“You should run, or you’ll miss Culture Class,” Gennio says as I fumble with my console, unsuccessfully trying to snap it back into the wall. “Leave it, I’ll take care of it for you—go.”
“Thanks!” I say, and head out.
By now, the guards outside the CCO doors are used to seeing me enter and exit, so I rush by them, on the way to the Yellow Quadrant Residential Deck Four, where the class is held.
I move at a run through a few long corridors, exit the Blue Quadrant, cross through Green, and arrive in Yellow, all in under three minutes. Then for five minutes more I make my way down through Yellow, moving from the center of the ship outward. I pass the halfway point—a wide dividing corridor separating the Cadet Deck from the Residential Deck—and find the classroom area in another large open space.
The room has ordinary desks and chairs of a streamlined shape, simple writing surfaces, with no unusual consoles or machinery. The desks are long table benches seating at least six people, and they curve in elegant semi-circle rows facing the front of the classroom where the Instructor stands, speaking already.
I am definitely late, because the room is full, so I barely squeeze in at a bench in the back row next to an Asian girl with a Yellow ID token. She is also visibly missing a Cadet star. A few other late arrivals end up standing in the back, with no more bench seats remaining.
Our Culture Instructor is another older teen, who could be my age. She has the usual metallic gold hair, but it’s gathered behind her in an updo knot of some sort, and pinned tightly, so that her oval face has a slightly severe look, with not a hair out of place. However her kohl-highlighted eyes are friendly brown, and her expression is generally benevolent. She is a little on the curvy side, but her uniform sits well on her, emphasizing her pleasing figure. The armband she wears is yellow.
“For those of you who are still coming in, please try not to be late in the future, because our time on this ship is precious. The year will fly by, and you still have so much to learn in this one short class,” the Instructor tells us in a soothing-balm voice that I recognize immediately as a power voice, namely that of the Storyteller. I am immediately reminded of my first Atlantis Culture Instructor Nefir Mekei back in Pennsylvania.
“I am Nilara Gradat,” says the Instructor. “And I will be conveying to you not only cold facts—the kind you already learned in your brief classes during Qualification on Earth—but the true spirit of life on Atlantis. This way, when you first arrive, you will smell the scent of the land and it will be instantly familiar to you. When you hear the language, it will sound like home. And when you see the people, you will find them welcome and comfortable, like family.”
“Not if they are como mi familia!” A boy chuckles. Then he grows quiet, suddenly remembering his family, and the reality of what’s coming to Earth.
Nilara Gradat ignores the outburst and continues, looking over us with a serene gaze. “The things you will learn in this class will help you understand Atlantida, and us. Notice, this is a mixed class, and some of you are Cadets, while others are Civilians. This is because the concepts you will learn here apply to everyone in our society. There are no tests in this class, only common sense and wisdom that will help you personally. I want you to feel free to speak to me any time after class, if you need help with any aspect of Atlantean life. My office is #34 here on Residential Deck Four.”
A few whispers sound around the room.
A boy raises his hand. “If no tests, how do you know we learn anything?”
Instructor Gradat smiles at him. “I will know by the way you respond a year from today. And, speaking of years—do you know that a year on Atlantis lasts longer and has different seasons and months than Earth?”
I look up with interest.
“We have long seasons that last four months, not three. And instead of Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter, we have Green, Red, Yellow, and Blue. For example, right now it is Blue season on Atlantida’s upper hemisphere, cold and bleak.”
“So, Blue is Winter?” a girl asks.
“Approximately, yes,” Nilara Gradat replies. “We will therefore keep to the Atlantean Seasonal Calendar here on the ships, for the duration of our journey, so that you get used to it, even though the duration will still be short and based on your Earth seasons.”
The Instructor pauses and begins to gently pace the room before us. “The first two seasons you will experience on our ships are Blue and Green, for three Earth months each. Then there will be the Jump. That is the first half of our journey. Immediately after, we will enter the seasons of Red and Yellow. At the end of Yellow we will arrive on Atlantis, and from there on you will experience the true longer seasons on the surface of the planet.”
