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.
“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.
… 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.
“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.
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 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.
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?
“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?
“Oh Anjali! Can’t you just forget about those stupid engines for once?
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.
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?
* * * * * *
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.
Deep within the Makarium State Buildings is an unassuming door. Unassuming in every way other than it is so far down a narrow corridor lit by only a couple of old arc-lights, the smell of ozone filling the narrow space. Where as most of the rest of the State Building was adorned with gilt and gold, as well as every legal symbol known to humankind, with all the pomp and ceremony associated with Legality. This one corridor was almost bare stone, like a tunnel to a crypt, and just as claustrophobic. The Door, simply made from steel, with little adornment, stood like a great barrier protecting the contents of the room from the world, or perhaps visa-versa. Grand Lawyer Bhrata Pellsim approached The Door, key in hand, the key handed down from each generation of Grand Lawyer to the next, the key to reveal the secrets of the Makarium, that's what was behind The Door.
Inserting The Key into the lock, Pellsim slowly turned it, feeling the mechanism inside resist against the force, until with a satisfying clunk, the key set into motion the whole lock. The faint sound of wheels and cogs turning inside the door, each of the locks releasing in turn, the noise reverberating down the narrow corridor.
And then silence, utter and complete silence.
Pellsim pulled hard on the handle, and the door swung open to reveal the room. A small, yet concise library, for the most part single cards, all indexed and catalogued into wooden drawers. Drawers that covered every every part of the wall from floor to high ceiling, front to back and side to side, each one a meter deep and filled with cards. A single tall library ladder on runners allowed access to each of the drawers.
In the centre of the room sat a single table, with a single chair at one end. Upon the table just 3 items; a large feather quill, a single sheet of parchment, and the largest volume that existed within the Makarium.
The parchment was the single most important secret, a deceleration of the council of Grand Lawyers to preserve the Pellsim way of life and society, no matter what the cost. The quill being the sacred pen used by each of the Grand Lawyers to apply their marks. And at the very bottom a symbol that perhaps, given the circumstances at the time, should not have been there. Just a circle with an offset cross, looking for all the world like a broken crosshair, but never the less a symbol that sent a chill through Pellsims veins.
The volume, sitting upon it's rest, whilst not as important, was considerably older than anything else within the room, even within the building.
It was The Laws, as written by the founders of Society, Wulfren and Victori.
Pellsim had come simply to put some more cards into the drawers. Looking at the cards, he selected each one according to alphabetic order, and then inserted each card into it's proper place. Each card contained just a few headings, the date, a location, and finally a name. Each and every single card within those drawers represented a person, a life, a death, a sacrifice for Society.
“If only they knew” he whispered to himself, before closing the drawers.
Turning The Key back in the lock, and hanging it back around his neck, Pellsim gave the room a revered look before heading back down the corridor to more comfortable surroundings. He knew that he would be back again tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that, and every day until he passed The Key on to the next.
* * * * * *
In his Chapel of Laws, Bhrata Vedas was busying himself for the visits of the teenagers visiting the Bar that day. At least once a week he would get a group of young adults to come to the chambers, and explain to them the history of the Makarium and what it meant to be in service. Most, he already knew, would go on to the forces to fight The War, some may even make it far enough to see The Enemy, but very few seemed to take the route into the Makarium, and that troubled him. The average age of the Lawyers was getting greater and greater with each passing year, and very few youngsters to pass the Laws and Lores onto, if it's not careful, the Makarium could simply pass of old age.
But, there was hope, every now and again he would find a young mind that was curious about more than just war and technology, one who was deep enough to see there was more to the world, yet still young enough to influence and mould into the right kind of mind for the service.
Today he knew he was going to meet just such a mind. He'd met Anjali many times before, when she came to work with her mother as a little girl, it had been a while since he had last seen her, but even when she was small, she had a more than inquisitive mind. The kind of mind that would not just simply roll over and join the forces. He was excited to see what kind of mind she had grown into, hoping that her mothers teachings would have helped to form it somewhat.
Donning his gowns, he prepared for the visit, wondering what questions she would ask. It didn't matter really though, he already had the answers, or at least he hoped he did.
