Chapter I – Home
The city is as it always had been in her memory.
Big!
Not just big like a hover-pickup compared to her scooter, but big like a Leviathan compared to a Personal Transport. So big that she only ever felt like a tiny speck, like the smallest organism in a massive ocean, not that she had ever seen the ocean, but she had an idea how big it would be. So what better way to avoid the size of everything other than …
“Anjali, come and get your dinner will you!”
… other than to lose yourself in something not quite so big.
“For goodness sake, leave that infernal engine alone, get washed, and come and eat will you girl!”
Engines. Anjali loved engines, something she inherited from her father, who was still in the workshop tinkering with something or other, much to her mothers annoyance.
“The thing with engines … “, her father used to say,
“ … is that you know exactly where you are with them. If something goes wrong, you pull it apart, fix the broken bit, and put it back together again, and everything's just fine. But then, you can tinker with them, make them better, make them more than they were, and that is just so exciting and rewarding!”
Yanaka does tend to get a bit carried away by engines, much to Anjalis’ mothers annoyance. Engines and tales of old, that just about summed up her father.
He always painted such pictures of the olden days, of when his Grandad was alive, tales that were full of mystery and intregue, tales that the Makarium would call heritical today.
Most of the time Anjali took the stories to be just that, stories that her father used to make up to send her off to sleep with when she was little, although she did sometimes wonder if they were really made up or not. These days her mothers voice of reason held more sway with her, and her fathers tales were just that, tales, and he usually only told them now after a few glasses of Lahjee too many, usually with much gusto and performance, and with Anjali’s mother telling him to be quiet and forget about old tales, there were more important things to worry about.
The Makarium, Anjali’s mother worked for them, nothing important, though she liked to think she was, but because of that one simple fact, she was the voice of reason and logic in the house.
Jananii, Anjalis’ mother, is what you might call straight, she does everything by the book, from her work, to the way the house is kept, to the way that Anjali should be brought up, to the letter of the law.
Once upon a time she was more like Janaka, a bit more relaxed and carefree, but since she started to work for the Makarium, she became quite a different person, watching how she looked, what she did, and most of all what she said. In her youth she heard, said, and did things that today would lose her job, or maybe even worse. But, she is a loving mother, and a loving partner to Janaka, when he’s not being too loose with his tongue. Most of all, she wanted Anjali to grow up safe and well, and hopfully not to listen to her fathers tales too closely, she knew the truth behind them, and didn’t want Anjali finding out, or at least not just yet, maybe when she was older, more mature, more equiped to understand the implications of knowing such things, and the sense to react in the correct manner. A manner that the Makarium would approve of.
“What is for dinner Mum? Can I take it to the workshop? I want to help Ashmita with his mono-wheel. Such an old engine, it’d be fun to see how it works! Though I don’t get why he uses such old stuff, hover bikes work so much better, I think anyway”
“Oh Anjali! Can’t you just forget about those stupid engines for once?
Anjali really didn’t want an argument with her mother, not tonight, but couldn’t she just do what she wanted to do, it was a free world after all wasn’t it?
Whenever she wanted to do her thing, her mother would go on at her about greater responsibility, about how what she does now will affect her future, about how she should be thinking about this and that, when really all Anjali wanted to think about was engines, and how to escape this life of course, same as every kid her age. Some wanted to go off and join the forces, well in fact most wanted to go off and join the forces, it was just what you did.
Though these days there were a few kids who were thinking that maybe that wasn’t what they wanted to do. Why should they go off and fight in The War, what would they get out of it? No, much more interesting was engines, at least with them Anjali could make something tangible, something more real, something that was actually useful. Which brought her back to going down to her Dad’s workshop and helping Ashmita with his Mono, as old technology as it was, she could do some pretty cool stuff with it, and Ashmita was always tinkering about with it, finding ways to improve the performance of electronics and weapons, he didn’t care too much to the mechanics of the engine.
