Nemecene: The Epoch of Redress (6 page)

We had missed the hovertrain and were left alone in the center of the street, in full view of anyone who cared to notice, trying to look unfazed. Since we only had a few minutes to wait until the next ride and the platform was filling up fast, I signaled to Eli that we should plant ourselves immediately on two free spots at the head of the markings. As I rushed for one at the front, I almost smashed right into a woman vying for the same spot from the opposite direction. For a split second, she gazed deeply into me with her gemstone eyes and sent me a sweet smile. I felt my heart racing and the day's third flush of blood rushing through my veins, and when she turned to walk away, leaving the hovertrain marker free, the grace in her step took part of me with her. Did I know her? I checked to see a reaction from Eli, but she had already stepped into the ring and activated the holopost beside us. My mind was still with the mysterious stranger as I searched for her without success amongst the other waiting commuters. She must have floated like an angel to her destination, I thought, as my heart recovered and my attention returned to Eli's laughter. She had noticed my awkward moment and has no doubt stored it back in her calculating little brain for future fun and games at my expense.

The highlands we had come from were not as sophisticated as the main cities, so although we had heard of holoposts, we had not as yet actually seen them. Our form of communication technology was sheltered inside buildings and private homes because of the brightness of the skies around us, whereas in Eadonberg and other cosmopolitan areas along the lowlands, haze and cloud-cover dominated the air space, providing a more effective contrast for the images. Eli reached into the middle left frame where Stew Uber, the creative genius behind VLine Clothing, the most innovative fashion house in the Unification, was showcasing his latest collection. I was more interested in the little black VLine strips hiding the provocative bits of the female models that momentarily flashed between each click of the designer's remote selector. As he punched through a sample set of different looks, he explained how the woman would have an attractive jewel, either on her wrist or around her neck, with full control of several parameters, one of which was the density of the virtual fabric to simulate different transparency effects, along with warmth, color, and drape. Each customization option could be purchased separately making the VLine products affordable for everyone, a simple yet elegant concept, and a first in fashion history. In fact, VLine clothing would feel as natural and comfortable as if you were wearing nothing at all, with no laundry to do, zero impact on our fragile environment, and most importantly, saving our most precious treasure, time.

Time. The emphasis he placed on that word kept echoing in my mind as a grim reminder of our fate. Half our lives had already passed, yet we were but young adults just starting out on our own. Floating atop the ruins of our ancestors, the tragedy that befell them seemed all too real to me. With their careless misuse of resources and lack of respect for the gift of life, they stole a long and fulfilling future from their children and dragged it down with them to their watery grave. Even though centuries upon centuries have passed, the wake of their recklessness remains, and we are left squeezing every piece of our dreams into a highly compressed time capsule. We turn to our elders, the few who have somehow managed to cross beyond the dreamless state, for guidance, hope, and meaning, sometimes finding comfort in their teachings, while other times falling into despair. I feel as if not even they have the answers, least of all Father who has spent his life filling ours with lies. Lies about him. Lies about us. Lies about you.

Eli had moved onto a news channel when my thoughts returned to the present. Transport number 369, scheduled to arrive in Eadonberg at 4:14, had crashed through the biowall at the GT-45 cooling plant earlier today killing all passengers on board. We stared at each other in disbelief… How could that be? We had been sitting in that very transport and had arrived safely. An example of another government mistruth aimed at scaring the public off travel no doubt, keeping them confined and experientially ignorant. Regardless, the hovertrain would arrive shortly. The ring around our feet lit up along its outer loop, giving ample warning, which I had somehow missed the first time, and we were sucked up the invisible shaft. The second half of our journey had begun.

Day 2: Late Afternoon

S
he brushes the crimson powder from her chest and allows her legs to guide her towards the glowing garden. The twilight vigil in the highlands has left her admittedly drained. Keeping the weary travelers within range of her influence, she sneaks into the relative privacy of a vacant sajadum to spy upon her quarry from behind its smoky amethyst walls, as they retire for the evening across the shimmering lavender divide. The nourishing power of her adopted sanctuary provides the reprieve that she so desperately hungers for, giving her the requisite stamina to stay bound to her all-consuming purpose. Balanced at the threshold of a void, her awareness disengages, and she relaxes, and as the world beneath her sighs, her body releases its cares to the skies.

