Epic of Aravinda 1: The Truth Beyond the Sky (2 page)

CHAPTER
2

THE MANY SHAPES OF GRIEF

As was typical these days, Zahn was running behind. He’d spent too much time reflecting on this day. If he was going to get to the observatory on time, he would have to hurry, so he quickly got dressed and darted down to the dining area, completely failing to notice the beautiful morning sky as it shone through the glass ceiling above him.

Zahn hated to rush in the morning, but if he was late again the council might flag him for review, and that was pretty much the last thing he wanted to deal with. He didn’t want anything to complicate the anniversary of his mother’s disappearance.

“No, I can’t think about that right now,” he said to himself. “I’ve got to focus. Breakfast.”

Zahn dug around the cooled storage containers but couldn’t find any of the sweet, oval-shaped fruits that he had on his mind. Instead, he grabbed some juice and cooked some packaged grain.

He noticed a dark purple avega fruit beside the grain packets and took it. There was only one person who could have put it there. He turned to his father, who was staring at his reading pad as he methodically ate his breakfast.

“Dad, do you ever think that some fruits are a bit too big?”

“What do you mean?” Vivek said, still reading.

“Well, they’re basically packages of energy to kick-start a new tree. But if you think about it, aren’t these avega fruits bigger than they need to be?”

“Simple adaptation, Zahn. Some trees require more nutrients, and we’ve selected the more plentiful trees to cultivate. Over time, those genes are more strongly expressed.”

“But it’s true for fruit trees we
haven’t
cultivated, as well. Remember how we used to find wild fruit when we visited NearSky? It was huge, and none of that was cultivated.”

“What’s your point, Zahn?”

“I don’t know. It’s probably a crazy theory. Never mind.”

Now that his breakfast was ready, he crushed the avega fruit over the bowl of grain, and sat across from his father.

Both of them ate in silence for a few moments.

“Nightmares slowing you down again, aren’t they?”

“You heard me fall out of my hammock again, didn’t you?”

“That, and you came dashing down here in a cold sweat.”

Zahn chewed his food in silence.

“Zahn, I thought we talked about this.”

“Dad, I don’t need more counseling. I did it for years, and—”

“Actually, I was going to mention that you’re chewing too quickly. But yes, counseling is an excellent idea. And don’t tell me that it didn’t help you Zahn, because I know it did. It helped me, and I saw how it helped you. In fact, I still talk to my advisor. Why are you so stubborn about this?”

Zahn sighed.

“I’m not stubborn, Dad. I just… I don’t need it. This is the first nightmare I’ve had in months, anyway.”

“It’s your choice. I just hate to see you suffer, you know that.”

“I’ll be fine, Dad.”

Zahn ate faster to finish his breakfast in time. He thought of the small lens resting on his bedroom shelf. It was the last gift she had given to him before she had disappeared.

“If you want to let these nightmares go,” his father continued, “you need to resolve the emotions behind them. A mental advisor will help you with that.”

Silence.

“I don’t think your mother is coming back, Zahn. Not anymore. You’ve got to let her go, just as I had to.”

Zahn looked intensely into his father’s eyes. “Did you
ever
really think she was coming back, Dad? Or did you try to forget her as soon as possible so you could move on?”

“You know that isn’t true.”

“How long did it take you to stop grieving? A month? Three?”

“Zahn, we all grieve differently. This isn’t about me. I’m concerned for you.”

“Then give me space, okay? I just woke up from a nightmare. The last thing I need is you pushing me to go back to an advisor.”

“Fine, I won’t mention it anymore.”

“Thank you. That would make my life
much
easier.” Zahn stood up. “I’ll be back in the evening. Tak and Vina are running a big experiment today, and they need some extra hands.”

“Be safe, and don’t forget to reattach the power to the airboat when you get back.”

“I won’t.”

