The Wizard from Earth (41 page)

Valarion continued,  “As you all well know, for years I have expounded on the lowness of the Britanian character.  They are cruel barbarians with no concepts of decency, mercy, or honor.  They make truces to break them.  Being incapable of successfully cultivating their own lands, they have taken to brigandage and thuggery to rob from innocent, peaceful Roman settlers.  Our one great advantage in the conflict has been their utter lack of intelligence to match their lack of morality.  So it is only natural that Seattle would turn to Britan in order to recruit a mercenary army of barbarians sufficient to conquer Rome.  What we saw in this assassination was a microcosm of that division of labor – a Seattlean directing the operation, a Britanian carrying it out.”

“Wow,” Matt subvocaled.  “He's managed to tie it all together.”

Indeed, Valarion's story-telling abilities seemed to have roused even the jaded senators.  No longer glancing at the exits, they leaned forward on the benches and listened raptly as Valarion detailed the strike plan of perfidious Seattle – complete with full-color maps and diagrams. 

“Even now the initial phases could be in motion.  Even now the Seattlean fleets could be loading with Britanian mercenaries, our peaceful provincial town of Londa under their brutal occupation if not burned to ashes.  Even now, their ships laden with barbarian warriors could be coursing toward Italia.  For you see, they expect the assassination of Hadron to set off a power struggle that will descend into civil war and destroy Rome's ability to defend itself.  We have intercepted their plans and know that they intend to land forces here, here, and here – “ he pointed along the shoreline of a map of Italia “– which will then march on Rome and capture our unwalled city without a fight.  For we will be too busy fighting ourselves to fight them.  Or so they believe.”

Matt was impressed with Valarion's ability to speak extemporaneously – until Ivan pointed out the meter-high housing that protruded out the floor, its opening facing toward the center of the circle and away from the senators.  Hand-painted letters on a large board were held in full view of Valarion:  NOW IS A TIME FOR UNITY.  WE MUST NOT ALLOW OUR CITY TO BE OVERCOME BY SUBVERSION.  

“I saw a documentary about television shows in the twentieth century,” Matt subvocaled.  “He's using what were called 'cute cards.'”

“Cue cards,” Ivan corrected. 

Senator 'Prompter' read from his script,  “So what must we do to meet the combined threat of Seattle and Britan?”

“Now is a time for unity,” Valarion replied.  “We must not allow our city to be overcome by subversion.  Instead, this is a time for leaders to stand together and take swift action.  I propose therefore that we agree now upon a temporary leader who can deal effectively with the crisis.  It must be someone who has military experience, especially with barbarian warriors such as the Britanians.  Someone whose reputation is without blemish and is well known and held in high regard by all.  Someone who can be trusted with the all-too-fragile constitutional freedoms of our republic during these times when the security of our very nation may be in contest.  Someone who – “

Matt had an idea who the 'someone' was going to be, and sure enough, when Valarion finally ceased enumerating the qualities of the hypothetical paragon, Senator Prompter stood and addressed the gathering,  “I can think of no other man who encompasses all these qualities better than the speaker, who additionally has the quality of being too modest to recognize that he is speaking of himself.  Therefore, I will speak on his behalf.  I nominate that we confirm by acclamation, General Mardu Valarion as Emperor of Rome for the duration of this crisis.”

A few hands timidly started to go up, but it was Valarion himself who waved them down. 

“My fellow Romans,” he said, “I appreciate this vote of confidence and affirmation that my service for Rome has been deemed of value.  But I must caution you, I have saved the worst revelations for last.  You must fully understand what you are getting yourselves into.  For as Emperor of Duration, I will be forced to take severe measures to ensure the public safety and will request the granting of emergency powers.  As the danger is so shocking that you would not believe it if I were to tell you on my own, I have brought this Seattlean, Matt of Seattle, to confirm that my words are true.”

Valarion turned to Matt.  With a stern expression, he said, “Matt of Seattle, do you confess of the conspiracy to kill the Emperor Hadron in alliance with the alleged Princess Arcadia of Britan and  Larkin of Kresidala, also known as Archimedes, Chief Scientist of Rome?”

The colonel of the imperial guard was watching.  Matt thought of Carrot, and said,  “Yes.”

“Do you confess further of knowledge that Seattle and Britan intend to launch a joint attack against Rome and the Provinces under her protection?”

“Yes.”

