by Adam Thielen
Carrie the car dropped the dean off near Redstone Square, a short stroll from Pratcher Hall, where both his office and the classrooms he utilized were located. The university, at Wu’s behest, had been accommodating to one of its most esteemed alumni. He greeted the mage students as they passed him on their way to the next class or training.
Once in his office, he sat at his desk while his assistant filled him in on the previous day’s affairs, then read the report from the fill-in professor. He only had one regular class, a straightforward lecture. The rest of his day would be making calls, preparing documents and reports, and meeting with other staff. He occasionally would take over a session or act as a special guest for another class.
At his lecture, he stood in front of twenty of the youngest mages at the university. Long desks curved around the professor in rows that stepped up in height toward the back of the room.
“For several decades,” he began, “a campus such as this would be one of the few places a mage could find themselves for the entirety of their lives. Things are not perfect today, but I have hopes that in a few years, I won’t see most of you around.”
The prisoners laughed. Taq paused before continuing. “Some of you have heard this speech before, or one like it. For those that have not, you might be wondering what you can do with your gifted life. That list is still regrettably short, but here are your main options. You can work for any corporation that is certified under New Republic guidelines. You can also work for one of many government agencies. Thirdly, you can seek employment at a university. Hold on,” said Taq, interrupting himself. “Don’t groan, it’s not that bad.”
The dean’s expression turned grim. “There is another option. If accepted to a vocational school or given a non-qualifying job offer outright, you can request a nullification. I do not recommend this path. It’s dangerous and unnecessary for most forms of employment, and I’m only informing you of it because I am compelled to by the board. Students have died from the procedure, which is little more than a lobotomy. Of those who survive, most still report side effects that follow them through life. Depression, hallucinations, fatigue. You name it, there is a nullified mage that experiences it.”
Jones looked from face to face. Some of them he knew quite well. Were it not his responsibility to mentor them, he would consider them friends. Others were newer and less familiar, but he knew, in time, they would all become important to him. “If any of you want to talk about placement, about the stress of campus life, or about anything else, my door is always open.”
Taq thought about his conversation with Cho regarding Desre. “I know this must seem like a prison, a means to control you. I was once a student here, and I felt the same way.” He moved from behind his desk to get closer to the rows of students listening to him speak. “But there’s a reality about this world you must all face. As long as you have the ability to draw Ether into the facade, there will be those looking to exploit you. Outside those gates,” Taq said, pointing, unsure if he had the direction correct, “there are people with money and connections trying to find out everything they can about you. They are waiting for one of you to step outside the protection of the university. Many of you will never fully appreciate what the security, wardens, and staff do to protect you.”
Jones pursed his lips. “I’m perhaps being a bit dramatic. I have an announcement,” he added. “I will be going on leave for a few days to take care of some sudden personal matters that have cropped up. I fully expect a glowing report from the substitute when I get back. I will have plans, and yes, a quiz ready before I leave. Now… let’s talk about the nature of the Ethereal plane versus that of the facade. Who can tell me what they have in common?”
Back in his office, Taq sat in front of a stack of thin tablets. He verbally dictated notes, then scribbled corrections before filing one of the tablets into a metal cabinet beside his desk. One by one he put the tablets in their place. Any one of them could store all of his notes, appointments, lesson plans, and books along with those of the entire faculty. And indeed, some of the staff carried and used a single device for everything, but not Taq. He had dozens of older-model computers, each with a ridiculous-looking label stuck to the top bezel. One for each period, one for meetings, one for secure documents.
As the stack was almost depleted, he heard a rap on his office door, followed by it sliding open to reveal the president of the university, Jean Moreno. Rafir’s successor, Moreno was a petite woman in her forties. Taq would not have taken her job for all the money in the world, but he was slightly offended that he had never been offered it when he agreed to return.
Her wavy shoulder-length hair was more disheveled than usual, and as Taq swiveled his chair to face her, he noticed her breathing was deep and heavy.
“Mr. Jones,” addressed Moreno. “It’s normal procedure to give the board and myself advance notice when a professor must take a leave of absence.”
“Something came up,” said Taq. “I apologize, Dr. Moreno. I found out yesterday and had not made a decision until today.”
“This is too sudden, this—” Moreno stopped talking and pressed a button next to the door, causing it to slide shut. “Okay, cut the shit, Taq. What is going on?”
Taq’s eyebrows lifted. He glanced at the tablet in his hand, then placed it on the desk. “I’m serious, Jean. I didn’t know.”
“Didn’t know what?” she asked, her hands on her hips. “Is this some sort of emergency?”
“Something like that,” said Jones. “Well, it is time-sensitive, at the least.”
“How are we supposed to cover for you?” she said. “Especially during this time of year. Audits are due in a week. Where is yours?”
“Shit,” hissed Taq, shaking his head while Moreno nodded triumphantly. “I will get it to you tonight.”
“Tonight? Really?” she questioned. “And what about a substitute?”
“I’m not that important. I lecture the kids. I’ll be gone a few days. I’ll assign them a five-page essay they can work on in their rooms,” assuaged the mage.