“Somewhere”, he mumbled to himself, “I've got a vault-pad with almost everything she might want to know, and even some stuff she won't even know she wants to know.”
Rifling through the drawers of his desk he found it, wrapped in an old muslin cloth to keep it safe. It was an archaic device, even antique, but to Vedas it was what the pad contained that was more precious. There were things in this pad that you couldn't find in any normal Makarium Library, nor any modern day vault-pad.
Carefully he unwrapped the cloth, blowing the dust off, and giving the case a gentle wipe with his hand, feeling the achient metal tingle beneith his finger tips. Wrapping his fingers around the clasps, he un-locked the two halves, and let the pad fall open within his hands. Slowly the screens warmed up, and then with a spark, sprang into life, proclaiming the title of the pad.
“The Personal Memoires of Victori, founder of the Makarium.”
That will do just the trick, he thought to himself. Closing the pad, he settled down into a chair, waiting for the inevitable arrival of his student. Deep in thought about what the coming day would bring, he readied the Audio-Visual recorder almost as though on auto pilot, he would have a record of the happenings of that day.
* * * * * *
Anjali and her mother approached the Chapel of Laws from the main skyway, the lumbering Leviathans seeming to be more numerous than usual. In amongst the upper terraces of the city, the chapel seemed to almost nestle into it's position. Whilst not as large as the State Buildings, nor as grand, it had a certain presence that separated it from the other buildings, it's large, single transmission pylon helping to mark it's place within the jungle of buildings, the light from the streets below seeming to make the building as a whole glow from underneath.
The inside of the building was no less impressive, the rows and rows of benches for the faithful to come and pray, the huge bar at the head of the building where the Bhrata Lawyers would sit and pass judgement if required, the pulpit where the presiding Bhrata would give a sermon, and the ever present symbol of the Makarium.
Just below, and to one side of the Bar was the arched doorway into the Bhrata Chambers, where Anjali would meet Bhrata Vedas again.
Eye's from within a shadow in a darker corner of the Chapel watched with interest as Anjali and her mother entered through the door way, knowing full well that the contents of any discussions could be reviewed at leisure later on. Vedas was not the only one with an AV Recorder in that chamber, and he had to be watched, he knew too much already, just a little thought and logic could lead to conclusions the Makarium did not want to be visited.
Once inside the chambers, Anjali was surprised at how homely they were. Although she had met Bhrata Vedas many times before, she'd never been into his Makarium Chamber. His desk was large, covered for the most part with various volumes or Law, the odd vault-pad or two, and of course his working lights. But what stood out to her immediately was the vault-pad in the centre of his desk, left open, but deactivated. It wasn't just the fact that it was there, it was that it look so old.
What were the contents, what secrets did it hold?
Vedas was sat there, looking as old as the vault-pad, sat back comfortably in his chair. Even though he wore the Sign of Victori, she thought of him more as an Uncle, he was harmless enough.
“Come in Anjali, come in Jananii. Good to see you both again.”
“Good Morning Bhrata Vedas”, replied Jananii.
“Hiya Vedas”, Anajli could be so informal, even when she was supposed to be formal.
“So, Anjali, why have you come here today?”
“I've brought her here …”
“Please, Jananii, and with the greatest respect, let the girl speak for herself. Anjali?”
“I'm here 'cos mother says I have to be, as usual.”
“Anjali!” exclaimed her mother.
“But I do have some questions. Things that I've been wondering about recently.”
“At your age in life, we Bhrata expect most young minds to have decided what is needed of them.”
“Oh?”
“Ah! No no, I do not mean at all that you are in someway under developed Anjali, quite the contrary. I suspect that you could well have a fuller and deeper mind that most. You have no desire to go to The War, correct?”
“No I do not! Why would I, why does anybody want to? I don't get these kids that just think life is about fighting and glory. There must be more to it than that, surely, isn't there?”
“Most young adults decide at an early age that they wish to fight for a way of life. You could almost call it a lust, an instinct as strong as life itself. But every now and again we come across an individual, like yourself, who doesn't harbour this desire, who feels that perhaps they have something more, let us say more abstract, to offer.”
