Titan Race

by Edentu D Oroso

  "If we let Tonka execute his plans, chances are he might stretch us all too far. And if we streamline his field of action, we may as well be retarding the speed of the wheel we've put in motion for the new order in the life of the galaxy from which Atlantis derives its force. We must tow the line between action and inaction. To the best of our interest, it would mean cautioning Finia," Numa said.

  "But, Father of the Blackhole, haven't we done this several times before?” Hemse protested. “And what do they always do, these Atlanteans? They task us all the time with emergencies. Like now."

  "There's no mistake about that,” Numa conceded. "But don't you see their defiance is the extension of the chessboard of this beautiful paradise? You can't rule out deviations every now and then. However, the end point has always been the sum of the inputs that had gone in at the beginning of the scheming. Nothing is lost, nothing is gained; it's just a continuous process of renewal of forms."

  Numa pried on their thoughts and then added, "This point impresses your young minds as somewhat strange. Why do we worry about what happens in our playhouses if at the end there's no gain or loss? You see, my dear Guardians, it's like this: in Atlantis a human being would plant maize seeds and nurture them till they blossom and fruit. Once the cobs mature, the cycle of the maize seeds expires. A human being can eat it as nourishing food or replant the seed to see the process repeat itself. He derives joy from the growth and bloom of the maize seeds and finds nourishment in the eating. If all the species on our various playhouses and in the entire universe were maize seeds as in Atlantis, our joy would be in planting and replanting the seeds. We are excited when they bloom with creative intelligence and realize their place in the cosmic game. Nevertheless, we frown when they wither in ego flights or over-ambition. That’s when we replant them.”

  Ramune's eyes and Hemse's locked in wonderment. Hemse grinned, wondering, Finia would be the hand that would select the good grains for replanting, I don't envy him one bit. I'd rather be where I am in the Blackhole, viewing all the madness beneath and around.

  "Ramune,” Numa burst into the moment’s silence. “Call Finia on the Command Module mains! Inform all Guardians and the entire planetary hierarchies, there'll be an emergency Blackhole meeting.

  "Hemse, come with me,” Numa said, turning. “Before the Tamed Star returns, we’ll make a short shuttle to the hundredth galaxy."

  Chapter Seven

  Two days after the meeting in the Disk Center, Blackhole, Tonka Manu still could not erase from his mind the agitation caused by the Guardians’ deliberations. He maintained a calm exterior and exerted needed control as the patriarch of Atlantis, but writhed within. He tried to shelve the nagging feeling, but it bounced back like a ball and hit him straight.

  Though the Guardians had clipped his wings in the Blackhole, Tonka understood this to mean routine evaluation of his role as a Guardian in Atlantis. All the same, between Blackhole’s sanctions and the Atlanteans’ scheming and folly, he had been denied a berth.

  Tonka Manu felt insulted by the snobbery of Belani Ziaku whom he had helped to enthrone as Consul-General in Atlantis. Belani’s offense was in believing, without ascertaining the truth, the rumor that Tonka would replace him as Consul-General. Tonka, therefore, decided that he would stamp his authority as the patriarch, or his worth would not be more than the pawn Atlanteans were beginning to paint of him.

  The notion that he hung between two variables caused Tonka uneasiness. While he could understand the Guardians as a variable, the magnified folly of the Atlanteans' surprised him. Even as a spiritually conscious clan of humans, the Atlanteans still could not differentiate their left from their right. In Tonka’s view, their scientific and technological progress headed toward disaster.

  He saw a tempest in the making, with him right in its middle. The faintest idea of how to prevent it eluded him. Worse still, those marked for destruction had chosen to scheme against him. He felt the need to turn the table on the scheming humanity, having identified the chief culprits as Vatima Hansi and her clique. An encounter with them the preceding night had reinforced this feeling.

  Does she ever exhaust her ploys, he thought. She'll need a little dose of the Guardians' gagging. I won't be the only one to toss them around. And I'll nick her right in the socks.

  Tonka's lips parted in a grin, like a cracked rock’s face. His eyes, bleary from the night's trance flights, focused hazily at his Lotus posture while his mind sped far ahead. He unlocked his feet under his thighs and thrust them forward, rustling the calm currents of the room.

