“But he did it.” Cal slapped Nalton on the back. “And Genna’s on her way.”
Dominy smiled at them. His two friends were already late for class, but any punishment at that point seemed meaningless.
Garin grasped Dominy’s hand. “I’ll see you all later. I have to check in on Talia.”
Dominy led Cal and Nalton to the makeshift stands. He pointed at the path. “Ridiculous, running in circles.”
Nalton leaned on his crutch. “Actually, the shape’s not a circle. It’s an oval.”
Dominy smiled. Nalton had benefited the most from Aspiria, the old Aspiria. He had achieved more than anyone, including Nalton himself, had dreamed possible. “Thank you, Nalton.” His lips trembled, and his voice quavered. “Oh, Aspiria, in two days it’ll be over.” Cal and Nalton stood shoulder to shoulder with him at the starting line, staring at the Aspirian skyline. “Yes, it’s almost here, the day we’ve aspired to, the Grand Debate.” Dominy sprinted a few steps and turned around.
Cal, his eyes bulging, pointed at Dominy’s chest.
Dominy’s red robe had slid off his shoulders and hung from his belt. He stared at his own torso, startled at its transformation. Physically, he was a different person, lean and muscular, even his stomach rippled. All from walking and stacking bricks? He relaxed his arms. They fell naturally, parallel to his sides. His hands slipped into the space below his now-defined pelvis; his forearms filled the indentation of his waist and up his ribcage—his biceps, under the armpits. The contours of his inner arms fit the contours of his muscular body. Everything was a perfect match, like the pieces of a child’s puzzle. This must have been how every ancient Academic looked… until Lucean’s reforms arrived, which quickly led to Artemas, which quickly led to … the greatest civilization in the history of the galaxy. Dominy covered his open mouth with his hand.
“What is it?” Cal asked.
“Oh, Divinity! I got it all wrong. Lucean, she was the greatest hero in galactic history!”
A white robe appeared about a hundred meters away, running, hair swirling in the wind, closing in on the boys. Dominy ran to Genna with outstretched arms.
“Dominy! Come quick! Vee’s disappeared and…” She gasped for breath. Crusted tears lined her face. “Sergian’s announced a Decimation Ceremony.”
Dusk approached and Dominy shielded his eyes from the crouching sun. With Everlen gone, Sergian led the Decimation Ceremony. Dominy, Garin and the rest of the masters of Aspiria paraded in single file. The ground still radiated afternoon heat. Dust from a recent storm puffed with the masters’ steps as their sandals thumped in rhythm. The parade halted and the red-robed marchers stood at attention.
Garin leaned forward and looked down the line of masters. “I don’t see Talia, any signs of your friend?”
“Vernan?” Dominy surveyed the students in attendance. Their numbers seemed small compared to the size of Sergian’s new Youth Ministry that bordered the sector. He turned and eyed the launch pad. “I’ve searched everywhere. I think he’s long gone.”
Garin stared at Dominy’s shaky hands. “What else is wrong?”
Dominy’s breathing ran wild. Pressure built in his chest. “Tomorrow.”
Garin patted Dominy’s shoulder. “Relax. We’ve trained for that.”
Dominy nodded and breathed deeply. They’d developed a simple cue. Any time he got anxious on that Grand Debate stage, he would look at Garin in the front row. I aspire to be as calm as Garin someday.
“You sure you’re okay?”
A spiraling wind picked up, waking the dust and sending long shadows dancing. Dominy’s eyes welled. “I didn’t say any final words to Everlen before he died. I don’t want that to happen again—if things go badly for me tomorrow.” He grabbed a hold of his old master’s hand. “Thank you, Garin.”
Garin gently squeezed Dominy’s hand. “Of course.”
“No, I mean thank you for giving me the greatest gift.”
Garin tilted his head.
“Teaching me how to search for the truth—inside myself.”
Garin nodded. “A lifelong lesson for all of us.”
Sergian, a data pack clutched tightly against his belly, branched off with the ten council members, walked to the platform and addressed the line of masters.
A shadow, a pear-shaped figure, slogged over to the far right of the line of masters. Dominy’s pulse reawakened. That could be anyone, definitely anyone.
