Aspiria Rising

by Douglas Barton

  It wasn’t even white pine. He didn’t care. It was wood, and even if other students had found the best pieces, he still had something. He pulled out his provisioning blanket, laid it flat and, in the darkness, scooped up everything in his big pile, wood and dirt alike. He tied off the ends of the blanket, slung it over his shoulder and quick-stepped back to camp to work on HTS.

  He unloaded the wood, shook out the blanket, rubbed his cold hands and flick-switched a pocket lighter. His numbed hands shook violently and the tiny flame kept blowing out. He tried again and built his fire, a pitiful, low-heat, smelly, multicolored fire. Desiccated pine wood—ugh.

  He rolled out his bedding on the cold, hard ground next to the pit. He lay down and stared at his research notes. He thrashed around under the cover, unable to concentrate. Genna’s impending departure swirled in his mind, taunting and teasing him.

  In the distance, a rustling sound swept through the brush surrounding his camp. An animal just nosing around, for sure. He refocused on his notes, but his eyelids grew heavy. Stay awake. Stay awake. Stay…

  Dawn arrived. He squeezed his forehead, trying to control his mind and stop the bad thoughts about Genna’s future. But the harder he tried to suppress them, the more they came. What would Garin do?

  Dominy stood and paced in random-sized circles around camp. He expanded his walk, spiraling out of the campsite. The only sound was the twigs snapping and crackling under his sandals.

  In an overgrown meadow, a long way from camp, he tromped through a grove of saplings and parted waist-high grass to clear his way. Scrub brush scratched his ankles. Lizards darted about. A bird twittered. With his head bowed, he discerned a different pattern emerging in the meadow foliage. The weeds and plants were less dense. It was probably some sort of path, extra wide and long fallen into disuse. He followed it, kicking away debris as he shuffled along. It seemed odd that the path didn’t appear to be headed anywhere in particular. But that might help him enter the creativity zone. His mind quieted and his heart rate slowed. Sparks of creativity often happen when you least expect it, when your mind is not focused on the past or the future, Garin had said.

  A rock in the dirt caught his eye. It was nearly black, darker than the surrounding rocks, and it had the thumbprint impressions of a meteorite. He didn’t have a magnet to test the rock, but the possibility set his mind churning. If the meteorite contained graphite, it could have the mineral lonsdaleite. Lonsdaleite was harder than most diamonds and, because of the way the atoms aligned, had better coating potential. In his quest to perfect high-temperature superconductivity, he had tried, unsuccessfully, to use a diamond anvil to produce the required metallic hydrogen. Maybe he could manufacture artificial lonsdaleite in the lab with the appropriate modifications.

  He sat on the path with his back against a lone tree and pulled out the wad of research papers and a pencil. Three different processes were possible based on his analysis. He narrowed it to one, triple-checked his calculations and thumped his fist on the dirt. This will work! His heart leapt. Genna!

  He stood and headed back to camp with a bounce in his step. A gust of wind blew up dust, peppering his face. The cold wind picked up and he donned a skullcap he’d removed from his provisioning pack. The snug fitting cap was similar to his ancient EEG machine but without the wires. That crude brain-wave monitor was rather useless: too much interference from the folds in the cortex.

  He squeezed his temples. I could devise a monitor magnitudes more sensitive and accurate than that old EEG machine. He stopped and closed his eyes. Suppose I access information from the Data and Simulation Center… and suppose I incorporate Talia’s neuron-mapping brain research… and suppose I combine that with my portable hologram. He imagined himself wearing a supersensitive EEG-type of skullcap and accessing the Aspirian Simulator with his thoughts.

  Close your eyes and imagine Talia in a generation, Garin had said. Maybe with that idea, he could incorporate her current data profile and holographically project the image of how he imagined her—or anyone or anything—in the future. The Imaginator! A crazy idea for sure, but fully developed, and paired with HTS, it should get him his mastership.

