Dark Matter

by Luke Donegan

  “The moisture helps you to heal,” said the man.

  As Erys tried to sit, a searing pain flashed up his back and along his arms. The man did not aid him, but watched with interest. Erys lifted a painful arm. Green moss was pasted over the red, seared flesh

  “Where am I?” he asked, lowering the damaged arm. “Who are you?”

  “I am Saskareth of the Umawari. The emu people. You convalesce beneath the central desert of this great land, a long way from Pars, and you may never return to home. That has yet to be decided.

  “You fell from the sky,” he continued. “When all those around you perished, you survived. You were fortunate I found you. The desert was littered with the dead. You will feel guilt perhaps. You will ask, ‘Why was I allowed to live?’ There is no answer. What you do with your life is all the meaning you will ever have. This is all anyone can do. But you have passed through fire. Perhaps it will provide clarity. Perhaps.”

  A month passed before he could sit. Another before he could leave the cot. Fire had seared his back and sides, and the insides of his legs. The sweet fragrance of burning skin would never leave him.

  Saskareth visited each day. The man asked questions and answered some of his own. He saw Erys fall from the sky. He rolled him in desert sand to suffocate the flames. Carrying the dying man, he returned to his community beneath the sand. He did not believe Erys would survive.

  “But you are strong in body and mind. You are very determined.”

  “No-one wants to die,” said Erys.

  “No. But few fight to survive. Most are afraid.”

  A nurse bathed Erys’ burns. Together, she and Saskareth lay handfuls of cool, moist moss over the skinless flesh.

  “What is the measure of your Spirit?” Saskareth asked him.

  “What do you mean?”

  Erys rolled to the side to see Saskareth.

  “You will disturb the moss.” Saskareth moved to the foot of the cot. The nurse left the room.

  “Tell me about Passage,” said the emu man, his dark eyes widening.

  Erys paused. He knew he was being tested. What he said would determine whether he ever left this place. He decided to tell the truth.

  “Passage is not a natural phenomenon,” he said. “Passage is Aberration. It is unnatural death brewed in ... Do you know what I mean by the term Dark Matter?”

  Saskareth nodded.

  “Passage is born of Dark Matter.”

  Saskareth studied him for a long time. “You are brave to speak the truth.”

  “Not brave,” replied Erys. “You already knew the truth.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Saskareth, do all your people know the truth of Passage?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, how do you live without despair? Knowing that there is no life after this.”

  Saskareth paused in thought. “We live because of despair. Knowledge of evil and of what has been lost gives us the grace to face life. We do not daydream through life. We live it, knowing it is short. Knowing it will end.”

  “Knowing that nothing waits but Dark Matter?”

  “Yes. Knowing this makes us live.”

  Erys shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

  “It is the darkness surrounding it that makes the small light seem brighter. Tell me, what is the life span of an average human of your group?” he asked. “How many years before Passage.”

  “Thirty.”

  “And you are?”

  “Nineteen.”

  “You have ten more years. What will you do with these granted years? How will you give meaning to why your life was spared, when all around you perished?”

  “I don’t know,” said Erys eventually.

  Saskareth approached and his dark eyes narrowed. “You should think on that, Erys. You are a light that almost went out. While all those around you died, you continued to burn. How will you make the fire of your life balance all those that fell into darkness?”

  “I have something to show you.”

  With the help of Saskareth and the nurse he emerged from the room. They followed a corridor carved through the rock, passing windows and doors through which he glimpsed larger caves. People they passed gazed at him with dark eyes.

  The Umawari had lived in these caves for thousands of years. Carved figures of animals and people grew from the walls and the floor. Stalagmites were sculpted to represent figures struggling to free themselves of the earth. But Erys noticed that half the figures were carved with the heads of emus. Their hair braids were feathers and they had small wings tucked into their backs.

  Before he could question this animism they emerged into a magnificent cave. This was not a small community scratching for survival. He stood before a civilisation.

