Sky Parlor: A NOVEL

by Stephen Perkins

  “Bravo, Bobby; that’s the way to put on a show, Son,” Mister Tepper shouted towards the stage.

  Taking her hand, Bobby and his assistant bowed toward the audience and while together, they basked in the sustained applause, Bobby’s assistant leaned to whisper a lucid message.

  “Remember,” he heard her mellifluous voice chime, “while you possess the silver light cube, if you can dream it, you can make it come true, and everyone will believe it.”

  While removing his top hat in a salutation to the audience, Bobby’s peripheral glance caught her eye’s scintillating sparkle, and a vivid if not grand idea began to gestate within the compartments of his active mind.

  “Thank you so much – everyone,” Bobby said as the applause subsided. He reaffixed the tall black stovepipe top hat back to the crown of his head. “I’m really hoping though, that Mister Kaiser is impressed enough to give me an ‘A’ in sustainable science this semester.”

  Pockets of laughter grew among the audience, but as smatterings of applause again began to crescendo, Bobby became aware of the shiny object hidden within the folds of his black cape.

  “But just to make sure Mister Kaiser is impressed enough, I’d like to perform another demonstration of the principles of electromagnetism and though I guess, this too will appear to be like magic,” Bobby said, unleashing a bright smile, “I know that if we truly believe in the power of our own minds, we can, all of us together, shape the world in our own image, and for the better. So, I came upon an idea just now,” he went on.

  Before glancing at Abigail, now standing in the wings at the apron of the stage, Bobby peered into the still of the darkness beyond the footlights, and while scanning the silhouettes of enraptured faces, he felt the strange object – Abigail’s silver light cube – begin to vibrate, and he felt a radiant nimbus, though invisible, begin to encircle him.

  “I was thinking, if we could just all close our eyes, and think about those we lost recently, we can let them know that their memory will always be with us, and that they’ll never be forgotten.”

  Boudica, Lucius, and Mister Tepper exchanged solemn glances, and in seemingly one accord while remaining molded in perfect stillness, everyone in the auditorium began to close their eyes.

  As his eyes remained clasped shut, Bobby felt the vibrations of the cube grow more intense, and he felt his limbs pulse with sparks of light. A trio of images, at first faint like a shimmering mirage, began to appear next to him on the stage. Lifting his head, Mister Tepper’s eyes and those of Lucius and Boudica slowly opened to behold a most inexplicable but wondrous sight.

  Boudica blinked as her mouth fell agape.

  “Lucius,” she whispered, “do you see what I see?”

  A collective murmur of alarm pierced the profound silence like a ruthless poniard. Opening his eyes, Bobby sensed his pulse agonized with pandemonium’s rage as a trio of fully materialized youthful figures stepped forward into the footlights glare.

  “You’re being lied to,” a stentorian voice sounded from one of the youthful visions. “Chief Praetorian Blythe ordered our murders,” said one of the others.

  “We were a sacrificial gift for President Ulysses who wants to eliminate all breeders from Sky Parlor,” said the third figure.

  Even amid the audience’s swelling discord, Bobby could hear the desperate thrust of his anvil heart like the horns of a stampeding stag slam against his shivering skin, and as he turned his widening eyes toward Abigail, standing silent at the wing of the stage, the audience’s collective murmur began to escalate into a pained cacophony.

  Voices rang out from the stage in an eerie timbre.

  “You must fight back,” all three now spoke in unison, “before it is too late, before it is too…”

  Lucius and Boudica’s arid throats gulped for air. Mister Tepper’s lips became menaced with tremors.

  Bobby felt the silver light cube concealed within the folds of his cape cease to vibrate. He felt something jab at his skull like a demon’s merciless claw. The stage beneath his unsteady feet became a whirling carousel and staggering, he sought to regain his balance with his long black cane. The three figures disintegrated into splinters of light and then vanished. Holding his hand against his throbbing forehead, Bobby’s frantic gaze again swept toward Abigail at the wing of the stage, but she too, had disappeared into mist.

