Three Sons

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Three Sons Page 18

by Saxon Keeley


  Fenghuangs had been developed to replace the Grey Herons, unlike their predecessor’s rudimentary design the Fenghuange is better suited for combat. It’s ability to descend a planet’s atmosphere twice as quick as any other Loyalist or Separatist boat gives them a decisive advantage in deploying units onto the battlefield. The dual-craft was named for its unusually long and thin vertical stabilisers, it’s beatification was so it could live up to that name.

  As soon as they touch down the co-pilot opens the hatch for three research assistants who instruct Alistair and Alexander to put on an oxygen mask and a white coat. Alistair can see the disappointment on his nephew’s face when he sees that his father wasn’t the one to greet them, but hopes that he will soon forget this when they step out to the splendours of this strange and alien planet.

  Green leaves flutter all around them. The air is humid in ways that can only be produced by nature, not replicable by TFPs. The sun has yet to break through the morning’s haze and it will be hours before it will break through the trees, if it ever does. Insects of the night retreat to the shadows as those of the day begin to forage or hunt. Though flowers have not yet evolved, the prehistoric wilderness is alive with colour.

  Alistair keeps a wary eye on the dark spaces between the trees, assuming his nephew is close by. The research assistant leading them stops and turns around to find Alexander walking away from the group, lured over to the edge of the landing pad by a rustling from below. A large plated creature crawls through the forest floor. The other two assistants rush to pull him away from the edge, a flapping of wings not far away.

  After decontamination, they enter the facility and Alexander asks to be shown all the planet’s specimens they have collected. The team are more than happy to indulge the fascinations of a young scientist directing him first to the giant spider-like creatures. Losing his nephew, Alistair takes the opportunity to find his brother.

  Manically working on his new project Oscar had failed to notice the alert of their arrival, let alone Alistair’s sudden intrusion. The lab is in a state. The red neon glow is harsh to the eyes. Wires dangle from hook to hook around the room. Cold dregs of tea sit at the bottom of the multitude of cups scattered on every available surface. Sticky notes are stuck around all sides of the screens with amendments scribbled down to be made to the complex lines of coding, on the few screens without the continuous steam of coding are life-like digital renderings of Xuan. In the centre of the lab is a heavyset metal framed reclined chair with an industrial visor over the headrest, the wires all feed into the top of this visor. Sparks fly as Oscar tampers with the hardware, swearing at his umpteenth failure.

  Finally, Oscar notices his brother, wiping his hands on an oily cloth he welcomes him in. He looks haggard working obsessively without proper sleep. “Brother, I thought we were expecting you in a few hours,” then glances at the time. “Oh, well. Where is Alexander?”

  “Looking at the indigenous lifeforms of Eden, I must say I have never seen him happier. Just as well,” he said, concerned about the images of Xuan onscreen, “I cannot imagine how he would have reacted to all of this.”

  He moseys around the lab trying to piece together what exactly his brother is working on. Boxes of Xuan’s old belongings are piled high in a dark corner. None of this makes sense. Just as he is about to touch something Oscar goes to intervene, prudently he retracts his hand.

  “What is all of this?”

  “I have designed weapons, armour and war machines; expanded on Father’s research improving the terraforming of planets tenfold. But this, this one is for me,” he explained with a grim satisfaction. “The sense of loss that has manifested itself over the years is pain we need not suffer, imagine if we could reverse our pain Brother, or at least appease it. Imagine there was a way to commune with the dead. Would you not want to speak with Weishi again? For Nicholas and Jessica to see their mother again? To see Wesley, Mother and Father?”

  Alistair takes a seat opposite Oscar and studies his brother. He is not well. This is what it must have felt like every time Oscar had visited him at the Crystal Castle, finding him working late buried under stacks of paperwork. He realises they are more alike than he thought, prisoners of their own keeping.

  “Are you talking about an artificial intelligence which mimics personality?” he asked, not sure whether entertaining his brother like this is a good idea.

