Stone Of Matter

by B L Barkey

Upon release, the whales sung a whistling, creaking song of reunion and gratitude, before swimming off back to the depths. It was an experience Ammon would never forget. Especially since the whales weren’t native. They belonged in much colder waters than what passed by Cephas, but must have caught a current that carried cooler waters past their island. How they knew to come there, Ammon could only imagine. But they had, and it had turned out exceptional for both species.

  Ammon approached the main entrance of the ARC and asked the usual front desk lady for Bastion. They chatted about ARC news until Bastion showed up. Bastion had just recently started aid on new animals, including a sea otter, an orangutan, a dolphin, and a boa constrictor. The connection between these animals and Jonah’s cartoon from the night before suddenly clicked, and they both laughed.

  Bastion led them to the sea otters first, where they cleaned out their thick fur before playing with them. Sea otters were playful creatures, often growing depressed if ignored for too long. Which, Ammon learned, took only a few breaths of neglect.

  Next, they helped set up the habitat for the orangutan, who had a small family in the eastern jungles, but had been threatened by an illness which started from malnourishment and from eating the wrong berries. The dolphins had been attacked by another sea creature much larger and more ferocious than themselves. They both had gashes in their sides, indicating that if they had been alone, both would be dead.

  The young male dolphin seemed to have a hurt pride from failing to protect his partner, so Ammon spent extra time boosting his confidence by splashing him with waves and compliments. As they played, the dolphins gently nibbled Ammon’s toes and pulled him into the water, swimming behind his legs and knocking him down repeatedly.

  After a few rounds of this, Ammon caught on and grabbed his dorsal fin as he passed. The boy dolphin, named Stud, acted as if this were done on purpose and took Ammon for a nice stroll around the enclosed area as an apology. Both dolphins were showing great progress and would be released into the wild soon.

  They checked on a few of the other habitats, then cleaned up before heading to the Centre for dinner. They entered the western entrance again, picking up Krys from the gym and seeing Jonah as he descended in an elevator.

  “That lazy little punk always takes the elevator,” said Bastion.

  “You know the tech of it intrigues him,” Mikael said.

  “Of course,” Bastion sniffed.

  They grouped together giving old friend greetings and walking into the Centre. They grabbed their plates and chose a medium round table located near some palm trees. The night was young and gorgeous, the air still warm in the night sky. The ceiling remained open, inviting the purple and orange of the sunset to bounce around them. They gave a moment of thanks for their food, a practice which Bastion was particularly keen on. They were, after all, eating some of the animals he himself had helped raise. A portion of the ARC was used to raise hogs and cattle, as well as lamb and chicken. There were many chickens.

  Giving his thanks was a much different experience after harvesting the chickens himself. He was now grateful for the life taken, that he may eat and be nourished. It was easy to forget when he just ate what was in front of him, without a thought of where it came from. He had found a word in his studies from an ancient culture that expressed just this. He now said the word in his thoughts before every meal. Itanomasu, which meant, I humbly receive from all lives taken to give me energy.

  The Centre was less crowded than usual, with most people studying for their particular apprenticeships. Of the few who were there, Ammon recognized all who were seeking to enter the SG Trials. There were forty eight others besides him and Mikael, of which only eight would even start the Trials. Half would bail by choice, while most others would fail the Prelims. He had been watching them all for a long time.

  One man in particular posed a challenge. His name was Steele. He was a bit younger than them, though still large in stature, like Bastion. He was a good man of morals who spent much of his time meditating. On average, only three people would be chosen for the Sector Guard per year. However, Ammon was going to make sure at least two of them were him and his brother.

  And then there was Chalice. I hope to Gen he bails or fails, Ammon thought. He felt slightly ashamed for wishing failure upon a fellow student, though not enough to revoke the thought. It was honest and true.

