The Last Crucible

by J. D. Moyer

  At the time he had been confused by his own ambivalence. His father had rescued him, after all. And he loved his father. But he’d always felt that Völund had died unfairly.

  He was his own man now. He was capable of violence (who wasn’t?) but he needn’t be as brutal as his Happdal kin. His mother could have killed Adrian after discovering her advisor had tried to murder her, but ultimately she’d shown restraint. He would follow in her path, not his father’s.

  But that didn’t mean he was ready to forgive Manning, who had never been charged or prosecuted for his role in the attempt on Car-En’s life. That wasn’t right.

  “Would you really have attacked Manning, if I hadn’t stopped you?” he asked Katja over the com link.

  “Of course. Just a good slap to make him show respect. I wouldn’t have truly injured him. I realize we’re guests here.”

  “It’s good you didn’t,” Mèng said. “Manning has friends in high places.”

  “And how did that come about?” Tem asked. “Obviously not because of his natural charm.”

  Mèng laughed. “No. But he is a skilled designer and inventor, especially when it comes to body modifications and prosthetics. He was part of the team that designed these wings.”

  “Really?” The headwinds gone, they were now shooting through a narrow gorge, only ten meters above a raging whitewater river. Tem knew it was an illusion, but he felt that he was outside in nature, part of the sky itself. Not in an orbiting space station. The wings were a part of his body, easy to control with the merest twitches of his shoulders, arms, and wrists.

  “Rumor has it that he’s done personal contract work for government officials. Some of that work may be of a sensitive nature….”

  “Sexual prosthetics?”

  “And other modifications. That might explain his outsized influence.”

  “But why would he want to serve on the Ringstation Coalition committee? He didn’t even seem interested in the meeting.”

  “I don’t know,” Mèng said.

  Tem sensed that perhaps she did know, but didn’t want to say over the open com link.

  “Up ahead, stay aloft, well above the canopy. There’s an advanced course that weaves through the trees, but it’s too dangerous for beginners.”

  Tem flinched, wishing that Mèng had not mentioned the hidden course. Sure enough, Katja dove like a swallow toward the forest of towering gerutu trees.

  “What’s she doing?” Mèng asked.

  “I’m sure you didn’t mean to, but you just issued her a challenge.”

  Mèng grunted – the closest thing to an expression of anger Tem had heard out of her – and folded her wings, diving after Katja. “Stay above the trees,” she ordered Tem.

  Tem’s impulse was to follow, but what good would it do? If he ventured into the forest, he was even more likely to collide with a tree than Katja, who possessed a preternatural ability to master kinesthetic tasks.

  The gerutu rainforest formed a thin canopy, and he could see Katja weaving among the trunks, ahead and below. In his headset he could hear Mèng shouting at Katja to slow down, but his aunt just laughed, continuing her joyous speed run.

  He spread his wings wide to slow down and soar. His left wing felt sticky, resisting his guidance. He forced his arm straight and the prosthetic responded, though he veered slightly left. But then the wing collapsed, folding in on itself and painfully wrenching his shoulder. He spiraled down toward the trees, his rotation accelerating, the pain from his left shoulder numbing his entire arm. He yelled uselessly into his headset.

  He tumbled through the trees like a wet rag doll. A rib cracked with one impact. A branch thwacked the side of his helmet, silencing the voices of Mèng and his aunt. One wing caught, momentarily slowing his fall until the prosthetic ripped off entirely.

  The ground rushed up and slammed into him. He lay still, conscious but in shock, as he tried to assess if his back was broken.

  For the moment he felt no pain, only a dreadful anticipation of the suffering that would soon begin.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “There isn’t enough time,” Sperancia warned. The entire consorteria walked along a beach at dusk, the rising tide lapping at their bare feet and ankles. Sperancia and Jana led the way, followed by Agatha and Giuseppina. Itria followed a dozen paces behind, stopping frequently to examine seashells or shiny stones.