  After a moment of stretching and twisting, he rose from the large oval stud, with a groan of satisfaction. I’ll rush through a shower, have a cup of fruit juice and then put the requisite punctuation mark in Vatima Hansi's dreary sentence. So he thought, as he left the room for his devotional rites.

  Afterwards, Tonka Manu asked Daya to convene an urgent meeting at the reception lounge overlooking the northern reaches of Manu Square. Those to attend were selected members of the inner circle, some custodians of Manu Square, Vatima Hansi, and Tonka in person. Having taken care of his uppermost concern, he switched his monitor from local broadcast to other cities of Atlantis. The cities flipped by, each a great lesson in aesthetics. Some impressed him while others did not.

  Tonka Manu saw the normal clamoring of Atlanteans along busy streets. Squalid conditions in the midst of grandeur showed in the less prominent communities. The sight of idle children on side streets sneering and teasing each other irritated him. He reckoned too with the gentle flame peculiar to the Atlantean spirit slowly blending with the wild traits of its new humanity.

  Bored with the broadcasts, he shut off the monitor and turned on Twilight Waves, the radio link of Songhai. The signals came through. Tonka recognized the chatty exuberance of Takuma Siani on the airwaves. The young presenter had just gone over news tit-bits on contemporary Songhai on the “Songhai flash.” Tonka tuned in as the presenter increased the tempo with a fast rhythm from Miitay Reboh, the scintillating singer from Sakiraa, south of Sondibo. The fine music wooed his ears. A consistent blip on his miniature console and the charges from its speakers distracted his mind.

  "Tonka Manu speaking," he said, thumbing the return key. The call came from Sudura the chief custodian of the Manu Square in neighboring Sondibo town. "How are you, Sudura?"

  "Fine, thank you, Manu," Sudura replied through the voice module.

  Tonka struck a key on the console and Sudura's smiling profile, clean and debonair, emerged on the wall screen. "What's it like in Sondibo? Any complain there you think I should know about?"

  "Nothing we can't handle ourselves."

  "The biggest relief I've had in days."

  "We are flattered. But Manu–"

  "Yes, what is it?"

  "Yesterday, the elders came here with Kanuji, regarding your proposed visit,” Sudura said. “Kanuji and his clique are hell-bent on maintaining their new thinking in the system. But the elders think such radical fervor is at variance with the ideal our forefathers struggled to put in place. The masses are divided by the power of persuasion from the opposing camps, but I believe the elders still have great influence."

  "What did you tell them?"

  "I told them we got this far as a civilization by adjusting and readjusting to the unique processes of change,” Sudura replied. “I explained that while we cherish practical and meaningful change, it cannot be on the altar of degenerate culture. That, we cannot afford to sacrifice our spirituality to radical thoughts or ego trips."

  "Well said, Sudura."

  "Thank you, Manu."

  "When did they say they would be back?"

  "This evening."

  "Good. Get two members of the inner circle you can rely on. Talk to the elders and the Kanuji faction when they come. Let them see reason, especially Kanuji, why the people should go for only the grain and not the chaff of h
is radical philosophy. You must be as diplomatic as you can while trying to make him see reason. Remember, he's our child and the onus is upon us to educate him. Is this understood?"

  "Yes, Manu," Sudura said, spurred.

  "Okay, get back to your other duties. I have a meeting in a short while. I’ll call you in the morning. I hope by then you'd have seen to this Kanuji drama."

  Sudura nodded."Certainly."

  “Bye for now.”

  "Long live Tonka! Long live the Manu!"

  Just then another call came through.

  Daya appeared on the monitor, smiled with obsequy and said, "Manu, they have all been summoned. They await your arrival in the reception lounge."

  "Is Vatima Hansi there too?"

  "She was the first to arrive."

  "All right, make them feel at home. I’ll join you soon."

  "Yes, Manu." The monitor blanked out. Tonka wheezed, grabbed his golden scepter which sat near the crescent glass desk, and headed to the venue of meeting.