  Two women were trying out this year. Only a few women had ever made it into the Sector Guard. Among the few, there was one known to all that was truly exceptional. She had entered the Sector Guard twenty years ago, and after a few years of service, she had left, claiming to have ascended their knowledge and understanding. It was rumored that she then traveled out to Monoruin for further enlightenment, never to be heard from again.

  They finished their food and sat around for a while, telling jokes and stories from their day. Ammon shared how the orangutan had grabbed Mikael by the hair and wouldn’t let go for ten minutes straight.

  Soon they went their separate ways and Ammon returned to his cube, hoping to dive into his book and get more sleep. He successfully avoided any further conversations and snuck into his cube, changing into his nightclothes and pulled out his planner for the week. ‘Day 22 of Month 9, Year 1018 since the planet of Proelum caught fire’. That would be the day when he would start the SG Trials.

  He crossed off his tasks, feeling quite accomplished. He went over his plans for the next day, making sure to pencil in his double date with Mikael and Liz. He then gave thanks for another day of good health and protection, before opening up his fiction book.

  The setting of this story was on Proelum, but one of an alternate universe. The planet had a different history, with a shifted reality that had extensive space exploration missions that had successfully found ten other planets suitable for human life. Exploring the possibilities of deep space time travel, along with relativity of space-time, had always fascinated him.

  Father would be proud, he thought. Though the actual accounts of Proelum history did not give evidence of such technology, Ammon was a firm believer that they could never truly know what it was like back then unless they were there themselves.

  Although the Index kept the gliscs pure and protected, the accuracy of their contents could never be completely trusted. At least, that’s how Ammon felt. It was said that the authoritative groups leading countries of the ancient world had kept truth from their people.

  The Levitians had their secrets, sure. But they did not keep the truth of things from their people. All the same, and more carefully, Ammon still harbored suspicions that the Levitians held more secrets than they let on. He didn’t enjoy his thoughts of suspicion so close to home. He would rather trust the Levitians.

  As he read, his eyes grew heavy, and after seven attempts to finish the same sentence, he gave up and turned out his light, before slipping out of consciousness like a turtle into its pond.

  IV

  He was walking the Leviticum halls once more. Before him was the same ghostly snow leopard, swinging its massive tail above its head, yawning. This time it was on the seventh medical floor, which was now covered in layers of snow and sheet rock so thick it seemed impossible to exist on any land in Proelum. Still in his dream, he imagined walking in his projected spirit back to his cube, while lights were on in every area of the Leviticum.

  Light came from flickering candles. All rooms were void of life. When he reached his own body, he suddenly became a dark being of shadow, lurking on the verge of comprehension. It was tangible enough to hurt him. He knew this somehow. It then stood over his physical body. The dark being intended him harm. It wanted to enter him through the crown of his skull. To steal his body.

  Ammon was then in his own body. He tried his best to wake up. To move even one finger. But he couldn’t. He focused on his breathing, then tried to patiently move a single finger, all while knowing he could be killed at any moment. He felt stuck between his dream and reality, suffocating in a pool of inbetweens.r />
  The dark figure continued to loom over him, inhaling and exhaling in some unnatural way foreign to any living being. It were as if it were practicing the motion, hating it, while preparing for a host. After several attempts, his panic arising, Ammon finally awoke.

  He sucked in a deep breath, wanting nothing more than to run home to his family, if even in the dark. He held his breath for as long as he could, clinging to life and reality. The following light-headed feeling proved he was awake. This was something he did when his dreams seemed too real. He could hold his breath forever in his dreams. He rolled back and checked outside his cube for the dark figure, seeing nothing but empty blackness. He laid back down, feeling uneasy as chills kept rising on his skin as if something were indeed passing through him. He closed his eyes and thought of pleasant things in the Sun. It took him a few moments, but eventually the coolness faded, and he fell back asleep.

  And though he forgot it all by morning, the eyes of the snow leopard kept watching.