  “Look at what she has already created,” Jana pointed out, looking back at Itria. “Fantastical creatures, the town of Bosa reimagined, and who knows what else.”

  “But she had decades to do that, not days!”

  “Decades to learn her craft,” said Agatha. “She is more efficient than ever now. Remember how long it took her to create the tatzelwurm? But the flying fairies – we saw those only a week after she had conceived of them.”

  Giuseppina grunted skeptically. “This is of an entirely different scale. An ill-conceived plan if I ever heard one.”

  “You’re not helping,” Agatha said. “We’re already on the shuttle heading toward the Michelangelo. We’ve committed.”

  “Well, I’m glad I’ve lived a good life,” Giuseppina said. “And then some. Maybe more than I ever deserved. Let my last words be: It wasn’t my idea.”

  “Enough!” Jana shouted. “None of you are helping. Please – go ask Itria if she needs anything. We’re all counting on her.”

  Jana returned her focus to the shuttle’s life-support pod. The cockpit was empty, as was the rest of the ship. Technicians on the Liu Hui were handling navigation, for now. Once they were within range of the Michelangelo, there was no way of knowing what would happen.

  Katja had stayed behind with Tem. Fortunately his injuries had been limited to two broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, a sprained ankle, some minor contusions, and a concussion. After a few nights in a medical facility, he was now resting in his Liu Hui quarters. Katja was at his bedside nursing him back to health, just as she had stayed by Jana’s side when she was recovering from the transfer of the Crucible.

  Katja felt responsible for the accident, even though it hadn’t directly been her fault. Nothing Katja had done had caused Tem’s mechanical wings to fail. But had Katja paid attention to Mèng and stayed above the canopy, maybe the two of them could have saved Tem, breaking his fall. Katja, racked with guilt, had apologized profusely to Jana, but there was no way she could accompany her to the Michelangelo. Katja had to care for her nephew until he was well.

  Perhaps it was better this way. Alone, Jana felt calm and focussed. Her relationship with Katja filled her with giddy excitement. And when they were intimate, as pleasurable as it was, Jana was excruciatingly aware of her body in a way that she still hadn’t adjusted to. Despite Katja’s complete acceptance and apparent physical desire for her, it hadn’t helped the feeling that somehow Jana was stuck in the wrong form.

  It was something that almost everyone took for granted. Such a basic thing, to feel comfortable in your own skin. And though Jana considered herself a fortunate person, that particular sensation eluded her.

  “Are you well?” Ingrid asked over the com. Ingrid, still aboard the Stanford, was providing moral support and companionship during the voyage. “Feeling comfortable?”

  Jana almost laughed at the unintended irony of Ingrid’s question. “I’m fine.”

  “We still haven’t received a response from the Michelangelo. The Liu Hui is broadcasting in a dozen languages that you’re alone in the transport shuttle, which possesses no weapons whatsoever.”

  The shuttle was traveling at a slow speed toward the Michelangelo, which still hovered above Lake Victoria in geosynchronous orbit. Jana closed her eyes and focussed on her breathing. She could hear the voices of her consorteria trying to engage with her, but Itria’s voice was not among them, so she shut them out. She would consult the other women when they had more information, more t
o work with, but for now they were taking the path they had chosen.

  Ingrid’s voice interrupted her meditation. “Do you want to see your approach on the view screen? The Michelangelo should be in sight of the shuttle cameras by now.”

  Jana said that she did, and the view screen filled with a black starry sky. “I don’t see it.”

  “Look for the large blue star in the center of the screen. It will get bigger over time.”

  Jana watched with growing amazement as the blue star became a short blue line and soon after a rotating glowing blue cylinder. She had seen the Michelangelo before in Sperancia’s telescope, but that image had been fuzzy, distorted by the crude lens, the Earth’s atmosphere, and the transmitted vibrations of their footsteps across Sperancia’s rooftop. The image from the shuttle’s camera was crisp and clear. As the shuttle drew closer, Jana saw more colors than just blue. There were points of light in every color, brilliant against the matte black hull, a curved cliff drifting through space. Soon all the stars were eclipsed by the behemoth; the ship filled the entire view screen.