  The reception lounge, a crystal arc protrusion at the foot of the great mansion, skirted the rows of exotic gardens at the eastern wing of the mansion. Beyond muffled chatter, the plush interior was tranquil. On the outside, birds twittered around the gardens. The hum of the throng of Songhaians on the fringe of Manu Square filtered through but did not drown the peace within.

  In a world of their own and much at ease in the lounge with light refreshments, the invitees looked delighted to be in the Manu's great mansion. The harmonious mood of the lounge remained unbroken until Tonka Manu walked in, accompanied by Daya and Tullami. The phalanx of selected inner circle members, custodians of Manu Square, and Vatima Hansi rose to salute Tonka, dignified and calm as always.

  Tonka’s gave a demure response. He strode instead toward the eastern row of vases with blooming flowers placed alongside tables and settees. Tonka then lowered his frail body onto his royal seat and observed a moment of silence. As a tradition, the pool of Atlanteans followed his example.

  “Privileged members of the inner circle, our revered custodians of the Manu Square, the heartbeat of this civilization, and our dear sister, Vatima Hansi, I greet you,” the convener greeted with florish. “I appreciate your coming, in spite of the short notice. It's a sign of our respect for tradition, a sign of growth, and of our collective maturity."

  They acknowledged his opening remark with gentle nods.

  "If I read your minds well enough, your curiosity centers on why you were summoned here of a sudden,” Tonka continued. “It's easy to tell by the austere nature of your reception. We came here not for frivolity, but to try as much as possible to bring back sanity into our notions of life and living, with particular emphasis on our deviant attitudes.”

  Tonka noticed a wind of unease sweep through the lounge. Gripped by fear, some guests’ feet made clumsy shuffles on the marble floor. “Let me clarify right away that some of you are here as mere observers or witnesses of what will transpire," he explained.

  Half of the audience relaxed, though nobody could yet tell who was an observer and who was indicted.

  "I'll like to inform you about recent events and how some of us are part of the unholy situations,” Tonka pressed on. “For a proper understanding of the intrigues we want to expose, fix your mind only on the spiritual sphere, the launching pad for any human aspiration. If this is understood, then we'll proceed.” He paused for effect.

  "A little over forteen days ago, I had reason to address our dear sister, Vatima Hansi."

  Vatima grimaced, worried at the mention of her name.

  "We met in my office because of her involvement in renegade spiritual groups. These are groups poised to upturn our sacred values. I’m yet to acknowledge even in a vague sense the existence of such dissenters owing to their triviality. Still, I did not hesitate to caution her then. This rebellious tendency, if allowed to sprout, will endanger her and the whole structure of Atlantis. As alleged, Vatima and her group swore to clog our wheel of progress in the hope of avenging their loss in the hands of Manu Waadua. They want a counter-culture in place of our divinity, with adverse consequences on my tenure as Manu. In the long run, it’ll also affect the next Manu’s tenure and many more to come. These revelations came, courtesy of some of our respected elders and inner circle members. When I confronted Vatima, she swore she had no hand in any spiritual group. From my point of view, there are elements of truth in it. I gave her the benefit of doubt because you can’t treat subjective and objective issues on the same scale. We can only guide an individual and hope their goodwill supersedes. I'm afraid our dear sister didn't learn any lesson from the meeting. The exposures are recurring at an alarming pace."

  Tonka had painted Vatima in an awful light, which frightened her. The last time she experienced Tonka’s tongue, it took an unknown will and the right propitiation to overcome his accusations. She had sensed the same paralysing wind drifting into her soul a few minutes into this meeting. This time, she knew not the sacrifice the ritual would demand. She only knew she lacked the will to face the facts. Still, she listened, quaking witihin.

  Tonka's voice intercepted her thought and grounded her awareness. "We came not to pass judgment on Vatima or anyone,” he emphasized. “We are here as concerned Atlanteans. As a family of humans concerned about the plight of our sister, we will only guide and help her, just as many of us here need help in other areas of life. I want us all to understand the obvious. No one is beyond mistakes or reproach. Therefore, do not cast aspersions on impulse, so you don’t regret your words afterwards.”