There are a few whispers, and then another boy raises his hand. “Okay, is an actual year really necessary to get to Atlantis from Earth? I mean, a whole frigging year, that’s kind of a super exact number. Kind of a weird, unnatural coincidence—”
Nilara Gradat nods. “I see what you’re saying. And, no, you are correct, an exact year is not precisely necessary. There are many variations in interstellar travel, based on the type of space vessel being used, the number of ships in the Fleet, the rate of acceleration, and some other factors. Together they generally amount to a time period relatively close to an Earth Year. A single light ship traveling at ultimate speed can probably make the trip in four to five Earth months, but certainly not the entire Fleet. This journey calendar was carefully planned and set, in order to transport the whole Fleet safely, and also to give you time to acclimate. We could have flown a bit faster, but it would have been unsafe for the number of ark-ships involved. The stability of the Quantum Stream state depends on so many variables, and these were deemed to be the best-case scenario. You might ask your Pilot Training Instructor for a more detailed explanation. Any other questions?”
“What kind of holidays do you have?” someone asks.
“Excellent question.” Instructor Gradat takes out a gadget and suddenly all our ID tokens flash brightly. “I just sent out a Holiday and Months Calendar to all of you. Next time you check your schedules you will see the Atlantean seasons and holidays for each day.”
She pauses again, as we peek at our tokens momentarily. “Some of our major seasonal holidays are similar to what you have on Earth. We have Light Feast celebrated in the coldest heart of Blue, when families gather around feast tables and light cozy bright fires to keep the cold away. There is the Burning Night in the hottest middle of Red when a different kind of fire is lit, bonfires in the dark night, filled with dancing and wild fun. There is Gold Harvest in Yellow, a day when we eat and remember the past, the good things and the people we love. And Flower Day in Green when we are dressed up in garlands and everyone must wear fresh flowers or get teased. . . . And of course there is Landing Day, to commemorate the ancient Original Colony of Old Atlantida, at the site of Poseidon, where stands the colossal Atlantis Grail monument of orichalcum and gold. . . .”
I raise my hand, because as usual it happens to me in class—my big mouth opens and out comes stuff. “Are these religious holidays? Do you have religion on Atlantis?” I say. “Faith? Belief in a God or gods?”
Instructor Gradat turns to me with a curious glance. “An interesting and important question. What is your name?”
“Gwen Lark.”
“Thank you for asking, Civilian Lark—”
I don’t bother to correct her calling me a Civilian.
“Yes, there are many faiths and religions on Atlantis, old gods and new ones,” Nilara Gradat says. “We will learn more about this vital aspect of our life in future classes. But in short—our world is both secular and faith-based. We have advanced science and theology, and we have learned how to reconcile both. Therefore some traditions are steeped in ancient beliefs and others are steeped in common sense. Same thing with the holidays, they have secular and religious aspects. And not everyone believes everything, or even the same thing.”
�
��So,” I blurt suddenly, risking all kinds of things. “Forgive me if this is inappropriate, but . . . do you actually worship the Imperial Family Kassiopei as gods? Sort of like Ancient Egyptians did their pharaohs?”
There is a long pause of weird silence.
Nilara Gradat stands looking at me, as though I really did confound her.
And then she speaks very softly, very quietly.
“Yes. . . . Some of us do.”
She then looks away from me, and changes the subject.
Okay, I am still sort of reeling from that answer, while Instructor Gradat is already covering other material.
If they worship Kassiopei, for real, then what must it mean in practical terms? I think. How, exactly? And even more importantly, why?
“. . . it is something that you will truly enjoy. Can you imagine, dancing in low gravity and then zero gravity?” Nilara Gradat is saying, and there are some excited whispers going around the classroom.
What did I miss? I try to focus my mind and pay attention to the class.
