The Lotus Effect (Rise Of The Ardent) (4 page)

The pre-recorded symphony music started suddenly, jerking everyone into attention. The crowd held their breaths, and many of their expectant faces revealed glimpses of innocent wonder. I even saw it in Annette’s, but nowhere did I see it in Scottie’s as he caught my eye from across the table. Even behind the lewdness there was a certain sadness in his eyes. And a hint of cruelness waiting even further beyond that, a feeling which unnerved me deeply.

I directed my attention away from his heated gaze—just in time to see a gangly looking automaton cartwheel itself into the center of the room. It bounced up weightlessly, flinging its arms to the side as if to introduce itself.

I smiled. The robot was delightful to watch, in an absurd sort of way. A few of the guests behind me chuckled at the sight, but quickly camouflaged their lapse in restraint with hacking coughs.

I grinned slightly. It appeared not everyone had their noses completely glued to the ceiling.

The automaton spun quickly, jingling every which way as it bounded across the room. While in mid flip, it reached behind its back and produced three metallic balls and proceeded to juggle each into the air. One after the other, the shiny spheres maneuvered above its thin and bony hands with precision until one intentionally misfired, and the spindly robot had to leap onto the Council member’s table to retrieve it, knocking dinnerware and empty plates to the floor as it did so.

I bit my lip and covered my smile with a napkin as the sound of breaking plates clattered to the ground.

That was quite an audacious move, trifling with the Council like that. My regards to the Engineer, if this was indeed his creation.
What was his name again?

Oh, yes. Xander.

Seeing the shocked and disagreeable looks on the faces of the Council members, I couldn’t help but laugh. It was the first genuine laugh I’d known in a long while. I glanced at my mother—her thinly pursed lips and disapproving stare alone could’ve set the room ablaze.

The robot leapt from the table, sending more of the dinnerware flying. As it landed on its wobbly feet, the top half of its leg piece—which had been constructed to look like a pair of pants—slipped down. The robot feigned embarrassment as it struggled to pull its “pants” back up to hide its metallic nakedness.

A large man behind me coughed in an awkward fashion, struggling to hide his amusement.

The automaton made its way across the room again and stopped short a few paces in front of me. Placing its metal hands over its nonexistent heart, it stood frozen, its legs trembling as though smitten with me.

Blushing at the attention, I decided to play along, and offered it a flirtatious smile.

The robot put one slender finger to its copper-hinged mouth as if in deep thought. Suddenly excited, it reached inside a compartment at its back and removed something small. It approached me slowly and bowed, dangling a copper locket necklace from its slender hands.

I gasped.

The locket was complete with moving gears and a pair of small wings that spread from either side.

I accepted the gift with a gracious nod as the slight weight of it fell into my palm.

“Thank you. You’re very kind,” I whispered.

The robot leapt before me, landing onto one knee, and longingly gestured for my hand. I laughed, allowing it to adorn my lacy gloved hand with its brazen kisses.

“This is absurd.” Scottie, seated next to the robot, cleared his throat and turned in his seat. I frowned at him uncertainly just before he reared out and gave the robot a vicious kick, knocking it to the ground in a flourish of sparks.

I shot back in my seat, my mouth hanging lifelessly open.

“Enough of this, you worthless use of viable metal,” Scottie said loud enough for everyone to hear. “How about you lie there and feign death? Supply us with some
real
entertainment.”

The robot remained on the floor, not because of Scottie’s cruel suggestion, but because it struggled with a mechanical error. Haphazard sparks showered from its side as it tried, but failed, to get up. A hot stream of steam shot out from its back as it attempted to support its own weight on malfunctioning legs.

Forgetting all forms of etiquette, I stood up, gathered my skirts into my palms and rushed to the robot’s side. Some of the guests half-raised themselves out of their chairs, unsure if it was improper for them to continue to sit while I was on my feet.

I knew everyone thought me foolish. I didn’t care. To them it was only an automaton, a pre-programmed machine with no real emotions. Contrary to what they believe, this lifeless piece of machinery held more genuine emotion than everyone in this room combined.

An automaton would never be understood in the eyes of the Council.
Much like myself.

“Why would you do such a thing, Scottie?” I turned to him, honestly confused. But then I saw the poor robot twitching beneath me and the words flew from my mouth. “Because you’re a saddened
prick
.”

Scottie’s face turned a deep shade of red. “And you’re pitiful. Acting as though you can comfort it.”

I made no effort to disguise my hostility. “Do you wish to rethink those words?”

“Pardon?” he said, blinking.

“I merely suggest that you may wish to consider more carefully what you say to the woman who can make or break your career.”

His jaw shifted from side to side as he took in my meaning, then his cheeks blanched. He looked away.

I wasn’t naive. The only reason he was speaking to me was to brown-nose his way beside me. The direct—and
only
path that led to becoming the next Head.

A presence loomed beside me then. Startled—I looked up. The Blacksmith, Xander, had slipped unnoticed to my side. He crouched beside his broken creation and brandished an unfamiliar tool that stopped the flow of sparks. Pushing his sleeves up, he reached inside the same back compartment that had housed the locket and powered the robot down.