  He arrived back at the Retreat site, and daylight had relented to twilight. He knelt next to the fire pit and blew on an ember until a wisp of smoke spired and flames leapt and crackled. The blue-and-yellow flames reached a meter high and threatened to leap from one fire ring to the other. Why two fire rings? Illogical. He stood to get a better perspective. Those weren’t two rings—more like one flattened figure eight. The sign for infinity.

  I love the idea of infinity, Matham had said. Could Matham have been here? Impossible. The nervous student had never even started his Retreat. Dominy plucked green leaves off a bush to protect his hands from the heat and overturned the big rocks outlining the fire. There he found a sealed letter with his name on it.

  Greetings, Dominy,

  I assumed you’d be coming to the Retreat soon, before everyone else. When I realized Sergian’s goal was to force me to leave, I wanted to prove to myself I could make it to the camp and survive. And I did! On my own terms. And, maybe, I could even have survived him. I still remember Cal’s words, “Stand up to Sergian.” But the guilt was too much for me, for I was responsible for Talia’s failed Conflict Resolution Mission. Yes, I procured the data on the planetary missions, and hers was not chosen by normal protocol—she was assigned by Sergian to a world that did not welcome us.

  Anyway, nothing I could fight at the time, or prove (hah, the irony). I hated myself. So much so that I stopped studying. I explained this to my mother before I left and, by the way, she finally told me my birth name. Dominy, I don’t know specifics, but Sergian’s plans go beyond Aspiria.

  Best of reasoning.

  Your friend, Luce (Matham).

  Matham’s words struck him like a punch to the chest. He bent over and inhaled deeply. The bushes rustled and crackled. That animal must’ve returned. Thrashing sounds grew louder. He straightened his back.

  “You seem scared. Decidedly scared.”

  Dominy jumped and staggered backwards. He balled his fists. “What’re you doing here?”

  “I thought I’d offer my special assistance.” Pandor held out his hand. “Do you have it?”

  Dominy smelled chemicals on the big student’s hands. He opened his robe, flashing his research papers. “Let’s just say I’m ready to make a deal.”

  “Deal!” Pandor’s eyes were colored with hate. “Once, there was a student, a very naive student.”

  “I’ll deal with Sergian.” Dominy swiveled his head, searching for an exit. “You can’t outrun me.”

  The brush surrounding the campsite rattled. Armbands emerged from every direction. Dominy stared at his research, scanning the last pages of notes he’d written and closed his eyes. Now what? He opened his eyes, jab-stepped to the left and ran right. The Armbands shadowed him. They pinched in closer, tightening their circle.

  Pandor laughed and held out his hand.

  Dominy reached out to Pandor with his research. The Armbands stopped in their tracks. Pandor grabbed for the notes. At the last second Dominy yanked them away, sprinted three steps and pitched the papers in the fire. Flames voraciously consumed the dry fuel, sending sparks high into the twilight.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Dominy stood in front of the research committee on the fifth floor of the leadership building. The swath of red robes sat at a long table with their backs to a panoramic window. The spire of the neighboring building, the Sanctuary, appeared to pierce them.

  Many of the nine preeminent Aspirians fidgeted. Sergian, the tenth member, pointed at an empty chair. “Everlen will read the transcripts and vote in absentia.” The head of council addressed Dominy and held up his notepad. “This is only a partial submission. Where’s the rest?”

  Dominy ascended and pointed to his head. “Master, it’s all right here.”

  Sergian pushed his chair away from the table and sto
od to leave. “This is outrageous.”

  “Hold on.” Talia rose from her chair, her eye hollows were dark caverns. “I’m still head of this committee. Dominy, this is highly unusual, explain yourself.”

  “Yes, Master, of course, and I ask for the committee’s indulgence in allowing me to explain my rationale. In addition to providing the solution to HTS…” Dominy nodded at Sergian. “Which I know is of the utmost importance, I have also researched the extreme boundaries of long- and short-term memory retention. Master Talia, you have a keen interest in brain research, would you agree my work on memory has played a role in advancing your brain mapping?”

  She nodded and sat back down. “Have you had a class-one engineer review your HTS methodology?”

  Vernan. “Yes, he has assured me he can design a prototype.”

