Cirro winked at him as he slipped into the adjacent seat. ‘Transparency on,’ he ordered.
James let out a soft ‘Wow.’ The material around him had vanished, leaving them sitting in mid-air with only a steering wheel in front of Cirro visible. He could feel the seat beneath him and, when he reached out, he could still feel the insides of the car.
‘Transparency mode is mainly used in hopper races,’ explained Cirro. ‘As you can imagine, it is quite exhilarating. However, this should make you feel more at home. Retro-transparency on,’ he directed. The outer shell and interior reappeared, along with a windscreen and side windows, but it still looked more like a rocket than a car.
‘Where to, Primary Agent Cirro?’ asked Angie’s silky voice.
‘Welkin Palace.’
Quietly, the hopper lifted about a metre and then began to hum. James’s throat tightened – the vortex had made the same sound. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, hoping he wasn’t about to be spun around like the last time.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Cirro. ‘You seem a little tense.’
‘I’ll be okay, once we get going.’
‘Then maybe you should open your eyes.’
James peeked through one eye – he didn’t want any nasty surprises – and for several seconds words failed him. They were already moving, and at quite a pace, one street-scape smearing into another. ‘How fast are we going?’
Cirro smiled. ‘Eighty-five metres per second.’
‘What’s that in kilometres per hour?’
‘Three hundred.’
‘And six,’ corrected Angie.
James was sure he’d never gone that fast before in a car.
‘Can it go any faster?’
‘Oh, yes, quite a lot faster,’ said Cirro. His ice-blue eyes shimmered with amusement. ‘But three hundred is the city’s speed limit.’
‘Three hundred and six,’ corrected Angie, again. James had a thought. ‘Shouldn’t we be wearing seatbelts?’ he asked, groping unsuccessfully for his. ‘What happens if we crash?’
Cirro chuckled as if James had said the silliest thing. ‘We have not needed seatbelts in a long, long time. All cloud hoppers are fully automated, run by a single computer – the Automative Navigation Guidance Interface or ANGI – we just call her Angie. She knows the whereabouts of every vehicle, every second of every day.’
‘What happens if there’s a malfunction or something?’ ‘Angie fixes them. Honestly, James, there has never been a crash.’
‘Okay, but what happens if we have to stop suddenly?’ James persisted.
‘There is an inertial dampening unit built in,’ replied Cirro, ‘but do not ask me how it works. Physics is not my strong point.’
‘Why is there a steering wheel, then? If the computer – I mean, if Angie does everything, why do you need a steering wheel at all?’
‘There is a manual override,’ said Cirro. ‘Some people still like the feeling of being in control, if you know what I mean. Still, Angie can override them if she detects imminent danger.’ Cirro paused for a moment.‘Even when joyriders have taken them out of the city limits – which is, by the way, against the law unless they have a permit – no one has ever been hurt. The only unfortunate incidents have been the occasional Agrarien mistaking them for a UFO.’
‘Get out!’ said James in disbelief. ‘You mean . . . UFO sightings are actually you guys?’
Cirro just nodded with a half smile, half grimace. Wait till I tell Darren, thought James. He’s never going to believe this.
ELEVEN
Welkin Palace, Nebulosity
‘Welkin Palace,’ announced Angie.
James stepped out of the hopper and was hit with a blast of cool air. He rubbed his hands together and waited for Cirro. They were standing on a vast lawn of bright green, which on closer inspection James realised was moss. In the middle stood a sizeable statue of a man rippling with muscles and wearing nothing but a loincloth, balancing a pyramid in one hand and holding a sword in the other. James gulped. Was that a statue of the Empyrean?
Cirro motioned to James to follow and set off down a path made of solid ice – surprisingly, not at all slippery – toward the palace’s main entrance. Drawing closer, James noted the mosaic on the front wall of the palace, made from small, round, sparkly stones.
‘Are they diamonds?’ he asked. He resisted the urge to say, Oh my god!
‘Hailstones,’ replied Cirro. Seeing James’s expression, he added, ‘Not quite as impressive as diamonds.’
‘No.’
