by Luke Donegan
“Is this your first visit to the Museum?” she asked.
“No. I have visited a few times with the children of Ocean-Hearth.”
“Which is your favorite dome?”
“The Nature Dome. I like the animals,” he said.
“Me too,” she said. “But I think I prefer the History Dome. I like the Animist Histories. Am I walking too fast?”
“No.”
“It’s just that one shouldn’t keep the Triumvirate waiting.”
They hurried along a wide corridor to the Museum’s core at the base of the administration tower. The attendant pushed the elevator button. “I hope to be a Scion-Attendant one day,” she said. “Have I performed adequately?”
“Yes, you have.”
“My name is Ismet Paza,” she said. The elevator door opened. “Please, follow me.”
The elevator emerged through the Museum’s ceiling and continued up the side of the tower. Through its glass walls the view of the city and surrounding landscape expanded. Jay had never been this high before. It felt like he was taking off in flight, but before he could savour the experience the elevator stopped.
“Follow me,” said Ismet, stepping into a corridor.
“This is the Teacher’s room,” she said eventually, pausing before a door. “If you are successful in the interview, you will work here.”
She knocked, smiled at him as she waited, then opened the door when a response came from within.
“Good luck,” said the attendant. “Remember, my name is Ismet. If you are successful, we will be colleagues.”
The door closed behind. He stood in a large rounded room on the north face of the tower. Through broad windows the view swept across the northern zone of the city to the eastern scarp and the desert beyond. The yellow-tiled History Dome and the blue-tiled Nature Dome were islands of bright colour amidst the bleached buildings of the city below.
A well-stocked library covered the length of wall to his left. Reading chairs sat before the bookshelves. Tables in the centre of the room were cluttered with objects: skulls of animals long extinct, taxidermied animals, fossils and meteorites.
By the windows across the room was a low platform of tatami mats. Four figures sat on the tatami. A woman rose in welcome, smiling generously as she stepped from the tatami.
This well-poised woman wore robes of ivory white that indicated her position in the Museum. Long, red hair softened a sharp face.
“My name is Ariel,” said the woman. “I am the Museum’s Teacher.”
“My name is Jay,” he bowed deeply.
“Welcome, Jay. Thank you for meeting us today. As Teacher of Ocean-Hearth, I am sure you are very busy.”
“Not too busy to attend, thank you Teacher.”
The Teacher inclined her head towards her companions. “Allow me to introduce the Triumvirate.”
The three figures rose and nodded as he and the Teacher stepped onto the tatami. He bowed before the three curators.
“This is Jay, the Teacher of Ocean-Hearth,” introduced the Teacher.
“Welcome Jay,” said a tall, friendly looking Curator. “My name is Paris Aristotle. I am Curator of History.”
The man wore a robe of yellow silk, the colour of History. A diagonal sash of purple crossed his robe. The clashing sash represented the imperfection of his discipline and reminded the Curator to stay humble. Past evils had been performed in the name of History by those corrupted by power and conceit. It was the role of the Curator to ensure these evils never happened again.
“I am pleased to meet you, Curator.”
“These are my colleagues,” said the Curator of History. “Xia Tsang, Curator of Nature. And Jack Gaunt, Curator of Science.”
The Curator of Nature had long, dark hair, braided down her back. Her robe was of blue silk and her sash a contrasting orange. Her sash symbolized Aberration. Thousands of species lost and monsters that had almost destroyed the world.
Jack gaunt wore red robes and his sash was a contrary emerald. Jay studied this man’s eyes. While he saw welcome and warmth in the eyes of Xia Tsang, he sensed only disregard in those of the Scientist. Jack Gaunt was not a welcoming man.
“Please sit,” offered the Teacher. As Jay lowered himself to the tatami he tried to gauge their ages. The Curator of Nature was the youngest, perhaps twenty years old. The others were older. The Curator of History was in his mid twenties, perhaps five years shy of Passage. The Curator of Science, however, like the Teacher looked to be in his late twenties, close to Passage. The beginnings of grey flecked Jack Gaunt’s dark hair. His eyes had the haunted look of someone close to their appointed time. The stalking certainty of Passage silently tormented people of this age.
