Sky Parlor: A NOVEL

by Stephen Perkins

  “I’ve astutely surmised, and I’ve never been unaware, you harbor specific political ambitions of your own, correct, Icarus,” Plato enquired. “Which is why, soon after hearing of his location from the techs, I contacted the now exiled Doctor Zoe and struck a deal that could benefit all of us.”

  “You did what?” Icarus appeared flummoxed. “To what exact end, Plato?”

  “You recall our last conference with the president,” Plato said. “He boldly revealed to us both his true intentions, did he not?

  “You’re referring to reducing Sky Parlor’s population of breeders in lieu of many saints?’

  “Precisely, Icarus,” Plato replied through the crack of a fleeting smile. “He wants to create a hive mind society of programmable machines because saints are more efficient to govern. If he has his way, breeders will become close to extinct in perhaps one generation or less. Are we not breeders, Icarus?’

  Icarus settled his hands behind his back and looked up at the enormous holo-screen floating over the Forum’s field. Cheers from the crowded tiers grew ever more intense as the image of President Garth Ulysses appeared on the enormous floating screen.

  “It’s true, I’ve never warmed to the idea of bio-transference into one of Doctor Zoe’s machines to become a saint. In my considered opinion,” Icarus reasoned, “an individual man should never be content to sacrifice the power of his own free will merely for the promise of immortality and only to become so easily programmable – where’s the adventure in that? Anyway, what exactly was your deal with Doctor Zoe, Plato?”

  “He wants his outstanding tribute tax to the council eliminated and there have been, for quite some time, rumors that you, Icarus, would like to take the president’s place at the palace. As for me, I would like to implement some of Alderman Starr’s progressive and potentially profitable ideas and take sole credit for them. The way I see it, Icarus, with Doctor Zoe’s technological creative genius backing us and with Ulysses out of the way, all of us can get what we want.”

  “And now,” announced Polly, the ZEN news reporter, “President Garth Ulysses will speak to everyone in Sky Parlor from the presidential palace before SAGAN’s explorers are teleported to their cosmic destination in deep space.”

  “I don’t know why, Lucius,” Boudica remarked just as the president appeared on the Forum’s floating holo-screen, “but I’ve always felt there was something creepy about President Ulysses, don’t you think?”

  “To the millions of citizens from the thirteen borough regions of Sky Parlor,” began the stentorian voice of the president, “let us partake in joyous celebration of this magnificent and inspiring journey to the stars and together, in both sacred communion and with common purpose, celebrate the uncommon destiny we all share as members of the human family.”

  Before the image of the president vanished from the holo-screen, he flashed a warm smile and added a stirring proclamation.

  “And to these uncommonly brave explorers who are willing to sacrifice to ensure the eternal and shining future of their fellow man, I say, on behalf of everyone in Sky Parlor, we salute you and shall never forget you.”

  The cheers of the crowd erupted like crackles of thunder.

  “Do you see, Icarus,” Plato said, “that is what you must learn before you usurp Ulysses as leader of Sky Parlor. Politics is an artful enterprise; to transform the banal in to the profound, you must make absolutely nothing sound like it is everything.”

  “What is our next move, Plato?” Icarus said.

  “In a show of continued solidarity,” Plato suggested, “we will agree to join the president at his private estate outside the city walls, where, with great interest, he is planning to remotely surveil the progress of the Enceladus mission. During the next week, Icarus, we shall bide our time and – while Ulysses’ attentions are distracted with SAGAN’s mission giving you time to assemble those among the praetorian troopers loyal to you – successfully perform our coup. When Ulysses is removed, with the full backing of the council and your praetorian troopers, you will be declared president.”

  Icarus’s expressionless calm belied the desirous tumult raging within.

  “I suppose, faced with imminent regime change,” Icarus wondered,” Zoe will be forced to redirect his scientific priorities?”

  “Yes, Icarus, under the force of arms and, in exchange for legal exoneration from his UIC tribute debt, I have every confidence Zoe can be persuaded to redirect his scientific goals and forget this quixotic notion of committing breeder genocide. Instead, Zoe will begin to manufacture his high-grade saints to fill your praetorian trooper patrols. This way, once our plan has successfully taken effect,” Plato asserted, “our hegemony over Sky Parlor will never be challenged.”