“The council has decided. In times like these, times of change, Decimation is critical to the ongoing reformation of Aspiria.” Sergian looked up and smirked. “By purging Aspiria of certain masters, Aspiria grows healthier, stronger.”
Dominy whispered to Garin, “Hey, Sergian changed the wording of the traditional pronouncement.” His pulsed ramped up. “Something’s not right.” Dust plumes blurred the individual identities of the council members.
Sergian cleared his throat. “If I call your name, take one step back.”
Dominy looked to the right, toward the shadowy latecomer. His pulse thundered.
Sergian ripped open the sealed envelope and reviewed the scores. “Garin.”
Dominy screamed. He instinctively reached out to Garin, but grasped air.
Dull thwacking sounds came from behind him.
Something warm grabbed his ankle. He screamed louder. He turned slowly, scared, like the time he had to attend to a disemboweled wolf-dog. Garin was face down on the quadrangle’s dusty surface getting beaten by Armbands with baton’s double the normal size. His old master’s right arm was extended, gripping on to Dominy’s ankle. Garin looked up, his eyes wild, seemingly thirsting for more life. Dominy reached for Garin’s wrist. One of the Big Sticks cracked down on his hand. Dominy moaned as pain pulsed in waves up his arm. Garin’s face froze, locking in a gloom so terrible, Dominy stood paralyzed.
Another platoon member arrived. His cold fleshy fingers pressed on Dominy’s leg and pried Garin’s hand away from his ankle. The Youth Ministry whisked Garin away.
The official proceedings ended. Other than a few muffled shouts, the smattering of students in attendance showed little reaction. Among the remaining standing masters, there were only dead-eyed stares and it-wasn’t-me sighs.
Chapter Thirty-four
Dominy arrived at Marika SkyDome Stadium for the final showdown. For some reason, Sergian had changed the competition away from the Grand Debate Hall. Fortunately, he had found out several days ago, time enough to prepare for the change in venue. He’d leave nothing to chance.
The double doors were propped open in an attempt to provide fresh air to a filled stadium. Stapled to a wall adjacent to the doors was a single-sheeted announcement, its corners flapping in a struggle against a stiffening wind. He eyed the title words, The Future of Aspiria, and entered.
Empty? Dominy’s pulsed raced. Someone, a lone spectator, was perched in the front row. “Talia!”
“Yes, you can thank me later.” Sergian’s eerie voice ricocheted through the cavernous stadium. “I was able to get her in early, before the crowd. At the last moment, I got the council to delay the start of the Debate. They agreed given the circumstances.”
“What circumstances?”
Sergian opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by the start of the procession of masters arriving to fill the lower level of the western side of the stadium.
Dominy shook his head in exasperation—and the Debate hadn’t even started. At least Talia was out of the infirmary. He lost sight of her as the crowd spilled in. Maybe her presence would calm him, boosting his confidence. With Garin gone, Talia would be his cue to stay in the moment. Perfect.
He stepped onto the leading edge of the MetaMath game field and up to the speaking platform that covered some of the darkened translucent squares. He smoothed his hands over the top of his podium. Sergian stood in front of his podium and, side by side, the two competitors ascended to the gallery of masters, a swath of red robes. The gallery greeted them with only silence,
a hush carrying their one collective thought: one Debate would determine the future of Aspiria.
Dominy leaned forward and listened to Sergian’s opening statement. The wind whistled in short bursts, punctuating his words.
“…the perils of a competitive environment were too much to ignore. Everyone now realizes the cost of these pressures on our students. My fellow masters, please indulge me for a moment and close your eyes. I ask each of you to reflect on someone who’s left the academy early. This is painful for you, as it is for me. For, as you know, I suffered from such a loss as my student, Matham, left Aspiria.” Sergian lifted his gaze to the ceiling and spread his hands. “If we lose one student, it’s not worth the cost. We can’t leave one person, student or master, behind. As a result of my reforms, this will never happen again. There’s more. I predict that within a year, Aspiria will experience a reacceleration of test results. Yes, Aspiria has entered a golden age of fairness…”
Dominy ascended to the audience. “This is not a complicated Debate. Sergian’s reforms strike a blow to the core values of Aspiria—a system honed by generations leading to unimaginable heights of student performance.” He pivoted toward Sergian. “His reforms—culminating in the elimination of competition—are destroying Aspiria, leading to…” Why is Sergian laser-focused on Talia? “An academy where expectations are lowered…” I can’t get flustered. He smiled at Talia, his cue to stay in the moment. “Where standards are lowered…” His smile was returned only by unrecognizing, glazed eyes. She’s sitting next to Rohan? “Standards like the truth.”