“What, like building tanks and leviathans? Why are those things blocking up the skyways anyway? They slow everything down!”
“Leviathans are needed by the Makarium Anajli. Building them, and tanks, is a job for those of a lesser intelligence...”
“Dad is intelligent, and he makes them, he can make anything!”
“Your father is an exception to the rule Anjali. I would class him as Architect perhaps, even though he behaves like some dock labourer some times. But you are getting off the point...”
“He's not a dock labourer, how dare you, my dad...”
“...is an enormously intelligent man who has served the Makarium well in the past. We thank him for that, and allow him to do as he chooses now, in his Golden years, Anjali. We are not here to discuss your father!”
“Right, well, you just remember that, then, ok?”
“I will always remember that Anjali. It was I that fought for his free status many years ago. Can we get back to the point now, please?”
“Well, yes, what were you talking about?”
“I was about to talk about options other than going into the forces, and The War. There are other ways that you can help society, especially with your background and parentage.”
“What have my parents got to do with what I can do?”
“Well, you see Anjali, you inherit certain skills and traits from them. I didn't know my parents, The Enemy killed them when I was just a small boy. The War was old even then, and that was a long time ago”
Anjali couldn't help but snigger at that comment, Vedas was old, but in a nice way. She looked at him more closely now, she hadn't known that he was an orphan, but then that was why the Makarium introduced laws about who could go to The War, if you had children under a certain age, you couldn't go, that was why some people did things other than fight, not because they didn't want to, but because they couldn't. In turn that created another problem, the population as a whole was getting old, the birth rate was lower than it ever had been before, because people were choosing The War over their own family. Looking at Vedas' eyes, she saw then a depth and understanding, he knew stuff, more than most people. Maybe it might be good to ask him about the trinket her Great Grandfather gave to her. Then her eyes wandered to the mark of the Makarium, the tattoo every Law-Priest had to show their devotion and conditioning, he could, and should, betray her. Could she trust him? Time would tell perhaps. For now, she would try to be as sly as she knew how, and try to get information out of him, just like she could with Ashmita. She would have to change her tac with him, lull him into thinking he was in control, and she was just a stupid teenager that knew nothing, although, when she really thought about it, that's exactly what she was, and was why she needed him.
“I'm sorry Bhrata Vedas, I didn't know you were an orphan”
“It's not something I advertise Anjali, but it's a fact of life, I'm still me, orphan or not.”
“So, what else can I do, other than go to The War that is?”
“As I was saying, there are lots of options for a young lady like you, lots of ways you could serve the Makarium, and by doing so, serve society”
“Such as?”
“Don't be so direct Anjali, Bhrata Vedas is trying to help you here!”
“It's ok Jananii, the young have yet to learn the subtleties of conversation. First of all Anjali, we need to work out just what your skills are, and to some extent your interests as well. If we can find you something that you're interested in it will make serving all the easier.”
“Well I like engines”
“Oh for pity sake, will you just forget about engines, I'll never forgive your father for getting you interested in such things. Engines are for people with a lower intelligence, Brahta Vedas just told you that”
“Ok, well, what about history, I like things from the past too, things that we don't know much about”
“Ah, now we're getting somewhere. The Makarium have an entire department devoted to examining the past, and what role it could have in the future. We think that the best way to defeat the Enemy is to find out about it's past first. But there are so many pasts, who knows which is the correct one? That, in essence, is the role of The Makarium, to show us what is true and what is false, and there are so many falsities in life Anjali.”
That puzzled Anajli for a moment, how can The Makarium decide what was true and what was false, but before the thought had taken hold in her mind, Bhrata Vedas activated the ancient vault-pad in front of him. Again the screens flickered into life.
“Take this vault-pad for example, do you know what it contains, could you guess?”
“Well, no, not without seeing it.”
“This is the Memoires of Victori herslf.”
“But anyone can get that a Library”
“Yes, that is true, but this particular one is special. The ones in the libraries are just edited copies of this one”
That single word, edited, made Anjali's ears prick up, this one contains more?
“What is so special about this one then?”