If James had to give his initial impression of the palace, he would have said it was all curvy and twinkly. ‘How come the palace isn’t blurry like the rest of Nebulosity?’
‘I told you,’ said Cirro, sounding slightly impatient, ‘the Empyrean is waiting especially for you.’
‘Oh! You mean, he un-blurred it just for me?’
‘Yes.’
James felt a small knot forming in the back of his throat. He’d never met a leader before, unless seeing the Australian Prime Minister on TV counted. ‘W-what’s the Empyrean’s name?’
‘Empyrean Nimbus Welkin,’ replied Cirro in much too dramatic a voice for James’s liking.
They climbed a long flight of stairs to the main doors. James could hear his heart pounding through his shirt and wondered if Cirro could hear it too. They stepped into a large foyer, and James’s attention was immediately drawn upward to a mammoth translucent purple dome. He could feel a soft warmth flowing down, and for some reason it reminded him of Spring holidays when he stayed with his gran. The knot in his throat lessened.
‘This way,’ said Cirro.
They walked towards a fountain about as tall as James; a curtain of fine white mist, not quite reaching to the floor, flowed over its side. James passed his hand through it as they went by and it clung to him like a spider’s web. Cirro raised a sharp eyebrow at him, as if to say, Don’t touch. With a sheepish grin, James wiped his hand on his pants and followed the primary agent over to where a robust woman sat, motionless. She was gazing at a screen, her chubby hands resting on a domed glass object in front of her.
Cirro coughed to get her attention.
‘What’s she doing?’ James asked in a whisper.
Cirro craned his neck and ran an eye down the screen.
‘She is typing the Empyrean’s monthly appointment schedule.’
‘But her fingers aren’t moving,’ whispered James.
‘They do not have to. The computer converts the electrical impulses from her thoughts back into words on the screen. It is called thought-keying.’ Cirro moved so that James could see the screen. ‘Watch,’ whispered the primary agent before he said, ‘BANANA.’
James let out a laugh. On the screen, the word ‘banana’ had suddenly appeared at the end of a sentence.
‘Yes, very funny, Primary Agent Cirro,’ said the woman, turning to face them. Her ice-blue eyes looked James up and down once, and then she returned her gaze to Cirro. ‘How may I help you?’
‘Please inform Empyrean Welkin that I have brought our guest.’
She pointed to a door on their left. ‘He is already waiting for you in the Chamber.’
‘Thank you.’ Cirro gave her a brief nod and winked.
The Chamber was nearly as big as the foyer. An enormous stained-glass window took up most of one wall, casting rainbow-coloured light around the room. The other three walls were decorated with thick, elaborate ice carvings; they reminded James of the carvings on his mother’s Chinese cabinet at home. Beneath his feet, the floor looked like polished glass. James’s gaze fell on a huge desk that sat below the towering window. And beside the desk was a small tree, about a metre high, with a gnarled trunk. It looked ancient – in fact, the whole room looked ancient.
When he couldn’t see the Empyrean anywhere, James rather wistfully whispered, ‘Maybe he’s stepped out for a minute.’
Cirro didn’t seem to hear him. ‘Stay here,’ he ordered and then
strode off across the polished floor. He was heading toward a couple of wingback chairs tucked away in one corner. The primary agent stopped at one of the wingback chairs that was facing away from the door and bowed gracefully. James could just see the top of someone’s hair above the back of the chair. James cocked his head and leaned forward ever so slightly, straining to make out their conversation, only to realise that they were not speaking in English.
Cirro came back to where James was standing. ‘Empyrean Welkin is ready for you,’ he said, motioning for James to follow him.
James didn’t step forward, just shifted uncomfortably, his heart thumping. What was this Empyrean going to be like? Would he be old and weathered, like the tree, or more like the statue James had seen outside? James hoped for the tree. ‘Does the Empyrean speak English?’ he whispered.
‘All Azuriens speak English,’ said Cirro. He heaved a small sigh. ‘It is fast becoming our main language.’ Again, the primary agent moved forwards, motioning for James to follow.
James tugged on Cirro’s jacket. ‘What shall I call him?’ he whispered.