And with that, Zahn opened the front door, and stepped out onto the path which led down to the beach. To his right was a smallish vehicle shaped vaguely like a boat, except that its cabin was enclosed in a colorless bubble, and the whole vehicle hung in the air just a few centimeters above the ground.

From out here, he could see the trees growing around the curved limestone house, creating a canopy of radiant blue leaves above it. He moved a blue leaf out of the way and pressed his thumb to a pad that was embedded into the house’s exterior. There was a popping noise, and a thin cable disconnected from the airboat and was sucked up into a small hole in the side of the house. Now that the airboat was detached, he pulled the door open and stepped up and inside.

The moment he sat down, the interior lights flickered to life, and through the windshield he could see the beach down below and the ocean stretching beyond. It was still early, and the morning light fell softly onto the island. The air was sweet, and he could still hear the sound of birds calling in the distance.

He took a small white card out of his pocket and rammed it into a slot on the dashboard. The airboat roared to life, beginning as a loud hum, soon easing off into a low rumbling sound.

Soon, he was cruising along the rocky path that led past a few other houses, around a large rock formation, and down to the beach. Here, a river emptied out into the ocean, and farther up the river was a small waterfall, creating an almost perfectly smooth wall of water.

Without blinking an eye, he plunged through the waterfall.

Zahn didn’t even need to slow down. Even though this route was only recommended during emergencies, he found himself using it a few times per month, partly because it was quicker, but mostly because he enjoyed the sheer thrill of it. Although emergencies were rare, this hidden pathway to the Ashraya Observatory was specifically designed so that researchers could evacuate the observatory as quickly as possible.

On a bright day like today, it took Zahn’s eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dimness of the corridor and the small guiding lights on either side. He followed these guiding lights as the corridor gradually turned to the right and then back to the left. After a few minutes, he could see sunlight up ahead and followed the corridor as it led up a steep incline to the exit. When he emerged into the sunlight, he was a few hundred meters above where he’d started, and the Ashraya Observatory was just up ahead, its massive dome glistening in the morning light.

Once he reached the door, it slid open for him, and he never stopped walking. Behind him, he could hear a synthesized voice say, “Good morning. Designation: Observer, L-1 confirmed.”

But he was already in the elevator heading upward. Beyond the transparent elevator, he looked out and observed some of the activity going on below him. Most of the space of the observatory was taken up by a central domed area where the main detector was located, and about a dozen people were working at computers below it. As the elevator continued to rise, Zahn got lost in observing their work. He knew most of them, except for one. Who was that woman with the violet hair?

DING.

The sound jolted Zahn out of his thoughts, and he stepped out, unaware that today’s nightmares had only just begun.

CHAPTER
3

DREAMS & PHILOSOPHIES

By the time the midday meal came, Zahn had nearly forgotten about his nightmare from that morning. It wasn’t until he sat down to eat with two of his colleagues that he was reminded of that traumatizing echo of his past.

Since Zahn spent most of his day working in a team, he liked to spend his midday meal in quiet reflection whenever possible, but today Tak and Vina sat by him. Zahn had worked with them before. They had been together for a few years now, and Vina liked to talk.

At great length.

About everything.

Zahn braced for the oncoming conversational onslaught as they both sat down. It was a shame since it was otherwise a quiet lunch cycle. The dining area was only half full today, and the conversations were hushed. Tak came prepared though, holding a reading pad in his right hand, presumably to give him an excuse not to get mired in an inevitably longwinded conversation.

“Did you hear about the quake that happened up at NearSky base?” Vina said.

“No,” Zahn said. “Is everyone okay?”

“No fatalities if that’s what you’re wondering. Some injuries, though. Strangest thing was, the quake didn’t happen over a fault line. I looked into it.”

“Strange.” Zahn tried to get some chewing in despite the conversational whirlpool that was already forming.

“It really is!” Vina leaned in toward Zahn and whispered. “I’m not sure how much you’ve been paying attention to the reports, but there’s been a lot of weird stuff happening lately. Just looking at the tectonic data alone… Have you seen it?”