  “No…yes, no. It is a personality built on documentation, digital footprints and more. A personality shaped by archived memories independent of human programing. There is a current problem of filling in the blanks, algorithms need to be revised, and in its current state it will not be passing the Turing Test anytime soon, but what I do have is promising.”

  The prospect of seeing Weishi again is alluring, if possible what Oscar is working on is miraculous if not insane. Even if Alistair were to be granted another opportunity to be with his wife, it would not be the same. She would never really be there. The past wouldn’t simply be erased and his pain would never truly dissipate. As much as it hurts to admit, Weishi’s death is as much a part of her now as everything else.

  “You have become consumed by grief Brother, detached from reality. Even if it were possible, so much has happened I do not wish to see her.”

  “Consumed by grief,” Oscar laughed. “You wage war from behind a desk in a glass building you are all too eager to indulge as a castle. My grief may have harboured itself as longing, but do not kid yourself, your grief is vengeful and blood thirsty. Nibiru was a failure yet you kept throwing soldiers at the enemy. How many more must die until your bloodlust is quenched?”

  Alistair sighs, taking a moment to maintain his composure. Twisting his silver ring around his finger he recites in his head the words engraved around the inside, you must defend your honour and your family. He lets his anger wash over him and eventually he said, “I have not come here to fight. I will wait for you in your office, both of us need some time to calm down. There is something we must discuss, I trust you have a bottle of something stashed away there.”

  Watching out the window Alistair is comforted by the lengthy stretch of time he has been made to wait by his brother, expecting he has gone to join Alexander on his tour of the facility. He sips on his drink, with another glass already poured for when Oscar joins him. Dragonfly-like insects zip passed the window. Long giant bodies and enormous colourful lenses for eyes. Although glass separates them it wouldn’t take much for it to shatter, Alistair gets nervous each time one of them suddenly changes their flight pattern and darts directly towards him.

  Thudding against the window at the same time the door swings abruptly open, Oscar marches into his office and collapse into his chair, completely unbothered by the insect desperately trying to get in. In one gulp, he drains his drink and instantly pours another. He drinks this one slowly.

  “Do not mind him,” his brother said noticing Alistair edging away from the window. He presses a button and something happens to make the insect fly away. Making a concerted effort to change the tone from their last conversation Oscar turns to him and said, “Thank you for keeping an eye on my son. He is in good health and high spirits, certainly passionate.”

  “Yes,” Alistair agreed. “Alexander has done well at The Academy, a model student. As if we were to expect anything less of him considering his lineage.”

  Not so easily smoothed over as he had hoped, Oscar becomes more direct not willing to waste his precious time with the back and forth of pleasantries. “Why have you come to Eden? I know that the Neo-Shanxi TFP is due for inspection. If you are so worried I will leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

  Alistair smiles, following the rim of the glass with his finger. “I am firstly enquiring whether it will be you this time that does the inspection, and not one of your assistants.” Oscar rolls his eyes. “Shanxi is experiencing a drought and we need things normalised as quickly as possible. Water supplies from Mu are enough to provide drinking water but everything else is under
immense strain, let alone what this means for the rest of the planet’s future.”

  “And secondly?”

  “I would ask you to take Alexander along with you this time. You were younger than him when Father started taking you to Jung Labs. If we intend to keep Taiyi Shengshui in the family then Alexander should begin to learn now.” He paused, thinking over his next words carefully. Oscar doesn’t interrupt recognising that look, instead leans back in his chair and sips his drink. “Also, I believe it would be beneficial for your son to transfer to Neo-Shanxi University. The Academy, whilst maintaining its focus on high standards of education, has branched out seeing an expansion into military training. Unfortunately, because of that The Academy has narrowed which disciplines it specialises in, Science not being one of them. If he were to stay on Maia he would be drastically cut short of achieving his full potential.”

