Unison (The Spheral) (30 page)

Alone again, I contemplated over every mistake I made since leaving Unity. I was rescued by a melody that came to me, and as I pieced together the arrangement, I fell asleep by the second verse.

Several weeks passed, and I was able to get around with a cane Wilfrid carved for me. When I took my first steps outside, curious residents crowded around to gawk at the witless man who tottered about the village because he disregarded Wilfrid’s warning. Verbal communication was almost impossible; most of the villagers spoke the language of the woman who greeted me at the gate. Some of them demonstrated their friendship and pity by offering me a piece of fruit or bread. Wilfrid extended his hospitality by inviting me to share a meal in his home. He was not only a fine bonesetter but also a well-respected spiritual leader and teacher. Crosses, stars, and constellations were carved into the walls of his bungalow, and one symbol, in particular, intrigued me: a spherical torus.

Wilfrid lifted a silver chalice filled with wine and directed me to do the same with mine.

“Heavenly Sky King, please keep us safe, and may our wheat fields be plentiful through the coming of your gracious spring givings.” Wilfrid sipped his drink.

I followed along with the ritual and then pointed to the sphere. “What’s the significance of that symbol?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I’ve had visions of it since I was a child.”

Wilfrid lifted both brows. “Have you seen anything else?”

I probed Wilfrid’s face for a few moments and felt at ease. There was a wiseness to his stare and assuredness to his speech. He viewed life with childlike fascination. This was also a man who I had never seen passing judgement on anyone.

“I’ve had visions since my ninth year,” I said. “Some of them are of complex geometric figures and others let me see into future events. But the ones that intrigue me the most are of a woman I never met. She appeared to me a few days ago and told me to return to a cabin in the woods.”

“Are you going to go?”

“I haven’t decided if she’s even real yet. Every time she appears to me, she insists I contacted her, but I didn’t—and yet I believe her.” I studied the symbols on the wall. “It’s the strangest sensation,” I said to myself. “I sometimes get the feeling everything I experience already happened, like this conversation.”

Wilfrid walked over to a small table and retrieved a deck of cards. “I knew you came for a reason beyond the observable.” He shuffled the cards, drew the top one, and placed it face up. “Ace of diamonds.” He smiled. “Such a draw doesn’t happen by chance.” He set down thirteen more cards and appeared surprised. “Ace of hearts, ten of diamonds.” He slowly lifted another card and placed it next to the others. “Seven of diamonds.” He looked up at me. “
Damon
.” His eyes widened. “Spelled in reverse is
Nomad.”
He stood and bowed to me. “I’ll follow you wherever you go.”

It took me a minute to realize Wilfrid was serious. “I’m…not going anywhere.”

“Everything we have is yours.”

“You’ve given me enough."

“The bandits left you with nothing. Surely we can give you more.”

“It took my getting beaten and stripped of everything to confirm I don’t need much.”

“What is your foretelling for Littlefield?” Wilfrid asked as he stacked the cards.

“That’s more your talent than mine.”

“I only read the cards, whereas you’re here to lead us to our future.”

“I appreciate your hospitality, but I don’t want to lead anyone.”

“For the past twenty-eight turns of the winter’s longest night, I’ve seen your name in my dreams. You are the wise seer who is to bring us all together.”

“For what?”

“I’m not sure of the purpose, but I have been expecting you.” Wilfrid looked down at the cards. “All my life, I foresaw a momentous change originating from beyond this sphere. This is an auspicious time to be alive.”

“Don’t place your hopes on me as I’m not worthy of them. I’m only a traveler who was on the way to New Athenia. The sole reason I’m here with you now is because you saved my life.”

“Are you saying you don’t believe your visions,” Wilfrid pointed to the sphere on the wall, “even as you witness representations of it with your own eyes?”

“I wish I could give you what you’re asking for, Wilfrid. You, Genevieve, and the rest of the villagers have shown me more compassion than I’ve seen anywhere. After my attack, people passed me by, and not one of them stopped to help. The only one who did stole my last possession. This world was a good idea, but it failed. I wouldn’t even lead a horde of rats out of the old tunnel. They’re better off living in darkness.”

“Perhaps I was mistaken,” Wilfrid said. “The person I’m seeking isn’t angry or defeatist.” He picked up the cards. “I must rest now.”

Wilfrid appeared disappointed enough for me to wish I could be what he wanted. “If Nomad exists, I hope you find him.” 

PHANTOM WORSHIP

M
y injuries took almost twelve weeks to heal, and after nearly a year, I fully immersed myself into village life. I sheered sheep, milked the goats, and helped with the planting and harvesting. A rhythmic chant came to me as I picked branches of wheat.
Cut, pull, throw, cut, pull, throw
,
cut, pull, throw
. It eventually grew into a song I named, “The Whispering Wheat.” In the mornings I’d arrive at the field an hour before the crop gathering to watch the sun rise and hear the grass swaying in the wind. My peaceful early morning ritual ended a year later when Michael ran to me, out of breath.

“You have to come now, Damon!”

I followed him to the circle where Wilfrid was leading an injured man to the guest bungalow. His shoulder was wounded and wrapped in a blood-drenched shirt. Although he wasn’t in his color, I knew he was Unitian. Unity’s limited selection of leisure attire led me to identify him by his tan hiking suit. Clothing aside, he was familiar to me, but I couldn’t scan for COR because my holologue was stolen. I helped Wilfrid walk our guest to the visitor’s bungalow, which I had vacated after I decided to stay.