The thought of getting down to the workshop snapped her back out of thoughts just in time to hear her mother drone on about how “... it was a privilege and a duty to fight for the Makarium in The War …”. Often her mother would seem to switch to automatic mouth pilot and just seem to spout Makarium rhetoric, she even used the same phrases as the Political Posts, so Anjali had found a defense against it, she just zoned out into her thoughts.
Tonight though, she just wanted to get to that workshop, so simply agreed with anything her mother said. That served two purposes, firstly, it reduced the amount of time she had to listen to her mother's drivel, and secondly, almost as an after effect, it gave her mother the illusion that she was actually getting through to her daughter.
Just half an hour later and Anjali was on her hov-scooter on her way to the workshop. Ashmita was already there, and he’d messaged her to ask her for her help, the Mono wasn’t putting out enough power for his latest upgrades.
*
* * * * *
The
trip to the workshop was as uneventful as ever, at this time of night
both the highways and skyways were pretty clear, which in fact meant
that traffic was flowing and not bumper to bumper.
Also
at this time of night the Leviathans usually did their manoeuvring,
to and from the various types of docks to load up with whatever they
needed for their next journey to wherever it was they went to, they
seemed to rarely come back. Although Anjali took very little notice
of them, the Leviathans did come back, just not in the same state
they left in, they almost always needed a refit, though that in turn
meant there was always work in the navel yards.
Anjali's
favourite part of the trip to the workshop was always up on the
skyways, at this time of night she could zip in and out of the
traffic, going left and right, over and under, any transports that
she came across. Every now and again she might come across something
a bit faster than the normal run of the mill p-trans (personal
transports), tugs and heavies (heavy transports), and tonight she
found herself racing a nice looking low-slung speedster. The driver
obviously relished having some freedom to open up his throttle on the
skyway, although it wasn't clear if he was actually racing Anjali, or
just trying to get rid of the annoying little scooter on his tail.
Anjali didn't care, it was fun just tailing the guy for a bit,
speeding around the middle and upper terraces of the city. Pretty
soon though she had to head back down to ground level, onto the slow
moving highways, but only for a short time. Taking the next exit,
Anjali took the feed even further down to street level. Down here was
almost always devoid of much mechanical traffic, it was all people,
and rubbish. Going was even slower down here, but she only had a
short distance to go to her Dad's workshop.
As
she approached, pressing the button on her handle bar to open the
door, Anjali momentarily looked up. It was when she was down here
that the city felt so oppressive. That was what made her feel so
small, and fuelled her desire to escape. At street level there seemed
to be a spaghetti of cables criss-crossing from one building to
another, usually with some sort of rubbish caught up in the web or
wires, that alone blocked out most of the natural light, but beyond
the web were the towers. Each one a mini city in it's own right. At
the street level were the slums, workshops, and infrastructure needed
for each tower to work, the lungs, heating systems and waste units
for the higher levels. Then as you went higher up the tower, each
terrace had it's own class of stores and housing, first the black
collar workers, then blue, and so on until you got to the very top
level, the penthouses of the officers, teachers and preachers of the
Makarium. As a whole they were known as the Makariatte, and they
saved the best for themselves, after all they were the keepers and
protectors of the general population.
But
down here, in the Trough, life was a million miles away from those
lofty heights. The streets were fogged with both the cold air, and
steam from vents in the buildings and the streets. The steam was a
necessary evil, it was what kept the place warm, but it was also the
source of the fogs. The fog made the streetlights seem to glow, and
the ever present Vidiverts for the Makarium and the Forces, they were
everywhere. The only other source of light down here came from the
buildings themselves, either the street signs for the workshops and
mechanics, or from the higher heights, as though it were some sort of
artificial day light. Every now and again though, a chink of real
light from the Sun would sneak past the buildings, the cables and
rubbish, even out shine the Vidiverts, and show the Trough in a new
light, even though it lit up all the grim detail, it seemed to make
it a little more bearable, a little more human.
Just
outside her Dads workshop was one of those spots where real daylight
could break through, but not at the moment, it was dusk, and the
glowing city was silhouetted against the glow of fog and mist.