  From his vantage above the cavern floor he saw buildings, roads, meeting squares, fountains, aqueducts to carry water throughout the city – some of these were so wide they carried small boats serving as transport. Massive statues towered into the air – emus fighting for flight. There was an arena and public buildings. And people. Hundreds of people moving along the roads, gathering in squares, sitting in boats on the aqueducts.

  These people were not thriving. Passage held their progress at bay. But neither were they diminishing. This was a living, breathing society, slowly finding its wings beneath a barren world.

  His spirit rose as Erys realised that his people were not alone in this world. Here was a light, unsearched for but blinding, springing from the darkness he once thought stretched unbroken across the featureless land.

  A secret that only he knew, buried beneath the earth. And the knowledge that they were more than human ...

  “I’ve been to a place you could not imagine. It has changed me. I am not the man you knew.”

  No, that’s not all, thought Jay. You’re hiding something.

  Erys radiated a confidence born from his unique experience. He had emerged from a ball of fire, five thousand feet above the earth, survived, and discovered a lost race.

  “I don’t know where to begin,” said Paris Aristotle breathlessly. “When the zeppelin exploded, you survived!”

  Loosening the cords across his chest Erys opened his robe, baring his upper torso. Scar tissue covered his back and arms where the fireball had seared his flesh. Sian winced at the sight. Masodi and Jaime stepped up to touch the bubbling scars.

  “I am lucky the fire did not burn through the parachute.”

  Erys redressed himself.

  “How did you come to find him?” Jack Gaunt asked Saskareth.

  The emu man replaced Erys in the centre of the floor.

  “I often watch the zeppelins cross the sky above the desert where my people live. I saw the zeppelin explode that day. I saw Erys falling to earth. When I found him and saw the damage to his body, I thought he would die. In the deepest caves a moss grows that is useful for burns. We set his broken bones, covered his body with healing moss and waited.”

  The Teacher bowed. “I thank you, Saskareth,” she said. “You have done us a great service.”

  “In our mythology my people were once flying people,” continued Saskareth. “We flew across the land and out to sea. Our brothers, the bat people, were ground dwellers and envious of our flight. One night they stole our wings and flew away. They became flying people and we were trapped on the earth, flightless and lost.

  “This is why I watch the zeppelins. They remind me of what we have lost. Not flight, because that is myth. I speak of our freedom. Our longing to live in the world as it once was, above ground, in forest and field. Not to hide in caves, away from the sun and away from the eyes of your people.”

  Paris Aristotle rose with uncontainable excitement. “We thought we were alone. To hear there are others, it is a wonderful revelation.” He grasped his hands together. “Tell us more about your people. How many are you?”

  Saskareth put up his hands in a gesture of supplication. “I cannot answer all your questions,” he said. “We have reason to
be shy. Your people brought about Aberration, two thousand years ago. You began the Quark Wars, and our world has paid a heavy price. Gob, gob, gob. I am here as an Emissary for my people. While I hope to extend the hand of friendship, my role is to decide whether we should trust enough to emerge from where we dwell.”

  Among the Museum employees there was a hush of guilt and the uneasy feeling that comes from being judged.

  The emu man dipped his head. “I do not mean to offend. We are the Umawari of the Central Desert. We have lived beneath the desert since Aberration. Before this time we mingled with your people. Although we lived in the same communities we had a different culture, a different heritage. We had lived here for thousands of years before your people arrived. During the Quark Wars we retreated to the desert. Soon even the surface of the desert became uninhabitable. We had to find another place to live. Gob, gob, gob.”

  The emu man’s feather-like hair rippled with the guttural exclamation.

  “The caves beneath the desert run for hundreds of miles. Fresh water is plentiful, possums and bats live in the caves. We harvest the bats. There are root vegetables, moss and lichens and fungi. We forage the surface desert for other foods. Our lives are not easy, but we have survived in this way for many years. While we are not a large community, we have preserved our heritage and customs. Like you we have storytellers who teach our laws to the children.

