Unison (The Spheral) (62 page)

I read through Danielle’s autopsy report and discovered what Torrin uncovered many years before: the signal sent to the implant was responsible for Danielle’s death, and it created tumors in forty percent of Unitians. My Harmony upgrade seemed to accelerate the onset of the disease. The report went out to my Chosen, and I called a meeting to discuss the issue.

“What is your decision, your Lordship?” asked one of my Chosen.

Although I still grieved over Danielle’s death, Unity wasn’t only about me. I had to consider what effects the truth of the implant would have on Unitians. “We continue as we are.”

Steven, whom I promoted for being kind to me, lifted a wand that lit when he touched it.

“Let’s all acknowledge Steven, who’ll deliver his testimony to the Chosen,” I said.

Everyone lifted their light wands and set them back down.

“You may proceed,” I said.

“Your Lordship, I don’t see how we can continue transmitting if it’s causing fatalities.”

“Did you ask yourself what would happen once we cut off the signal?” I asked.

“No, your Lordship, I—”

“I’ve considered this from every possible angle, and each outcome is equally unsettling to me.”

“But people are dying.”

“Do you have a plan to calm the riots that will most certainly break out as a result of this coming out?”

Steven remained unresponsive as the rest of the Chosen stared at him.

“How about us?” Avery asked. “We’re also susceptible to the side effects.”

“As of this morning, all of your implants have stopped receiving Harmony.” I said.

“Have you considered that this may work well alongside the nonessential pulse?” he asked.

I slammed my palm on the table. “No I haven’t. We’re not murderers. The nonessential pulse comes only after a Unitian has served his purpose. To take someone at the prime of their lifespan is barbaric.”

All the Chosen leered at Avery.

“Please forgive my blasphemous assertion, my Lordship.”

“You’re forgiven. But should I ever hear you say something so inhumane again, your membership with the Chosen may have to be reconsidered.”

I turned to face Steven. “As you can see, I’m not heartless. I have a team of scientists searching for a way to transmit Harmony without the side effects. In the meantime, our discussion is finished.” I peered directly into the eyes of all my Chosen to show them I meant my words. “If we lose control, we lose everything Unitians have worked for over the last few centuries, and you’ll all lose the privileges you’ve earned through your faithful service. Do you find that acceptable?”

Not one of my Chosen said a word.

I glanced at Steven. “Do you?”

“No, your Lordship.”

“Then you may take the vote.”

“For the official record: all those in favor of keeping Harmony operational please make your vote known,” Steven said.

Nine of the Chosen raised their light wands. When I glanced at Steven, he reluctantly lifted his light wand.

The night after Danielle’s sacred burning, I dreamt I lay dying on a hospital bed. An Overmaiden with large expressive eyes tended to me. It took me a few moments to recognize it was Sutara.

“Who am I?” I asked.

“You’re what cannot be defined.”

“I must be something.”

She smiled and wiped my forehead with a cool towel.

“Do you remember?” She removed the cloth and placed it into a dish of ice water.

“Remember what?”

“Who you’re not.” Sutara unbuttoned my shirt. “You’re not a scientist.”

“I’m not?”

“You’re not the Overseer, who believes it’s his decision to preside over life and death.”

“Who am I then?”

Sutara took the cloth out of the water dish, rung it, and placed it on my chest. The coldness bled through to my bones.

“I cannot answer that,” she said.

“Why?”

“The knowledge is only yours to unlock. You must internalize this, or it will not carry over.”

“Carry over? To where? Yes, I remember now,” I said more to myself and then looked at Sutara. “Why is this so hard for me? Why do I keep forgetting?”

“Because you don’t trust yourself yet.”

“What I’ve done is unforgivable.” I placed my hands over my face. “I became more concerned with the ideal of Unity than the lives of the Unitians. My desire to fix things made everything worse. How can wanting to help turn out so wrong? It makes no sense.” I grabbed hold of Sutara’s hand. “Promise you’ll keep coming. Only you can remind me about what happened here.”

She retracted her hand. “I’m tired.” She stood. “We seem to keep moving in circles, and my life has been on hold because of your refusal to see.”

“Maybe we have this all wrong. Maybe I’m supposed to be where I am right now, doing what I’m—”

“Where else can you be other than where you are now?” Sutara tossed both her hands in the air and laughed. “Listen to me, I sound like my Uncle Vivek.”

“Who’s Vivek?”

Sutara smiled. “A wise old man who never gave up on me.” She sat beside me. “I cannot be angry with you, no matter how much I want to.” She placed her hand on my forearm. “Call me anytime.”

“I still don’t know how I did.”

“You will figure it out…if you’re serious about what you want to do.”

“I am.”

She gazed at me with a doubtful expression.

“I’ll do what I must do, hear what I must hear, and see whatever I must see in my next incarnation.”

“If you cannot turn away from this now, how do you expect to turn away next time?”

