows right through it and is injected into the sphere at the contact points.” He picks a sphere up. Drops of clear liquid bead up on its surface near the top. “Finished implants are automatically ejected out the bottom back into the rack interior and carried away by the flow of water.” Jerek drops the sphere back into place. “That was my only contribution to the process.”