“This is the original, written by Victori herself, so long ago. As a Keeper of the Makarium, I am entrusted to look after certain artifacts, and as my speciality is in archiologic-knowledge, it is natural that such a thing should come to me. The one you have read in your education is based on this one, but written is a much more modern language, more suited to today.”
“So, are there, could there be, things in this version that aren't in the one I have read?”
“Well, not that I know of, but thinking about it, perhaps something of Victori's original message could have been lost in translation, so to speak. Would you like to see it, to hold it, even just for a moment?”
“Can I? Yes please!”
Carefully Vedas closed up the vault-pad, and handed it over the desk to Anjali.
Straight away she saw the symbol of the Makarium emblasoned on it's cover. But also the strange script she had on her tricket, or at least something similar, was embossed all around it's edges. Tentivly she opened it, and pressed the button to activate the screens, again they flickered into life, and again there was that mysterious script.
“Can I read a little of it please?”
“Yes you may, but just a little though. I am breaking so many laws by letting you hold it, but I don't see the harm, so long as it goes no further than this room.”
Again, by manitpulating the button, Anjali brought the main index up on the screen, a quick scan of it showed most of the chapters she already knew, and some she didn't, one in particular grabbing her eye;
“On The Passing of Wulfren”
So he was real, Wulfren was real.
Trying hard to conceal her excitement at the find, she knew she had to ask Vedas about Wulfren, but how?
“Can you pass that back to me now please Anjali, I need to put it back into it's safe place”
“Eh? Oh, errr, yes, of course, here you go.”
Gingerly, knowing just how precious this vault-pad was now, Anjali handed it back over the desk.
“It looks as though our time is up for now Anjali. I hope I have shown, or at least given you an idea that there is more than just The War, that there is purpose and reason, and the need for minds, such as yours, that can be of greater service in other ways. Now I have a meeting with a Master Lawyer, I'm afraid I must rush, I'm already running late, and you know that you can't be late. Tardiness is the fastest way to the front line.”
With that, Anjali and her mother were ushered out of his office.
The eye's in the shadows noticed them leaving, now all that was left was to retrieve the AV-recorder, what had he told the girl, was it too much. Knowing the old fool it probably was, he could rattle on and give tell of things that the Makarium did not want to be told. The look in those eyes grew soft, even for just a moment, as they looked at Anjali, but then turned steely again, “Focus on the task in hand”, was the thought behind them. Shortly after Anjali left the chambers, Vedas did too, his long dress cloak flowing behind him.
“Now to see what you were up to Bhrata Vedas”.
* * * * *
Grand Lawyer Bhrata Pellsim looked about his chambers, somewhat stark, and yet impressive by their sheer size. Others would think that his loan chair and desk, as massive as these were, looked small in such a large space. The head of the Makarium was always afforded such luxury, he had a full penthouse. To all intense and purpose there was no ceiling, just the glass that made up the roof of this particular tower. Each Grand Lawyer had recreated that office in his own manner. Pellsims predecessor had decided to show power by possession, and so when he took the office it was full of all sorts of exhibitionism. Pellsim decided that his office would be much sterner, and by logical progression, purer. It was rendered in the same stone throughout, a dark grey marble unique to one particular area of the world. Expensive in it's minimalism. The only difference was the level to which it was polished. The floor you could see your own reflection in, high and higher up the walls the marble was more and more unfinished, until right where it met the smoked glass roof it was almost as it were straight out of the quarry. His desk and large throne like chair were made of the same stone, equally as polished as the floor. Unseen and set into the desk top were various screens that relayed information to the Grand Lawyer. At this particular moment he was studying a report on Leviathan production, but waiting for a report from one of his greatest servitors, one of the Fire Hands themselves, with a report on that old fool Vedas. He had sent a Fire Hand, even though perhaps surveillance was underneath them, because of what he knew Vedas was in possession of. If he were to really study that Vault-Pad, then god only knows what would happen to society. Yes, Vedas was faithful to the Makarium, he had been conditioned to be, but he must not find the secret. The only safe way to keep it hidden would be to destroy all record of it, but at the moment that was impossible. The retirval of that Vault-Pad became a consuming passion for Pellsim, which was why he had the Fire Hands. They were the best of the best of the Forces, elite, and few in number. A single Fire Hand could take out an entire battalion before they even knew what was happening, they had more skills than that, they were infiltrators, spies, judge, jury and executioner all rolled into one. Pellsim had to have that Vault-Pad, and they were his way of getting it. He had to make sure that it did not contain any mention of the secret, of Victori's betrayal, of how and why Wulfren had passed.