  Sparkles of light shimmered and the enormous entranceways to the twin monolithic black teleportals yawned open.

  “Well, here we go Lucius; isn’t this incredible?” Boudica exclaimed while waving at the vast crowd one last time.

  “I can’t deny I’m excited, Boudica,” Lucius replied, his voice fought against the din of the crowd. “But I still think they lied to us about Bobby,” he added as they both turned to step into the teleportal monolith.

  “Maybe I wasn’t before, but now I’m scared, Dez, to be sent so far away to another world,” Marissa said, stepping into the other teleportal chamber and darting her eyes around.

  “So am I,” Desmond admitted as he panned his eyes up into the paneled array of lights flashing purple, green, blue and red. “But rest assured, Marissa,” he said as he felt her fingers reaching out to grasp his hand. “And maybe, you’re better off not asking me how I know this at this moment,” Desmond divulged, sensing the blood beginning to race beneath the silky skin of her fingers, “but they’re teleporting us somewhere a lot closer to Sky Parlor than some moon far out in outer space orbiting Saturn. That’s just some political consensus, a cover story,” he scoffed, “created by and agreed upon by SAGAN, the sustainability council, and President Ulysses to distract everyone in Sky Parlor. I know this sounds crazy, but the ‘Great Rapture’ is just propaganda and I’ve been shown what’s out there, and it isn’t outer space. But this turns out to be a blessing rather than a curse – an opportunity that I wish to take full advantage. Given how things have turned out, Marissa, I want to escape Sky Parlor – forever. Maybe, I’m sort of hoping you will too and, if you wish, agree to come with me.”

  Desmond felt her grip tighten and he saw her eyes beseech with a frantic yearning.

  “What; this is all symbolic?” an incredulous Marissa said. “You mean there’s an ulterior motive to all of this other than observations about plant and possible animal life on another world?” she wondered. “But why would they do this, Dez?”

  The overhead lights flashed more intensely.

  An androgynous voice began to count down from ten.

  Ten – nine – eight – seven – six…

  Desmond’s mind flexed into regretful contortions; it was no longer in his nature nor in his best interests to deny her or anyone the truth of his objective impressions. Though he had never acquired a comfort with lies, he thought, too many in life not only derived comfort from them, they were also too comfortable in deceiving themselves into believing them.

  “Because Marissa - and being so close to the president, you should know – politics is the art of deception. Truth will always be its fiercest, most threatening enemy, and anyone that dares speak it. That’s why Michael Lee Tepper is dead.”

  “You mean,” Marissa’s alarmed whisper sounded more like a gasp, “the man ZEN news reported killed in the monorail accident?”

  Desmond’s face molded into a scornful tangle.

  “That was no accident, Marissa,” he replied.

  FIVE – FOUR – THREE –

  From inside the walls of the teleportal, which seemed to grow claustrophobic, resembling a tomb-like sarcophagus, Lucius sensed the unbridled cries of the crowd had become eerily muffled.

  “Luci
us I just want you to know,” Boudica said. Her emerald eyes reflected a polished gleam. “I, well; I love you…I always have.”

  He felt the warmth of Boudica’s arms clasp about the stiffness of his neck. Sensing her hot breath upon his cheek, the inviting texture of her cherry soft red lips caressed his opening mouth. Geysers of blood swooned in his head while his weightless limbs tingled.

  TWO – ONE…initiating bio-sequencing and location transfer protocols…” droned the androgynous voice.

  Rainbowed comets of light shot from the apex of the twin teleportals’ monolithic structures and rocketed toward the starlit heavens. A collective sigh of cathartic awe sprang from the Forum’s capacity crowd, followed by wilder and unbridled hooting cheers.

  “Though Zoe is undoubtedly a brilliant scientist, I do agree there is every indication he will bow to whatever armed strength prevails, however, may I ask, how is it you plan to eliminate Ulysses, Plato?” Icarus said with his eyes still panned toward the starry sky’s canvas of black silk.

