The IX (64 page)

“Ayria?”

The esoteric filaments throbbed, and the multitudes of capacitors were infused with energy. The magnificence of the spectacle was spellbinding.

“Ephraim?”

The voice made him jump.

“What? Oh, I’m sorry, Calen. I’m a little distracted by the grandeur of it all. How you ever devised a program like this is . . . well, it’s simply breathtaking.”

“Thank you, you’re very kind. But can you congratulate me afterward? Sorry to be rude, but you need to fire the matter-builders. Until you do, the bio-spores won’t be released into the atmosphere.”

“Of course, of course,” Ephraim spluttered.

Swiveling in his chair, he leaned across the desk and released a cap-lock. Flicking back the lid, he held his thumb above the button, and solemnly declared, “For Arden.”

Depressing the pad, he looked up and held his breath.

A shattering clap of thunder blared out, knocking them both to the floor.

Picking himself up, Ephraim surveyed the command tier and glanced back into the air. The upper cavity was empty, spectacularly devoid of power. Puzzled, he tried switching to an exterior view, relayed from the astrometrics facility at Boleni Heights.

“Is this supposed to happen?”

“I can’t answer that,” Calen replied. “Remember, this was all theoretical. We never actually knew if it would work or not. I can ask Sariff and the Architect, but I doubt they’ll be able to shed much light on it.”

Now he tells me.

In silence, they stared the screen.

At first, nothing happened.

Then, with infinite grace, the cupolas crowning each of the spires atop the four main gates started to glow. A quartet of blistering plasma gobbets blazed furiously against the backdrop of the setting sun.

A choral resonance swelled in the ether about them, glorious in its vibrancy, yet as tenuous as a wraith. The tonal characteristic of the base notes gradually changed. Ramping in amplitude and frequency, they seemed to excite the domes into releasing their stored potency.

Four arcs of blue-white lightning stabbed into the sky. Converging at a point on the edge of the atmosphere, the bolts sizzled and intensified until a shimmering aureole had coalesced out of the efflux.

Time slowed, and the combined discharges continued unabated for several minutes.

A crucial factor must have been reached, for the curtain rippled. It expanded, and the wave front bloomed outward in every direction until it was lost from sight across the horizon.

Ephraim opened a channel. “
Arch of Winter
.
Arch of Winter
, this is Rhomane Command here. Can you tell me what you’re seeing from up there?”

“Rhomane Command, this is
Arch of Winter
. Hi, Ephraim. Mohammed speaking. We’ve got a huge nimbus of power directly above the city. It’s already five hundred miles across and is increasing in size and speed. At its current rate, it’ll encompass the entire planet in less than sixty seconds. I take it this is all part of the plan?”

“We’ll soon find out. I wouldn’t worry too much. It’s in the hands of the gods now, and at least
you’ll
be
in a good position to watch the show if everything goes pear-shaped!”

Chuckling, Ephraim cut the transmission and settled in to wait.

Although they were watching from the surface, Ephraim knew the exact moment when the exosphere was encompassed, for the sunset turned indigo and an ethereal phosphorescence washed the landscape in a spectral cast. At the same instant, he felt an abrupt release of pressure, and a strange, pins-and-needles sensation crawled along his skin.

Frowning, Ephraim looked at his monitors and zoomed in on the scene.

The newly formed lattice above them had shattered, and newborn seeds, looking very much like a blend of fireflies and glowing motes of ash, fluttered gently to the ground.

Soon, the entire globe was coated in a hoarfrost-like carpet of sapphire and violet snowflakes.

The flecks melted, and as they dissolved, the genetic codex locked within their templates meshed with the existing flora and fauna.

A wind as gentle as a sigh began blowing from the east.

Ephraim turned to Calen. “What do we do now?”

“Get everybody outside,” the avatar replied, “and ensure you expose yourselves to the re-genesis matrix as much as possible over the next few days.”

“And then what?”

“And then, my friend . . . Ah, something wonderful is going to happen.”