  Sergian twirled his finger as if to say, let’s get this over with. Surely the head of council was conflicted. He needed the HTS research, but approval by the committee meant he, Dominy, would become a master.

  Dominy sat at the table and set up a recorder to transcribe his words. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and recited from memory his solution to high-temperature superconductivity.

  Talia eye’s glistened. “The committee will inform you of our decision shortly.”

  “Speech, speech!” came the cries from his friends standing just north of the masters’ studies in Sector Three.

  Dominy stood under a red awning on a one-meter-square platform, barely raised. “Soon, when I’m a master.” The committee had accepted his research. They even accepted his crazy Imaginator. Everlen had cast the deciding vote. Because his research was approved so quickly, he hadn’t yet accumulated the necessary points to reach the threshold for mastership. Thirds in that situation were deemed, temporarily, master-designate.

  Genna fluttered her fingers. “C’mon, give ’em what they came for.”

  Dominy smiled. “Here are a few words: If I’ve burrowed nearer the surface than some other worms, it’s because I didn’t start fresh—I started where others had dug before me.” With those words, the ceremony honoring Dominy’s approved research concluded.

  Dominy walked away from the platform and mingled with the small crowd, receiving words of congratulations. He pulled Genna aside. He brushed away a few strands of hair covering her eyes.

  “Hey, Master.”

  “Soon. I need only one more win in the Games.” Based on his past performance, the odds of failing had to be in the tens of millions to one. 0.25 years left. Not even the Puppet master could stop him now. I’m going to make it! Whenever Everlen died—in a quarter of a year or in twenty-five years—Dominy, as a master, would challenge for the guardianship.

  In the meantime, upon becoming a master, he’d investigate Matham’s charge that Talia had been set up to fail. He’d also look into that cruel joke about Matham’s name. Soon, as a master, he would find out everything—including the contents of the sealed documents in the basement vault. “Have you learned something about Sergian’s plans?”

  “He’s meeting with masters every day. They’re becoming even less bothered by his reforms. He’s winning them over. Now he’s preparing to take on Talia for the guardianship. And he won’t let anything get in his way. Or anyone.” She twisted the tail of her long hair tighter and tighter. “I’m scared for you.”

  The quadrangle buzzed with activity. The outlines of a miniature schoolscape arose from the Midway in Sector Four. He smiled. “Don’t worry. I have plans, too.” He leaned over and kissed her.

  “Dreams in the sky?” She grabbed his shoulders and held him. “After the ceremony, Sergian won’t let me talk to you anymore, but if I find anything out, I’ll somehow communicate to you.”

  “Dominy, come here.” Garin’s arms were hidden behind his back. “I have a gift for you.” His master whipped out a red robe with a flourish and handed it to Dominy. “In a few days you’ll be wearing it.”

  “Thank you, Master, and thanks for your kind words earlier.”

  Garin nodded. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled at Talia. She returned a wide-faced grin suggesting she had recovered from her failed mission. Dominy wanted to ask about it but read her facial expression and decided to wait. Talia joined them and winked at Garin. She was ecstatic about something. They both were.

  Talia broke first, a puffy-cheeked smile directed at Garin. “Everybody, Garin and I are forming a partnership.”

  “I’ll translate.” Garin laughed. “She means we’re to be married. A ceremony is planned at the Sanctuary. The Sanctuary and love—both are a sharing of truth, beauty, and goodness.”

  Dominy and the other attendees cheered. “But married, not possible.” Dominy matched them with his own oversized smile. “You can’t marry—it’s not logical, right, Master Talia?”

  “Humorous, Dominy, I thought you, MetaMath captain, would have predicted this union based on our behavior patterns. But, judging by your stunned expression, you’ve a ways to go in your training.”

  Dominy threw his red robe over his shoulder, squeezed both of their hands, one pudgy and soft, the other bony and hard. “I don’t believe even a guardian would’ve predicted two people so different marrying.”

  Garin turned to Dominy. “Well, as Everlen says, forecasts are inherently dangerous because they don’t incorporate that which has yet to be created.”