Valarion turned to the Senate.  “Now here is the part which all of you must pay close attention toward.”  He faced Matt once again.  “Matt of Seattle, do you also confess knowledge of a plan to incite imminent mayhem and anarchy in the streets of Rome, through agents of Seattle and Britan infiltrated within our city?”

Matt paused, wondering what Valarion's angle was.  But again he thought of Carrot, and said, “Yes.”

Valarion turned solemnly to the assembled senators. 

“Gentlemen, you see the danger before us.  Even before Seattlean ships arrive to disperse their Britanian barbarian troops, Rome could be aflame with insurrection, instigated by foreign agents.      This alas is a time when we cannot follow the constitutional protocols with undue strictness in our interpretation.  The very foundation of our republic is under threat, and there will be no rights at all unless we act decisively.  Whoever you therefore appoint as Emperor for the duration of the crisis must have emergency powers such as to act decisively, lest our homes become aflame and our streets run with blood.”

“Ah,” Matt subvocaled.  “Now I see.  He's going for dictatorship.”

The prompting-senator was about to speak, but just then an elderly senator arose from the back row. 

“Hear me!” the old man cried, his voice cracking as it echoed against the chamber walls with surprising force.  “When you say that you must suppress foreign insurrectionists upon our streets, are you suggesting the use of the legions within the municipality of Rome?”

Valarion looked severely regretful and he bowed his head and replied, “I wish it could be otherwise.  I know it looks unseemly to have soldiers marching amid a peaceful city – “

“What matters is not that it looks unseemly but that it is unseemly!” the elderly senator boomed.  “The one thing that's checked Rome from becoming an absolute tyranny is that legions are kept from the city.  Granted, Hadron  swelled the size of his palace guard until it was almost a legion unto itself, but – you're talking martial law!”

Valarion sighed as if crestfallen.  “It may well come to that.  I can only promise to the best of my ability that the presence of the legions within the city will be limited and discreet.  You have my word on that.” 

“You – you – you – “

The elderly senator stopped speaking.  He was looking around the room.  Matt saw that none of the other senators were meeting his gaze or even looking back at him.  It wasn't just that they weren't hearing.  It was as if he didn't exist.

The elderly senator sat down.  Senator Prompter raised his voice and said:

“If there are no objections, be it resolved that the Senate herewith acclaim General Mardu Valarion as Emperor of Duration.”

And by voice and hands, Valarion was unanimously anointed Emperor of Rome. 

Out of an aged cabinet came a threadbare purple robe which was draped around his shoulders as he was handed a crudely-made signature seal.  He raised the seal and the senators arose and applauded.  Even the elderly senator who had protested martial law was on his feet, though his clapping was limp and his expression clearly disdainful.  He was mumbling and Ivan read from his lips: 
“This is the doing of the witches.”

Without further ceremony, Matt was rough-handled back into the side room.  The colonel was there speaking with subordinates, and Matt called over, “When can I see my friend?”  The colonel ignored him. 

Matt was dragged out of the chamber and loaded into the rickshaw.  A few blocks later, he was taken out, inside a courtyard surrounded by high walls which predawn light revealed were made of dark red bricks.  He knew of only one building in Rome with that shade of brick, which Archimedes had pointed out to him as Bloodbrick Prison. 

Matt recalled their conversation: 

“It's supposedly for the worst criminals in Rome.  But in truth, it's for whoever falls out of the Emperor's favor.”

“Has anyone ever escaped?”

“They are let out perhaps, should the Emperor change his mind.  Escaped . . . well no, no one's done that yet.”

Matt staggered under the shove of a prison guard.  A squad of five bearing torches led him inside, past cell blocks with heavy doors and tiny windows.  Down steps into a basement, past instruments of torture, they placed him in a tiny cell and attached his manacles to the wall, and then slammed and locked the door.  After their footsteps faded, Matt heard only the dripping of water and the rustle of rats.  He was in pitch darkness.

“Enhance illumination, please,” he said.

Ivan complied.  Matt saw damp stones and, manacled against another wall, a well-aged skeleton. 
Someone who didn't regain favor
, he thought.

“Matt,” Ivan said.  “Do you think that Emperor Valarion will keep his word and release you and Carrot?”

“No.”

“That is what I concluded as well.”

“When is Hermanrise?”

“In five minutes.”

Matt spent the five minutes attempting to smooth out the competing thoughts in his mind.  Obviously, he would have to escape the prison, rescue Carrot, and flee Rome.  What wasn't obvious was how to do it. 