  “Regarding Zoe,” Plato replied, “as we both know, Icarus, faced with the prospect of a new regime backed by the overwhelming armed strength of your loyal legions of praetorian troopers shall be enough to chain the dormant lion hidden beneath the wool of the sheep. And while Alderman Starr has the heart of a revolutionary, once he learns the council has approved his proposed programs and administrative changes, he can be persuaded in helping to convince the people of the efficacy of the regime change and also help with conveying the message Ulysses merely wished to – while still at the apex of overwhelming popularity – retire from public life and from the strain of the responsibilities of his executive office. The truth of the matter however,” Plato explained as his pale face congealed with pride, “I’ve already taken pains to ensure Ulysses’ demise.”

  The contours of Icarus’s face constricted. His brows appeared welded together.

  “I see,” Icarus said tinged with admiration, “you’ve thoroughly thought this plan through, Plato?”

  “Yes, Icarus,” Plato replied as a grin wormed its way across his flat chin, “I’ve generously paid off the valet, someone very close to Ulysses who, while the president resides at his palatial estate outside Sky Parlor, will arrange to have his favorite libation tampered with. This will be done both neatly and cleanly and in the utmost clandestine fashion to facilitate the smoothest of regime transitions.”

  “You mean poisoning,” Icarus replied eyeing the chief councilor with faint disdain. “I would advise this is not some cheap murder, Plato. This is something that must be done honorably,” he nobly suggested. “If I am to succeed Ulysses in the presidential palace,” Icarus added, “I would prefer the deed be done by my own hand – I’m afraid there is no other way.”

  Icarus felt his holo-chip begin to vibrate and activating the screen across the breadth of his palm, anxiety’s cruel tentacles seized the synapse of his brain. It was a message from the presidential palace; an executive order calling him to enact extreme prejudice. Knowing he dare not disobey his master, Icarus drew an elongated breath.

  *

  Desmond rubbed his groggy eyes, wondering if he had just awakened from the darkness of a dreamless and deep slumber. Unlike his last teleportal journey which seemed rather swift and even pleasurable, this occasion left him with a lingering ache. Stomping his black booted feet to make certain they were still beneath him, he looked around for Marissa, but instead he saw someone else.

  Abigail…?

  His head whiplashed around, gazing at the barren and forested wasteland surrounding him from all sides.

  “I knew you would be sent outside of Sky Parlor’s walls once again, but you must beware,” her soft voice warned. “Ulysses considers you to be his prey and very soon, you will be hunted,” she foretold.

  Fear’s foreboding lightning charge snaked along the contours of his spine and Desmond recoiled.

  “I guess I should have known that would become a possibility after what happened to Michael Tepper,” he croaked from an arid throat.

  Smiling expectantly, an angelic nimbus hovered at the crown of Abigail’s dark flow of hair. Slowly regaining his senses, he noticed a pair of sleek weapons clutched within her starch white fingers.

  “Where is Marissa?” he demanded. “Where did they send her, Abigail?”

  “She is safe, at least for now,” she replied. “But you, and everyone in Sky Parlor are not, as long as Ulysses is still in power,” she explained, reaching out her black robed arms as if to beseech Desmond to accept the strapped black weapons.

  “They sent you here close to the mission rendezvous point and outside of SAGAN’s one-mile wide containment dome to purposely ambush you,” he heard her voice drip like droplets of water from a melting icicle. “There’s a teleportal exactly one mile from here in the direction of true north,” he saw her stick out a single finger towards a distant mountain range. “Ulysses knows your growing popularity on the holo-web with the people residing within the borough region of Columbia and throughout Sky Parlor is a threat to his continuing rule. Thus far, though he has shown one face to you, he has concealed another – the face of malevolence.”

  Desmond’s face wrinkled with apprehension as he stuck out his reluctant hands to receive the weapons.

  “Yeah well,” Desmond tried to joke, “That seems to be a trend with everyone lately. But what am I supposed to do with these, Abigail, I mean, I got lucky that night at the palace, I’m not even sure how to fire one of these things?”

  “The weapons are easy to fire,” Abigail said. “And if you hurry to reach the teleportal, the element of surprise will be with you when facing down the hunter.”

  “What makes you so sure I’ll survive, Abigail?” Desmond said while his narrowing eyes examined the compact disrupter weapons. “And who is this hunter anyway that’s coming after me?”

