Stone Of Matter

by B L Barkey

  In this way, a player could lie still in a chair and enter a game like none other before. A mask was placed over your head, manipulating sights, sounds, scents, and vertigo in the ear to create a realistic experience. They could even manipulate the thermal ranges of the body, though the temperatures were never varied by more than a few degrees.

  These VR Chairs were also great for exploring programs modeled after the Ancient World, before everything had been reshaped. The generations in the last hundred years of the Ancient World, before the Great Fire, had really committed to this technology, creating all sorts of experiences, ranging from adrenaline-pumping excursions to recreating the feel of a warm cabin in a winter storm.

  However, studies soon revealed that too much time in VR Chairs was unhealthy, causing severe addictions where many left their chairs only to sleep and eat, and sometimes not even then. It was just another epidemic of corruption that had plagued Proelum at the time. Corruption of advancement. This reminded Ammon of the Hooded ones, as both them and the VR gamer addicts filled their senses with false pleasures, seeking habitual escape. They were sick on all levels. Mentally, physically, spiritually. He felt sorry for them.

  “Okay,” Jonah said, his tone serious. “Jump off that bridge when I tell you.”

  “Hmm. Sounds suspicious,” Ammon said.

  “No, for real. When you jump, push into that rock wall. You see that snow pile? If you hit it just right, you’ll slide off without any damage. Then we will unlock the Ayten, and all the aliens will be frozen.”

  “The Ayten?” Ammon asked.

  “Yeah, it’s the jet, remember? We can hijack them and fly down into the gulf to collect the gecko egg.”

  Though the jargon sometimes left Ammon confused, he knew what ‘gecko eggs’ were the hidden parts of games coded in by the game designers. It was Jonah’s personal life mission to see all of these ‘gecko eggs’ collected and recorded.

  “Jump now,” Jonah said suddenly, his full-suited character jumping up and down with a massive assault rifle.

  “Now?” Ammon asked.

  “Yes, now! Wait, now he’s back. Wait until…”

  But it was too late. Ammon slid off the bridge, and as he did so, one of the enemy Aytens swooped down, killing him on the spot. The other Ayten came in then, bombing Jonah to pieces.

  The boys sat there in silence as they respawned at a checkpoint.

  “My fault,” Ammon said, trying not to laugh.

  Jonah had his face buried in his hands, then slowly dragged his hands down, accentuating his frown. “Are you ready now, or do you wanna take a minute?” He asked, sounding all but patient. “I don’t want you to push yourself too hard here.”

  “Ok, I’m ready,” Ammon said, sitting up and assimilating a serious posture. Jonah looked at him sideways, then started the mission over.

  It took them two more tries to make it. The bridge was several hundred feet above a frozen tundra, and apparently once Ammon bounced off the first snow pile, he was supposed to crouch down. “I didn’t think I had to tell you that part! Obviously the fall would crush your legs without crouching!”

  “Oh yeah,” Ammon said, slapping his hand on his forehead. “So obvious.”

  They found the Aytens as Jonah had promised, then found the gulch. They flew to the bottom, then found the glyph on the wall. Jonah flew into this wall, his ship disappearing instantly. Ammon followed, and as he hit the wall, his screen changed. They were now in a hot-tub oasis, surrounded by girls in bikinis.

  “This was the gecko egg you wanted?” Ammon asked, cracking up.

  “Well yeah! Isn’t it great?” Jonah said, grinning stupidly. “For Sparta!”

  Ammon rubbed his forehead. “Jonah, I’m impressed you found this. I wouldn’t even know where to begin to find these hidden gems. But I won’t applaud the bikinis.”

  “That’s because you suck at these games,” Jonah said.

  Ammon pushed him over and shut off the gaming console.

  “Ok, time for you to do something productive,” Ammon said.

  “Productive?” Jonah asked, aghast. “You mean like the torch lightings? They started me on them this week for my Levitian apprenticeship. Or are you referring to the countless books I’ve had to study on the history of the Leviticum?”

