Nemecene: The Epoch of Redress (7 page)

Her journey faces a detour as she is sucked into a mirage of a cantankerous crowd.

The protesters have confirmed the decision, and the mob grows restless. They no longer approve of the lenient stance the courts have recently taken concerning the likes of this beastly woman, for however benevolent and tolerating their society has become, they will not abide such inhuman assaults upon the innocent children. As she strains to decipher the fantastical action in the mist, the sordid affair elicits accusations from the surviving brood, pointing their pale fingers at the maiden chained on center stage. There was no denying the trauma that the fortunate few who were found had suffered, but the plight of those who went missing had never been determined, leaving questions unanswered and evidence circumstantial. Her mouth blows mute words, lost to the bellowing cry of the vengeful horde, and before she is able to conclude her rightful defense, the scene vanishes into the suspended brume.

Nathruyu's thoughts converge as she regains control of the present. Meandering the black alleys of the subconscious realm only serves to jeopardize her work and undermine all the sacrifices to date. As she tears away from the distressing interlude, she begins to shiver, and intentionally hastens her pace to induce the proper heart rate she requires to warm her extremities. Since there is much to adjust before the twins appear, maximum dexterity is critical for a smooth and timely departure. Soldiering on to another obscured crossing, she hops to the left, then along the stone bridge, then straight, to the manicured surface of the campus oval.

On a previous occasion accessing the suite, she had entrusted the secrecy of her visit to an esteemed collaborator. Lamentably, yesterday's abrupt events had forced a new schedule, and the Ministry insider was nowhere to be seen, having been unable to orchestrate an appropriate distraction. Although an easy passage has been denied, the poor visibility, due to the prevalent weather patterns, promotes the opportune environment for her approach to proceed undetected. As it was in the highlands, she trusts her agility to land soundlessly in the safety of the lush orchard, and once she acquires solid footing, she promptly accelerates to the northeast wing of the residence complex.

Feeling with her eyes up the side of the building, she contemplates the options presented to her. In short order, the low clouds will commence their return to the sky, unveiling her soaring form as they lift, a marbled goddess bequeathed to a king. Many shall question the permissions assumed by this exotic intruder. By approximately midday, the sun will have dried every droplet of sweat clinging to the blades of the thirsty foliage, and by mid-afternoon, the haze will relinquish its grip on the horizon, and dusk shall be free to embrace the stars. Such is the cycle that governs the coast, ending at dawn, to begin anew.

The tips of her shoes peek through the lawn, and, steadfast, Nathruyu whisks herself toward the grassy strip separating the east and central sections, brushing the flanks of the walls as she speeds. The dormitory is built as a square of nine towers adjacently attached to one another via enclosed passageways jutting from each floor and establishing external links between the structures, like the rungs of a giant ladder, one tier apart. Her chosen ingress looms high above her, as she lengthens her thigh muscles, springs clear of the dense turf and grabs the first link, while the soles of her feet dangle at the cloud cover's brim. Her silhouette becomes a pendulum, fleeing the edge of a rising curtain and oscillating over the chasm exposed.

By each stroke of her arms, the tick of a clock brings a past to the task. The pictures that stir against the ascending white screen occupy her and threaten to end the story too soon. As she gracefully pulls herself up, defying the lies of gravity, she scales the links, enlisting the tail of her long flowing coat to counterbalance her weight, as she swings up to the crest. The initial image passes by quickly, simply a frozen sketch of father and child, he looking at her and speaking wonder from his eyes, and the next, as she spans the first gap, is of a gentle touch massaging her back. The second passageway breached, the frames move on, showing the face of an infant tearing as she reaches for her, scared, whilst the third portrays a jubilant grin as she invites an imaginary friend in. The visions keep coming, a notch for each year, until they subside as they arose, and her fingertips finally guide themselves to the top.

As she clings to the eaves, prepared for the crowning swing, she steadies her lateral momentum and humbly acknowledges her unscathed ascent, but the recent flashes still playing in her mind cannot be erased by the ease of her climb. Sentiments of loss and despair overwhelm her as she places a trembling hand on her heart, and the musings persist.