Even as he was lost in his own thoughts, the report started to appear on his screen. This was good, his Fire Hand had full conformation that Vedas still had the Vault-Pad, that he hadn't really studied it, he would appear to be some how scared to study that ancient text too closely, or perhaps too reverent. The next bit of the report wasn't so good, why on earth had he shown it to this girl? Who was she anyway? He decided she was just another of Vedas' lost causes that he was trying to persuade to join the Makarium. He didn't know why he bothered, there was only The War, that was all that mattered, that was all that could matter. It was The War that had allowed society to become what it was today.
Pellsim sat back in his chair, looking into midair, marvelling at the advances in technology, medicine, robotics, and especially genetic design. If it hadn't been for The War, none of that would have happened. If it hadn't been for the Makarium, it society wouldn't have the will to make it happen. After all, The Enemy had to be beaten. At that single thought, a smile wrought it's way across the face of the Grand Lawyer.
But back to business, he had to give the Fire Hand new orders. What should she do next?
He decided that at the moment it would be best to simply just watch Vedas, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid.
Pellsim had to address the Bar, they had to pass a new Law allowing the production of more Leviathans, more weapons. It was simple enough to pull the wool over their eyes though. A ramp up in production meant only good news for the economy. What would be harder would be a request for more funds for the geneticists. For some reason the Lawyers found it hard to understand genetic design, but it was vital for The War. How to dress it up so they would approve the funding? Medicine. Medical research, they would always fund that. But medical research into what?
What was needed was a new threat to society, a new disease, something that would create enough fear that the Lawyers would throw money at the research. A few thousand members of the public at large would have to be sacrificed, but the population was growing too fast for the city anyway, and the sacrifices would allow the geneticists to continue their work unabated.
The pristine corridor was tilled in purest white, floating lights all down it's length seemed to make it glitter. Running all along it's length were a myriad of cables, bringing power and information, all leading to the single room at the end. The sign above the door announcing it's purpose, Genetic Testing Room XI. From within came a sudden blood curdling scream, a scream that echoed it's way along the corridor, a scream that was repeated time after time. Almost as suddenly as it started, it abated, to be replaced with the faint sound of servos, cogs and wheels.
Chapter III – Outbreak
Anjali picked up the news on her vault-pad, it was everywhere, there was an outbreak!
The vidi-verts that used to tell you how good it was to go off to fight in The War were replaced with public notices about it, a new strain of influenza that caused people to loose their mind, it attacked the very cells of the brain. The Makarium were trying to procure money for the genetic research needed to beat this virus. It was airborne, so make sure you had your mask with you. If you saw anyone “lose their mind” you were to report it immediately, they would become hosts to the virus, and it could mutate again into something new and even more terrifying.
Outbreaks like this seems to happen every few years. As well as The War, there seemed to be a second war, a war with influenza. Every time the geneticists would gain the upper hand, and everything would go back to normal for a time, then there would be another outbreak.
Anjali hadn't seen anyone loose their mind, or anything else for that matter, in all of the outbreaks she had seen, though the news would be full of reports, it always was.
Besides, right now she had more pressing matters on her mind. The vault-pad of Brahta Vedas. What was it, really? Could it actually be the original document written by Victori herself? She didn't know where to start about finding out, but she knew someone who did.