  “Ok ok, I get the point,” Ammon conceded, ruffling his hand through Jonah’s hair. “Any good secrets I should know about?”

  Jonah thought for a moment. His eyes lit up.

  “Yeah, actually. I’ve been meaning to tell you this since I first read it. Did you know that the Levitians are said to have powers rivaling those of the Sector Guard?”

  Ammon paused. He had not known that. He also found it very hard to believe. But then he realized, Jonah had not seen the mountain that day, gathered by an unseen power wielded by the SG. He did not understand the true extent of their power like Ammon and Mikael did. Did we even see it? He thought, before shaking his head.

  “And,” Jonah continued, “The Levitians are considered the true protectors of the island. Not only this, but there are rumors of other islands out there just like Cephas, with protectors very similar to our own! There’s even a legend of Levitians through the entire history of Proelum.”

  This was all news to Ammon. How had he never heard it before? Perhaps because he had never searched for it. Still, he would have expected to hear of it before this moment. “Wow,” said Ammon. “Hey Jonah, be sure to fill me in on what else you learn. I’m way interested. Especially about the Legend of the Levitians.”

  “Right on,” agreed Jonah. And with that, Ammon jogged down the stairs to the first floor. He worked his way over to the combatives gym, turned early for the locker room, then pulled out his gym t-shirt and shorts.

  He got changed and walked barefoot into the combatives room, where only Krystal and a few others were sparring. He was a bit early. Krys noticed his arrival and released the kid she was choking out from her death grip. She really was one of the best. Caught practicing before training, it was no wonder why.

  “Hey Ammon. Long time no see.” It may have been Ammon’s imagination, but she seemed surprised as well. What was with everyone being surprised by him keeping his word?

  It would have bothered him more if their surprise was valid, but as far as he could recall, it wasn’t. So he chalked it up to false interpretation and greeted her back. He gave her a hug, then regretted it after absorbing pools of her sweat. Even so, she still smelled sweet as an over-thorned rose, so it wasn’t a big deal.

  She paired off with Ammon. They began throwing punches at one another’s abdomens. They both had strong enough cores that this didn’t do much harm within an hour of training.

  Ammon pulled his punches slightly, though less than he would have with any other woman. She was a very tough girl. But Ammon was rather strong himself, and his body wouldn’t allow him to throw all of his power towards a friend, let alone a female. Even if she was ‘one of the boys’.

  His body, however, had no qualms with taking out an enemy, as a few kids had learned the hard way over the last few years. It wasn’t a big deal, but kids sometimes thought they would get tough with Bastion and Mikael. Ammon would always show up a few minutes after the trouble started, and would then finish it.

  Most of the fighting before he arrived was verbal, but for some reason they would get frustrated with Ammon’s quick logic and decide to go physical. It was at this point, Ammon justified in self-defense and in trying to keep the peace, that he could then kick some tail without feeling any remorse. He actually quite enjoyed it, as long as a justified reason for the violence was given.

  Perhaps there were still better ways to handle the conflict. Yet Ammon was under the impression that some people just needed a good punch to the face. Otherwise, they would never learn.

  In every encounter, Ammon was careful to release all negative feelings about the person. He never hated them or wanted permanent harm to come to them. Just some good, memorable lessons. Each of
these kids had then realized the errors of their ways, and Ammon was quick to forgive.

  Bastion, however, was less frugal with giving his forgiveness, often leading to encores. Krys was similar in this way. Ammon loved them both and would always defended his best friends first. Yet he agreed; Bastion and Krystal had bad attitudes towards others.

  The instructor came in and initiated the class. They started with lots of movement, building up a sweat and activating their cardio. They then practiced specific moves, from punches to throws to choke holds. Krystal was especially good at the holds, and could probably take down a man five times her size with a well-secured hold. She made Ammon black-out at one point, apparently not feeling his very distinct tap on her arm signaling his surrender.