The scenery around us changed, and we were now in my study. I pointed to all the work that sat waiting for me on my desk. “I have responsibilities here. The Unitians need me.” I pointed to my commendations. “I worked hard for what I have. What will remain if I leave this all behind?”

Sutara leaned against the wall and crossed her arms.

“It’s easy for you to sit here and judge me. You don’t know how difficult it is to be responsible for a whole civilization.”

“I cannot see you anymore. Your ego spans higher than the Himalayas.”

“And you can’t comprehend what it’s like when everyone looks to you for the answers, and you’re the only one who realizes you don’t know a slocking thing more than the people you’re giving them to. But you know you have to try because if you don’t, someone will come into power and start programming fetuses into living machines.”

“You cannot control everyone’s fate, Damon. You must choose to liberate yourself. And you must allow others the freedom to do the same.”

Sutara walked towards the door, and I glanced at my thirty-two reprimands that hung on my wall. They awoke something in me that I’d long forgotten.

“I’ll leave now!" I yelled.

Sutara turned and faced me. “Why now?”

I looked at my thirty-two reprimands. “I want to find something I lost.”

DEFEATING THE DRAGON

EIGHTH INCARNATION

“S
utara helped me alter my destiny. After my vision, I instructed my Chosen to disable the towers.”

Mother hugged me. “I’m so proud of you, Damon. To turn away from such power is near impossible, but you did it.”

“I had no other choice. Steven warned me Avery was plotting my overthrow. He gave a speech during one of our meetings, stating he connected to the Prime Wisdom and was told that Harmony wasn’t malfunctioning; its signal had been divinely sanctioned to rule over life and death. I thought for certain my Chosen would view him as insane. Only I had access to the ordained dose of escape that connected me to the Prime Wisdom.”

“For anyone else who took the drug, they were merely hallucinating,” Father said. “I still laugh at myself for believing in such nonsense.”

“The Chosen didn’t believe in it enough. They sided with Avery. Unbeknown to me, he did a lot of talking behind my back...after I reprimanded him for wanting to use Harmony to keep the population down. The Chosen didn’t want Unity for all. They wanted slaves, and when I look back at my own motives for keeping Harmony active…so did I. At least Avery had the nerve to admit it openly.”

“There never would’ve been a plot against you if you hadn’t challenged them,” Father said.

“I didn’t challenge them enough. I ran away defeated, humiliated, and a coward. Steven was going to leave with me, but he never showed up at the access where we were supposed to meet. I never attempted to look for him because I feared getting caught. I still have no idea what happened to him.” I looked at Mother. “I ended up back here, hoping to find you. That’s when I first discovered they killed you.”

“You must continue,” Father said. “If you can change, we all can. It means goodness conquers evil on a far greater scale than we’ve ever anticipated.”

“If I’m your example of goodness, humanity is in trouble,” I said.

“It’s not only your burden,” he said. “To survive, we must all act according to our mutual interests—as individuals, not while under the threat of reintegration or some other ideological form of control. That’s why I’ll die happy. Unity will soon fall because it goes against this natural order.”

What Father said reminded me of his journal entry—how there existed a self-destructive mechanism in the Ancients that led to their downfall and how we weren’t any different. When I first read it, I was elated. After all I’d been through, I wasn’t sure I agreed with Father’s current assessment, but I remained silent.

“Never doubt your ability to lead, Father said. “I see a greatness that’s been longing to break out since you first showed up in front of the cabin.”

“Thanks Father. I’ll do my best.” I didn’t believe those words either, but I didn’t want our last night together to end with a debate.

Mother wept and laid her head upon Father’s chest. “I wish you told me. You wouldn’t have been alone.”

Father caressed Mother’s hair. “I wasn’t.”

I placed my hand on Father’s shoulder and kept it there until he fell asleep. It was the last memory I have of him alive. He died in his sleep that night.

When we returned to the cabin, Mother and I performed the sacred burning, and Mother recited the ceremonial prayer.

“From the ground you arose, and to the ground you shall return. Of this Earth you’ve been granted life, and from this Earth new life shall arise in your place. Carry on into heaven, where your identity will eternally be stored as sacred. Through our memories of you, your presence will be celebrated for all the joy you’ve brought to our Unity.” Mother cried as she spoke the remaining words. “All together, we were here. All together…we’ll be again.”

Mother peered at me as though some new realization came upon her. “Eight lifetimes of pain are looking out at me right now, which means I’ll return to add more to your suffering.” New tears streamed out of her eyes. “Stay away from us next time. Go to New Athenia, and don’t look back.”

I hugged her. “Don’t say that, Mother. I wanted a family, and I was given that with you and Father. I couldn’t improve upon the life you both gave me.”

Mother pushed me away. “I don’t want to come back again, even if I can’t remember. I’ll only have to look at your face, and I’ll know your pain…just as I know now.” She ran into the cabin.