‘Your Excellency will do,’ replied Cirro, starting to look impatient. ‘Now come on, we have kept him waiting long enough.’
As they crossed the room, James stayed a few steps behind Cirro. The Primary Agent greeted the Empyrean with a bow once again, so James did the same.
‘Your Excellency, may I introduce James Locke,’ said Cirro.
James bowed awkwardly.
‘Stand up, boy, let me see your face,’ commanded the Empyrean, rising to his feet.
‘Sorry,’ muttered James, quickly standing straight.
The Empyrean had the same ice-blue eyes as Cirro’s, but they were even more alarming against his dark skin. He wasn’t like the tree or the statue. He was tall and slim like Cirro but with curly silver hair and fine wrinkles. He wore a long shaggy coat that reached the ground and he stood, pondering James, stroking his silver goatee.
TWELVE
Welkin Palace, Nebulosity
James shifted on his feet and swallowed. The Empyrean suddenly smiled and pointed to the other wingback chair. ‘Sit down, James. We have much to discuss.’
Cirro excused himself and left the room, giving James a quick, reassuring wink on his way out.
‘Tea?’ enquired the Empyrean.
‘Sorry?’ said James.
‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ repeated the Empyrean.
‘Um, I guess so,’ mumbled James. He didn’t drink tea very often, except when he visited his grandmother.
The Empyrean clapped his hands twice and, almost instantly, a pink teapot with small white poppy flowers painted on it and two matching cups and saucers appeared on the coffee table between them.
James’s eyes widened.
‘Just an old party trick, my boy,’ chuckled the Empyrean, his silvery hair bouncing gently as if it was on springs. ‘But it always seems to amaze you Agrariens.’
James relaxed a little after that and allowed a smile to cross his face. ‘You mean – there’s been other people here?’
Nimbus slowly poured the tea before answering. ‘Other Agrariens,’ he corrected. ‘We are people too.’
James felt his face flush. ‘Sorry, I – I didn’t mean it that way.’
The Empyrean pointed toward the sugar bowl. ‘Sugar?’ James quickly nodded.
‘Milk?’
‘Yes, thanks’
The Empyrean put the milk jug down and then said, ‘Yes, to answer your question. There have been a select few people. None arrived quite in the same fashion as you, though.’
James rubbed the back of his neck, wondering how he was going to explain being sucked into that – what did Cirro call it? An Atmospheric Sampling Unit.
The Empyrean seemed to read his mind. ‘Let’s start at the beginning,’ he said calmly, handing James his tea. ‘I am intrigued as to how you managed to find your way into our ASU?’
James took a long sip of his tea. Just tell him the truth, he thought. It can’t be any crazier than people living in clouds.
‘I flew up,’ he said, then quickly took another sip of tea.
The Empyrean seemed to study James’s face for a moment. He sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. ‘Flew, how?’ he said slowly. ‘We didn’t find any craft or parachute.’
James took a deep breath. Well here goes nothing. ‘I didn’t use an aeroplane . . . I can fly, you know, kind of like a bird . . . without the flapping.’
At first the Empyrean didn’t move a muscle. He sat very still, gazing intently at James, who was now taking great gulps of his tea. Had James made a mistake telling this man he could fly? What happens if he doesn’t believe me?
The Empyrean’s eyes showed a flicker of wonderment and he said softly, ‘Go on.’
So, over the next half hour, James described in detail all the steps leading up to this moment – starting six months back when he first discovered he could levitate, learning to fly, crashing, how Darren made him a VPR unit, all the way up to the vortex sucking him in and him blacking out.
The Empyrean listened attentively, only occasionally interrupting James to ask a question. ‘So this friend Darren, he cannot fly?’
‘No.’
‘And he does not know you are here?’
‘No. Like I said, I’d never heard of Nebulosity before yesterday.’
The Empyrean scratched his goatee. ‘I see.’
‘Can I ask you a question, Your Excellency?’
‘Certainly.’
‘Um . . . Have my mum and dad been contacted?