Sergian started off the cross-questioning. “You respect your first master—I mean, technically, second master—don’t you?”
Dominy tried smiling at Talia but again there was no response. “Yes, of course.”
“And you consider her a friend?” Sergian asked.
“Yes.”
“You even have an affectionate name for her, right? The Aspirian Algorithm, isn’t that it?”
Dominy nodded.
“And if, for some reason, she was forced to leave the academy by Aspirian leadership, you would claim that wasn’t fair, correct?”
The way Sergian structured the question it appeared to be a trap. But what?
“We’re waiting,” Sergian said. “Would it be fair?”
“Before I answer, I’d need to know the hypothetical reason she was forced to leave.”
Sergian waved him off and tramped up to the front row of masters and faced Talia. “Fair. There’s that word again. Fair.” Sergian spun and faced Dominy. “It is not a hypothetical. The system, the old system, is not fair. For Talia, based on her latest scores, was destined for decimation!”
“No! Not Talia!” The shouts came from a couple of masters.
“Yes, the Aspirian Algorithm reported scores so low she was destined for decimation.”
Dominy searched Talia’s face, but she dropped her chin and her head slumped forward.
Sergian pounded his fist on the podium. “I saved her. Yes, the new leadership saved Talia.”
“She was ill. Talia had legitimate, extenuating circumstances. Yes, she was sick as evidenced by her extended stay in the infirmary. That’s why her scores dropped.”
“Unfortunately, no. By her own admission, she became incapacitated only after I told her the truth about her poor scores, after she was informed of her impending decimation. Yes, unfortunate. But, luckily, she’s on the mend and is in fact sitting in the audience of masters. Insisted on attending—came straight from the infirmary.” Sergian clapped his hands and turned to the audience. “Clap, everyone! Show support for someone that could really use our help.”
Dominy’s mind scrambled to recover. If Talia should have been the one decimated then … He faced Sergian. “You, who speaks of fairness, how do you explain what happened to Garin?”
“Garin!” At the mention of his name, Talia’s face reanimated as though she had awoken from a nightmare. She stood, whipped her head around wildly, searching the audience. “What about Garin? Where is he?”
Dominy recoiled. He recalled Sergian’s words: came straight from the infirmary. She hadn’t heard about Garin!
Sergian lowered his hand gently in Talia’s direction. Rohan assisted Talia to her seat. Sergian turned to Dominy. “First, let’s finish this. As Aspiria’s leader, tell me, Dominy, would you have decimated Talia, your former master, your friend, the Aspirian Algorithm?”
“I-I-I’ve proposed changes to the Code, eliminating the Dec—”
Sergian waved him off. “I’ll take that as a yes. Now, let’s focus our attention on the topic of Garin. Before we start, though, can you quantify the value of the tradables you’ve achieved?”
“I solved the high-temperature superconductivity problem.”
“Worthless! It seems your designated engineer did not report a design flaw.” Sergian turned to the gallery. Everyone’s well aware of our focus on tradables and the resulting bounty to Aspiria. Let me tell you what I’ve accomplished. I’ve achieved ten times the level of the next highest master. And how did I accomplish that? The Decimation. Yes, I read that pronouncement with a heavy heart. But for the greater good of Aspiria, I—um, the council—authorized the decimation of Garin.”
Talia spit out a guttural groan. Her signature hair part was now covered in a bird’s nest of frizzy locks.
Sergian raised his hand. “Yes, the decimation of Aspiria’s top performer. Yes, Garin had the highest scores of any master.”
“No!” Talia’s spine-tingling scream erupted as if releasing a lifetime of bottled emotions.