Quite a few people raise their hands. “So what are these dances like?” a girl asks.
Nilara claps her hands together and smiles. “First, you’ll be happy to know that Fleet Commander Manakteon Resoi has agreed to let us have four Zero-G Dances during this journey, so that there will be one dance held each season! And each Quadrant will host. For example, Blue will host this first season’s Zero-G Dance. The dance itself will happen inside the great spherical chamber in the heart of each ship—you know it as the Resonance Chamber.”
“Wait,” a stern boy with a Cadet star on his chest says. “Isn’t the Resonance Chamber used to drive the ship? I thought it’s filled with your computers and tech, like a monster propulsion engine room or something?”
For the first time, Instructor Gradat laughs, in her sonorous voice. “Oh, goodness, not exactly—the Resonance Chamber is simply an empty room, shaped like a great hollow ball the size of your concert hall or a lesser sports stadium on Earth. It is used for all kinds of things, including ship systems, crew assemblies, competitions, and dances.”
“Whoa!” the boy says. “That’s kind of crazy. You dance inside the same room where you make the ship fly?”
“The inner surface of the Resonance Chamber consists of various layers of orichalcum and other special materials that are exposed or covered as needed, to engage various functions. Think of your Earth vegetable, the onion, and the many layers that can be pulled back. Each layer is sensitive to sound in a different way, and is connected to an entirely different ship system and acoustically isolated from the others. You will learn more in your Technology and Systems class. But for now, just be aware that yes, when the Resonance Chamber is set a certain way, it is perfectly safe to go inside it and do all kinds of things, including physical training—and dancing!”
“Okay, mind-blown!” a girl exclaims.
“Wait till you go inside and see it!” Instructor Gradat says, looking around at us with energy. “Each Quadrant decorates the interior based on the theme of the Dance. Just as you do on Earth, people get dressed up in formal wear, and invite dates—friends, significant others. You will be able to invite anyone you like when it’s your Quadrant’s turn to host the dance.”
“Can we invite people from other ships?” a boy asks.
Instructor Gradat nods. “Yes, you may . . . as long as you conduct yourselves appropriately.”
“What does that mean?” someone says. “So, are we allowed to mess around? You know, hooking up, dating other people, or is that still forbidden, like during Qualification?”
Nilara Gradat takes a deep breath and looks around at us. “This is a complicated question, and I am not the best person to answer it. Furthermore, you are supposed to get a formal sex-and-relationships talk from your Dorms and Barracks officers, either tonight or tomorrow morning. But since you bring it up now—please see a medical tech or doctor after class and ask them about what options you have, and all their repercussions.”
The Instructor pauses.
“Let me be blunt. If any of you get pregnant and give birth to a child during this year we are in interstellar space, you will deeply regret it. First, your child will be born with serious defects—you will learn more about this and the dangers of the Jump to human physiology in future classes. Second—you will have the responsibility of caring for an infant, and one with special requirements, before we even arrive. Third—if you are a Cadet, you will be denied various Fleet privileges if you have the burden of a child and no family unit. So, don’t even think about it. Just—don’t.”
“What about birth control? Don’t you have that kind of thing on Atlantis?”
Instructor Gradat homes in on the speaker and shakes her head. “Don’t even think about it. Honestly, I am not being a prude. I am being realistic. The risks to your bodies during pregnancy and to your potential children’s bodies are critical while we are on this journey. And no birth control is completely reliable. . . . Besides, most of you really are too young, and few of you are ready for sex—even if you think you are, and even if you think your hardships give you a special excuse and some kind of ‘break.’ For goodness sake, give yourselves a year at least, to come to terms, to understand your new life, to arrive in Atlantis, before you start breeding like your proverbial Earth rabbits!”
Snickers and giggles fill the room, but the Instructor is not smiling.
