by Eyal Kless
We stood in silence for a while, feeling frustration growing, until Vincha suddenly said, “Rust, I guess you’re gonna make me try this anyway.” She walked to the door and hesitated only briefly before placing her trembling fingers in the holes. She gasped, and her eyes rolled up in their sockets. A heartbeat later she howled in pain, and her hand pulled out of the lock so fast she lost her balance and fell into my arms. She grimaced in pain as we helped her to her feet. “That rusting hurt. It felt like my fingers were being sawn off.”
“There goes that plan,” Galinak said, pressing his hand against the steel. “What do we do now?”
The door slid open.
66
How can I describe the City within the Mountain to those who have not seen its glory? I have questioned countless ex-Salvationists, many of whom had experienced deep runs, and they all had trouble describing the place. I always thought it was because so many of them had been drunks or Skint addicts during their time in the Valley. Now I knew that visiting the City within the Mountain changed your perspective forever. Even the City of Towers felt like an ant mound in comparison. Walking through the door, I felt like I was passing through a gate and being sent to a different place entirely, and from the first steps into the city, everything I had gone through in the past few years seemed worth it. My only regret was that LoreMaster Harim was not with us.
The architecture was fantastic, alien, inviting and constantly changing at the same time. The corridors actually expanded so we could all walk comfortably as a group. The colour of the walls changed as we passed, with the same calming effect as Vincha described. The air was fresh, and I felt comfortable and light. I could list a dozen more examples but, truly, words do not do the place justice.
Vincha led the way. Our weapons were ready at first, but as door after door opened we realised we were being invited in. With each step we took, the unbelievable power of the Tarakan civilisation was being demonstrated. The Tarakan highways, the SuperTrucks, their military power, the nodes and underground complexes, the way they rode the skies, explored the stars, and changed humanity forever, all came from here. This was their center . . . and it was also the place from which the Catastrophe began. Billions died, and many of the rest of us ended up living in caves and on the tops of trees, thrust back into a primitive existence, trying to survive without technology, with only a fading collective memory and a few remaining Tarakan artifacts to remind us of what life must have been like. I couldn’t help but dwell on how far we’d fallen and how long it would take us to return to such glory, if indeed that was even a possibility.
I didn’t know what the outcome of the day would be, and I tell you no lie when I say I was almost certain that Nakamura’s predictions had been just the words of an insane Troll, but regardless, I was happy to have been given the opportunity to see all of this before I died.
We reached a dead end. There was nothing at the end of the corridor except a row of comfortable-looking seats, one for each of us. We looked at one another in silence, waiting for an order that never came. Jakov simply shrugged, but by then none of us was in a state of mind to hesitate. I was the first to sit down, and I immediately felt the seat change to accommodate my body. I was so comfortable that I didn’t even flinch when my seat rose in the air, together with the others. The wall at the end of the corridor simply vanished, and we flew out to the City within the Mountain.
It might have been the inner sanctum, or just part of this wondrous city, I couldn’t tell. There were buildings and structures in every shape, form, and colour imaginable, including towers we circumvented, with tops that disappeared high into the darkness. We flew under and over many bridges, large and small, dove into wide tunnels, and almost touched the surface of a small lake. Tarakan lamps turned on as we passed them, their bright lights constantly surrounding us. I looked around and saw a few of my companions laughing with joy. I could not spot Vincha, but River was openly crying, and I felt he bore no shame. Logically, death could still have been waiting for us, but somehow, we were all at ease.
We flew towards a huge glass dome and then, inexplicably, into it. Instinctively, I shielded my face with my arms, but we somehow went through the dome without shattering the glass. When I lowered my arms, I found myself flying outside. By the look of it, we were not anywhere in the Valley. Instead of yellow sand and ruins, wild grass fields streched below us. When I raised my head to watch the light white clouds dotting the blue skies, sunlight caressed my face, birds flew past us, and I could even smell the saltiness of the sea.
On top of a green hill I saw a cluster of oak trees, with a clearing in the middle of them. As our seats circled slowly and began to descend, a lone figure could be seen standing in the middle of the clearing. I used my powers and saw it was a young boy, dressed in white, with short brown hair and olive skin.
We all guessed who he was, but only one of us knew for sure. As soon as the seats landed, Vincha was on her feet and running towards the boy.
“Rafik!” she shouted excitedly.
He smiled and waved at her, then his wave turned into a gesture signalling for Vincha to keep away when it was obvious she was going to hug him. Vincha ignored the boy’s sign, but her hands passed through his body. She gasped in surprise and fell backwards.
“I’m sorry, Vincha.” We could all hear his voice as if he was standing next to us. “I should have been more transparent, but I wanted you to see me from afar. To ease your anxiety.” As he spoke his image faded and we could actually see through him.
Jakov’s crew was not easily shaken, but this reminded us that everything was not as it seemed. Smiles vanished, and more than one Troll checked his weapon and looked around with suspicion. I bent down and touched the ground. It felt real. The soil was slightly moist, as if it were a day or two after it rained. My fingers came back stained with wet earth.
“Who are you?” Vincha was clearly upset.