  Always impressed by Alistair’s silver tongue, Oscar can’t help but agree with him. “You are right, Alexander would have a better education on Shanxi. There he would have access to Jung Labs, a good place to begin a promising career or when he is ready he could join me here.”

  Pleased to hear he does not have to convince his brother, Alistair returns to the window gazing out at the strange alien wonders. The morning mist has evaporated and above the sky is bright, yet the view is shrouded in the shadows cast by the primeval trees. He chuckles to himself.

  “What is so amusing?” Oscar asked suspicious of his brother.

  “With the over oxygenated air, the charming native life and total seclusion from civilisation, I cannot think of a possible reason he would ever refuse that offer,” he joked.

  “Are you coming with us to Shanxi?”

  “No. There is a matter I must attend to on Shambhala, then I will return to Maia to collect Nicholas and together we will head to Thuỷ Phủ. Mẫu Thoải wishes to discuss how we may strengthen the alliance between our two colonies,” he explained. “Vice Chairman Lin Zongren will meet you upon arrival.”

  Oscar is a about to enquire further when he decides that he’d rather not know the nature of that discussion, his business is Alexander and not his brother’s children. In silence the brothers finish their drinks, both keen to keep the conversation civil.

  Finally, Alistair rests his empty glass down on the desk. The boat has been waiting for him since they got off, it was always his intention to keep this visit brief. He forces a smile farewell. Before he leaves Alistair cannot help but make one final remark.

  “Oh, one last thing. Go see Xuan when you are there, it would do you both some good.”

  Maia

  Jessica Jung

  At her usual spot over the canal Jessica sits reading her book, the pages wrinkled from the stormy night she ran away from home. Maia has a few hours of sunlight left, only a few more hours after that until it orbits behind Thule freezing the planet. Ordinarily Jessica would be well prepared for this tiresome cycle, but as the temperature already beings to dip she is reminded that she has none of her warm clothes with her. It will be sometime before Jack will be able to sneak her into his dorm and until then she will be out in the cold.

  Her shabby appearance hasn’t gone unnoticed either. Still wearing the same uniform she left home in, she has done her best to scrub them clean getting any stains out with toothpaste, which she overheard one of the onsite teachers explaining to a student how to get out stubborn stains during a very close call in which she hid behind a mound of dirty towels. Instead though as her pristine crisp shirt gradually turned grey she would be left with patches of pasty white. The odd item she claimed from lost property was always either too big or had a ripped seam. Girls giggle at her in the corridors as she walks by, the vicious ones simply turn their nose up at her. She’d never realised before just how alone she is.

  Footsteps come from behind and she is surprised to see Jack walking up next to her. He drops down a bag and takes a seat, dangling his feet over the canal. Jessica has never met another person who was brave enough to dangle their feet over the edge too. Despite sharing a room with him, Jessica is never sure of how to behave around him in the outside world. She wouldn’t describe herself as relaxed when they are together in his room, but conversation feels easier. She pretends not to notice him, buried deep in her book. Taking her eyes off the page for a second she sees him also reading.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Reading,” said Jack jokingly.

  “That is not what I meant,” she huffed. Her attempts to continue reading are disturbed by the rustling of the mysterious bag, which he purposely keeps elbowing. He plays dumb but is glad when she turns around and asked, “What is that?”

  “This? I asked the head girl if she had any old uniform or clothes she doesn’t wear anymore. She was nice enough to give me all this. I even think there is a thick wax jacket in here,” he smiled. “She is about your size, and don’t worry you can trust her not to say anything. If she ever did I know way too much stuff she wouldn’t want anybody else knowing.”

  “Thank you,” she said, getting back to her book. She expects him to then leave, but he doesn’t. He continues with his novel, flipping the page obnoxiously loud. Pulled away from reading again she tuts. “Why are you still here?”

  He smirked, “Because you are here. Now, shh! I am trying to read.”

  Jessica cannot help but slip a smile at his playful remark. Both pretend to read, acting as if neither are distracted by the other’s presence. Over and over she scans the same line forcing it to make sense. The words sound but their meaning is contextless. She slams the book shut, making Jack jump.

