Known Afterlife (The Provider Trilogy: Volume I)

by Trey Copeland

He woke to a warm breeze caressing his face. Reclined in deck chair, on a large veranda, he sat up and peer over an the ornate railing to look upon Razum City’s upper eastside. The city loomed in every direction, a forest of colossal buildings shifted from fractal branches growing from the massive limb known as the Razum Buttress. A massive transit system interconnected each structure. Hundreds of thousands of Citizens flurried along intricate highway made of verandas, bridges, escalators, cable cars and elevators. The Provider had never been more intimidating.

  Based on his elevated view of the city, he concluded he was at the Primary Healing Ward that was shifted into the Razum Mesa Range. He turned away from the city in attempt to learn where he resided in that massive complex and found Calivera by his side. Positioned under one of the many sunbeams peppering the veranda, she reclined peacefully with eyes closed and arms folded above her head.

  Despite himself, Steffor's eyes wandered up the length of her long, athletic body. Tall by any standard, the white tunic accentuated her perfect proportions. Images of their bodies in deep embrace formed by the time he reached her graceful neck lying on blonde tresses. Moving to her face, the full lips parted as if about to whistle then formed a bright smile as her eyes greeted his stare.

  "Enjoying the view?" she asked, nodding toward the city.

  "Yes. I am," he replied, not averting his eyes.

  "How do you feel?" she inquired, sitting up in her chair.

  "Better. The pain has subsided but I feel...hollow." On impulse, he stood up. Dizzy at first, he quickly regained his balance. Calivera shot up, giving him a mixed look of disapproval and admiration. She then grabbed a hold of Steffor’s hand and gestured with the other down the length of the veranda. They began to walk.

  They passed a smattering of Healers and patients along the veranda that stretched for hundreds of yards in both directions. Shifted from the cliff that separated the lowest and largest mesas in the range, the veranda presented an assortment of entrances into ward that led to various healing and living facilities, some reaching all the way to the Trunk. Positioned with the cityscape to their left and the prominent Trunk to their right, the contrast between the two made the city appear closer and smaller than in reality.

  Content to hold hands with the women he had just met, they walked in comfortable silence for several minutes before the clouded memory of recent events surfaced.

  "What happened?" he asked.

  "Well, what do you remember?" she replied, appearing to share the same thought.

  "Everything leading up to the mysterious branch."

  "Mysterious branch? What makes you call it mysterious?" Calivera asked, perplexed.

  "Never mind. Tell me what happened after I collided into the branch.”

  "Somehow you managed to break through the branch and emerge from the dive chute. By the unnatural contortion of your body and flailing limbs, we assumed you were unconscious at the time." She paused at that moment, looking at him for confirmation.

  "My last memory was right before impact with the branch," he repeated, gesturing with raised eyebrows for her to go on.

  "Anyway, about midway between the chute's end and the Deagron Fields you slammed into the Trunk. Amazingly, your body landed in a rut between bark-plates. As a result, you dramatically slowed your descent. You appeared destined to slide down the remainder of the Trunk and disappear into the depths of the Belly Briar. Then, as if tugged by an invisible rope, your body shot outward toward the edge of the Deagron Fields. At the last second, you formed a Source sphere to break your landing."

  He knew she wanted him to fill in the blanks but the fact was he could not. "Who won?"

  "Grimlock. After what people are now referring to as ‘The Crossing’, Vejax and Grimlock had lost too much time to overtake your lead. They emerged from their respective chutes a few seconds after you did. Vejax had a half second lead on Grimlock, plenty of time to win but when he saw your condition, he pulled up. No one knows why and neither has uploaded their experience to the Deeds. Everyone is waiting to learn of your condition."

  Based off Calivera's recital and her response to the branch blocking his exit, it seemed safe to conclude, the branch had always appeared to exist for everyone else.

  Could I have overlooked it? No, I am positive it was not there until the last moment. So what then?

  As he contemplated Calivera's feedback, he began to notice the probing stares and excited faces around them. Word that I am alive must be flooding the Mysticnet by this time. Questions, lots of them, were sure to follow.

  He still had time. Respect for each other's privacy was one of the many values held sacred by the Provider's society. Even so, truth, honesty and full disclosure held an equal value. Not coming forward in a timely manner to share his experience with the whole would set a precedent unknown in modern times. Yet he remained haunted by the pervasive thought that he should have died, never to return. He had never needed the Provider's guidance more than he did now.

  A young Guardian apprentice running in their direction broke his train of thought. The boy stopped before them, leaned over and put hands on his knees to catch breath.

  "What is it man?" Steffor asked.

  "Guardian Steffor," he formally panted. "The Teuton High Council regrets to inform you that Master Teuton Eldrak passed over to the Provider this past evening. You are requested, if able, to participate in the Teuton Staff Forging ceremony."

  Eldrak was a great Teuton but his death shocked no one. Two hundred and seventy three seasons old, he had defied the odds for the past two decades. Regardless, in light of recent events, Steffor perceived the timing of Eldrak’s death as an omen.

  Overwhelmed with a sense of obligation, as both a Guardian and Citizen, he still fought the natural compulsion to participate in the hallowed ceremony. The brief walk with Calivera was enough to know he was physically able to attend; Calivera was truly a gifted Healer. Yet, he remained hesitant. A few days ago, he would have failed to contain his excitement about the prospect of forging his Teuton Staff. Now, he felt nothing but cold indifference. A staleness seeped deep inside and the desire to change it absent.

  Apathy aside, Steffor sensed the choice he made in the coming seconds would set in motion a series of events, the outcome of which was beyond his conception. Steffor turned to Calivera. Her pleasant face was neutral, but her eyes conveyed an intimate understanding of his struggle. She knew his body had mended before he left her table.

  The wound to his soul is what both concerned and scared her. His decision became clear as he witnessed that fear, reflected in a face that had done some much for him in so little time.

  He turned back to the apprentice. "Please inform the council I will be attending the ceremony."

  With a nod, the boy turned to go.

  Dawning on him at the last second, Steffor called after him, "Guardian!"

  The Guardian turned around, respectful and inquisitive.

  "Why was I not contacted by Mystic?"

  The young man squirmed, looking down at his feet for several seconds before meeting Steffor’s eye. "None could locate you."