Vina was right in front of his face now. Her eyes were wide, and her wavy hair filled his vision.

“No. I’m an observer, not a geologist.” Zahn looked at her directly in the eyes for a few seconds. “Do you always have conversations inside of someone else’s bubble?”

They stared at each other for a few seconds until Vina’s enthusiasm faded, and to Zahn’s relief, she leaned back again.

“Anyway,” she continued, “signs of the times, I say. Quakes, droughts. It’s a nightmare. Oh, that reminds me! Tak had this wild dream. Darling, tell Zahn about your nightmare!”

Tak seemed completely invested in what he was reading and didn’t respond.

“Darling?” Vina repeated.

“Yes, Vina?” Tak jolted his head up.

“Why don’t you tell Zahn about the nightmare you had last night? It was just wild. I know you already told me, but I think Zahn would find it interesting.”

“You think so? Well, I was driving my airboat through the emergency passage. You know, the one behind the waterfall?”

“I’m familiar with it,” Zahn said, still trying to suppress the memory of his own nightmare the night before.

“Well, in the dream—”

“Nightmare,” Vina corrected him.

“Right. In the nightmare, I go through the tunnel, and suddenly the guiding lights go out.”

“Totally black! Just wild,” Vina added.

“And then this eerie green glow appears in the corridor. Next thing I know, my ship is being sucked into the ground, like the ground itself is swallowing me up! Pretty unsettling. Ever have a dream like that, Zahn?”

“Not quite.”

“Tak says it’s because he’s been feeling overwhelmed lately. Some changes going on around here as you’ve probably noticed. He says it’s an unconscious symptom of the stress manifesting through dreams. Right, darling?”

Tak didn’t answer for a moment. His eyes had drifted back to his reading pad.

“Yeah, something like that, sweetie,” Tak said.

“Hey, by the way,” Vina continued. “I hope you don’t get embarrassed, but I overheard last week that you’ve been having nightmares, too. Have those been getting any better?”

Zahn felt a wave of surprise and suspicion sweep over him, but he let it pass.

“Yeah…” he said.

“Any idea what’s causing them?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Oh. That serious, huh? Have you seen an advisor?”

Zahn had to make a focused mental effort to avoid groaning at the question.

“Yes, I have, Vina. But I’d rather talk about something else.”

“Ah.” She looked slightly surprised at his reaction. “I guess it didn’t work so well, then. You know, Zahn, maybe you just haven’t found the right solution. You’ve got to hunt for what you want in life, you know.”

“That so?” Zahn took another bite.

“Oh yeah, it’s just like what my aunt always says. She always says that solutions never just land on your front yard, Zahn. You have to look.”

“So much for miracles…”

“Miracles? I’m talking about solutions, Zahn. Like in science. Like the science we practice at this observatory every day. We find the truth. We find solutions.”

“So a solution has never presented itself miraculously? A solution has never shown up serendipitously? Ever?”

For the first time that day, Zahn noticed Vina sigh and take a moment to think. She looked over to Tak who raised his eyebrows at her and tilted his head.

“You know I can’t prove that either way,” she said.

“Leave him alone, darling,” Tak said. “We may have heard the rumors, but we don’t know what he’s been through.”

Vina looked off into the distance and then down to her food, which was still untouched.

Zahn was silent and continued to eat. For the rest of the meal, Tak read, Zahn collected his thoughts, and Vina did something she hadn’t done in months:

She ate without talking.

CHAPTER
4

AN OLD FRIEND GIVES RIDDLES

When he left the observatory many hours later, the sun was much nearer to the horizon. As Zahn walked the trail back to where he’d parked the airboat, he noticed someone sitting on a bench out of the corner of his eye. He wondered why his eye seemed drawn to this person, but continued walking.

“Is that you, son of Vivek?”