  “I understand why you stayed secret,” conceded Jack Gaunt. “But why reveal yourselves now? You could have kept Erys in your caves and we would never have known. From your perspective you risk much.”

  Saskareth looked at Erys and nodded.

  “We have known of your communities for a long time. Erys told us about your quest to bring our world back from ruin. My people too long for the world as it was, abundant with life and rich with diversity. We decided it was worth the risk.”

  Jay looked carefully at the emu man. He knew a white lie when he heard one and he did not believe the man was being honest. Jay noticed Erys exchanging a look with the Taxidermist. Something was left unsaid.

  The Scion-Director stood. “Thank you Saskareth for being candid. Although it is not necessary, we respect and understand your need for caution. You are welcome in our community.”

  The Scion-Director rubbed his chin and stepped into the centre of the room. “Your presence is a matter of great importance. I believe we are standing on the brink of a changing world. There is much I would like to hear, including details of Erys’ rehabilitation. I would like to know far more about your community, Saskareth. But I feel that these matters surpass us here. Your story should be told to the Ascendancy, the council that governs our city. Curators?”

  Paris Aristotle and Xia Tsang nodded in agreement.

  “Yes,” said Xia Tsang. “This is a matter for the city.”

  “Teacher?”

  Ariel nodded.

  “Agreed,” said Jack Gaunt. “I will request an audience with the Ascendancy. For now, you are welcome as our guest in the Museum.”

  Everyone in the room rose and bowed to the emissary. Before people could take their leave, Erys spoke.

  “Scion-Director, if I may. There is another matter I would like to raise. It is to do with my position at the Museum. When I left I was the Teacher’s scion. As you know, such an appointment is for life, or until the Teacher comes to Passage. Well, I am here. I did not die. Is my title still recognized by the Triumvirate?”

  Jack Gaunt looked from Erys to Jay. “In my opinion, what you say is supported by law.”

  “It is not that simple,” said Paris Aristotle. “Jay also is Scion-Teacher according to law. Erys was presumed dead. Jay’s appointment was legal, under those circumstances.”

  The curators of History and Science turned to Xia Tsang. “This situation is unprecedented,” said the Curator of Nature. “Both have a legitimate claim. Could there be two scions?”

  “Not according to law,” said Paris Aristotle.

  “Then we must deliberate,” said Xia Tsang. “Teacher, will you join us?”

  “Yes, Curator.”

  “As for an audience between Saskareth and the Ascendancy,” said Jack Gaunt. “Erys, you will be required. The Ascendancy will want to hear your story. Curators. Teacher. I suggest we meet in my office this evening to discuss the matter of the scions.”

  Most of the group gathered around Erys and Saskareth as they left the office. The Teacher and the Builder walked together. Jay found himself in the uncomfortable situation of walking beside the Taxidermist and Clara.

  Jay asked finally: “Taxidermist, may I speak with you?”

  The thin, dark skinned man looked at him with smoky eyes.

  “I want to apologise,” said Jay. “Do you remember the day when the Builder told you children were in the tunnels, spying?”

  The Taxidermist waited.

  “That was me. I thought ... well, I thought the animals were alive. I was curious, so I ...”

  “So you chose to spy,” completed the Taxidermist.

  “Yes. I don’t know how long I will be at the Museum. If Erys resumes his role ... well, I wanted to take this opportunity to apologise. Though I did not mean any harm, I showed you disrespect.”

  The Taxidermist studied him. “There is a lesson here, Clara,” he said eventually. “This is how one earns respect, by possessing the dignity to admit they have made a mistake.”

  He bowed briefly then led his scion away towards the elevator. Jay stood alone in the corridor, eyes to the floor, wondering at the value of forgiveness. Was it a true salve for guilt, or could people only find healing for themselves?