  Tonka looked at Vatima. "Having said all this, let me go straight to the point,” he continued. “Vatima Hansi, is there any aspect of your spiritual life you don't understand, which reflects daily on your actions?"

  Vatima quivered. “Just as I said last time, I don't really have a grasp on what’s happening to me in the spiritual realm," she stuttered after some hesitation. "Would I know the things bandied about concerning me, and yet keep pretending?"

  Tonka reckoned with her response as faultless, yet he treated her with indifference. He had drawn a line a long time ago between spurious mental attitudes and spiritual truths, which seldom waver. That a person who looked naive on the physical could be spiritually gullible and dangerous no longer puzzled him.

  "Okay, you don't know any more than we do, but why does your face often attract the absurd?” Tonka quizzed further. “Why are you such a regular character in bizarre spiritual games? It's a puzzle, wouldn’t you say? For once, someone else could've been mentioned in all this, but your name keeps popping up. I'm unable to understand your conflict of values. Why have your sterling traits become synonymous with mischief? Do you imagine there’s vendetta against you, perhaps, by some unscrupulous Atlanteans? Are we to believe this is just a smear campaign?"

  Vatima tried to calm the sickening feeling on the inside of her by running her fingers through the frills of the silky shawl on her head. In the absence of words, her throat ached. She almost choked as bile gushed through her being and overwhelmed her with spite and disgust.

  "Who am I to–?” Vatima stammered and broke-off, teardrops blurring her sight.

  "Judge anyone?" Tonka cut in. His gaze was without guile. "No, you won’t be passing judgment on your accusers if you confirm it is vendetta. You'd be making it easier for us all if you think it is. Give us a reason to believe that you’re innocent."

  Tonka saw Vatima Hansi fidget on her seat. Then she shuddered and started sobbing.

  "In the presence of the Manu, no one cries,” Tonka cautioned. “I’m sure you remember this. Besides, there's no reason to cry. Brethren, isn’t that so?" Tonka glanced at the other Atlanteans, expecting a response that would please Vatima.

  "So true, Manu," they chorused and recoiled into their shells.

  Vatima fought her tears with rasping breaths, dabbed her eyes with a handkerchie
f and sat upright, stiff and daring.

  “Last night I had a conviction that rubbed salt into this wound of conscience,” Tonka Manu said with a cold edge to his voice. “It is true many have said funny things about Vatima, one time or the other. But that’s not the reason for my conviction. As a matter of fact, I had a dirty face-off with this particular clique during my spiritual surveillance last night. Encounters of this kind are uncountable every day. What is worrisome about this unwarranted rebellion is Vatima’s role in it.

  “Vatima was at the centre stage during the rehearsal of their evil plan,” he continued. “And if you'd seen the derision in Vatima’s eyes and the guts of the other members of the group in their weird dance of vengeance, you'd understand that human beings are like double-edged swords.”

  Vatima squirmed with fear as she heard Tonka's words. She knew she had been caught in Tonka's web without the means of escape.

  “Even now, the whole scenario rewinds in my mind,” Tonka said. “I can see the actors and actresses acting out their tacky roles again."

  Tonka shut his eyes and flashed them open the next moment.

  # # #

  “Yes,” he began the long but vivid recollection. “It was on the bed of those quaint hills behind Sondibo town, somewhere near those marvellous valleys. I can still see a notorious spiritual clique, an assembly of the Locci, comprising over a hundred people, mostly women, clustered along the hill’s bed. They had chairs, exquisite canopies, exotic lighting, and a high table. Vatima took sat amongst seven other women and two men on the high table. By their positions, the men looked like stooges.

  “I recall they had a heated debate over an issue I didn't quite understand till I got close enough to eavesdrop through my aerial surveillance. Vatima's loud command gave her away as one of the leaders in the circle. The theme of their deliberation centered on “Clipped wings”. I hung high above the Locci assembly wondering whose wings they wanted clipped. They never saw me or suspected any intrusion. I'd transformed myself into a cluster of pale cloud above the gathering, listening to them. Silence fell over the assembly after Vatima’s chiding. Then she addressed the Locci with incensed authority.