“I should make more cots—we’re turning into a hospital,” Wilfrid said.

“I know you.” The Unitian examined me curiously as we laid him down on the cot. “Damon—I can’t remember your emergence date, but you’re the one who invented Harmony.”

“Do you know him?” Wilfrid asked me.

“I’m identifiable by something I’d rather forget.”

“They said you were killed,” The Unitian said.

“I’m sure they said far worse than that.”

Wilfrid put his hand on my arm. “Leave us. You can continue this later.”

“Should I get the whisky?” I asked.

Wilfrid smiled as Michael entered holding the bottle. The Unitian eyed it nervously.

“They’re kind people,” I said. “They’ll take good care of you.” Michael and I left. When I returned later, the Unitian was in mid-conversation with Wilfrid. He stopped speaking when I entered.

“I’ve been away from Unity for a long time. You can speak freely.”

He skittishly shifted his weight on the cot.

“I don’t know how you remember him, but since his arrival, he’s done nothing but help us,” Wilfrid said.

I approached the Unitian. “What did they tell you about my disappearance?”

“They said you were murdered by your friend, right after he killed the old lady in the cabin.”

“Wade was no murderer.”

“They said he had the scourge, and that she—”

“No such illness exists.” I pulled up a chair and sat next to him. “It’s one of the many lies perpetuated by the Overseer and the purple idiots who follow him.”

The Unitian laughed. “Why did you leave?” he asked.

Wilfrid looked at me. “I’ll be outside, if you prefer I don’t hear.”

“Stay,” I said. “I never told you why I left because I’m not sure I can explain it.”

Wilfrid maneuvered another chair next to mine and sat.

“During my walk through the old tunnel, and throughout the days I spent lying here during my rehabilitation, I had nothing but time to think. I came up with many reasons for my leaving. Every one of them led towards one truth that was troubling to admit. Since my emergence, I was shaped and molded into the Unitian ideal as dictated by the Sacred Oath. Wade’s death exposed that ideal as a phantom—not real, yet worshipped like a god. I wasted my life believing an illusion.” It didn’t get past me that I sounded eerily like Master Franklin, and that I had grown up and agreed with him as he predicted. “Wade died over that illusion.”

As though sensing my torment, Wilfrid placed his hand on my shoulder.

“Once the lie was exposed, I had no idea who I was anymore, but I knew who I wasn’t. So I left.”

“Thank you,” Wilfrid said with tears in his eyes. “For many turns, I never understood the sadness in my grandfather’s eyes. Now…I do.”

“You speak like a true Striker.” The Unitian extended his hand towards me. “I’m Roth.”

We shook hands.

“Will you tell me what happened?” I asked.

“We got ambushed—”

“We?”

Roth struggled to sit up, and I helped him.

“I was transporting a young couple. Halfway into the old tunnel, we stopped at a trainlet to rest. Thieves broke in and beat us—took everything we had and—” He began to breathe heavily. “I’m not a fighter.”

Wilfrid poured water into a glass and handed it to Roth.

“I must’ve passed out because when I came to, my passengers were gone. I ran out to search for them and found the man outside. He was lying on the ground with a knife handle sticking out of his chest. Amazingly, he was still alive. Think he hung on to let me know the men who attacked us took the woman. He told me to tell her he loved her…if she was still alive. He died after that.” Roth took a sip of water. “I’m lucky this village was close to the tunnel, or I probably would’ve bled to death.”

“How did you plan on returning to Unity without getting reintegrated?”

“The Strikers have a way of manipulating ID markers, but they can’t alter the same one more than once because they don’t want to raise suspicion. The plan was to alternate conductors until we found a permanent one to replace the Outsider who initially ran freedomline. When I get back to Unity, I’m going to tell my appointer it’s too risky to continue moving passengers. Outsiders are better at this than we are. The last two conductors never lost a passenger.”

“Beyond the beacons, rules no longer exist,” I said. “With freedom comes risk.”

“I’m starting to wonder why anyone would want to leave Unity. It’s a mess out here.”

“What made you question the Sacred Oath?” I asked.

“It’s not fair—the way the lower colors are treated in Unity. We’re separated into different groups and told we’re equal, but the Corporate Hierarchy has more privileges and credits than the rest of us.”

Wilfrid nodded his head. “Purple…my grandfather always hated the color purple.”

“I can’t stand it either.” I picked up the bottle of whisky and smelled the contents. “Nearly two years ago, I was where you are right now.” I took a long sip and Roth gawked at me. “It’s an acquired taste.” I handed him the bottle.

Roth pushed a dismissive hand towards me. “Maybe later.”

I examined the bottle. “Wilfrid first gave me this shortly after I was beaten and left for dead. As unpredictable as things are out here, I’d never go back to Dome Dungeon.”

“No one can promise you absolute safety,” Wilfrid added. “A dome can be cracked as easily as your head.” Wilfrid clicked his tongue and knocked on the top of his head.

“Heed this man’s words.” I patted the back of Wilfrid’s shoulder.” He only speaks the truth.”

“Even if I wanted to continue, the Strikers will bring an end to Freedomline if we don’t find an Outsider who’ll—” Roth paused and widened his eyes. “Would you consider being our conductor? We can pay you for each transport.”

I had a flash of having this conversation before, and my answer came instantly. “I finished my last bottle of berry ale three days after I left Unity. How soon can you get a case over to me?”

“I’ll send one over with your first transport,” Roth said enthusiastically. “This will help repair your reputation…at least with me.”