As
the door to the work shop slowly slid itself open the warm glow of
the interior lights drew Anjali's attention, and she was back
somewhere safe, somewhere she felt important and normal again.
“Hello
Anjali! I am glad you are here, I need your help!”
Ashmati
was already here, though that was no surprise really, Anjali
suspected that he used the workshop as an escape as much as she did.
She looked at the big guy, he was almost half cyborg now, his robotic
arm and leg replacing the flesh and bone he used to have. He never
told her how he lost them, it seemed the memory was too painful, but
from the tattoo on his other arm, she knew he was in the forces, the
Icon of the Makarium showed that, and the winged sword showed that he
was a Navy Marine, the toughest of the tough. The Marines were not to
be messed with. He was a private man though, Anjali had learnt that
throughout her short life time, if Ashmita wanted you to know
something, then he would tell you. Although he was a big man, with a
sort of deep, soft but somehow commanding voice, he was never
anything less than fair and gentle with Anjali, he kept her on the
straight and narrow from time to time, with just a word or two in her
ear, and she had the greatest of respect for him because of it. He
never lectured her like her mother did, just told her want was what
when she needed to know. The rest of the time he just got on with his
work, and tinkering with his Mono.
“What's
the problem Big Guy?”
“It's
the engine output, it's not enough for these new mod's I've made, can
up it by about 50 amps?”
“Sure,
let me in there, let's see what we can see!”
The
Mono, how to describe it?
It
was as big and as mechanical as Ashmita himself was. It was old-tech,
it's massive single wheel bigger than most men, at 7 foot high and
about 3 foot wide. The deep tread made for the mud, snow and
semi-frost of the world, although Anjali couldn't remember the last
time it had left the warmth of the workshop.
Ashmati
had installed some of the latest beam communicators on it's main
console, and so needed some extra output for it's hulking engine.
“It
should just be a simple case of upping the HP and directing it to the
coils” she stated.
“Ok,
well do what you have to please. I need to go up to the loft to
finish some things off for your father.”
Her
eye's followed Ashmita up the stairs to the loft, the area of the
workshop that served as clerical office and cleanroom for the
electronics needed to service most hover crafts these days. That was
Ashmati's speciality, electrics and electronics, give him some semi
conductors, and some copper, and he could make you just about
anything, he was always reading the latest white papers to come from
the Universities, that was one of the lessons he wished Anjali would
listen to, that you can never have too much knowledge, it was the
greatest weapon of all.
Anjali
looked about the workshop for the tools for the job she needed to do,
and there in the other corner, hidden unerneith a canopy was her
dad's labor of love, he had designed and build a hovercraft of his
own, instead of just repairing everyone elses.
“And
don't you even think about looking under that tarpaulin young lady,
you know it's your Father's pride and joy”
Damm!
Sometimes she was sure that Ashmita could read her thoughts. She
tried to picture what the craft looked like from the shapes made
under the canopy, it had to be a speedster, she was sure of it, just
from the shape, but it was so much bigger than any personal speedster
that she knew of, it was sleek though.
The
workshop is, to the untrained eye, more like some sort of organised
chaos, with myriads of storage draws for all the small components,
racks and racks, as well as yet more draws, of tools of every type,
size, and speciality. Of course there was the heavy tools, large
mounted mechanics that allowed the manufacture of any part, her dad
rarely bought any spare parts, other than the smallest ones which
were just too much hassle to make himself, he said that he,
“...
could produce any part, faster and to a better quality than any
manufacturer known … “.
And
he could too. To say that Janaka was skilled with both is hands, and
his mind was an understatement. Ashmita was just as skilled too, but
in a different kind of way. Where as Janaka seemed to be somehow
naturally skilled, as though it were part of his genetic makeup to be
a hover expert, Ashmita's skill was entirely learnt out of first
necessity, and then later out of sheer interest and thirst for more
knowledge.