  Chapter XV

  Worlds

  Twosday

  Ammon slept in. When he awoke, he was reminded of the difference between the worlds of dusk and dawn. Light cascaded down from the translucent ceiling. After imagining the many different routes his day could take, he finally made himself get up and run.

  It was a slow start. His legs felt thrice as heavy as usual, but he knew if he could push through the lethargic mood, he’d be able to withstand many other difficult things that day. He needed this reassurance, for today he was going to his Worlds classes. And the first one of the day was with none other than Master Bozolf.

  Subjects in the Leviticum were always taught from two perspectives, and therefore required two instructors. For the subject of Worlds, those instructors were Master Kodin and Master Bozolf.

  While Kodin was perhaps the most patient Levitian of them all, Bozolf was his complete opposite in all things except gender. He was unbearably difficult, though no one understood why. He was happily married to a beautiful woman, though their relationship was kept private compared to most on the island. He worked out regularly, had a full head of hair, and even wrote his own concertos. He was rather tall, thick, and handsome. He even smiled often.

  Yet that smile was the first indication of his bad temper. A smile is usually a natural, outward expression of how one feels on the inside. Even Tobias, the dog, was found smiling often. And fake smiling was not something Cephasonians reinforced. Therefore, smiling was a symbol of genuine warmth radiating from the heart.

  That being said, the only feeling Ammon got when he looked at Bozolf was a confusing chill. It always left him looking over his shoulder, searching for an open window or a raging fan, that may be the cause of a sudden, tangible coolness. And yet, he would never find a source other than Bozolf’s opaque smile.

  Ammon also disliked calling him by the title of ‘master’. He did so in class, to be sure. It was only respectful. But did he really believe that Bozolf deserved the title? It was difficult to say, especially with the particular observations he had made over the years.

  On the surface, and in well-lit places, Bozolf was the perfect image of respect. Well-groomed, tall-postured, and generous with his head nods, he acknowledged the younger Cephasonians always. He left nothing for you to wonder about. He was a Master, and he knew his stuff. Perhaps that was the problem. He knew exactly just how much to interact with others, without drawing their full attention.

  Ammon used to believe in the man’s facade. And then he had entered the Worlds classes. It was something all Cephasonians did at the start of their Leviticum path. The Worlds classes were limitless, as they touched on everything beneath the Sun. They even journeyed out into the vast, mysterious expanses of space, then back to the subsurface center of Proelum, where neither Sun nor starlight could shine.

  The classes were deep and boundless and wonderful. Or so he had heard. It was where all would find their basic interests, before seeking other classes and Index books on the subjects, and later falling into the apprenticeships best suited for their talents and interests. This was what Ammon had expected from the onyx and marble views on the Worlds.

  Unfortunately, his first ever Worlds class was not with Kodin, but with Bozolf. He could still hear the first sentence Bozolf had spoken to them in class.

  “You all started with this class to find what you like, am I right? Well, let me warn you now. Life is not about what you like. It’s about what needs to be done. I will show you these things.”

  The words in themselves were not bad. In fact, Ammon had agreed with the master, hoping they would get along. But it was the feeling that came with them. The lingering, bone-chilling, uncomfortable feeling the man gave you, which still lingered with the unpleasant memory. Not evil, not demented. Just… degrading. Eroding. Exhausting, like energy dripping from you in tendrils.

  As their best friends turned ten-years-old and joined Ammon and Mikael in Worlds class, Ammon appreciated them even more. Krystal had left her first day, standing up and calling Bozolf the scum of the sea. He had smiled as she walked out.

  Bastion came at the same time as her, but lasted an entire week before telling the man that ‘I already know my interests lie in the animal kingdom, and I also know that butt-picking gorillas have more manners than you do’. He had smiled as Bastion stormed out, though Ammon knew Bastion had put on a show of his own, wielding his controllable rage.