Khandah was one of Anjali's best friends at school. She was, by her own admission, a geek and a nerd. To call her bookish was a bit like saying the Makarium was just a couple of Laywers. Unlike Anjali, Khandah wanted to go to The War, but she wasn't allowed. She had a problem with one of her glands that made it hard for her to (do something). She'd had it since an early age, so it wasn't any great shock to her, instead she put all her energies into books. Any book. It didn't matter what it was about, if it had facts in it, Khandah wanted to read it. As such she was almost a font of all knowledge. Most of the time that could be seriously anoying, Anjali would make some small quip about something, and Khandah would have to correct her with the actual proper facts, usually totally missing the point of what Anjali was trying to convey. But there were times when it was more than useful, especially when it came to some obscure piece of knowledge.
Anjali took out her trusty vault-pad, she'd just send Khandah a quick message, nothing too serious just yet;
“Hey Khandah! What do you know about Victori and her original document?”
That should do it. That would be more than enough to set her off on a search.
Within moments Khandah had replied, that was quick, even for her!
“I can't believe that you don't know about the original document, didn't you listen to anything at school? You want to come here, or shall I come to you?”
“I'll come to you, mother's in one of her moods!”
An hour later, and Anjali was sat on Khandahs bed, looking about her room, at all the old books, every single one of them would fit onto a single vault-pad. Anjali never understood the attraction of the old, there seemed to be more and more people trying to grasp hold of something of the past, instead of looking forward to the future.
“Why have you got all these old relics Khandah? I mean, what's wrong with a vault-pad?”
“Nothing. A vault-pad is good if you want to look up something quick, but if you want to kinda explore a subject a book is so much better, one thing leads onto another thing, and you can find out much more than you wanted to start off with. Besides, they look nice.”
“Well, I guess so, but give me my vault-pad any day, it's just easier!”
“Yeah, but easier isn't always better though is it?”
“Yeah, anyway. What about Victori and her document then?”
“Right, ok, so what do we know already, or at least those of us that were in class!”
“Umm”
“It was a rhetorical question, you're not supposed to answer it, if fact, I'm going to answer it.”
“Oh, ok, go ahead”
Janali was quite glad of that, it meant she didn't have to admit that in fact she knew next to nothing, she really didn't pay attention at school.
Kandah continued, “Ok, well, we know that she's the mother of human kind as we know it, yes?”
“Erm, yeah”
“That wasn't a question Anjali. Right, we also know that she fought the Great Enemy, and that she was almost defeated, but she managed to wound it somehow.”
“Yeah”
“And that because she only wounded The Great Enemy, our race has been fighting The War ever since. And the rest of history is about how we came from virtual savagry to what we are today. But, it was Victori who started it all.”
“Yeah, ok, I'm with you so far.”
“So, the question is...actually, what is the question? You haven't asked me anything other than what I already knew.”
Excited that she might know something that Khandah might not know, Anjali relished the moment perhaps a little longer than she would, or should.
“Anjali, what is it? You've got that look about you, like you know something! What is it?”
“What would you say if I told you that today I was holding a copy of the original document written by Victori herself?”
“What do you mean a copy of the original? You really didn't learn anything in Humanica did you? Only first hand evidence counts, so either the original, or nothing at all. What did it say?”
“I don't know, I didn't get to look at it that close, I mean, I had it in my hand, but just for a moment, then Vedas … “
“Vedas! That old fool? What's he doing with it?”
“I dunno, he said he was a Keeper or sommet.”
“You mean a Keeper of the Makarium?”
“Yeah, that was it, he said he was entrusted to keep special documents and artefacts.”
“You know that The Makarium tried him once, under the anti-heratical acts, 'cos he claimed to be in possession of artefacts that questioned the existence of human-kind!”
“Yeah, I think I heard something like that, thats why nobody really belives what he says though, isn't it?”
“Well the story goes that he was to be tried, but the then Grand Laywer held a hearing in secret and old Vedas came out as a Keeper of the Makarium.”
“Part of that is true at least, cos he did have that copy, I even held it in my hands for a bit, managed to see something.”
“Really? What?”
“Just a name, doesn't mean much to me, even when I looked it up.”
“What name, what name?”
“Wulfren. Does that mean anything?”
“Hmmm, I've heard that name before, I'm sure it was mentioned in class, let me see, what would it be in? Ah, I know, the Encyclopedia Humanis.”