  Lucius’s eyes darted around, and knowing he was the only saint in the entire auditorium, and feeling as if he were sinking into a swirling whirlpool of dread, he began to wonder, what Coach Hammond’s assurances – that Bobby’s teammates would accept him as ‘one of the boys’ – were truly worth, and maybe if he failed to help Bobby’s team win that night, the incipient fear harassed, not even Boudica would stand by his side now.

  15

  Presidential Estate

  (far outside the walls of Sky Parlor)

  While tending to his prized bed of rare African violets planted in neat rows just outside of his marble fronted estate, Ulysses gazed upward into the soaring arc of azure sky and contemplated the warming glare of the genuine sun. Vivid images of his spiritual rival, Apollonia, began to invade his mind, and he found himself still wondering when and what form her return to the material plane would take. Happy to teleport from the presidential palace for the entire weekend, leaving the governance of Sky Parlor to Plato Charlemagne and the others of the sustainability council, he soon discovered his serenity disturbed when some rather unexpected and alarming news came, delivered by his Chief Praetorian. Crouched amid the colorful violet’s rich black soil with a white gloved hand clenched around a yellow watering can, Ulysses drew himself upright to observe the stern face of a stolid figure emerging from a plume of descending sunlight in front of the nearby teleportal. He heard the rapid crunch of thudding black boots upon the path of crushed white limestone winding through an array of budding saplings, and his expression transformed from one of serene contemplation into anxious contortions.

  “Sorry to disturb you, Mister President,” Chief Blythe said, “but I thought during your solitude away from the governance of the city perhaps you hadn’t yet heard what has happened.”

  Ulysses gaze turned toward the magnificent sun’s perfect circle, transforming from bright gold to dark orange as it began to sink toward the saffron streaked horizon.

  “Oh, and what could it be that you find so urgent?” Ulysses acknowledged, managing a terse grin. “Urgent enough to travel out beyond your lawful jurisdiction of Sky Parlor’s city walls, Chief Praetorian?”

  “Well Sir;” a reluctant Icarus replied, “The news has immediately swept the holo-web among all thirteen borough regions – concerning what happened before the entire school assembly of students, staff and administrators at Columbia Prep this very afternoon,” the chief detailed. “It was what I could only describe as a most curious, inexplicable, and even unfortunate occurrence, Mister President – given the circumstances. Though I thought at first it may have been a student prank, or perhaps even a hoax, my techs at headquarters - through extensive analysis - assure me, and have in fact been able to verify, that it is not.”

  “Oh…do tell, Chief Blythe,” Ulysses said, bending to set aside his yellow watering can. “What is this most extraordinary occurrence?”

  Icarus winced before going on with his report.

  “Well, Mister President, apparently several students managed to record this event with their embedded Nano-chips,” Icarus said. “Some have even uploaded the footage in question to zap-com – and although this fact is unfortunate, my techs have also verified that though it has only been viewed by a comparatively small percentage of Sky Parlor’s breeder population, rumors of it have spread quickly – especially among those in Columbia and neighboring Arcadia. After observing this, Mister President,” Icarus went on while applying a decisive tap to his palm to produce his holo-screen, “I’m certain you’ll agree, I was wise to order the removal of all traces of it from the holo-web. In fact, it’s mass digital circulat
ion has been replaced – in cooperation with ZEN news – with a saturation of news footage that the public will hear was collected from overhead drone flights, a depiction of the suspect from Paramount Games, Cassiopeia Craft, who was named in the murder of the three Columbia Prep students, in a remote area out near the buffer zones burying the three victims – my top notch techs did a great job putting it together, and already Mister President, it has proved to distract the public’s attentions.”

  Ulysses shifted closer to observe the footage playing out on the holo-screen. While his eyes focused on the trio of figures materializing from bright shafts of light next to the young man formally donned in a black cape and top hat at center stage, his keen attention became drawn to the wing of the auditorium’s stage. Ulysses’ thick brows furrowed. He inched his face closer to the screen to sharpen his gaze upon yet another figure, someone who appeared to be a very young Columbia student and yet, her face seemed eerily familiar.