  “Most likely Ulysses will send out Chief Praetorian Icarus Blythe,” Abigail said.

  Desmond unleashed a long sigh.

  “Oh, that’s just great,” Desmond said, trying to ease the force of his scoff with a wobbly laugh. “Have you seen the way he can handle one of these things – I sure have, and let me tell you, he’s a cold-blooded killer.”

  “Remember, Desmond,” Abigail advised, “if you can dream, it shall come true. You must have faith you will prevail. They’ve deactivated your holo-chip, and without a location signal emission to lock onto, once you’ve escaped through the teleportal and back into Sky Parlor, you’ll be harder for the praetorian troopers to find.”

  Desmond pursed his lips and began strapping the lightweight but potent weapons around his shoulders.

  “What about you?” Desmond said. “What are you going to do about this Ulysses? – Last time we talked, you told me he’s a god in disguise, Artemis, right? But you mean to say he’s scared of me taking his place at the palace?”

  Before she vanished into the forest like a rainy mist, Desmond felt the reassuring caress of her soft hand upon his cheek.

  “He remembers who you were in a former life, many centuries ago. Therefore,” Abigail suggested, “Artemis – disguised in this incarnation as Garth Ulysses with high-powered perceptions intact – knows the unadulterated power of good should never be underestimated. Nevertheless, leave him and the simpering Plato Charlemagne to me, Desmond.”

  20

  Arrival of SAGAN’s explorers

  Underneath the welcoming warmth of an abundant sun, they stood on a high rocky ledge overlooking a majestic and mountainous emerald panorama of wild forests and waterfalls, filling their heaving lungs with uncommonly crisp air.

  “I’m pretty sure nothing could have prepared us for this, Boudica,” Lucius remarked. “An analysis and accurate cataloguing of just some of the diverse examples of plant life found here is going to take up most of the one week’s time SAGAN allotted for this mission.”

  Still dizzied from the teleportal, Boudica steadied her feet. She centered her wide-eyed gaze upon the imme
nse waterfall cascading over a jagged precipice of mossy rocks and far below into a gully’s basin of crystal water dappled with tiny sparkles of sun.

  “This is nothing like Sky Parlor, that’s for sure, Lucius,” she observed.

  Boudica pointed to the prefabricated timbers of the wooden cabin and the adjacent portable latrines standing like bulky obedient soldiers perched within a forested grotto.

  “Even though he was quite adept at building and carpentry, the only subject in which he got straight A’s at Columbia Prep, it does seem incredible Bobby built up this camp site and two others in such a short amount of time. But he’s somewhere else at his own camp, which means we’ll be all alone,” she began to exclaim.

  “I still think there’s something weird going on with Bobby, and I don’t think…”

  Lucius noticed her green eyes acquiring the identical gleam as when – just seemingly moments before – they were back in Sky Parlor inside the teleportal.

  “Forget Bobby, because you know what’s even more incredible, Lucius? We’re here together, all alone for an entire week,” Boudica said.

  Lucius again felt the touch of her soft hands on the tingling skin of his face, and while the waterfall’s babbling purr intensified with a roaring crescendo, Boudica moved closer. Feeling his every limb overwhelmed with keening impulses, Lucius surrendered to the seduction of her tantalizing silken lips and frolicking tongue.

  Though thoroughly enraptured, Lucius felt his palm vibrate and he recoiled. It was an incoming zap com message to his holo-chip. Dismay began to darken Boudica’s brow as Lucius pulled away from their tight embrace and, tapping his palm, he activated his floating holo-screen to discover Bobby’s vibrant image.

  “Hey guys,” they both heard Bobby’s baritone boom. “I hope you like the camp site I built for you. Just wanted to let you know, I’m only ten kilometers away here at my camp, and to also let you know, SAGAN has instructed that for the entire mission, proper emergency protocols dictate if there’s anything you need during an emergency or if you face any immediate difficulties while we’re here on Enceladus, don’t hesitate to notify me or the mission exploration co-team leader, Desmond Starr. Okay? Well, I’m back to work and, as you’ve probably noticed, there’s a lot to explore while we’re here.”