  “Ingrid, are you still there?”

  Ingrid did not respond, nor did anyone from the Liu Hui.

  “Halt your approach and state your business,” said a brusque female voice over the com, in English.

  “I’m not in control of the ship. My name is Jana Manca. I am here to visit a man by the name of Maro. He invited me. I am from the town of Bosa on the island of Sardinia.”

  Silence. Had they heard her?

  “Halt your ship or we will deploy deadly force.”

  “I can’t!” Jana yelled, panicking. The plan would be for naught if her corpse was floating through space, or burned up like a blade of dry grass tossed into a raging fire. But she felt the shuttle lurch to a halt. Apparently someone on the Liu Hui could hear the commands as well.

  “I demand to speak to Maro!” If they were going to kill her, she would not die meekly.

  This time the silence was longer, but the ship did not explode or incinerate. Finally she heard a different voice, silky and familiar. “This is Maro Decimus. To whom am I speaking?” He already knew; not only had she announced herself, he was speaking in Italian.

  “Jana Manca, from Bosa.”

  “Ah…the woman who tried to murder us, and then imprisoned us for defending ourselves. What brings you to the Michelangelo?”

  Jana sensed that his casual tone was a bluff, that he was deeply interested in her presence. He’d seen the transfer of the Crucible with his own eyes and had expressed his fascination. But she couldn’t be sure. Maybe he would kill her with no more thought than slapping a mosquito.

  “I have considered your invitation – the one that you extended to all of us. I would like to participate in your project.”

  A beat. “What made you change your mind?”

  “I had time to think about it. I was wrong to believe that you were a threat. That was Sperancia’s influence.”

  “Sperancia…the old woman who murdered Felix.”

  “It was her plan to attack you at your campsite, to burn your balloon and then stab you all to death.”

  “So vicious….”

  “She thought that you wanted to enslave us.”

  “And now you would like me to forgive you? You would like me to allow you aboard the Michelangelo, allow you to participate in Ancestral Realism?”

  “Yes,” Jana said simply, swallowing her pride. Again, she was glad Katja was not with her, complicating her emotions. This was between her and Maro.

  “I will consider your request and consult with my colleagues.”

  An hour passed. Jana unbuckled herself and floated around the cabin, first stretching and then slowly propelling herself from wall to wall with gentle pushes. She felt only a little spacesick; her body was getting used to weightlessness.

  The brusque woman’s voice again: “You are granted permission to board. A tug will escort you to the docking bay. Do not move from your current co-ordinates.”

  Minutes later the shuttle shook as something grabbed on to it. Jana buckled up again but there was no need; the remainder of the ride was slow and smooth. After what felt like an eternity, the shuttle stopped again, this time settling down onto a solid surface. She felt a hint of gravity.

  “You may open your service doors now.”

  Jana had no idea how to do that. She made her way to the cockpit – there was just enough gravity to walk. “Shuttle, open service doors.” A hissing sound and slight decrease in air pressure indicated success.

  The shuttle was parked in a vast marble-floored room. A trio was there to greet her: two men and one woman, all wearing white tunics and sandals. Strange attire for inhabitants of a giant space station.

  ***

  Livia poured wine into her cup while Maro watched. They sat on the floor, on a soft fleece rug, supported by pillows. Maro’s house was lavishly decorated: ornately painted walls, gilded furnishings, sparkling fountains.

  “How are Filumena and Cristo?” Jana asked. She’d done her best to go along with Maro and Livia’s small talk, answering their questions about Bosa and how the many people they had met there were faring: her father, Leandro; Gregoriu, the mayor; Micheli, the barkeep. They even asked about Filumena’s young cousins, Ralf and Bina. But they had yet to mention the ‘volunteers’ themselves.