  “And, Dominy, I agree with your premise—we are different—but I disagree with your conclusion that it’s not logical.” Talia smiled at Garin. “We envision our relationship as one plus one equals three.”

  Dominy recoiled. “You, you mean … no.” He tried to imagine what a child of Talia and Garin would be like. His head throbbed, rebelling at the image.

  Talia burst out laughing. “You’re zero for two. I meant we’re so different and, like certain molecules, together we’re greater than the summation of the individual atoms.”

  Dominy wrapped his arm around Genna. The other Alliance members came in close. “To Talia and Garin, may your love reach new heights. Here’s an Aspirian salute to you.” Dominy ascended to Talia, and as he raised his gaze above Garin, he spotted a phalanx of white-robes riding the Pow toward them.

  The sparse crowd honoring Dominy turned toward the fast-approaching Pow. Sergian was out in front followed by a column of Armbands, followed by a wheelchair, followed by another column of the baton wielders.

  The Pow stopped and Sergian and the entire convoy disembarked. “I’m sorry we’re late.”

  Talia grabbed Garin’s and Dominy’s hands and turned to Sergian. “I’m surprised you’re here.”

  “I heard the news. Congratulations Talia. I know we’ve had our differences, but I truly wish you and Garin all the best.”

  She squinted. “You want something, what is it?”

  Sergian held his palms up. “Nothing. I know your love is true and I want to show my support, to encourage more unions in this new Aspiria. As for Dominy…” Sergian pointed at Everlen. “He insisted we come to the recognition ceremony.”

  Dominy and Genna ran past the column of Armbands. Dominy reached out and touched Everlen’s hand. His grizzled palm was warm. Sergian eyed them suspiciously. Everlen examined his own hand, the one that had touched Dominy’s. In the other, the guardian held a book. The way the fading light illuminated Everlen’s thin skin, the guardian looked different. Just as when he’d seen Genna’s art up close in the gallery, Dominy recognized traces of the multitude of faces in the guardian’s life, glimpses of pure truthfulness, goodness and beauty.

  Genna stared at Everlen, speechless.

  Talia said something to Sergian, diverting his attention. Dominy seized the opportunity. “Guardian, we need your help.”

  “The Meritocracy,” Genna whispered.

  Everlen clutched the book tight to his chest with one hand and extended the other.

  Sergian broke away from Talia. “Unfortunately, we’re late.” Two Armbands pushed Dominy and Genna out of the way and loaded Ev
erlen back on the Pow. The head of council turned to Dominy. “As for you, well, it’s quite an accomplishment: Dominy, Master Designate.” Sergian’s eyes sparked to life. “And I must inform our designate the master selection process has been tweaked.”

  Dominy stared at Sergian. Tweaked?

  “You’re still a designate, of course, but official master selection is now based on a more nuanced criterion. With the influx of Provisioning Thirds becoming masters, the algorithm methodology is out of date.” Sergian shrugged. “We must be fair to all candidates.”

  The thrum of indistinct voices coming from the Debates and Elimination Lectures died down.

  “But, Master, the rules. I’m one win away, and my next competition is in only two days.”

  “Unfortunate.” Sergian’s voice was strangely calm, but the vein in his temple pulsed.

  The sectors’ red awnings lowered with the setting sun.

  “Master?”

  “You wouldn’t want special treatment? Not at Aspiria.”

  A muffled scream came from Sector Four.

  “But, Master—”

  “We all can’t be winners.” Sergian stripped the red robe off Dominy’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you some more yellows—looks like you need a larger size anyway.”

  Dominy, unsure of the ramifications, turned to Talia and Garin for explanation.

  “No.” Talia tried to shout but couldn’t muster the energy. The gathering, in honor of Dominy, stood with their mouths agape.

  Dominy felt his heart being ripped from his chest. “No! He’s changed the rules. Everything we’ve worked for. What about the algorithm? You can’t do this.”

  “In fact, now I can.”

  Everyone from the celebration gathered around and faced Sergian. The head of council pointed at the guardian. “Everlen’s health has deteriorated.”

  “What?” Dominy’s voice rose in pitch to a squeak. “No, it’s not time, he still has—”