  Jonah had merely started reading other books in Bozolf’s class, and once he was called out, only about a week later, he had just stood and walked out, his lips muttering the words of his text at an inaudible volume. Bozolf had not smiled at this, and had almost seemed close to striking the boy.

  In that moment, Ammon and Mikael had been out of their seats, poised for action. It would have been ugly. But surely the master would not resort to violence? Ammon had thought many times after. That is something of the Old World. Even so, the intended malice in Bozolf’s smile was unmistakable.

  So why didn’t Ammon and Mikael also leave his class? Well, it was simple. It was part of the Prelims.

  There was one last crucible to get through before any student could make it into the Sector Guard Trials. It took place during the final week before the Sector Guard Trials. It would happen at the end of this week.

  They would both have to get the support of at least two-thirds of the Levitians to vote on their behalf. This part was easy enough. Though some of the other Levitians of the Onyx wing were tough on their students, they remained reasonable. Both Ammon and Mikael had in fact managed to receive support from every Levitian, except for one. It was the one that they were worried about.

  After majority vote, if any one of the Levitians had a convincing argument against someone passing the Prelims, they would present it to the others. More often than not, this would block the student from entering the SG Trials for another year. And then, not wanting to fall behind, most would take up a different apprenticeship.

  To the Delkai brothers, there was no other. Mikael could afford to wait, for he had already skipped ahead two years in his studies. Yet they had committed. This was the year for them both. End of story. No more waiting.

  Therefore, it was imperative to tread lightly around the one Levitian, the Lone Levitian, in order to deprive him of any argument against them. They remained in Master Bozolf’s class, keeping their thoughts to themselves, even when the most unfair assignments or reprimands were tossed their way. Yet Ammon could feel his own patience wearing thin.

  “If you do not attend my class during the Prelims, I will strongly recommend your disqualification,” Bozolf had threatened. “Those who dream of becoming Guardians should be able to handle a few more classes.”

  This threat was actually not allowed in the Leviticum educational system. ‘All growth is of free will and true interest.' It was the crux of the whole system. Yet who could argue with him? Master Bozolf had collected an arsenal of everyone’s past mistakes, of which Ammon was convinced he had created
portfolios, perhaps honestly having convinced himself that he was doing a service to the island.

  Ammon walked into class early, passing Maison who sat in the front. He spotted Mikael near the left wall, taking the seat beside him. He looked at his brother, then drooped both his eyes and bottom lip as if already bored. They both laughed and pulled out their notebooks.

  It was a requirement to take notes in Bozolf’s class. No other class in the Leviticum required you to take notes. It was fine, though. Ammon found that writing helped him focus and stay awake. It also helped him remember certain quotations from other Levitians. This was because, in each class, he would often write side notes to his future self, either for revelation or for entertainment. It was here that he wrote down direct quotes from the Levitians. Some were profound. Others were hilarious. Each Levitian had a few good quotes every year. Bozolf had the most, though all of them were at his own expense.

  They still had several minutes to kill. Ammon looked around, tracing the ruby cracks in the black ceiling. The rooms on the fourth floor of the Leviticum were furnished according to their corresponding wing, then accented by personal preference from the Levitians. The Levitians in the Onyx wing decorated their rooms to harness the dark setting of these black and ruby walls, creating an opposite mood to peace, to reach balance. Levitians in the Marble wing adorned their rooms with plants and fountains, using the moving water to stir the air with renewed energy.

  Of course, Bozolf’s room was different from the rest. It was furnished only with necessities. It felt unbalanced. It had cold metal chairs and desks which looked like charred ash. They smelled of campfire, which seemed pleasant if only near a campfire. Otherwise, it made Ammon feel dirty, as if he were covered in soot.

  Ammon heard loud laughter coming from the back right corner of the room, and was annoyed at its flippancy. He looked back, seeing legs propped up on another student’s desk. As he looked closer, he realized the boy was Chalice. Of course, Ammon thought. The boy was surrounded by several others, half of which were Hooded.