The hiss of escaping steam filled the room, mixing oddly with the static of the spinning record player. With a final gasping breath, the automaton blinked out and lay still.

Everything became eerily quiet—my frustrated breathing sounding like thunder to my ears. Even the static hum finally ceased when someone stepped up and pulled the needle from the record.

Xander, seemingly unaffected by the looks he was receiving, reached underneath the knees of the robot and cradled it into his arms. He didn’t throw it over his shoulder like a piece of equipment. He was gentle . . . as though he truly cared about his creation.

He received a few jeers for his actions, but the silent anger in his face dared anyone to confront him over it.

As I stood watching the pair turn to leave, I remembered I still had the necklace the robot had given me. I assumed it was just another prop from the show, and even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be allowed to keep it. The Council always confiscated gifts that had not been sanctioned. They deemed this restriction on personal items a ‘necessary safety precaution’.
Or, as I saw it, an excuse to add to their personal treasury.

I reached for Xander’s shoulder, forestalling him. He turned slightly as I offered the locket to him, but he shook his head.

“No. Keep it. At least until they take it.” His voice was gravel-laden and firm, its edges sharpened with experience. The kind of voice, I realized, that not many had. Especially not near the opulence of the Estate.

Still holding the robot, he turned and walked out of the room before I even had a chance to apologize, as if none of this even bothered him.

My father, who was seated at the head of the table, cleared his throat as though he’d partaken in a private joke and couldn’t hold back a moment longer. “Well, that was . . .” He paused. “interesting.” He made no attempt to hide the amused look on his face. One by one, the guests caught his merriment like a disease, and quiet laughter rippled through the room.

Staring at the floor, I clenched my fists, my nails biting hard into the skin—even through the gloves.

That was it. With my resistance already shattered, an angry realization was leaking from me, spreading and melting away the false shell of myself across the room—like spilled blood traversing through the cracks in cobblestone.

Not only was I overwhelmed by the frustrations of tonight, but from the eighteen years of built up resentment of a flawed system. A realization I tried so long to deny.

Mrs. Fawnsworth was right.

Enough was enough.

Tonight, I was going to prove just how discordant I had become.

My father, who had his fill of a good laugh, directed his attention back at me. “Lily, I’m sorry my dear, but I find that I must agree with the young Briggins. We’ve wasted too much time already. Come on up here and stand next to your mother. Let’s get this ceremony over with.”

I lifted my eyes to his, standing as tall and proud as my five foot and nine inch frame would allow.

The scrapping of chairs sounded across the room as the guests poised themselves to rise as protocol required.
 

If they confused the heat in my response to be simple determination, they would be wrong. I had a fire inside that was yearning to be released. A fire that desired change.

“Yes, Father.
Let’s
.”

Chapter 3

A Wager Of Life

       
“We are the architects, the designers of the future. Through our creations we bring prosperity to those less fortunate. With our combined knowledge we can create anything and everything. Intelligence, Ingenuity, Integrity, Logic, and Prosperity are the founding principles upon which we rely every day. We are the Ladies of Science, and we will create tomorrow!”

       
My mother always did have a way with words. Too bad none of them had any real validity. I knew for a fact she stood for nothing of what she had just said.

She stood next to me with her hand upon my shoulder as we faced the crowd of icy stares. It was not a gesture of comfort, but one of duty. Her heavy skirts billowed out in front of her and could have swallowed my gown whole, if to be compared. She wore the small black and lacy Mistress’s top hat which adorned her shoulder-length, wavy blond hair. A pair of workers goggles—which
w
ere only for show and had never been put to real use—sat across the hat’s brim.

“Like any proper organization, it can only achieve great success through its leadership,” she continued.

The first adequate thing she’s said all night.

“I have had the honor of being Mistress of the Ladies of Science for almost eighteen years now. And I will respectfully pass this honor over to my . . . successor . . . as tradition mandates.”

Her successor? How motherly.

“I stand before you today so that you may bear witness.” She turned her attention away from the room full of tight faces and back to me. “I ask you, Lily Emerson, if you understand the responsibility and are willing to accept this prestigious title? To lead with honor and with duty?” She stared at me with her dull eyes as though she asked these sort of questions every day.

I did not return her stare, but looked openly upon the faces directed before me. Though not any one person looked like another with the many different mustaches, hats, and lip paints—a blur of faces, a swirl of muddled colors—they all held the same placid expectation in their eyes.

Annette looked as though she would cry. Not joyful tears, but jealous ones. Scottie, in the wake of our conflict, wore a more sober expression than I had yet seen on his face.

I took my time, collecting my thoughts, making certain I understood the severity of the path I was about to follow.

Everyone waited, watching me with growing intensity. Normally, I would shy away from so much potent attention, but the fire that burned inside gave me the necessary courage to continue. Looking above me to the ceiling, I heard the now steady drumming of rain upon the rooftop.