  “You’re being lied to,” Ulysses heard one of the youthful voices boom from the stage. “Chief Blythe ordered our murders.”

  “Indeed, Icarus, those are the three you arrested and brought to me at the palace,” Ulysses said. “But that is impossible…unless – “

  “They’re clearly holograms, Mister President,” Icarus informed. “Apparently, the youth dressed in the cape – Bobby Lee Tepper, Columbia Prep’s star of the varsity football squad – performed what appeared to be a magic trick with the young female youth you see at the corner of the stage assisting. And although – according to the explanation provided to me by the techs back at headquarters - this was nothing more than a simple demonstration of fundamental electromagnetism, they also believe the three holograms materialized with the aid of some portable power source, possibly secreted away on Tepper’s person. The techs have further speculated, the electromagnetic wavelength and light spectrum on which this device operates was somehow able – incredible as this may sound – to sync up with the collective electromagnetic pulses emanating from the nervous systems of those present in the auditorium, Mister President.”

  Ulysses mind harked back to a time long gone, to a time more than two centuries before the ‘Great Rapture,’ the last time he and his spiritual rival were on earth together.

  Apollonia’s silver light cube – when she went by the name of Abigail de Orleans. Which means…she’s likely appeared to Desmond Starr!

  Ulysses inched his face still closer to the holo-screen, and he heard the eerie tone of the third youth ring out from the stage and across the expanse of the darkened auditorium.

  “We were a sacrificial gift for President Ulysses…”

  “Well, I can certainly now see, why the distribution of this content around the regions of Sky Parlor has caused quite a furor, Chief Blythe,” Ulysses exclaimed. “But can you isolate and zoom in on that girl,” the president requested with cold remove. “That girl standing near the curtain at the corner of the stage?”

  Icarus’s finger tapped the holo-screen to freeze the footage’s forward progress, and in proceeding to trace a circular pattern upon the screen, exponentially magnified the image of the young female.

  Yes, Ulysses thought, Apollonia had returned to the material plane, and had also chosen to work, by proxy, her dark and clandestine schemes against his interests through the youth of Columbia. Perhaps her end game was to turn an entire generation consisting of the remaining ‘breeders’ in Sky Parlor against his ruling regime so that they might be induced into performing some sort of perverse coup in future?

  How clever and even formidable the witchcraft of his former lover, spiritual adversary, and now mortal enemy seemed, Ulysses considered, while his heart raced like some heat-maddened summer fly at a window’s sill.

  So – the final battle begins!

  “The techs could not match the results of her facial recognition scan with any of the known student body attending classes at Columbia Prep, Mister President. They said, it is likely, that along with the images of the other three juveniles, she is also a very high-grade, three-dimensional holographic image, consisting of a higher light resolution than even the techs with their latest hardware can produce – with behavioral traits and physical attributes indistinguishable from organically bred breeders. I will order my troopers, have Bobby Lee Tepper arrested and brought in for questioning – to confiscate this portable device which could obviously prove to be a major security risk, Mister President,” Icarus said.

  “No; let’s not be so hasty, Chief Blythe,” Ulysses balked. “Though, I compliment you on your great initiative and, your decisiveness in prohibiting any further free distribution of the footage’s content.”

  Icarus drew in an elongated breath as he silently mused that perhaps, despite his misgivings concerning the president’s subtle approach, there would be a reasonable contingency in lieu of the young Tepper – short of arrest and prosecution – at least brought in for strenuous interrogation.

  “May I ask, what is to be done then, Mister President,” the chief enquired.

  “The populations of breeders in Columbia, Arcadia and elsewhere – Doctor Zoe’s studies have concluded and as you and your techs at praetorian headquarters have so ably demonstrated with the release of the concocted footage recently broadcast by ZEN news – have remarkably abbreviated attention spans and lack detailed powers of observation,” the president said, removing his soiled pearl white gardening gloves. “You will recall our discussion at the recent palace gala, Icarus – about human nature and that of political enemies and friends,” Ulysses said. “We will transform this young Tepper, along with his fellow students who you reported attempting to disrupt your troopers, and Columbia’s new alderman, Desmond Starr, into mythical heroes and role models for the other breeders in Columbia, Arcadia, and those scattered throughout all of Sky Parlor. Then, the people will forget to consider, and even cease to think about the treachery, villainy, and tyranny of those that rule over them.”