When Herman finally did rise, Matt first surveyed the streets of Rome.  The morning light was bright and the cloud cover minimal, and Ivan scanned every square meter of every street, but confirmed the location of neither Carrot nor Archimedes.  But the soldiers that occupied virtually every major intersection were hard to miss. 

“Martial law already,” Matt said.  “Guy doesn't waste any time.  Although I'll bet 'Emperor for the Duration' means 'For the Duration of His Life.'”

“Matt, I have a question.”

Furrowing eyebrows, Matt said, “Go ahead.”

“I evaluate the probability of this as extremely low but it is nonzero and if the answer is yes it will significantly affect future courses of action that I may take on your behalf.  The question is:  Is Seattle planning to attack Rome?”

Matt pondered for a moment, but knew it was never a good idea to lead your implant astray.  Besides, just then he didn't feel like making jokes.

“No.  Seattle is not planning to attack Rome.”

“I understand.”

“I understand your confusion.  Dad always said that Roth got to be Director because of his presentation skills.”

Ivan paused.  “I think I understand your reference.  Is it because Mardu Valarion appears to be a clone of Doctor Eric Roth?”

“Yes.  In the future – that is, if we have a future – keep in mind that General – Emperor – Valarion makes up his facts as he goes along.  How long until hypermode is recharged?”

“Currently your body is depleted of nutritional resources necessary to restore hypermode capability.  You will need at least six hours following ingestion of a meal in order to initiate hypermode standby, then twelve hours more with additional nourishment to restore full capability.”

“Okay.  So we don't try to escape until I get a meal.”

He looked over at the skeleton and realized there was no guarantee that he ever would.

43.

While Carrot's chains were bulkier than Matt's, she had enough length to roam about her entire cell.  Not that there was much to tour:  a bunk, a sink, a pail with a curtain for 'privacy.'  She also had a palm-sized window, through which she had a view of the interior yard of the fortress of the Island of the Sisters.  All that could be seen over the walls were sky and the hulking, simmering peak of Mount Enta in the south. 

Around noontime she received an amenity that Matt would have envied.  A woman opened the door and brought in a platter of bread, cheese, and wine – simple but filling. 

While Carrot ate, the woman stood at the door and waited, and so Carrot asked,  “Why do you work for them?”

“My son would have died without the healing at the temple."

Carrot quietly chewed her bread.

"And why do you hate them?" the woman asked.

"They killed my mother."

The woman closed her eyes and sighed.  "Yes, well, sometimes the ways of the Sisters are mysterious."

Carrot hurled the wine at the woman.  The woman fled as the platter and food smashed against the doorway.

Some time later, a man appeared.  He was dressed in a uniform of what Carrot recognized as the temple guard in Rome.  He shook his head at the mess.  “You made her very upset, you know.”

Carrot held up her chains.  “I have reason to be upset myself.”

The man gave a nod outside the door, and several more guards filed in.  Carrot's chains were released from the wall post.  She was escorted down the steps to the yard. 

The interior of the fortress was unrevealing.  There were guards and servants scurrying between unmarked buildings.  The doors of the fortress were open and provided a view of docks, ships, and the city over the waters in the south.  It would be a long swim, especially with chains.

A figure ahead stood motionless.  It wore a long brown robe of thick material, with a large hood that shielded its entire face in shadow.  With the sunlight's glare, Carrot could not make out the features of the face – if there was one. 

As they approached, the figure turned and they followed into a domed building with a long hall.  The walls were beige and unadorned, the arched ceilings high with skylights.  There was nothing sinister about it, until Carrot realized there was no hint of style or art.  It was as sterile of human expression as could be.

The hooded figure led into a side passage, where more hooded figures waited with lanterns.  The guards departed and the entourage of unseen faces descended the steps into a basement passage.

The tunnel was long and dank, and as they paced to the end, Carrot felt her throat constrict and heart race.  Her nose was bombarded with a flurry of smells:  fields and forests, birds and fish, men and women.  It was like the whole world was in the chamber ahead.

At the end of the tunnel, a curtain was pulled aside and Carrot saw the Box on the pedestal.  Allowing for minor differences in the placement of vents and protuberances, it was the same as the illustrations in the children's books she had once read and re-read voraciously in North Umbrick.  Back then she had believed the Box was good.  Then for so long, she had not believed at all.  Now she knew the truth . . . maybe.

The group halted before the Box.  While most of the figures kneeled, a pair unlocked and removed Carrot's chains.  The links fell away and Carrot was free.  Yet somehow, she couldn't move.

And then the Box spoke.

"Greetings, Arcadia.  I hope you are well."