Garin, top performer?
Talia stood, listing side to side.
“Assistance!” Rohan shouted.
The bright red robe of a young master, coming to Rohan’s aid, descended the aisle stairs.
Pandor.
The newly-promoted master turned to the player tunnel and called out, “Provisioner!” A girl, twisting the tail of her hair into a tight rope, trudged across the stage to the first row. “Please assist Talia to the infirmary.”
Dominy gasped. His knees buckled and he leaned against the podium for support. Genna’s a Provisioner? She’s Pandor’s new student?
Sergian lumbered over to Dominy. He twirled a necklace in front of Dominy’s eyes and dropped the special gift on his podium. Dominy’s arms collapsed and he hit his chin on the dais.
“No!” Genna spun and pointed at Sergian. “Stop him!”
Pandor turned back and grabbed her wrist. She twisted and broke free, escaping toward the player tunnel. Pandor scurried after her.
Sergian bowed and shook his head, sending his jowls swaying. “Sad. Later, I will demonstrate how our youth have been corrupted.” He pointed at the tunnel. “Leading to that.”
Dominy’s heart sank. He glared at Sergian and slipped the necklace over his head.
Two Armbands arrived and transported Talia away.
The commotion settled. Sergian grasped the sides of his podium. “Decimation is a word with unfortunate connotations and doesn’t reflect our new values. From now on, we’ll call this generous sacrifice of our brightest: the Offering…”
Many in the gallery cheered.
“No more Aspirian Decimations!”
The audience’s cheers grew louder. Dominy palmed his ears.
“Yes, the council authorized my decision. And I’ve good news to report. In exchange for this new tradable—a distinguished Aspirian researcher—Aspiria received from the Commonwealth over one hundred times the value of any other single tradable in our history. And thus the ultimate solution to meet Aspiria’s needs as this highly-valued tradable allows Aspiria to end an outdated tradition—Conflict Resolution Missions. No more missions and their recent problematic outcomes. In their place, we’ll formalize the Offering to occur at regular intervals. Aspiria benefits from reform.”
Dominy searched the audience for others who were outraged but identified no one. He stood alone. And he was getting crushed in
the Grand Debate. He looked up to the tethered Cubevision, expecting to see the words flashing: Player Eliminated. “Master Sergian, by your reforms and by your latest action, it’s clear you don’t believe in a merit-based system—is that correct?”
“Of course I do. I simply define the issue differently than you. The bottom performers, like Talia, are at such a disadvantage to the top performers they merit our support to raise their level to averageness. My reforms, including the elimination of competition, will save students, students like Matham and masters like Talia, because they’ll never again fail.”
“Aspiria has no history of ostracizing young students, like Matham, that lose. Perhaps he did not leave because he failed.”
“What?” Sergian pressed the vein in his temple. “Of course, he did. Matham left because he failed in competition.”
“But that would be illogical. I quote Garin, the master you just deemed as Aspiria’s top performer. ‘“Do not fear failure. One learns and becomes stronger from failure.’ Correlation does not imply causation. Can you prove Matham left because he failed? Do you have any documentation?”
Sergian’s mouth gaped, his thick tongue covering his lower lip.
“I didn’t think so.” Dominy turned to the audience. “If no one is allowed to fail, no one can experience winning.”
“I imagine an academy where everyone can be winners.”
“I imagine Sergian’s academy—an academy with no role models, no one to aspire to—in my nightmares!”
Sergian lowered his head and bucked up as if transformed like an injured hyena gathering its energy for a counterattack. “Now, you who questioned my position on merit, let me ask you. Do you, Dominy, believe in a meritocratic system?”
“Of course. My positions are widely known.” Dominy addressed the gallery. “But is this about me or about Aspiria?”
Sergian arched his shoulders. “This is about who leads Aspiria. You’re subverting my, uh, Aspiria’s reforms. Your speeches, your so-called research, your secret alliance—all are circumventing the spirit of the reforms. You’re agitating the students.” He pressed on. “You do believe no Aspirian should gain special advantage from their lineage, is that correct?”
Aspiria Rising Page 21