EPILOGUE

The subdued atmosphere within the Hall of Remembrance created an environment fit for learning. Small groups clustered here and there about the auditorium, and the lively hubbub of animated discussion bubbled away in the background. Despite that fact, no one appeared disturbed, for the chamber was vast and the scale and grandeur of its furnishings muted any unwarranted distractions.

Designed to amplify sound, the Hall always made a huge impression on people; especially those visiting for the first time. Today’s group was no exception. As the teacher led her pupils toward the center of the room, more than twenty little faces peered about in wide-eyed wonder.

Halting in front of a huge glowing obelisk that had been constructed directly beneath an oculus, Keera Solram clucked like a mother hen to ensure her chicks gathered round with a minimum of fuss.

Keera was only twenty-five and still some years off full maturity, but she already cut an imposing figure. Standing nearly seven feet tall, she matched the remarkable stature of the other adults around her. However, distinctive features of an ancient heritage shone through. Instead of the generic fair to auburn hair common to most of New Arden’s population, hers was a thick and luxuriant raven black. Her smooth, softly tanned skin and dark sultry gaze were also a striking contrast to the paler complexions and piercing topaz eyes of the majority of her race.

Wherever she went, Keera drew attention, as evidenced by the number of admiring glances turned her way.

“Settle down now, children. C’mon, as quick as you can. Settle down,” she urged as the class drew near. “Remember where we are, and why it’s so necessary to be on our best behavior.”

Indicating the monument behind her with a sweep of her arm, she said, “Now, this should be of particular interest to you. Can anyone recall its name?”

They all turned to study the twenty-foot high monolith. Fashioned from a richly veined, solid slab of rock, it appeared to be seamless; springing up from the floor like a finger pointing to the open sky. Reverberating gently, all four sides thrummed under the influence of a hidden power source. The very top of the structure formed a trapezoid, around which a nimbus of pastel blue light glimmered softly.

A tentative hand toward the back of her brood inched into the air. Keera spotted it, but waited to see if anyone else would care to volunteer. When it was clear there would be no further takers, she said, “Marcus Amelius Brutus? Do you want to tell us what the obelisk is called?”

“That’s the Reverence, Miss Solram. But people also call it the Chronicle.”

“Quite right, Marcus.” Pointing to it, Keera continued, “The light you see at the top isn’t just for show, either. Not only does it serve as a power source, but . . . ?”

She paused as several children responded immediately and began jumping up and down on the spot. “Yes. Gabriella Houston. Do you know what it does?”

“Ma’am. It’s a recorder. Built by the Founders over two hundred years before the Fall, it lists the unique life-sign of everyone living on New Arden. My mommy said it was originally made to catalog the names of the refugees brought here from Earth. But Daddy thinks Earth is just a fairytale.”

How soon they forget
. Keera smiled. “Well done. The Reverence certainly is a recorder. A library of information, in fact. The moment you are born, the Architect registers your unique bio-signature and allocates you a place in the Archive. Everything about you begins to get stored away. Who you are. What you do. Your achievements. So, as you grow up and become a productive member of our society, other people can come here and learn more about you and the great things you will go on to accomplish. For example, if you want to discover more about this machine’s creator, Psi Calen, all you have to do is . . . ?”

A sea of wriggling fingers reached for the sky.

Good. They’re warming up.
“Lex Miller. What do we do?”

“We ask the Chronicle a question, and a sentinel, or an avatar of that person, will appear to instruct us.”

“Exactly right.” Keera addressed the rest of the class. “Isn’t that exciting? To think that you can come here and request the presence of anyone who has ever lived over the past thousand years or so?
And
you get to speak to an accurate simulation of who they were. But, of course, that wasn’t its original function, was it? As Gabriella correctly indicated, the Reverence was designed to register the details of all the exiles brought here from a place far, far away, called Earth. Now, look at this.”

Gesturing around the outer edge of the hall, Keera highlighted one of a number of huge carvings which had been cut directly into the fabric of the wall. Stretching from floor to ceiling, each was a similar size and gave the impression that the open leaves of a book had been superimposed into the rock. Every page was covered in writing. As she ushered them over to the final bas-relief, she drew the children’s attention first to the frieze itself, and then to the dais in front of it.