Reaching up to her upper most shelf, Kandah pulled down a large old book, what the librarians of old would have called a Tome, it's leather cover covered in years of dust. It fell onto the table with a loud thump, as though the knowledge held on it's pages actually had mass. It's spine creaking as Kandah opened it's pages.
“Wulfren, Wulfren. What would that be under then? Hmmmm”
“Isn't there a list of contents or something, like with a Vault-Pad? I guess there's no search bar!”
“Ah, actually Anjali, you're wrong there, there is a search bar, of sorts anyway, it's called an Index!”
Flipping to the very back pages, Kandah showed Anjali the index, and quickly found a reference to Wulfren there, just a single article in the whole Encyclopedia. Turning to the page, and flowwing her finger down, she soon found it, and was sorely disappointed.
“Is that is? Is that all it has to say?”
“What? What does it say? Kandah!”
“Oh! Sorry. It says;
“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.”
Nothing that says if he actually existed or not though!”
“Gawd! I knew that already!”
Immediately Anjali knew she had slipped up, that she was going to have to tell Kandah about her trinket. Maybe she didn't hear her, maybe she got away with it.
“What do you mean, you knew that already?”
“Erm, just that, I know that...”
“You were actually listening in class then?”
“Err, yeah, sort of …. “
Anjali was gald of the escape route that Kandah had just given her, she had to keep her trinket a secret, for now anyway.
“Strange, I don't remember that class, I must have missed it”
“Yeah, I think you did, you had extra science or something, that was why I listened for once, cos I didn't have you to tell me what happened after”
“Hmm, makes sense. But doesn't help us any, that article says nothing much, and by the sounds of it, thats all there is, oficially anyway.”
“Yeah, a dead end. Now what?”
“Anjali, we need to see Vedas' copy, or whatever it is he's got!”
“What? How? We can't just walk in there and pick it up you know!”
With a hint of a plan in her eyes, Kandah replied, “Maybe we can, just maybe”
* * * * * * *
On the outskirts of the City Limits, a gathering of Outers, people living off the scraps from the city, picking their way through the detritus of the Makarium, bit's and pieces of left over or redundant machinery. Anything that they could use to make the day to day grind of living off grid a bit easier, warmer, and less threatening. A small boy stood up, holding what could be a very useful element for the heater in his shack, sees something out of the corner of his eye, nothing more than a glint on the horizon, but definatly something. Looking harder and harder, his eyes resolving the form out of the chaos. Seeing that the form must be a person, he yelled towards the others in the gathering, pointing to the shape.
Seeing the group of Outers notice him, thinking that he had finally found a lasting salvation, a release from the living hell that had been his life, the “thing” that was once a man broke down and wept. Not tears of fear and pain that he was so used to, but tears of sheer and utter joy. Somehow he had to make his limbs work harder and faster, soon it would be over, but they would not respond to the signals from his brain. These combinations of metal and flesh, these abominations that used to be his arms and legs moved at their own, unceasing, monotonous pace. Controlled not by him, but by some other force. Slowly he felt their power dwindle, he felt the other additions to his body becoming inactive.
Then there it was, like the sensation of being pricked by the sharpest needle. First at the base of his spine, and then, one by one, again on each of the vertebrae along his back, a tingle from the inside. It gave him hope, maybe they were releasing him from his bonds, maybe he would be a free man again. He stood up straight to feel this renewed life in his body, breathing the air deep into his lungs. But soon the ecstasy was replaced with agony, pain upon pain. It came from deep within him. A feeling of his tissues tearing, tendons snapping. Then a pain so bad that it took all the sound away from his voice; the needles felt like they were turning into spears, each one stabbing out of his back, making him colapse down to the ground.
Still pointing to the person on the horizon, the boy heard a scream like he had never heard before. Just at that same moment, the massive hulk of a Makarium Enforcer rose above the being, it's massive head and single eye, always looking, always seeing, slowly rising higher and higher. Soon followed by the slender body, and at the bottom, the engine unit. From behind it's silhouette somewhere it formed a weapon, large enough to destroy a full on Battle 'Bot. A flash of intense light, and the screaming was gone, replaced by empty, harrowing, deathly silence.
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