  Icarus collapsed the holo-screen, and after watching it disintegrate into a rainbow swirl of light that funneled back beneath his palm, he settled his hands beneath his back and fixed an anxious expression upon Ulysses.

  “Forgive me, Mister President, while that strategy might appear to be expedient,” Icarus said. “But you should know I’ve also received reports about Columbia’s Alderman Starr. It has come to my attention that two of my informants saw Starr conferring with a man employed at Greenview while riding the monorail. Although the audio they took is garbled, my techs were able to discern Starr convinced this man – who happens to be the father of Columbia Prep’s Bobby Lee Tepper – to go before the Commission and testify about what he knows – possibly damaging information – concerning the green food packages.”

  “That is all very well, and you needn’t worry, Icarus,” Ulysses replied, “for Plato Charlemagne is in direct contact with Pembroke, the high commissioner, to make certain whatever testimony Tepper offers will be heard for the sake of democratic appearances, but then discredited, dismissed and utterly forgotten. Better still, we shall have our man inside the commission preempt Tepper’s testimony before the commission. The preemption shall coincide with ZEN news announcing the final list of Doctor Zoe’s and SAGAN’s little space travelers to Enceladus, at which time we shall invite Alderman Starr and his fellow travelers back to the palace for a ceremony which shall be broadcast live stream on ZEN throughout all Sky Parlor. As for the device to which your techs alluded, as I’m sure you’ve already ascertained, such operations are best obtained clandestinely – surely you have informants at Columbia Prep, some of whom are relations of the praetorian troopers under your charge. In the meantime, in order to further drive this latest hysteria from the minds of the people, we shall deluge them with another distraction – with the salacious details leaked from the ongoing trial and sentencing of Cassiopeia Craft. This is the time to take you up on the suggestion you made while we chatted at the palace earlier about recreating a supportive and dramatic visual
production – have your techs begin working on it right away to air on ZEN news this evening.”

  16

  Achilles Stadium

  (Campus of Columbia Sustainability Preparatory Academy)

  Lucius felt the cold hard texture of the locker room’s wooden bench upon his skin through his uniform’s somewhat ill-fitting white nylon as his stomach churned in violent somersaults. Before tightening the laces of his cleats, Lucius looked warily around at the gaggles of varsity players, when he felt a solid but friendly hand slap down upon the shoulder pad of his bulky schoolboy football uniform.

  “You ready there, Lucius?” he heard the vivacious voice and looked up to find Bobby Lee Tepper’s ivory white grin bearing down upon him. “You’re not nervous, are you? It’s okay if you are,” he added, taking a seat next to Lucius on the bench. “Because you see, though they would never admit it, the rest of the guys are too, and you know what,” Lucius saw Bobby’s grin grow even wider. “So, am I, but that will be our little secret, right?”

  “I guess I’ll be okay; it’s just that,” Lucius’s reply balked. “What if I…”

  “Look, once you’re out there on the field for the opening kick, your juices will start to flow and everything’s going to be okay,” Lucius heard the varsity captain reassure. “You’ll see. Besides,” Bobby added, “you’re going to have Boudica right on the sidelines with you for the entire game to offer you encouragement and believe this,” Lucius saw Bobby’s face light up as if illuminated from some ethereal source, “We’re going to kick the crap out of Arcadia, I guarantee it.”

  Again, Bobby slapped Lucius oversized shoulder pad before he launched off the bench and strode back to his locker to finish dressing for the game. While his stomach’s churning intensity seemed to subside, Lucius hunched forward on the bench. But as his gangly arms extended to give his laces a final tug, he saw the expanding circumference of a menacing shadow. Lucius’s fingers slowly withdrew from the secured white laces of his jet-black cleats and while blinking, looked up to observe the hulking figure of Loman Braddock, the Eagle’s beefy right offensive tackle and Bobby’s team co-captain.