  “What are you reading?”

  “You made me lose my place. What are you reading first?”

  “You are so annoying,” she jested. “Eileen Chang’s ‘Half a Lifelong Romance’.”

  “I like a good romance. Would you recommend it?”

  “I don’t think you would like this one then,” she said. “Now tell me, what are you reading?”

  He closes the book with his thumb holding his place, the title reads ‘Narziß und Goldmund’, one of his German novels. He pre-empted her question, “It’s about two men choosing two very different paths in life. Can’t say if it’s any good at this point, I’ve only really just started it.”

  In the setting sun, his beauty is angelic. There is an unconventional handsomeness to his Western features, blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. The way he carries himself exudes confidence, untroubled by the world around. A warmth stirs insider her. She brushes her hair behind her ear hoping that he finds her just as beautiful.

  Their moment is embarrassingly interrupted by the sound of her stomach groaning, she awkwardly tries to cover for her bodily outburst. His good-natured chuckle somehow eases the situation. Climbing to his feet, he offers his hand.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Ever eaten the food of the Louts Garden vendors?” he asked. Jessica shakes her head. “Your cousin introduced me to street food, and they serve the best in the city. Better than any of those fancy restaurants I bet. It’s food with real soul, no one has more soul than hard working people supporting a community. What do you say? It’s my treat.”

  For a second she pretends to give it some consideration, truth is she’s ecstatic. Her glowing smile betrays her façade and, after a much shorter time has passed than what Jessica thinks, she takes his hand and they head back towards the gym so that Jessica can change out of her uniform.

  Walking through the streets of the Louts Gardens Jessica realises that the city she calls home is much larger than she’d ever known, never considering just how small the area she’d been confined to was. Unlike the wide streets and isolationist nature of her own neighbourhood, these streets are narrow and buzzing with friendly people. Children are free to run about playing games. Front doors are left open for friends and family to freely come and go. Relative to Jessica these people don’t seem to have much, but they have each other and are happier for it.
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  Jack leads her through a tight gap between two men who have just got off work enjoying a drink to an opening amongst the houses. The square is deceptively large. Lanterns dangle overhead, decorations make it look as though they celebrate New Year’s here every single night. Around the edge of the square vendors stand at their stools. Pots bubble, oil spits as the diced vegetables are tossed, herbs imported from Thuỷ Phủ fill the air with fresh and gorgeous aromas so good they make your mouth wet. Vendors shout over the music making one another laugh to keep up morale. Bartenders juggle bottles of liquor mixing colourful cocktails that shimmer in the light. A band performs on a makeshift stage, playing music unlike anything Jessica has heard before. The recurring lo-fi beats and rhythmic flow of the lyrics instantly resonates with Jessica. The female lead is covered in tattoos, or at least covered by Jessica’s standards, wearing Western clothes in a way only she could confidently pull off. In the centre, tables and stools have been brought out from all the nearby homes. Mah-jong is played in good jest. Groups dance. The young and old mingle unconstrained by generational divisions.

  Fortune shines bright on them as a couple finished with their dinner offers Jack and Jessica their table. They thank them, then Jack pushes the stool close to Jessica’s knees. “Guard this with your life. Seats here are hard to find, if anyone thinks there’s one free they’ll take it,” he said. “I’ll be back in a minute with food. If anyone comes over offering anything that looks good, just say yes.” He is about to walk off when he remembered, “Oh, you’re not a fussy eater are you?”

  “No.”

  He disappears into the crowd and she waits for his return completely absorbed by the exuberant atmosphere. All around her are working people letting off steam. People her father talks about as citizens or colonists. People he says, what he is doing is for them. But here on the other side of the city, not even a district apart, the rhetoric of ministers seems so abstract and inconsequential. There is contentment amongst the people here, a feeling she finds herself envious of.

 

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