“That’s a half-assed solution, and you know it,” said Jean, pointing at him. “I should go to the board. This is going to look bad to everyone—for everyone.”
Taq shrugged. “I’m sorry, Jean. I have to go.”
“Where? What should I put in the file?”
Jones lazily scratched his head. “Canada.”
“Canada?” scoffed Moreno. “What’s in Canada?”
“Dying relative,” bluffed Taq.
Jean rolled her eyes. She turned and gripped the back of an office chair tucked under a smaller desk near the door, rolled it in front of Taq, and sat down. The tension seemed to ooze out of her body. She smiled faintly. “You had to know I wasn’t going to fall for that.”
“You never know,” said Taq. “People discover long-lost family all the time.”
Moreno leaned back and threw one knee over the other. “This is some sort of government thing, isn’t it?”
“Nope, don’t think so.”
“Yes, that’s what it is,” concluded Moreno, her smile growing. “I saw Tsenka Cho at the service yesterday. Everyone did. It was even posted online.”
Jones frowned. This wasn’t going to be as simple as he thought, and Moreno was a little too clever. “I did see her there as well.”
“And now you have to go,” the president followed. She shook her head. “Your place is here. This is your job. This is your responsibility.” She pointed at the floor. “Not running off on some mission for the agency.”
“That’s a fun fantasy,” said Taq, forcing a smile. “But it’s nothing like that. Can you just file what I told you, and leave the board out of it?”
“Come on,” she said in a low voice, leaning toward him. “Just admit it. You can tell me.”
“Please, Jean.”
“Three days,” she said, leaning back in defeat. “I know that would give you until next week, but I want to hear from you on Friday. And when
you get back, you can give me the real story. Deal?”
It was a bad deal, particularly the last detail. But Taq knew she wasn’t going to run to the board after he got back, no matter what he told her.
“Deal.”
* * *
In the dead of night, Taq said goodbye to Andy. As someone who had consistently been in bed by nine in the evening for the past five years, simply seeing a clock read eleven was more excitement than Taq was used to. He packed a bag with a collection of medications ranging from beta blockers to painkillers. He had left just enough room for a few metal charms and two empty syringes.
He had trimmed his beard and hair, and carefully cleaned out his nostrils and ears of the only dark hairs that still grew on his head. He dressed down into cargo pants and a long-sleeve t-shirt. As he used the toilet for the second time in as many hours, he began to worry he might be stuck without facilities for extended periods during his trip.
Carrie drove him to a small airfield outside of town where Tsenka waited outside her sleek, angular monocopter. It was a saucer-shaped craft with a single rotor carved out of the middle. This copter had two mounted guns and a single rear thruster. The mage could hear the hum of the engine a half klick from the launchpad.
Jones lugged his duffel to the aircraft’s boarding ramp and stood face to face with Cho.
“Just us?” he asked.
“I have regional contacts,” said Tsenka. “But I couldn’t bring anyone else. This trip might get a little boring,” she said, looking back at the copter. “But the inside is fairly comfortable. There’s a bed so you can get some sleep.”
They started to walk up the ramp together. “It’s probably past your bedtime anyway, eh?” Tsenka teased.
Taq firmly shook his head. “Oh no, I’m always up this late. Yup…” he said. “Love the nightlife.”
Episode 3: The Slayer
One of the first things the ruling body of India did when the financial collapse came knocking on their door was activate their nuclear arsenal, targeting Pakistan. Pakistan returned the favor. Both governments were fully willing to lob the bombs at each other, but an army of the poor toppled the Indian government by storming various strongholds.
In the Secretariat Building, they came for the Prime Minister’s head. That same building housed many other departments, including the Ministry of Defense. It was there that a nuclear strike was awaiting final approval, and it was only by chance that the country was saved from complete annihilation by the riotous masses.
Not everything in Hindustan was sunshine though. Without a government, tensions between Hindus and Muslims erupted into a civil war. Outnumbered five to one, Muslims fled to Pakistan, Kashmir, and Bangladesh as the dominant group attempted to purge Islam from its home, sparing no man, woman, or child. The conflict was punctuated by the massacre in the state of Kerala along the southern tip of the subcontinent where the Islamic population had nowhere to flee. Instead, they fought... and lost.
When it was over, the more enthusiastic murderers became warlords and the country was split into dozens of small territories. Indian oil and other resource-rich corporations were extorted into failure, and the soldiers who had taken them over did not possess the skill sets to profit from what was under their noses. Laws became tribal affairs, ephemeral decrees, and occasional lynch mobs.
But even in the early days of the new world, there was one bastion of civilization still left in the region. On the western coast of the former nation of India, the city of Mumbai had hardened itself against radicalism, and when the rest of the nation turned barbaric, Mumbai stood fast. Its strength attracted remnants of the Indian military, including the Marine Commandos and the Ghatak Force.
The city had already been capable of international trade and was only exposed to ground advances for short stretches, as much of the area was bordered by waterways. With squads of former special forces to defend them, the inhabitants were kept safe long enough to weather the storm and implement a provisional government.