Years have passed since the Great Smoke of Ages, and Earth, once again, has learned to adapt. With the help of a few, with the wisdom of millions, the air was reclaimed, and a vision reframed. A global consortium assembled, and decades of peace and prosperity ensued, made possible by the support of the enlightened ones, the elders, who evolved to fully understand the true and just nature of this perfect harmony of chaos that they considered home. A tremendous current of change swept the northern shores as nations united to integrate their daily lives with the ebb and flow of the planet's rhythms. Simple luxuries, for which millennia of human suffering had taken place, duly transformed from their excessive reliance on scarce materials to a more symbiotic style of innovation expressing a sublime beauty, unsurpassed by the monoliths of the past.

A reclusive group of citizens, whose mystical culture had survived the first flood, came to the forefront and lent their minds, bodies and spirits to this rebirth. The Coalition leaders held a discreet council and awarded these champions the highest distinctions, granting them unlimited access to all resources, regardless of cost. They bred creatures, grew organisms, wove cloth, brewed potions, mixed powders, rebuilt cities, harnessed light, but the most significant technology they bestowed upon mankind was the web of self-perpetuating cooling plants that presently dot the coastal lowlands, safeguarding its inhabitants from certain annihilation. The testament to their feats of ingenuity endures as history, taught to the children in prose and in rhyme, but the tale illustrating their sudden and mysterious disappearance has yet to be told.

Balancing at the threshold of the void, she falls out of consciousness.

She surveys the diminishing lands from her rocky perch, alone on the summit of a wind-polished peak, the hot mountain climate thinning her blood as the network of blue flames, floating throughout the German Islands, dance inside their crystal domes. The heat that licks her flesh is a product of drafts rising from the chemical marvel below. An intricate grid connects the luminous balls to their ocean source, delivers refrigerant to the underground mesh of tunnels and tanks, and rhythmically pumps bursts of chilled water into the sea through a series of pipes. Like the wisps of her gown swaying in the wind, the flux paints a snake on the ocean's bed, re-carving the line of the ancient Gulf Stream. Expectant she stands, waiting for the final switch to be thrown, as hope's song fills the breeze with its bliss. The green sludge starts to disperse, and jets of cool air gush effortlessly from strategically placed vents as far as her eyes can see.

She closes them now and savors the moment, a heart-warming instance of faith in humanity, which, at last, has succeeded in recycling toxins from centuries of neglect, birthing a circle of life through its death. The fragile stasis is revived. Beholden, she gently cups her cheeks with her hands, slides them by her temples and along her hair, and, with a cleansing sigh, etches into her memory the likenesses of those who were saved. Then, with a vastly overdue lightness in her gait, she wraps herself in an extra layer of fabric and embarks on the dusty winding path out of the mountains and along the valley to partake in the celebrations.

The morning arrives. Her body rouses. The fog is thicker than usual today, which she welcomes quite graciously, for it allows her greater freedom to cover her tracks, as she nimbly negotiates the system of footpaths stored in the files of her brain. This city has been a friend and a foe, she knows it well. Sightless in the white nothingness, she can still successfully navigate the bridges and scaffolds, even playfully skip from ledge to ledge, if she pleases. The advantage is hers as she devises her route, comfortably outpacing whatever may hunt her, or whoever might judge her in an ill-favored light. As she commits to the moist shroud forming around her, she pauses for an instant to recruit her full senses. Her ears scan for hints of others about, and she directs her skin to slip its way stealthily around any potential collisions, while her finely tuned nose uses the subtle stench of the city's water-filled foundation as a protective railing. She surges on, straight ahead, then left, then right, and instinctively stops outside the arches of the marble gate.