Zahn turned around and saw a short old man wearing a dark orange robe walking toward him. What he saw made him stop dead in his tracks.

“Oldman Kavi?”

“I am he. I have been away. It is good to see you, Zahn!”

“Kavi! I can’t believe you’re here. It’s been… years,” Zahn was nearly in shock.

“I suppose it has, at least here.” Kavi seemed lost in thought for a few seconds. “But these are auspicious times.”

“Are they?”

“Oh, yes. Where are you headed, my old friend?”

“Home, and then I’m going up to Zikhara tonight. You should come with me. I’m sure my father would be happy to see you, especially after all these years.”

“Oh Zahn, your ritual shows your connection, your hidden strength. With that in your heart, why don’t you keep the lens in your pocket all of the time?”

“Thanks Kavi—wait, what?”

“That lens! That lens. Verily, it is a living memory of your mother in physical form. Yes–yes. Will come in handy if a feather falls from the sky. Yes–yes.”

“A feather?”

“Mmm. Let me ask you this, my young friend. What would you do if an unborn rockturtle wasn’t strong enough to hatch? Would you break its egg or give it more time? Either choice could lead to its death. What if it is too weak? Or not ready?”

Zahn imagined a silvery, baby rockturtle fighting its way out of its egg. For their journey to the ocean, rockturtles had long since adapted to blend in with the silvery sand of the beach. It had been a long time since Kavi had asked him a riddle, and he hoped he still had the clarity to solve them.

“And of course,” Kavi continued, “we must remember that every rockturtle that has ever lived has prepared the world for that new, unborn hatchling. It is never alone, and it never will be. All the hatchlings of eternity have gone before it.”

Kavi allowed Zahn to contemplate this for some time.

“Do you understand the gravity of this situation?” Kavi said.

“Hmm. Did you come up with that yourself? Does it have a right answer?”

“How could I write a song that even the birds already know?”

There was silence between them as Zahn considered this.

“I think I’d give the egg more time.” Zahn finally said. “Hey, how do you know about my mother’s lens, anyway?”

“A small rockturtle told me,” Kavi said, winking one eye.

Zahn looked at Kavi suspiciously, but couldn’t help but grin because he knew Kavi usually had a surprise up his sleeve when he talked like this. When Zahn studied his face, it seemed as though there was an ancient mystery hiding within it, if he only knew where to look.

“You know what, you really should come back with me, Kavi. We should celebrate your return!”

“Not quite returned. Not yet.”

“Will you at least walk with me to the airboat? It’s so wonderful to see you after all this time, even if you are in a riddle-telling mood.”

“Of course, my young friend.”

As they continued down the path, Zahn continued to ponder the question.

“Is there a right answer to your riddle?” he asked a few minutes later.

“What does your heart say?”

“I think it’s a question of free will.”

“And of time. Zahn, promise me that you will remember to keep the lens with you. At all times.”

“Sure Kavi, but why?”

“The time for you to know why has not yet arrived.”

“Kavi, do you ever think you’re too mysterious sometimes?”

“To respect someone’s free will, sometimes it is necessary to appear mysterious.”

Zahn reached out to open the airboat door, and when he looked over to where Kavi had been, he was gone. Zahn looked up and down the path, but there was no sign of Kavi anywhere. It was almost as though he had never been there at all.

When Zahn arrived home, he headed back up to his room. By now, an orange light was filtering through the latticework and the vines along the edge, lending his room an orange tint.

He walked over to one shelf, picked up a small glass lens that had been resting on its edge, and looked at it. It was just as flawless as the day his mother had given it to him as a child. Back then, it didn’t fit so easily into the palm of his hand, but as his hand grew so did the memory of his mother fade ever so slightly, for even Zahn’s strongest memories were not immune to the passage of time.

Kavi’s words echoed in his mind again, and he slipped the small lens into his pocket. Perhaps Kavi was right. Perhaps it was something he should have near him at all times. After all, what was the downside?