She extends her arms, striving to stretch out her fingers to catch theirs in hers, but they are too distant, and she regretfully retreats, barely persuading her features to fashion a last reassuring smile as she recaptures her composure and remembers the roof. Her delay has divulged the hem of her diaphanous dress, so she flies for the sunshaft, carved into the tower's core, and dives for the bottom of the bright tunnel, just as daylight finally emerges through the fog and the angled mirrors at the rooftop aperture pick up her reflection.

Crouched at the base of the well, she sprawls across it and listens for movement. A voice is intensifying and a platform materializes beneath her. As a clearly distracted young man enters the chute singing and jiggling his hips to the beat of his verse, she inches herself upward, fixing her softly focused eyes beyond him, squeezes over from the rear, to select the ninth level, and calms her breath while she teases the nape of his neck. The lift engages, and up the converted shaft she rides. Her good fortune is holding. The student removes a slippad from the pant pocket under his shin and feverishly starts reading and marking sentences, while he wiggles out at the fifth level, boldly dancing down the hall and towards one of the connecting hallways. Her lungs relax, knowing that, as of yet, her trespass has gone unnoticed, and after a sweeping inspection of the target area, she exits and confidently strolls in the direction of the indigo door, at the northeast corner of the branch.

Every click of her stride quickens her pulse, as she is enthralled by anticipation of the adventure to unfold. Years of watching and waiting under the guise of a friend have met their end. She waves the door open and marches in. There is little more lurking around corners, and bushes, and posts. Whatever must come to fruition, whatever she must uncover in the recesses of her psyche, it is time for Keeto, Elize, and herself to get introduced properly, and to weave a different blanket of deceit for those who once protected her from an untimely demise. Yes, Elize's whereabouts must remain a secret, and her brother's as well, until the key she harbors within is released.

Nathruyu glides to the window and stares dreamily at a clay rooftop in the distance, carefully patched from seasons of wear, while the bustle of students below, rushing for class, splashes the courtyard with color and animation. The vista from here to her post is direct as she immediately recognizes its slanted panes bouncing the sunlight. The line of sight to the medical lab is also unobstructed, completing a flawless triangle of treachery above the heads of an unsuspecting community. She secures the perimeter of the frame using the emitter she carries close to her skin, and revises the procedure for the balance of the room. Scrutinizing the zone furthest from the prying eyes of outsiders, she seizes the local controller, summons a stepping stool to extend her reach, and processes the suite, specifically the joins amongst the frequency-proof walls, ceiling, and floor. On the way down the first wall, she programs the shelf from attack, then seals the three others, and attends to the flooring. The fortress secure, blocked from interference and illicit attempts at stealing her well-earned prize, she solemnly wanders to the middle of the unit.

This is where it all begins.

Closing her eyes, she raises her arms away from her sides, shaping a cross with her limbs. Placing a curved palm up, and a flat one forward, she gathers the invisible particles of life from the space traversing her and funnels them through the tips of her sensitive fingers. The tingling builds, causing her hands to float rapturously up to the sky, as they climatically come together, pointed at the heavens, then drift gracefully back down, lovingly entwined, caressing the river of consciousness bisecting the frontal plane, to rest fulfilled at her breast, fused as one. In tranquillity she rejoices, the chatter of her organs willfully silent, whilst her ears perk to the presence of her voice.

"Soon."

Fatigue engulfs her as she kneels to the floor, assuming the pose of a penitent whore. Her hips on her heels, her head to the ground, she lays her arms back and swallows all sound.

In and out of an anxious sleep, she seeks the source of her repose, surrounded by light, surrounded by night, she takes the gift from his hand and bows to the man. A net of turmoil entangles her being, for she is unsure of the method they aim to employ. "The risks are too great," she hears her tongue say and offers her shell to hold them at bay. She rises, and the three join hands as they pray for the fresh ones, whose souls are so readily seduced by empty promises and then tragically squandered by those who corrupt them. Collecting the special box as she withdraws, she inserts it in a hidden pouch between the inner layers of her generous cloak, and leaves the precious jewel on the table where it shines.

The confusion melds and forges her course as she diligently labors in the dark to expunge any signs of her offenses, but privately she fears that they will not abandon the search, and that, one day, someone will lead them to her, someone who knows, someone who saw, perhaps even someone she has mistakenly trusted. Spent of energy and suitably sheltered, her tall quivering body molds to the shape of a fetus, and she submits to the burn of the afternoon sun.