Years passed, and warlords were cannibalized by hungry soldiers until agreements allowed corporations to re-establish their control over the nation’s resources. Like much of the world, the people deferred to the wisdom of business leaders. Even then, the destruction and suffering wrought in the early years stunted the economy and culture of the Indian people for a half century.
After Beijing fell to socialists, similar protests spread throughout Asia and, fearing the worst, the oil industry consented to the formation of a centralized government that would officially bring all of the disparate territories under one set of laws and representatives. And thus, the United Territories of India was born…
* * *
Tsenka Cho directed the monocopter west across the Pacific Ocean. The craft traveled at close to Mach 1, but even then the trip took over thirteen hours, partially due to having directed the saucer south to avoid Chinese airspace. As directed, Taq slept for much of the journey, while Tsenka slept in shorter bursts. Jones looked out the windows as the aircraft passed over the UTI, only able to make out the streetlamps of small towns far below. He then joined Cho in the cockpit.
“Okay, captain,” he said, fumbling with the seatbelt. “What’s the plan after we hit the ground?”
“I haven’t quite figured that out yet,” admitted Cho.
“Well, now is a pretty good time to come up with something.”
“Desre said she would contact me there.”
“Of course,” said Taq. “But we aren’t going to sit around waiting on her, are we?”
“How do you feel about kicking back, taking in the sights?”
“Seems like something to do as a last resort,” he replied. “Some local cuisine might be nice, though.”
“If we get done and I still haven’t heard from her,” said Tsenka. “Then it will be your turn.”
“I can try, but it’s like I’ve said—”
“I know,” said Cho. “If all else fails, I will start making some calls.”
“Why not just start now?”
“I want our presence hidden as long as possible,” explained Cho. “I don’t know how secure my contacts’ coms are. I don’t know who else they report to or who they will ask for help. Intelligence is a web of buyers, sellers, collectors, and destroyers. In general, India is not an advanced place, but Mumbai is different, almost to the point of being its own state. They have a capable intelligence network and have become ambitious since establishing a government.”
“I see,” said Taq. “So if Desre is in trouble, it’s very likely the enemy will be located in Mumbai.”
“Or at least someone connected to them,” added Cho.
“And if we find out she’s being held captive?”
“We rescue her.”
Jones looked forward through the broad windshield of the cockpit. “I don’t know how you normally do things, Ms. Cho, but let’s consider bringing the local authorities in once we find something, rather than agitating them with our actions.”
Tsenka leaned toward him. “I won’t put you in danger. That’s not why—”
“Oh, come on,” interrupted Taq. “Don’t do that. I’m not some feeble old man… well, I’m not that feeble anyway.”
“I know.”
“I just think, given the unsupported nature of our venture, we should try to avoid legal entanglements in a country where we have no standing.”
“I know what I’m doing, Taq. And if I think they can be trusted, I’ll try to leave the dirty work to UTI officials.” Cho sighed. “Something you should try to understand is that much of the world isn’t like the NRI. Most of the UTI, on the local level, is still run by gangs. Lawmen have enough trouble maintaining order; they won’t care about a foreign woman’s plight.”
“I get that,” said Taq. “It’s just us two. Like you said, we need to keep our presence hidden. The kind of people who take mages are the kind of people who mean business.”
“Whether or not she’s captive now, at leas
t one group is out there looking for her,” added Cho, referring to the fat man who wanted to probe her.
After waiting for Mumbai air control to clear her landing, Cho brought the monocopter into the city. She passed over the large basalt monument, Gateway to India, and stared down at the regal-looking Taj Mahal hotel, constructed to emulate the accents of the real thing, which had become an unfortunate casualty of post-Collapse unrest.
Jones pointed out of his window at a grand gothic structure lit by a series of spotlights on the grounds surrounding it. “Wow, what is that?”
Cho stood to see from his vantage and smiled. “That’s the Terminus,” she answered. “A train station… the train station.”
“What is it now?”
“A train station.”
“They still use trains here?” Taq asked in awe.
“Indeed,” said Tsenka. “The destruction of the urban centers was apocalyptic, and in the early days of the UTI, they determined that rebuilding the railways would be the fastest route to an economic recovery.”
“Why not just use tubes?” wondered Taq, still staring.
“The tubes require a level of engineering precision and established infrastructure that the region just didn’t have,” explained Cho. “Haven’t been on a train before, have you?”
“Once,” he replied, reminiscing. “In the dreamscape, though it felt real enough. Crashed it into a canyon.”
“Want to ride one while we are here?”
“Hell yes,” said Taq, grinning like a kid. He pulled his eyes away to look at some of the rest of the city’s structures. He spotted a giant cube made of large bricks that seemed to go on for miles. Its roof was covered with shanties.
Cho looked with him. “Ah,” she said. “The UTI’s mass housing project. They say it has a commons area in the center with all sorts of flea markets and vendors. Like a city within a city. It’s where they hide all the poor. They are building them all over the country.”