  Though he would never pursue her romantically, it was quite an experience to roll around on the mat with her. She would breathe heavy into his ear, then whisper snarky comments about his weaknesses. It was in these moments he hoped his future wife would have similar qualities. And wow, did Krystal look good in her workout clothes.

  They continued on full force for the hour, driven by adrenaline and hormones. By the time they were done, Ammon was drenched in both of their sweat. He gave her another hug and left feeling like a stud. He loved her, and cherished their friendship.

  He stripped off his shirt in the locker rooms, then exited out a different door into the swimming pools. The pools were fifty meters long, gradually dropping from a depth of four feet on one end to twelve feet on the other. Ammon often swam the full length underwater, descending in depth as he did so. He could easily do the full length, and could almost make it back. It was then that he felt as if he were in his dreams where he could breathe underwater. Right before his mind screamed for oxygen, of course.

  He jumped into a lane with another girl, and asked her the rhetorical question, “Mind if we share?” Yet to his surprise, she said no. Looking for a smirk, he saw none. She looked deathly serious.

  Ammon sat on the cold stone, stunned. “Alrighty,” was all he could think to say as he slid over. He waited for the swimmer in the next lane to look up, then caught her attention with an exaggerated wave. As she stopped and stood, Ammon recognized her as Elizabeth, who was Mikael’s date from the night before.

  “Hey Ammon!” she said, clearly excited to see him. The thrill in her voice probably stemmed from her feelings for Mikael, but that was fine. Her joy was contagious. And in all fairness, he had been her friend first.

  “Hey Elizabeth. Good to see you too. Mind if we share?”

  “No not at all, help yourself. Sorry if I’m too slow.”

  “Oh no worries at all. I bet you’re still faster than me. Swimming isn’t my strongest sport.”

  She laughed at an untold joke and then continued her laps. Nice girl, Ammon thought.

  Ammon pushed off from the wall and practiced his arm strokes. He tried several variations, mixing in some laps with only kicking. This was where he struggled the most. He could not figure out the secret of the swim kick, though it seemed everyone else in Proelum knew it well.

  Ammon and Elizabeth continued swimming in a very elongated ellipse, staying on the right side of the lane at all times. Ammon was a bit faster than her when using his arms, but not on the kicking drills. This was frustrating to him, as he seemed to kick water in the faces of everyone else in the pool.

  After about twenty laps down and back, Ammon crawled out of the pool and into the hot bath, followed closely by Elizabeth. They both settled in, sparking soothed entanglements of small talk. She thanked Ammon for his song of Stardust the other night, and then congratulated him for making it to the SG trials. “That’s so impressive! I know you guys can do it. Mikael was talking about it on our date the other night.”

  “I heard the date went well,” said Ammon, feeling a bit guilty for encouraging her feelings for Mikael, yet chuckling inside all the same. Heck, Mikael might even like the girl. His emotions were just rarely enthused on such matters. We have our double date tomorrow evening. Perhaps we will see, he thought.

  “Who does Mikael have picked out for me?”

  “Mmm not tellin,” she said with a side smile and wink.

  “I’ll take that as a good sign. So she’s pretty, smart, and funny. I like this girl already,” said Ammon, sinking further into the warm water. She laughed with him, and they continued talking about the beach bonfire supposedly happening that weekend.

  Ammon crawled out after another half hour, saying bye to Elizabeth and continuing to the lockers. He showered off the chlorine, then redressed before heading outside. There were multiple doors along the walls of the Leviticum that could be used for exiting, but only the two large doors on either side of the corridors could be used for entering.

  He decided to head out the large west doors and work his way around to the south where the ARC started. Again, he was a bit early, and therefore took his time on the walk. The Sun was shining bright, dancing through the thick glass of the South wing outer walls. Strips of marble could be seen where the floors were, creating an almost accidental design on the outside walls. Ammon just felt… balanced when in or around the Leviticum.

  This was a great feeling when much of his own future was still unknown. At least he knew what his profession would be. The Sector Guard would keep him busy and challenged until he would find out who his wife and eternal companion would be.