Like
her father, Anjali seemed to naturally know what she needed to do,
without knowing how she knew, or really even thinking about it too
hard. Perhaps it came from the experience of playing with engine
parts since she was little, but she was never happier than when she
was upto her knees in engine parts, and her elbows in grease and oil.
Pretty soon she had her head inside the engine compartment of the
Mono, making the mods to the engine to squeeze every last drop of
power she could out of it. A couple of hours later, and the job was
done, she knew it would be.
“All
done Ashmita! If you're going to make any more mods, you're going to
need a bigger power unit though.”
“Bigger?
I thought it was big enough. Very well, I shall see if I can source
one, otherwise I'll just have to build one.”
Anjali
made her way up to the loft to see if she could catch what he was up
to up there, but his cyborg implants heard her way before she got
anywhere near him, all she saw was him shuffle some books and papers
away in a draw just as she got to the top of the stairs, and then
pull out some random electronics board. One day, she thought to
herself, she'll get to see just what it he was really working on, it
must be pretty cool though. Ashmita never did something unless it was
worth while.
“Miti?”
Miti
was Anjali's nickname for him if she was trying to get something out
of him, although he liked it really, he wasn't the sort to show it,
and thought that each person should have their place, and to his
mind, he wasn't in a position to be given nick names. He had nothing
but the highest regard for Janaka, and knew of his families secret,
or at least part of it. He found that out many years ago now. Since
then he had managed to seek out Janaka, and when he first met Anjali
as a little girl, he knew then, finaly, what his life was to be.
“Please
don't call me that Anjali, you know I dislike nick names. What is it
that you want?”
“I
was just wondering about stuff.”
“Hmmm?
What kind of 'stuff' are you wondering about?”
“Just
about Daddy, and the tales he tells. You know about them don't you?”
“I
have heard him tell them on more than one occasion, yes.”
“No,
I mean you really know about them, you know something more than what
he tells.”
“Anjali,
if you are trying to get me to tell you about my past, then please
forget it, you know that I will not tell you anything other than what
you already know.”
“But
you were in the Navy, and a Navy Marine too, you must have seen
things, seen The War, even seen The Enemy?”
“I
have told you all that I am going to Anjali, now please give it up,
I'm not in the mood for your probing tonight. If you like, maybe at
the weekend, we can go out somewhere, and I can tell you something
about my days in the Force, again. But not tonight, please, I have
too much to think about right now. Not least of which is where to get
a bigger power plant for the Mono from, I need to add more mods to
it. Do you have any ideas?”
Distraction,
the best form of self defence Ashmita found, especially with Anjali,
get her talking about engines, and she'll forget what she had on her
mind. Distraction was a technique he had to learn early with her,
better than to tell her lies, or worse, truths.
*
* * * * *
The
journey back home was even more uneventful for Anjali, she had left
Ashmita in the workshop with his thoughts. When he used the
distraction technique with her she knew perfectly well that she
wasn't going to get any more information out of him, and it wasn't
too wise to press him, as even mannered as he appeared to be most of
the time, she knew that he did have a short fuse on his temper, if
pushed the wrong way. Only once had she seen him loose his temper and
get angry, and it was not something that she wanted to repeat again.
Somehow,
after sun down, the city took on a new life, perhaps it was the
darkness hiding the gloom, each and every little light seemed to
sparkle a little in the fog and mist, it was almost a pretty sight.
She
wanted desperately to get some more facts from Ashmita, there were
things that she wanted to know, things about the past, about her
family, and about her little treasure.
She'd
look at it again when she got home, although she could almost feel it
through her pocket. Never did she go anywhere without it. Not because
she was obsessed about it, but because she was told that it was
secret, and that no one else must ever know of it's existence.
“This
small, insignificant little thing could cause too much trouble.”
she was told.
So
long ago since those words left her Great Grandfathers lips, she was
4 then, and it seemed to be a great adventure for her, he made sure
she felt that way about it. But since she got older, she began to
wonder. It was some of her fathers tales that made her think, things
he said that seemed to hint more about her treasure.