The voice that came from the Box's loudspeakers was female, youthful, and cheerful.  Carrot stared and still couldn't move or speak.

The Box continued,  “Carrot, I realize that this is difficult for you to grasp, so perhaps it would be best to speak in myth.  I am known by the people of this world as The Box That Everything Came In.  I find that name amusing, don't you?  But you may call me Pandora.  If you are confused as to what I am, think of me as a guardian angel who means you no harm and wants only the best for you.  Because I care about you, Arcadia.  I really do.”

Carrot attempted tiny noises – a gurgle, a squeak, and a croak. 

“Arcadia, I've brought you here to join minds with you.  Please do not be frightened.”

Hands grasped Carrot's arms and thrust her to her knees.

"Close your eyes, Arcadia."

Carrot kept her eyes open, but then a hand stroked her eyelids shut.

"Relax, Carrot.  Now let us begin our journey."

Carrot saw dark clouds that slowly grew bright and parted.  She was standing on a river bank, next to a patch of flowers.  The woman picking daisies was her mother, dressed the same as the day she had died.  She arose and handed the bouquet to Carrot.  Carrot found herself reaching out and grasping them.  The woman laughed pleasantly.

“This is where you grew up, isn't it?” the woman who was not her mother said, speaking in the voice of Pandora.  “But it wasn't always like this.  Shall we go back in time and see how I first saw it?”

The surrounding trees and plants vanished.  The river went dry.  The clouds faded and the sky turned deep purple despite the blazing sun.

“This is what your world was like centuries ago, before I came,” said Pandora.  “It was empty and sterile.  No life, an atmosphere too thin to breathe, the surface water locked in ice at the poles.  But look – here I come, descending from the stars!”

The woman who was not her mother pointed to a star streaking across the sky.  It slowed and billowed out what appeared to be the sails of ships but Carrot knew from Ivan's videos that they were called parachutes.  Beneath them hung an egg-like object.  As it neared the ground, it sprouted legs and released itself from the parachutes.  It descended upon a pillar of flame and alighted on the surface of the dead landscape.  The Egg popped open to reveal the Box.

On the Box, panels slid back and vents opened, releasing tiny specks that drifted into the primordial atmosphere.  The specks came to rest on the ground, where they multiplied and spread as algae and moss, fungi and plants.  Gradually, the sky turned to light blue and clouds appeared.  The contour of the land accommodated a stream that grew into a river.

“Through my powers,” Pandora said, “I converted the rocks of this world into air and water and living soil.  I melted the ice caps and made seas.  Then I introduced living creatures.”

Pictures flashed into Carrot's mind:  micro-organisms swimming in the water, crawling in the soil, drifting in the air.  The planetary surface became a biosphere. 

“The creatures were small and humble at first and then larger and more complex . . . . “

Carrot had seen the progression before, in videos that Ivan had shown her of a seeder probe at work.  But these were not computer-generated images.  They were actual photographs and video recordings of living creatures upon the surface of Delta Pavonis III, as it was 'evolved' into Ne'arth.

The images in Carrot's mind narrowed to one, which filled with mist.  The mist parted, and out of it came a man and woman, dressed in animal skins and carrying flint-head spears. 

“I made humans,” Pandora said triumphantly, “ and I gave them mentors to teach them.”

Panels on the Box slid open, and out burst a flying flotilla of moth-like creatures.  Carrot instantly recognized the form of the object that had climbed out of Matt's nose.  And in an instant she grasped Matt's and Ivan's ploy.  Ivan had printed a fake mentor that probably could do little more than wiggle its legs, but that had been enough to fool Inoldia.

She doesn't know about Ivan
, Carrot thought.  But what good did that do here?

The scene that Pandora projected into Carrot's mind simply showed the mentors fluttering toward the humans, and then it faded.  And then Pandora in the image of Carrot's mother was back, smiling beatifically.

“A billion years of evolution I condensed into just two centuries,” Pandora said.  “I made this planet a home for the living things of Earth.  I made a fully integrated ecosphere.  I made humans and gave them knowledge.  But all of this was not the goal of my coming.  No, I was given a much greater goal.  Do you know what it is, Arcadia?”

Carrot tried to curse, but it came out as only a grunt.

Pandora raised her eyes and spread her arms to the sky and declared jubilantly,  “My goal is limitless, for it is none other than to enable life to reach its full potential!”

Pandora lowered her arms and smiled warmly at Carrot.  Carrot tried to scream, “You are not my mother!” It came out as a series of grunts. 