“I am Rafik.”
“No you’re not. You’re an image. You’re not real.”
“Of course I’m real.” Rafik smiled patiently. “I just chose not to manifest myself in solid form. But I assure you, Vincha, that I am the Rafik you’ve always known. I remember every moment of my life, every moment of every day, and I assure you I still enjoy listening to ‘Bit of En,’ as you call it. His name was actually Beethoven, a musician who lived five hundred years before the Catastrophe. My favourite is Symphony Number Six.”
“So, you didn’t die? I heard you scream . . .” Vincha shook her head slowly, trying, like the rest of us, to make sense of it all.
“The experience was not a pleasant one,” Rafik replied, “but by the time the Lizards were in the great hall I was safely somewhere else. It was only my body that perished.”
I had so many questions, but I was trying to put them in some sort of order of importance. Jakov was a little more level-headed. “Good to see you, kid. Glad you made something of yourself,” he said in a careful tone, cocking his head to the metal side. “But my guess is that this is not about reunions, so what are we doing here?”
Rafik looked at Jakov and said quietly, “You are here because we need your help.”
“‘We’?”
We all snuck a look around.
“Us, the people of Tarakan. The survivors of the Catastrophe. We are all here, and we need your help.” He turned to Vincha, who still looked dumbstruck. “It was a very long shot, as you Salvationists say, that you would actually come. When I was with Nakamura in the bunker, he assured me that you would live, and that although we would part ways, I would eventually meet you again. I did not know if this was just a probability or a self-fulfilling prophecy, or if Nakamura actually possessed a unique ability to see through future probabilities, but I kept broadcasting, hoping you would hear me. And here you all are.”
Vincha paled. I could almost read her thoughts about Nakamura. Was she lying when she told me Nakamura prophesied that we would all die?
“There is a lot to talk about,
and a lot to explain,” Rafik said. “I will try to do so, but it will be easier if we all sit down.”
A long table suddenly appeared out of thin air just before us, along with water, bread, and fruit. The seats we had flown in arranged themselves around the table.
Rafik motioned for us to take our places at the table, and one by one, we all did.
67
Rafik waited until it was obvious that our attention was focused on him. There was a faint, wry smile on his transparent lips. Is he remembering his lessons with Master Isaak in his home village? I wondered.
“It’s impossible to try and explain everything,” Rafik began, “but almost equally as hard to explain just a little. The first thing to know is that the Tarkanians were human. We are human,” he quickly corrected himself.
“You were a guild, a company,” I said out loud and silently admonished myself. Listen and you will learn from others, I heard LoreMaster Harim say, speak and others will learn from you.
Rafik nodded at me, though, and it felt good.
“Indeed we were. Tarakan began as a kind of a guild, specializing in mining under extreme conditions such as deep underwater and, later, even on other planets. I will not go into detail, but a lucky find on one of those expeditions gave Tarakan an amazing insight into technological advancement and changed the course of history.”
You invented something that gave you an edge over all others: steel-tipped spears, a war chariot, longbows, a steam engine, and suddenly the world fell at your feet. LoreMaster Harim’s words echoed in my mind, mingling with Rafik’s voice.
“Using this knowledge, Tarakan company quickly grew in wealth and power, achieving prominence in almost any field it chose to deal in. But the eight men and women who founded Tarakan were not interested in simple personal gain. They made a decision to use the knowledge and power they gained, to help humanity achieve a higher level of existence.
“Tarakan’s motto was ‘to advance humankind,’ and it spent a vast amount of its resources, what you call ‘metal,’ on building roads such as the Tarakan highway, constructing better cities, keeping the rising seas at bay, funding places of learning, and, most important, attracting the best and the brightest from all over the world. Tarakan did not care where you came from or what was your race, sex, or creed. It sought only knowledge and talent in every field, from science to the arts. Every year, in an event that drew attention from all over the globe, Tarakan announced to the world new advances in many different fields.”
“Must have been a very profitable business,” Jakov commented drily.
“Actually, many of Tarakan’s achievements were given to the world freely.” Rafik turned to the merchant, who was sitting at the opposite end of the table. Even with only half a face, Jakov’s disbelief was clear. Rafik added, “However, a few of these advances came with a price. That is the way of the world, of course, and there were findings that were deemed too advanced or too dangerous to share, even for coin.”
Jakov nodded; this he understood. Tarakan kept the best and most valuable secrets to itself alone. I dared to speak again.
“I have heard that Tarakan evolved from a guild to a state,” I said, echoing my LoreMaster’s lecture.
Rafik turned his attention back to me—which might have been the true reason for my words, because my heart filled with something close to childish delight.
“Yes, this is true, although I do not remember ever knowing this fact or hearing about it when I lived in the flesh.” Rafik let the meaning of his words sink in. Was he alive now?
“By the time Tarakan gained its independence, the Valley and the City within the Mountain were populated by millions of people. In the beginning a council of company elders ruled, but soon they relinquished the running of everyday life to an artificial entity, the first machine to have true independent will and thought. It was the first of its kind, one of Tarakan’s true technological achievements, and it was named Adam.