‘I believe that the Primary Agent is still trying to locate them. But do not worry, as soon as he has word, he will tell you.’
How hard could it be to find them, James wondered. He’d given them all his details. Something didn’t feel quite right, but all he could say was, ‘Okay.’ After a pause he said, ‘Can I ask you another question?’
‘Certainly,’ said the Empyrean with a hint of a smile.
‘Who are you?’
A puzzled expression lined the Empyrean’s face. ‘I am Empyrean Nimbus Welkin. I thought Primary Agent Cirro would have informed you of this before you came.’
‘Yes, he did, Your Excellency. But I don’t mean that. I mean . . . what are you, and Cirro, and the doctor at the hospital, all of you here in Nebulosity? The doctor said you are sky dwellers, but where did you come from? Are you Aliens?’
The Empyrean threw back his head and laughed loudly, startling James. ‘No, no, James, we are not Aliens. We are from Earth and are humans just like you.’
‘Then why did you call me an Agrarien, like I’m something different from you?’
‘You are an Agrarien because you live on land. We are called Azuriens because we live in the sky. You and I are different species but we are still both human.’
James frowned. ‘Different species? I don’t understand; how can there be different species of human?’
‘The same way there are different species of bird or frog. Azuriens and Agrariens evolved from the same ancestor, Homo erectus, hundreds of thousands of years ago, but took different paths to get to where we are today.’
‘Homo erectus?’ James racked his brains for a few moments. ‘Is that the Java Man?’
The Empyrean looked impressed. ‘You know some evolutionary history?’
‘I’ve read a bit of Richard Dawkins.’
The Empyrean looked even more impressed.
‘Can I ask another question?’ said James.
‘Of course.’
‘Why does everything look blurry in Nebulosity?’
‘Ah. That is a little harder to answer, I am afraid,’ said the Empyrean. ‘I am not a scientist, so I cannot give you the proper theoretical reason. But it has to do with things vibrating at slightly different frequencies. You, being an Agrarien, are not accustomed to the harmonics up here, so objects – including Azuriens – appear blurry. Over time, your eyes may adjust.’
‘S
o, how do you . . . un-blur your body?’
‘Once again,’ said the Empyrean with a small shrug. ‘I cannot give you the proper scientific reason. I just think about being solid and my body does the rest.’
‘What about other objects?’ said James. ‘Outside, I noticed that objects close to Cirro were fine, but further away they were still blurry.’
The Empyrean nodded. ‘Sympathetic resonance. Anything within a certain distance will start to vibrate in tune with us.’
‘Including the palace?’
‘Ah. That takes a lot more mental capacity. It has to be a collective effort from all palace workers.’
‘Are there more Azuriens, besides here in Nebulosity?’
Before the Empyrean could answer, a hologram image of a clock appeared on the coffee table. ‘Your next appointment has arrived.’ It was the voice of the woman at the desk. She didn’t sound any more cheery than before.
The Empyrean sighed. ‘I am afraid, James, that question time is over – for both of us. Cirro should arrive shortly to take you back to the hospital. We will talk again soon.’
‘What’s going to happen?’ asked James. ‘When will I be allowed to leave the hospital?
The Empyrean smiled, looking apologetic. ‘Not for a little while. My doctors will need to run some tests to make sure you are in good health. And we will work on contacting your parents . . .’
James wondered what they would think of all this. He knew that if he told them, they wouldn’t believe him. But coming from an adult . . . ‘What are you going to tell them?’
‘That you are all right.’
‘Are you going to tell them where I am?’
‘I am afraid that will not be possible. You see, we do not like to advertise our location – especially to Agrariens. I am sure you understand. But do not worry, excuses will be made for you,’ said the Empyrean. ‘Your parents do know you can fly, do they not?’
James looked at his feet and shook his head. ‘I hadn’t quite found the right time to tell them. They’re pretty busy with work and stuff . . .’
‘Yes, quite,’ said the Empyrean, one eyebrow raised. ‘Well, do not worry – I am not about to reveal your secret.’ He leaned forward and lowered his voice. ‘And I am assuming you are not about to reveal ours.’
Wraith Page 6