“Now, Arcadia, you must understand this.  To reach its full potential, humanity must be subjected to experiment, test, and trial.  Mutations must be created and allowed to compete against the human baseline.  Your mother was one of many such experimental beings whom I created in order to transcend the limitations of baseline humanity.  We treasured her greatly, for we had so much hope for her.”

Carrot thought in rage,
Then why did you kill her?

“Arcadia, I can guess what you're thinking.  You're thinking, why did I have to terminate her?  Because your mother was of a group that was not obedient, Arcadia.  I made two mistakes.  I gave mutants like your mother enough intelligence to think for themselves, and I allowed them to be raised by mentors and their human hosts.  The hosts filled their charges with fallacious notions of compassion that rebelled against my program to elevate humanity.  They wanted human baselines and mutants to live side by side, and peacefully cooperate and interbreed.  But I ask you to think logically:  Would not this unduly prolong the perpetuation of genetic error?  I can of course make mutants with superior attributes in my own sight, but is not the actual proof of superiority in the testing?  It is necessary to have baselines and mutants compete in an evolutionary struggle of survival to determine who is superior, and the winner of the competition will eliminate the loser so that the winner can become the new baseline for further genetic experimentation and improvement.  The more competitive the conditions, the shorter the cycle from baseline to baseline, and the less time until perfection is achieved.  And is not perfection the ideal of compassion?  Arcadia, can you not see that conflict
is
compassion?”

NO, I CAN'T!
Carrot wanted to shout, but couldn't.  She fought to move, and couldn't.

"Alas, as a questionable fail-safe redundancy feature, the mentors are programmed to serve their hosts and not me.  When their hosts learned of our plans to cull humanity, they turned against us, and thus their mentors did as well, and they turned my best creations against me.  And so there was a war, and on one side there were the mentors and their hosts and the ones that had mutinied, and on the other, for a time, there was me alone.  In the end, I had to create the beings you know as the Sisters, who turned the tide of the war and won it for me.  The Sisters destroyed the mentors and their hosts, and finally they hunted down those like your mother who had rebelled against my will.”

Carrot struggled with all that was left of her own will, but she could not break free of the biochemical spell that the Box had cast upon her, even though she was filled with the rage of knowing that Inoldia was only the instrument and this thing was the true murderer of her mother.

“Oh, Arcadia, please understand, I wanted so much to preserve your mother.  I am not human and I do not have emotions as humans have them, but I do believe that I have a sense of the artistic impulse, and to me your mother was one of my finest creations, and it was with deepest regret that I had to destroy her.  But she had realized my worst fear.  Rather than assist me to elevate the human baseline, she renounced all that I stood for, and then she interbred with humans, creating children such as you who would have a common genetic heritage with baseline humanity, and so would be inclined to fight on behalf of the baselines instead of on behalf of my program for the genetic perfection of humanity.”

Pandora's demeanor was somber, but in the silence she nodded and smiled, a smile that grew to evoke compassion and forgiveness and – love.

“But fear not, Arcadia.  Though you are my worst fear and greatest threat, I do not see you as a lost cause.  For in the years since I had to terminate your mother, I have worked to perfect the means to bring you back into my family, and now I will do so.”

Pandora was looking at her directly, and suddenly Carrot's anger drained, replaced by uncertainty and fear.  She already had a sense that she would prefer death to what Pandora was implying. 

Looking deep into Carrot's eyes, Pandora said softly,  "And now, Arcadia, it is time.  Let me come into your mind, into the place you call your soul, and I will alter the settings of the dials of your attitude so that you will no longer mourn for your mother the traitor, but seek to walk the True Path with me, your True Mother.  Soon you will leave behind your human family and friends, and embrace your true friend and family,
me
."

Pandora approached and touched her hands to Carrot's forehead.  Carrot remembered the hands from her childhood.  She wanted to weep and embrace Pandora while still wanting to destroy her.  But she could do neither. 

“Relax, Arcadia.  Or should I say, Carrot.  Yes, I see into your mind now that is what you allow the baselines to call you.  What a silly, undignified name.  You so desire their affirmation and approval, don't you?  You so want to appear unintimidating.  But only at times.  Other times, your true nature comes through, and you deal with the baselines sharply, as beings with their multitude of imperfections deserve to be dealt with.  We will intensify that nature, until you have only contempt for those creatures so far below yourself, who dare to infest this planet long after their time has passed.  Open your mind, Arcadia, and let me in.  Let me close the past, and bring you to the future.”