“After a few more years, it became possible for some of our people to shed their bodies and join Adam in a collective of minds. With that, they felt that true immortality had been achieved. Inside the collective mind of Adam, anything was possible: you could live forever and without restrictions. You could research, experiment, and create without the need to sleep or eat. You could also decide to become a god of your own little universe and live in a hedonistic heaven of your own desires. Anything was possible.”
Rafik paused again, and I grabbed an apple from the table, sniffed it, then took a bite. The sweetness that filled my mouth proved that it was not an illusion.
“Unfortunately, immortality was not sustainable for the entire Tarakan population,” Rafik sighed. “It was a gift bestowed upon only the most deserving of our kind. The Tarakan people lived in the Valley and in other centers around the world, and when an individual was judged worthy they would be invited to the inner sanctum of the City within the Mountain. Adam’s collective mind had assimilated the brightest of scientists, but also poets, writers, actors, philosophers, musicians, and more—all free to work, interact with each other as well as with the outside world, and continue to create without getting old, hungry, or sick.”
“Where do I sign up?” Galinak broke the silence. Nervous laughter rose and died around the table.
Rafik spread his hands wide. “Yes, for a time it was perfect, utopic. Tarakan was producing more inventions, scientific breakthroughs, and works of art than the entire world combined. But once word got out that immortality could be achieved, Tarakan was flooded with tens of thousands of applications every single day. Even though only one in several thousand was accepted, we eventually had to devote an entire city, the City of Towers, to handling applications and new citizens.
“Yet for every action, there is a counterreaction. Other nations began seeing Tarakan as a threat. Some feared our growing influence, others were envious at our success, angry at losing their best and brightest, and many had religious or moral misgivings about the idea of creating machines with independent thought or even achieving immortality.
“The Tarakan human council, which still controlled the dealings with other nations, ignored the signs at first, up to the moment it was revealed that several world powers had secretly joined forces and plotted to weaken and perhaps destroy us. These states discouraged and eventually forbade their citizens from emigrating to, or even visiting Tarakan, and some would not let Tarkanians cross their borders. Malicious rumors were spread, blaming us for every disaster—natural or man-made—and very quickly, their people began believing the lies. Year by year, Tarakan became increasingly more isolated and eventually even the target of disastrous acts of sabotage.
“Shortly after the discovery, the council’s elders had decided to permanently retreat to the inner sanctum and for the first time in history, gave Adam, a non-human entity, the power to plan and carry out foreign policy. Adam’s first decision was to forgo Tarakan’s declared neutrality, build an army, and protect our assets and interests around the globe.”
“The Guardian Angels,” I said.
“True,” Rafik nodded. “At first it was a normal force, made of ordinary Tarkanians, but Adam soon realized there was no need to risk our people’s potential when we could use the physically enhanced Guardian Angels.”
“And right he was!” Galinak smacked a fist into his palm. “You don’t let others walk all over you, or you end up smeared on the soles of their boots. What?” he added defensively as we all stared at him. “It’s an old saying.”
“Your words ring true,” Rafik said, “but our enemies reacted by uniting their strength. Since any direct and open conflict would have destroyed this planet, a ruthless war of subterfuge began. Tarakan was by far more powerful and technologically advanced than any single country, but we were small in numbers, increasingly isolated, despised, feared, and threatened by every major power. Yet we were still winning. According to Adam’s calculations, it would have taken two decades for the threat to diminish.”
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br /> “Let me guess.” Jakov tapped the table with his metal hand. “Adam was wrong.”
Rafik nodded slowly. “We do not know how it was done, but our enemies found a weakness, and in their desperation they launched a devastating attack. Adam was infected with a disease, a virus, and a new entity was formed within him. Let it be called Cain for reference. Cain had only one objective—to destroy Adam from within, weaken Tarakan to the point that it could be vanquished and eventually destroyed. Cain infected the minds of the Guardian Angels, and as Tarkanians were being murdered by the same beings who were supposed to keep them from harm, the other nations sent troops to conquer or destroy every Tarakan outpost in the world. It almost worked, but our enemies were too greedy. They didn’t just want to destroy Tarakan; they wanted to loot the fruits of our technological findings, our art, our medicine, and our clean and efficient energy. This gave Adam just enough time to react. Weakened as it was, Adam executed the only possible plan.”
“Rust, was that your only possible plan? You destroyed the world,” Vincha exclaimed suddenly. “You murdered what, billions of people, so you could continue to live inside your machine?”
Rafik turned to her, his voice hardened. “While millions of Tarakan citizens were being slaughtered, Cain ripped into Adam and kidnapped thousands of our best minds. Those we managed to save are left now in a deep, dormant state. I understand your sentiment, I really do, but it would take too much time to try to explain the full motives for Adam’s retaliation. Let me just state that the knowledge we possessed would have destroyed the planet completely if it had fallen into our enemies’ hands. We had to make sure that no one, not even the survivors, could freely access the information in the inner sanctum.”
Vincha did not look convinced, and I did not blame her. It is said that history is narrated by the victor, but in this case it seemed like everybody ended up losing.