The sky grumbled ominously in fervent approval.

I took a deep breath and stepped forward.

“Before I’m to accept such a
prestigious
title, I have a few questions of my own, for you,
Mother
.” My last word was full of contempt.

I was only her ‘successor’ after all.

She blinked at me, surprised. We were supposed to follow the pre-determined motions of the ceremony. No Initiate Mistress had ever dictated their own version of the event. She looked flustered, but only for a moment. She would never allow herself to appear weak by not being able to handle a few off-hand questions.

“I suppose . . . .
 
I can indulge a few,” she replied slowly, glaring at me with those icy blue eyes.

A commotion broke forth in the crowd as they stared at one another in their confusion, but also with some intrigue. Everyone liked a good bit of gossip to report the next day.

I turned to face my mother. “Lady Everett, my grandmother, your mother, and the Mistress before you, was considered one of the greatest designers of her time, was she not?” I continued quickly before she could respond, “She was accredited with building the famed and magnificent airships. The airships that
you
had destroyed. Is that correct?”

Thunder rumbled above us again, its sound curling out across the sky, making its presence as a witness known.

She looked at me with hostile eyes, their color seeming to crystalize into hardened quartz.

“That is correct,” she replied cautiously. “We not only provide for, but also protect our citizens. The airships were considered a threat to our safety, so they were justly expunged.”

“You mean to say that they were a threat to the Ladies and the Council?” I continued, pressing my luck. “Leaders are only as good as the fear they instill into their constituents. Heaven forbid what those airships might have found.”

Gasps all around could be heard for my audacity and yet I continued, “Tell me Mother, what great designs have
you
created lately?”

I had struck a nerve. I could tell as her nostrils reflectively flared then relaxed as she resumed her calm facade.

“Well, that is a silly question.” She grinned, thinking she had the advantage. “The Ladies designed the grandest and most efficient fortifications for the Wall yet, providing a lifetime of security because of it.” She looked back at me with a wry smile, thinking she still retained the upper hand.

I stared right back at her. The rain continued its steady drumming above us. “I believe what you
meant
to say was a lifetime of imprisonment.”

She had fallen right into my trap. Judging by the look on her face she had realized her mistake.

More grunts and angry chatter circled in the crowd in front of us.

“You . . .” She stumbled on her words. “. . . are very bold,
Daughter
. There lies a thin line between boldness and foolishness. Try not to confuse the two.” She looked at me, her eyes narrowing.

A few heads nodded their approval behind us, coming mainly from the Council’s table.

I knew I couldn’t keep this up for much longer. I needed to continue before they stopped me. The sound of the rain had become so persistent I had to raise my voice to an uncomfortable level. Tonight, however, I spoke more confidently than ever before.

“And how many of your earliest designs were overthrown by the Council? Is this why you’ve become so lack luster with your creations?
Do you even have any real power after all?” My voice hardened. “Do you Mother?”

“Stop this nonsense, Lily,” she whispered to me through bared teeth.

Ignoring her, I continued. “Logically, since
logic
is one of the founding principles you so adore, the so-called prestigious title of Mistress comes with only superficial power. Wouldn’t you agree?”

More angry chatter erupted before us, but still, no one proceeded to stop me.

“How blithely you speak treason, Lily Emerson,” Mother scolded me, her jaw tight. “I, however, know it is only the foolish talk of an adolescent girl. Perhaps you are not fit for such responsibility that comes with the role of being Mistress after all.”

For the briefest of moments I could’ve sworn my mother was protecting me from something. The feeling left me just as quickly when she sneered at my expense, mouthing the word ‘
hormones
’ to the crowd.

With one last protest, the sky cried out its final cracking warning before the rain steadied again into its familiar quiet chorus of reassurance. With a calm that quelled my nerves and a fire that remained kindled within, I faced the crowd and the Council once more.

A sudden and rash idea formulated itself into the forefront of my mind. I took a deep breath, steadying my tone.

“Your feelings regarding my capabilities matter not,” I said evenly. “For I, Lily Emerson, as governed by the Laws of Prosper, renounce the title of Mistress.”

A mixture of shock and dumb confusion filled the faces of all those watching me.

The locket that I had wrapped around my wrist suddenly fell into my palm. Its smooth contours gave me courage . . . and an idea.

Nothing beneficial would come of me not accepting the title. The Council would still operate as they always had, and nothing would change for the citizens who were suffering at the hands of the unjust.

If I did nothing after tonight, I would only be looked upon as the unruly, childish girl, who revoked her responsibility.

To change the system, I needed something more. Something brave. Something . . . stupid.

Staring openly into the crowd, I stood as tall and proud as I could, secretly palming the locket for strength—the memory of the broken automaton driving me forward.

“I, Lily Emerson, shall instead volunteer my name into the Drawing for Sector 8. I will participate in the Barrage Tournament and, in doing so, shall wager my life to have the opportunity as victor to change the Law.”

I had said the words. The words that were now binding.

Silence ensued.