“This one belongs to the Ninth,” she said proudly, “a special group of people to whom all of New Arden owes a great deal.” She nodded to an artifact mounted upon the podium; a large golden bird with open wings. Beneath it, strange letters depicted a phrase:
SPQR
. “Now, can anyone tell me what
this
is?”

Angule Whitehawk’s hand was the first to shoot up.

“Yes, Angule?”

“That’s the Eagle, Miss Solram. A bird of prey very much like a targén from the Erásan Mountains. It was a symbol of the Ninth Legion, from a place called Rome on Earth. My father tells me their soldiers used to march with it at the head of their armies, and that they would rather die than lose it in battle.”

“Very well done, Angule. And well done to your father too, he obviously enjoys things of antiquity. Like the other relics within the auditorium, this eagle came all the way from Earth. In the end, the standard came to personify the strength and dedication of the entire ninth intake; for they were willing to give everything to ensure Arden had a chance of surviving. During the Battle of the Line, many brave men, women, and enlightened Kresh willingly sacrificed themselves instead of fleeing, and their names were recorded here, in a special section of the book so their memories could be preserved for all eternity.”

Angule Whitehawk’s countenance dropped.

“What’s the matter?” Keera asked. “Has something upset you?”

“Some of the others tease me, just because I’m descended from a monster.”

Keera stooped to hold his hand. “Honey! Don’t let silly people ever upset you when they say things like that. We’ve already touched on this in class, remember? The Kresh were merely real Ardenese people who had been changed by the effects of the engines they used to use back then. History shows Angule of the Unium Tier was one of the heroes of the hour, and contributed his substance to the re-genesis matrix. Yes, your ancestors were bio-engineered from his regenerated DNA. But you should be proud of that. Without people like him, none of us would even be here.”

“And those people are only jealous anyway!” a little voice interjected.

Alana McDonald had been listening in on the conversation, and came over to give Angule a hug. “My mommy and daddy tell me all the time what a good friend my great, great, great, etcetera granddaddy was to yours.
He
knew Angule was important. That’s why he died trying to protect him. And
that’s
why our families will always be close.” She hugged him fiercely. “Angule was a king. Someone very, very special.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his nose. “And so are you.”

Angule’s face flushed deep red.

He was saved further embarrassment by the inquisitive nature of the rest of his classmates.

“So Earth is real then?”

“How did the engines make the Kresh into monsters?”

“Miss? What made them change their minds?”

“Why don’t we have real eagles on New Arden? They look cooool.”

“What do they eat?”

“Miss Solram? Has anyone ever been to Earth? Is it far?”

“Okay. Okay. Quiet down now,” Keera urged. “Seeing as you have so many questions, I think it’s time to divide you into groups and give you your first experience of the Reverence at work. Now, although the people you will meet are holographic, they have been programmed to assist in your education and are to be accorded the respect they deserve. I want you to take notes, because tomorrow you’ll each be giving a two minute presentation based on your own family’s early history in the years following the Rise. I’ll be over here by the eagle if you need any help.”

Given free rein, the brood scattered, and Keera was heartened to see them take to their task with gusto. Especially little Angule Whitehawk, who quickly conjured a simulacrum of his terrifying forefather, much to the envy of his classmates.

Left to herself, Keera seized the opportunity to open her mind and relax.
It’s a shame the reality of our history fades so quickly. It’s only been a thousand years, but even with the help of the Architect and the avatars, the truth about the exiles and the role they played in our salvation quickly fades into myth and legend.

That’s because most people don’t share our legacy, dear,
Ayria replied.
But isn’t that the way of things? The richness of their heritage is something they soon squander. It falls to people like us to keep such memories alive. And look at the benefits it brings.
A sea of familiar faces threading back through time surrounded her, together with a sense of warmth, camaraderie, and history.
You’re a very fortunate young lady, for
you
will never forget.