“We have many questions,” said Paris Aristotle. “First, we would like to know more about you. Tell us something of yourself.”
Jay took a calming breath. “I am fifteen years old,” he said. “I live and work at Ocean-Hearth. There I am Teacher. I was two when my parents joined the ocean of souls and I became a ward of Ocean-Hearth. My Hearth-Father made me Scion-Teacher when I was eight. And I became Teacher when I turned ten years.”
“You were very young to be made Scion-Teacher,” observed the Teacher. “The Hearth-Father must have thought highly of you.”
“He has always honoured me with responsibility. He ... he saved my life once.”
“Really?” asked the History Curator. “Tell us what happened.”
“When I was a boy I snuck out of the Hearth while the other children were sleeping. I went down to the beach and swam out too far. Luckily the Hearth-Father saw me from the balcony and rescued me. I drowned, but he revived me on the beach.”
“You were dead?” asked the Science Curator. “For how long?”
“Only moments.”
“But what did you see, during those moments?” asked Xia Tsang. “Before you were revived.”
“I don’t remember,” replied Jay. “I don’t think I saw anything. I have a memory of flying. A sensation that my arms were wings and my body was fire. But this may have been a dream. I do not know.”
The Teacher and the Triumvirate were silent as they absorbed his words. They wondered whether in his short moments of death this boy before them had become a Spirit and flown on the great wind. If it were true, then their secret efforts would not have been in vain. They studied him carefully, and tried not to betray their hope.
Eventually the Curator of History broke the silence.
“Tell us of your duties as Teacher of Ocean-Hearth.”
“I tell stories to the children. I teach the fundamentals of the great disciplines of knowledge. I teach them about the Laws and how in the past the Laws were broken. I tell the children how we lost our way.”
“Do they know the three fundamental Laws?”
“Yes.” Jay closed his eyes. “The First Law of Science – one shall not explore the subatomic. The First Law of Nature – one shall not create unnatural life. The First Law of History – one shall not take another’s life.”
“You know the Laws,” said the Teacher. “Do you know the meaning of Aberration?”
“Yes.” Jay swallowed air. “Aberration is the breaking of Law. It is the consequence of turning one’s back on the Laws of our world.”
“It sounds like you are speaking from rote,” interrupted the Science Curator. “We need to know if you understand.” The man learned forward on the tatami and stared at him with a hawk-like intensity.
Jay opened his mouth. The Teacher and the Triumvirate waited for his response.
“Can you give us an example?” urged Paris Aristotle. “Think of a major Aberration that occurred in the past.”
Jay drew his thoughts together. “Two thousand years ago. Before Loss and Decline, a scientist named Jasmin Jared tried to create life. She broke the First Law of Nature and summoned forth creatures that destroyed hundreds of cities and millions of lives.”
“Yes,” said Xia Tsang, touching the sash of evil acro
ss her shoulder. “An Aberration of Nature.”
“Why did this Aberration occur?” asked Jack Gaunt.
“Because she broke the Law?”
“No. Not how, but why did it occur?”
The Science Curator was testing him, but Jay did not know what the man wanted to hear.
“People are a corrupting force,” continued the Science Curator. “We created the nuclear fires that heralded Loss and Decline. We ravaged the environment and destroyed the life it nurtured. We warred against our brothers and sisters. We nearly destroyed ourselves. So, I ask you again. Why did Jasmin Jared allow this Aberration to occur?”
“Because she was arrogant?”
“Because she was evil,” corrected Jack Gaunt. “She believed she was above the Laws. She dabbled with forces she could neither understand, nor control.”
The Science Curator looked sideways at Xia Tsang and shook his head. “Evil are those who break the Laws,” he said. “Those who summon Aberration.”