  That night he sat on the tatami and looked at the city. When the Teacher returned to the office he rose and boiled water for tea. The Teacher watched his activity before joining him on the mats. Jay brewed green tea and poured two cups.

  “Thank you,” said the Teacher, sipping the tea.

  He thought he had never seen the Teacher so tired.

  “Can I get you anything?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said, after thinking for a moment. “My brush, on the table in my room.”

  He retrieved the brush and sat quietly while she ran the brush through her long, red hair.

  “The Triumvirate has come to a decision,” she said eventually. She put the brush down and faced him. “There is no precedent in law. According to the Triumvirate you both have legitimate claims. Thus, they have left the choice to me. I am to decide between you and Erys.”

  They sat in silence. Jay looked at the view. He felt the cool reed mats under his fingers, and a keen regret that these sensations may not last.

  “I cannot decide now,” she said.

  “Teacher, I would rather resign than have you make this choice. I think I should leave of my own accord and make way for Erys to be scion again. He was here before me.”

  “And what would you do?”

  “I don’t know. Probably I would return to Ocean-Hearth.”

  “To do what?” asked the Teacher, more bluntly than she intended. “Your friend is Hearth-Mother now. She has a Teacher and a Scion-Teacher beneath her. We have discussed this before. There is no place for you there.”

  “But then what do I do? Where do I go if I can’t stay here?”

  The boy turned away to hide the emotion on his face.

  There is no solution, thought Ariel to herself. Only one that is too hard to make. Not after what he has been through.

  “I cannot decide now,” she repeated. “I must be focused for Restoration Day. Once that is over, I will make my decision.”

  Once over I will cast him loose, poor boy, she thought. Loose into the world to travel and wander, and my heart will break.

  Chapter 8 RESTORATION DAY

  Once every year the inhabitants of the city gathered in the Central Square for Restoration Day. Seating accommodated most of the city population.

  Jay and the Teacher sat together in a small marquee beside the stage. Sounds of the crowd seeped thr
ough the canvas walls. They shared the tent with the Singer. This small woman stood apart, concentrating on the song she was about to sing.

  “Do you need me anymore?” asked Jay.

  The Teacher shook her head.

  “I can stay.”

  “No. Join your friend. I need peace to concentrate.”

  “Okay. Teacher?”

  “Yes Jay.”

  “I wanted to say that ... I have learnt much from you in a short time. If I am soon to go, I wanted you to know that.”

  “Thank you Jay.”

  He emerged from the tent and came face to face with Erys. The man nodded in greeting and made to enter.

  “She is busy preparing,” said Jay, stepping before the tent flap.

  Erys grinned. “Scion-Teacher. Like a bear cub protecting its mother. Don’t worry bear cub. I will wish her luck, then leave her be.”

  “You will break her concentration.” Jay insisted.

  “Look at you, all fired up.”

  The Teacher called from within. “Jay. Let him in.”

  Jay reluctantly stepped aside and his face blushed red.

  Erys nodded, ducking his head and entered the tent. Jay looked up at the vast, bustling crowd. He felt as if thirty thousand people had just witnessed this exchange.

  He climbed through the tiers to the group from Ocean-Hearth. The children waved their hands as he approached, calling: “Teacher, up here!” Rhada smiled as he sat beside her.

  “Thank you for joining us,” said the Hearth-Mother. “The children were so excited when I told them.” She turned away shamefully. “I didn’t know if I should ask you, after what I said.”

  Jay nodded, but he was distracted. He watched the tent. A few minutes passed before Erys re-emerged. He watched the tall man climb through the audience and sit beside Sian. A large group from the Museum were gathered there, including the three curators and their scions, the Builder and most of his children. Xia Tsang and Paris Aristotle were deep in conversation. Saskareth sat with the Taxidermist, scanning the crowd with great fascination. Erys talked closely with Sian and pointed in Jay’s direction. The Scion-Curator looked across the crowd. She spied Jay, said something to her companion. Erys smiled and waved.