  On Cephas Island, they believed in being sealed to one member of the opposite gender. Given this fact, deciding on who this person would be was a rather significant task, one not to be rushed into or started for the wrong reasons. Ammon was determined to do that part of his life right, after becoming a protector of all Cephasonian families.

  This purpose had given him direction ever since that first day swimming the Corals with Mikael. Over the years, he had seen many of the young Cephasonians struggle with finding their own strengths and callings in life. Some struggled so much that they took on ‘the hood’. To wear ‘the hood’ was a sign of defeat, though it was often temporary. It was a sign that the person had lost the desire to even find their calling.

  The ones who had taken ‘the hood’ did not cause trouble. Nor did they cause good. They did nothing but devour the food, space, and oxygen around them. It was worse than an animal, for at least animals didn’t have the choice to grow and find directional purpose.

  Ammon had never worn the hood, though Bastion had for a few weeks in his young age. Jonah had worn his hood for about two days before Ammon came up to him and yanked it down, saying, “If I ever see you giving up like that again, I’ll cut the hood from your clothes and knit you a bonnet from it. Quit being a big baby and keep trying.”

  “It was a joke,” Jonah had responded, though his voice had cracked with coarse disuse. Never again did Jonah put his hood up. Not even in the rain.

  The Hooded of the island were few. There was only ever a handful, and it was usually a signal for help, at which point additional guidance and direction would be given them by peers and Levitians alike. Again, most had been Hooded for at least a few weeks in their life. It wasn’t a good thing. Yet, at the same time, it almost seemed necessary. It was rock bottom, which then allowed for each person to rebuild from the ground, resetting upon firm foundations.

  Ammon and Mikael were among the lucky ones. Never had they struggled with the Hood, and neither had Krystal. Though Ammon had seen countless dark days in the past, with some seeming so hopeless he wanted to sleep the daylight away, it would never last long.

  His long-term goal of becoming a protector, along with his genuine interest in gathering new knowledge unto himself, kept his energy flowing like a mountain stream. Another lesson he realized early on was to avoid certain things in life. Father had taught them this principle. It was a principle he said came directly to him in a dream from the Divine Engineer. This was his more endearing nickname for his higher power, alongside Gen.

  “All things are energy,” Father had said. “All things. Even the small c
hoices you make every day. All things either require or supply energy unto you. Not all things that require energy are bad. Many are good. Likewise, not all things that supply energy are good. Some give you negative or harmful energy. It takes experience to figure out what things are what.”

  Ammon had always remembered these words. Since then, he had gone about life gathering experiences and knowledge, focusing on what things he felt best about and what gave him good energy. In this thirst for knowledge, he had learned to do one thing superbly efficient. And that was, well, to learn.

  He had learned to learn at an incredible pace, and with amazing retention. He forgot many things, but remembered even more. Though he knew much, he was sure he knew nothing compared to the vastness of everything. So each day, he continued to learn. It was a hunger, renewed and then satiated several times a day, and even through the night. And someday I will know everything, or die trying. Though the latter is most likely. Or perhaps they will both occur concurrently.

  He took the gravel path, passing beneath the arches of trees and twisting about fountains and statues. It wasn’t long before the entrance to the ARC came into view. He could easily see where it stretched all the way to the South Bay. It was in the bay that they had installed a reinforced net to keep the recovering sea animals contained and protected.

  There were times when whale families would swim along this perimeter, waiting for their family member to return. One family of whales had done this for an orca that Ammon had helped. This young orca had been shot by an unknown hunter, the foreign spear still lodged within its flesh. Cephasonians never hunted whales, so it had to be from Monoruinite hunters.

  This was an intriguing event in and of itself. But even more fascinating was how the orca had made it there. The family had essentially carried the young whale to the shores, then waited in nearby pools for the youngling’s return. Feeling particularly creative, Ammon and Bastion had named him Orik, just before caring for his wounds. With the name bestowed upon him, the whale seem almost to laugh with joy.