“And so we come to the reason behind the role of Teacher. Your first duty as Scion-Teacher or Teacher is to protect the Laws of History, Science and Nature.” said the Teacher. “You must educate the population of our city and be their moral guide. You must never, under any circumstances, break the Laws. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” he said, nervously. “I understand.”
“Good. Now, what is your tool for fighting evil? How are you to educate people about the Laws?”
“Through narrative,” said Jay.
“Yes, through the telling of stories. We want you to tell us a story, Jay. Something you have never told before. Unrehearsed. Something that will show us who you are.”
Jay had come prepared with stories he told the children of Ocean-Hearth. He did not expect to create one on the spot.
A story, never before told.
He thought about his dreams and his hopes for the world. He thought about his scion and friend, Rhada. He thought about his experience of dying and being saved by Hearth-Father. A story bubbled up from his imagination and perched behind his lips …
Riding the great wind between worlds the bird was born again as a bird of fire. It rose into the sky and spread flaming wings across the world.
The phoenix flew above the ocean to the north of the great desert land. Soon it came to the Islands of Death. Long ago they had been islands of paradise. Now they were desert islands, scorched clean by a fierce sun. Nothing lived there.
Or so the humans thought.
The phoenix drifted over the islands from west to east, silent lands of volcanic ash and rock. On one, ancient skyscrapers lay broken in piles of rubble. On another a lost temple clung to an ashen hillside, unvisited for two thousand years.
On and on the great bird flew. As the sun set in the west the bird came to the last island of the archipelago. Here there were signs of life. Wild aloysia bushes clung to the rocks at the bottom of a ravine, fed by a subterranean spring. Figures moved amongst the foliage, gathering hard, small fruits offered by the bushes.
One figure looked up and saw a bird with wings of fire descending from the sky. The figure had the body of a man and the head of an orangutan. It pointed and screeched. The others saw the fiery creature hovering above. The animists, some with orangutan heads, others with the heads of monkeys, dropped the fruit and cried out in communal panic. Within moments they disappeared into the nooks and caves of the ravine.
The phoenix perched on a stony outcrop halfway up a cliff. It folded its flaming wings together and gleamed like a torch in the dimming light.
It had been flying for an eternity and longed for companionship.
Dusk gave way to night and small creatures emerged. Insects fed on the aloysia leaves. Lizards fed on the insects. A fragile web of life clung to the rocks in this forgotten corner of the world.
It waited. Flames rose and fell with each breath. Eventually, in the hour before dawn a child crept from the caves and climbed the rocks to where the phoenix perched. The girl approached the waiting creature until its heat forbade her closer. Flickering flames reflected off her monkey face.
“Should I be frightened of you?” she asked.
The phoenix was silent.
“The others are, but I am not.”
The hazel eyes of the phoenix blinked.
“Can you talk?”
The phoenix warbled like a magpie.
The monkey girl scratched her face. She settled on her haunches and watched the bird.
“Are you looking for a person or a place?” she asked. “Whatever it is you are looking for, I don’t think it is here.”
She gazed at the beautiful creature with a sad longing.
“Will you fly away? I could ride on your back and we could fly across the ocean. But your flames would burn me up. I cannot come with you.”
They sat together in silent company. With the approaching dawn the other monkey people emerged from the caves. Too afraid to approach, they called to the girl to come away from the creature.
Ignoring their pleas, the girl kept the phoenix company until, with a blaze of light the sun burst on the eastern horizon. The phoenix had enjoyed the animist’s companionship but now it was time to go.
The phoenix flapped its wings and rose into the air, calling a lonely cry that echoed throughout the vale. Fire curved across the sky as it rose above the island and flew away to the north.
I will remember you! cried the monkey girl. She waved goodbye until the phoenix was a tiny point of light, disappearing in the sky. I hope you find what you are searching for!
“A story about life after death,” said Paris Aristotle. “Of Passage. Was this your personal experience, perhaps? A vision you experienced before your Hearth-Father drew you from the ocean?”
“I do not know, Curator,” said Jay. “It is from my imagination.”