  “They are enjoying the pinnacle experience of their lives,” Maro replied. “Both are experiencing a shared simulated world, a chapter of history of the Roman Empire. But a fluid chapter that they co-create. Their decisions impact their reality.”

  “I would like to see them. Today.”

  Livia raised an eyebrow, but Maro smiled and nodded. “Of course, I understand. Today is not possible, but they are only a few days away from completing this phase of the experiment. It could be psychologically damaging to extract them at this point. Surely you can wait a few days to see your friends? You will be our guest. I promise we will keep you entertained and well-fed.”

  Jana noticed a pale, red-haired woman standing under one of the arched entrances, regarding her curiously.

  Maro shot the woman an irritated glance. “What is it, Aina?”

  “I have done what you asked. The wine is decanting.”

  “That will be all, Aina,” Maro said.

  “Who are you?” asked the red-haired woman, staring at Jana with disconcerting intensity.

  “My name is Jana. I’m from Sardinia – a large island in the Mediterranean Sea.”

  Aina smiled, an expression that accentuated her attractiveness and increased Jana’s heart rate. “Home of the Nuragic culture, a Bronze Age civilization known for their holy wells and large stone sculptures.”

  “Aina, leave us,” Maro snapped. “This is a private discussion.”

  “Yes, Maro.”

  “Your servant?” Jana asked once Aina had left the room.

  “She appears human, doesn’t she? But she is a machine, with no more self-awareness than a fish.”

  “But she understood me. The way she smiled at me….”

  “Convincing, isn’t it? It’s a masterful illusion – our Engineers are truly brilliant. You are welcome to get to know her better, if you like. Enjoy her in whatever way you wish. She’s quite pliant.”

  “You make assumptions, Maro,” Livia said.

  Maro smiled in a way that made Jana uncomfortable. “Are my assumptions incorrect?”

  “I would like to see the Michelangelo,” said Jana, changing the subject. “All of it. Your schools and museums, your farms and factories, your parks and restaurants. Where your people work, learn, and play. Everything.”

  “That would take months. But you are welcome to take in as much as you can handle. It will be a good way for you to pass the time while waiting for Filumena and Cristo. Aina can be your guide if you are amenable.”
/>   “And your Curia – your Senate Hall – you spoke of it in Bosa. I would like to see that place as well.”

  “That can be arranged. There is space on the mezzanine for citizen-guests.”

  Maro looked pointedly at Livia, who rose and excused herself, leaving Maro and Jana alone.

  “Now, I must ask,” Maro said, leaning forward. “How is the old woman?”

  “You mean Sperancia? You know very well that she is dead.”

  “Of course. But how is she enjoying her afterlife? You see, I have read about the Crucible. I know how it works. And in your case, perhaps miraculously, it is working as intended. Isn’t it? All the previous hosts living harmoniously in a virtual world, there to offer advice and guidance to the current host.”

  Jana nodded – there was no point in carrying on a charade of ignorance. “Mostly harmonious. And to answer your question, Sperancia is well.”

  “Can she hear us right now?”

  “Yes, as can the others.”

  “How many? What are their names?”

  “Four, not including myself. Sperancia, Giuseppina, Agatha, and Itria.”

  “Only four? The Crucible is over five hundred years old.”

  “The black egg bestows long life. Sperancia was the oldest person in Bosa, by far.”

  “And great physical strength as well?”

  “After many years, yes.”

  There was a hunger in Maro’s eyes that both scared and encouraged Jana. She needed that hunger for her plan to work, but Maro’s interest in the Crucible could just as easily kill her.

  “Explain it to me,” said Maro. “Tell me everything about your experience of the Crucible. Tell me exactly how it works and how it affects you. Leave nothing out.”

  Jana did exactly as Maro had asked. It was part of the plan.