“How did this discussion ever deteriorate from simple dance dates to sex?” she says sternly. “Think of it this way—you Qualified. You are strong enough to get a grip on your hormones. So don’t screw up now! For your own sake, don’t ruin your future! But—you are more than welcome to ask a date out to dance. Just to dance. Maybe, a kiss. Anything more—talk to a doctor! Is that clear?”
“Yes!” the class answers almost in unison. Some people still give each other meaningful looks, roll their eyes, and hold back giggles. Eventually they settle down.
“Good!” Nilara Gradat exhales in some relief. “Now, let me continue telling you about the Zero-G Dance. Where was I? Yes—the decorated Resonance Chamber. When it’s time to go inside, portions of the floor are hover-raised so that there is a flat surface upon which to begin the dancing. Then, as different types of dance music play, gravity is manipulated! Some dances are in low gravity, so you can jump up really high, while others are in mixed gravity so you adapt your movements to the music. And yet others require no gravity at all, so the floor falls away and you float around the great expanse, holding your partner or spinning all by yourself—oh, it’s absolutely amazing! I love zero-g dancing so much, have loved it since I was a little girl back on Atlantida!”
Many hands fly up this time, as everyone has questions. We’ve been loosened up by the “sex talk” enough to at least participate.
Yes, it’s silly to dream of dancing at a time such as this, but it’s understandable, I think, sinking into an unexpected mental quagmire. After so much stress and tragedy, everyone wants to let off steam, especially considering that everything else is still so uncertain. And yet. . . .
Somewhere out there, the Earth . . . a tiny pixel dust mote, millions of miles away . . . waiting, even now, to be struck by the asteroid . . . just a tiny point in space, with everything and everyone you know and love, all life destroyed—
No, do not think.
I force myself back from the dark place and focus on the here and now.
“You probably wonder how the zero-g dancing came about,” Instructor Gradat says. “And the answer might surprise you. It’s one of our most ancient cultural traditions on Atlantida and it stems from thousands of years ago, and our original colonization. When the Ancient Atlantean refugees from Earth arrived on this new planet, they had few means of entertainment, and zero-g dancing happened to be something they did on their ships along their way. When they landed and established that first colony, the tradition remained. Since then, all Atlantean dance halls and entertainment centers have gravity manipula
tion—one of the few traditions that were never outlived.”
“Okay, this really does sound like fun,” the Asian girl next to me whispers, nudging me lightly.
I nod, but my attention is once again wandering.
Culture Class is over at 5:00 PM, and now I get to meet Blayne Dubois for dinner. After an hour of all that surprisingly lightweight class material—you might call it a relaxing oasis of emotional popcorn and bubblegum, with a touch of unplanned sex ed thrown in—sorry about the awful pun—I hurry to see him. I should be feeling some degree of carefree excitement, but for some reason the idea of dancing has left me depressed.
I get to Cadet Meal Hall Four early, and it’s a crowded mess. All the day’s classes have been let out, and our first day is officially over. Yellow Quadrant Cadets and a smattering of others are clamoring loudly at the food lines, and all the tables are packed with people, noise, and chatter in strange languages.
I stand at the doors and peek inside, but don’t see Blayne or his hoverboard anywhere.
“Hey, move it! Going in or out?” someone says to me, and I get shoved slightly, as a tall older boy with a yellow armband displaces me from the doors roughly and goes inside. I get slammed back and end up pressed against the wall as a crowded stream of mostly Green Cadets continues past me, heading inside. A whole contingent of them—and they are speaking Chinese very loudly.
Finally I see Blayne down the corridor. He hovers near-upright once again, keeping his board in an LM position, moving slowly toward me in a stream of people. I suppose he cannot keep his hoverboard flat in this crowd, so he’s being courteous. Those nearest him stare in curiosity, but apparently Blayne must be used to it by now, because his expression is bland, like he doesn’t care. Which is probably not too far from the truth.
I raise my hand and wave at him.
He nods, and finally makes it close enough so we can speak.
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