She
would see what she could find out in her vault-book first, and see
what that takes her.
Having
stowed her scooter safely away on the platform, Anjali made her way
into the house, hoping to avoid her mother and go straight to her
room. No such luck! She was right there waiting for her, like some
predatory animal just waiting for ambush.
And
Anjali knew all too well what this ambush would be about.
“Anjali,
is that you?”
“Yes
Mother” she replied, with more than a hint of inevitability in her
voice.
“Oh
good, you haven't forgotten about tomorrow have you? You know what we
have to do?”
“Yes
Mother”
“Well
then, go to your room, and make sure you're well cleaned and rested
before the morning, we will have a full day tomorrow!”
That
wasn't at all what Anjali was expecting, that was much too short an
ambush. But, like every good girl, Anjali complied with her parent,
and was soon on her bed, her vault-pad in her hands. Looking at it,
she wondered if she shouldn't get cleaned up first, it would keep her
mother off her back for the rest of the night, and free her to do her
research. That was a good plan, she decided, even as her fingers
seemed to be itching to open the clasps of the book. Resting it down
in the covers of her bed, Anjali was soon in the washroom, and within
a few minutes all clean and fresh, ready for what tomorrow would
bring. The dreaded visit to the Law Priest of the Makarium.
It
was going to be a long day tomorrow, her mother was right there.
Dressed
in her night gown, Anjali settled back into the pillows, the
vault-pad resting on her lap. With a small flick the clasps were
open, as she hindged the two halves of the book apart, she could see
the screen and dials spring into life. With a few soft touches, she
set the book to retrieve any facts it had on the history of The War
and The Enemy from it's vault. After a few moments of watching the
progress bar on the main screen, she was presented with a whole list
of options to refine her search. Where to start she wondered, where
do you start looking for information on something that has always
been?
Taking
the trinket out of it's box, Anjali looked at the markings on it, and
decided that would be as good a place as any to start a search.
Picking
the correct menu from the options, she began to refine her searches.
She
had always found the markings on it somewhat strange, they looked
like writing, but no writing she had ever seen.
इत
इस स्वीत् अण्ड फ़ित्तिन्ग तो
दिए फ़ोर् ओन्चेस चोउन्त्र्य
If
it was a language, what did it mean, for that matter, where did it
come from?
Without
knowing even where to start looking for matches for those, she
decided to concetrate on the image, or at last what she could see of
the image anyway, part of the trinket had always been missing. It
looked to her to be part of something, like part of an image, it kind
of looked like a face, a bit like the Sign of the Makarium, a woman
they called Victori, a strange name Anjali had always thought, as it
sounded nothing like any 'normal' names. The Sign of the Makarium was
engrained on everyones eyes, it was almost everywhere you looked, the
vidi-verts, the troop transports and leviathans, the governmental
chapels, cathedrals and offices of state. A female face, shouting
forwards with her hair streaming backwards. It was supposed to be a
symbol of victory and forthrightness, but just looked like a mad
woman to Anjali.
No,
this face was quite different, it looked like that of a man for a
start, a proud man the thought, big chested and board shouldered. Her
vault-pad searched of the image, and found a match, only 63% match it
said, but still, a match is a match, even a partial one.
The
pad said;
Wulfren:
The mythological opposite of Victori. He was once
her partner. The Enemy made it's war, and he was lost,
this is why The Sign of the Makarium is shouting a
battle cry. This cry is the inspiration of the whole of humankind
society.
See:
Sign of the
Makarium, Victori, Lessons of Makarium.
Anjali
wished now she had spent more time listening in Religious Law lessons
that she had sending notes and messages to her friends.
Tomorrow
her mother was dragging her to The State Building, to see some
Law-Priest or other, she could ask him, at least it would make them
think she was interested in the things they wanted her to be
interested in.
Anjali
put her trinket away in it , and settled herself down to sleep,
tomorrow she might actually have some idea what it was really, and
what those strange markings were too.
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