The Teacher and the Triumvirate watched the boy. Jay sensed a reluctance behind their searching eyes. Afternoon sunlight soaked into the Teacher’s room. Sweat beaded Jay’s forehead. He wondered whether it would be wrong to wipe it with his sleeve.
“May I ask a question?” he asked eventually.
“Of course,” replied the Teacher.
“Are others being interviewed for this role?”
The Teacher nodded. “Yes, there is one other. A Teacher of a hearth, like you.”
Jay’s optimism plummeted.
“And if it is not rude to ask ... what happened to the previous Scion-Teacher?”
The three curators turned as one to the Teacher, leaving her to answer this difficult question. Colour drained from the Teacher’s face as she pondered the sadness of the question.
“He died,” she said finally. “The previous Scion-Teacher was named Erys. He was a much-loved member of the Museum. He was flying to Sydon when the zeppelin on which he was a passenger exploded over the desert. No-one survived.”
“I am sorry,” he said.
The Teacher sighed. “His loss was grievous to us all, and to me particularly. It is unnatural to lose a scion. The scion follows the master once the master comes to Passage. The new master then chooses his or her own scion. Erys should have become Teacher, one day. But it was not to be.”
“You have big shoes to fill, if you are successful,” said Jack Gaunt unkindly. “Erys was exceptional.”
Jay felt his hackles rising.
“He may have been,” said Jay carefully. “And I mean no disrespect to his memory. But all people are exceptional in their own way. Within the parameters of the Teacher’s guidance, I would make the role my own.” He gazed steadily at the Science Curator. “And not live in the shadow of a man no longer alive.”
“Well said,” approved Paris Aristotle. “He has a backbone, no doubt about it.” He grinned at Jack Gaunt, although his pleasure was not returned. “And he shows commitment to and understanding of the Law.” Paris Aristotle’s eyes sparkled with specks of gold, reflecting the colour of his robes. He winked at Jay. “I have seen enough to suggest
we move on to the next stage of the process. Teacher? What do you think?”
“I would just like to ask a question,” interjected Xia Tsang. “Jay, if you are successful here today, what of your role at Ocean-Hearth?”
“I have a scion at Ocean-Hearth,” said Jay. “She is a good teacher, and only a year younger than me. She would take my place.”
“How would you feel about leaving the children?” she asked.
“Well, I thought I could continue to live at Ocean-Hearth.”
“Live there and work here?” said the Curator of Nature, surprised. She glanced at the Teacher.
“That is not the usual practice,” said the Teacher. She pointed at a door on the ocean side of the room. “That is the Scion-Teacher’s room. The scion and Teacher share these chambers, and have done so for hundreds of years.”
Jay swallowed. He did not like the idea of having to leave Ocean-Hearth. “Is this a requirement for the role?” he asked. “Could I not do both? Live there and work here?”
The Teacher sat with perfect posture on the tatami mats as she considered his request. The sun dipped into view behind the Teacher and the Triumvirate. Red light bathed the room. The four figures before Jay were dark silhouettes, framed in a corona of red fire.
“I must think more on this,” said the Teacher eventually.
Across the room a door slid open to reveal a young man. He approached and bowed. His hands were hidden beneath flowing white robes. A black sash crossed from his shoulder to his hip.
"Jay, this is the Scion-Doctor of the Museum," said the Teacher.
Jay stood and bowed. The young man acknowledged Jay with a nod. His head was bald and shone like polished stone.
"All potential employees are required to pass a medical test," explained the Teacher. “You will go with the Scion-Doctor. After your test you will visit the Director.”
"Please follow me."
Jay bowed to the Triumvirate and followed the Scion-Doctor from the room. As he turned to close the door he saw that the three members of the Triumvirate and the Teacher were watching him. The Curator of Science was shaking his head.
"We will measure your health and predict your life expectancy," said the Scion-Doctor as the elevator rose a few levels higher in the tower. "The Museum will not want to employ you if you are prematurely near to Passage. Tell me, what is the average life expectancy of Homo sapiens?"