Rise: Tears (Future Worlds Book 1)

by Brian Guthrie

  "She's your friend?"

  "A greater friend than you could possibly imagine," the Queen replied. "All in good time, you'll understand."

  "So convince her to talk to me and record her words to paper? All while trying to find the answer to why the network isn't working properly?"

  A sound like the Queen landing nearby greeted my ears, a soft thud for such a giant creature. "Somewhere in her words is the clue I'm looking for. She may not have all the answers. Trust your instincts. Find the others if you can, and, when you do, convince them to talk to you," she said, her voice just a hair above a whisper. "I'm afraid that's all I can tell you for now."

  "You haven't told me much."

  She didn't answer.

  Chapter 3 - The First Name

  Our interview ended at that moment. The Queen's presence left just as light flooded the chamber ahead. Shielding my eyes against the brightness and a stab of pain in my head, I blinked my way toward the opening, the Queen's padd now in my travel sack. As I neared the light, it turned out to be a door that better suited my human form. I pondered why the Queen would need such a place down here when she had her own illustrious quarters above in the main city. Shrugging, I walked through the door into a small chamber, my travel sack flung over my back. The walls wore a soft gold color, save for the left wall, which wore a deep red. The floor lay bare. Two chairs sat to my right near the wall, small, lighted alcoves over each feeding soft light up toward the ceiling. A desk stood to my left, a single book lying open atop it. My eyes widened at the sight of the ancient tome. It appeared to be a religious text, translated into the Ancient tongue.

  "So, not as ancient as you seem," I whispered, looking over the script and lifting the edge to see the binding. "Still, old enough."

  I set the edge of the book back down and moved back in front of the desk. Another door stood opposite the one I'd entered. Stepping near caused it to slide open, revealing a larger living chamber. A single table with two benches stood in the center. To the right I saw what appeared to be a kitchenette, to the left a sitting area with a large, leather sofa. The book had been one thing, a leather sofa altogether another. I stepped near and ran my hands along the smooth, dark-brown surface. A window stood beyond the sofa, and I forgot entirely about what my hands touched.

  Beyond the window, the blinding core shone far below. Above, giant broken stalactites reached down from the bottom of our shell toward the world's center like the teeth of some horrific monster. Each hung like a pillar, massive in girth, and disappeared at the top into the broken, solid, land mass floating in the heavens. In the distance, another smaller shell orbited. This close to the core, several, similarly sized shells orbited in proximity to each other. Ours was one of the lowest. Far above lay much larger shells, some filled with large populations of people. I stepped around the sofa toward the glass, stunned at the beauty our broken world offered us.

  "I see you enjoy the Queen's view," a quiet voice said from behind me.

  My head spun, shame rising up at my intrusion. There stood a beautiful woman, red hair hanging over one shoulder in a long braid, blue-silver eyes on me, small red lips formed into a smile. She wore a rich, bright green dress that clung close to her svelte form, sleeves just reaching beyond her shoulders, collar cut to accentuate her neckline. At her waist, she'd cinched a simple yet elegant gold belt. One of her thin eyebrows arched slightly.

  "Nothing to say?" she asked.

  I coughed and bowed my head. "Forgive my intrusion, High One. The door opened and I assumed the Queen meant for me to enter."

  "Yes, she did, or you wouldn't be here," the woman said, moving around the room to join me by the window. "So, are you enjoying the view?"

  I looked back outside to avoid staring at the newly arrived woman. "Yes, it's amazing what beauty this shattered world offers us now."

  The woman let out a long breath. "Yes, it is."

  I looked over at her to find the woman staring out the window, her eyes moist. She blinked, and a tear fell down her cheek.

  "High One, are you all right?"

  She nodded, wiping at the tear. "Lost in memory, is all. And please, don't call me that."

  "What do I call you?"

  She smiled, a pleasant, welcoming thing. "Micaela."

  My eyes darted toward the door. "As in, the Micaela on my list?"

  "List?" she asked, her brow furrowing.

  The Queen's warning fluttered to the surface. "You were invited here, yes?" She nodded. "Your name was on a list of guests."

  "Are we expecting more?" she asked, looking around the room.

  I shook my head. "The Queen didn't tell me that much."

  "Pardon, but who are you?"

  My face flushed as my head bowed. "Apologies, High One, my name is Logwyn."

  "Logwyn," she said, reaching out to put a hand on my shoulder. My eyes lifted to hers, blue-gray with flecks of green in them. "My name is Micaela. Call me that."

  "Yes, Micaela."

  "So formal," she muttered, dropping her hand and looking around the room. "You people are all so stiff."

  A frown twisted my mouth. "Excuse me?"

  She waved a hand at me as her eyes took in the sofa. "Never mind." She moved nearer the piece of furniture. "I've always loved this piece."

  "You've been here before?"

  Micaela nodded. "On several occasions. My duties keep me away, but I visit whenever possible."

  "Did you wait long?" I asked, thinking of my delay to look at the book in the foyer.

  "No, the Queen sent for me recently, and I'd only just arrived," the woman said, moving to sit on the sofa. "Please, join me."

  Easing myself onto the priceless piece of furniture, a small part of my mind wondered if the Queen had fabricated it, too.

  "Did she mention the reason for her summoning you?"

  The woman shook her head. "I just arrived," she said, lowering her voice, her eyes darting about. "She's a bit paranoid about certain things."

  A glance around the room revealed a lack of any Ancient technology. "Yes, the network."

  Micaela arched an eyebrow, tilting her head as she did. "A bit more than just the network, but that'll wait till later." She looked at my sack. "That's an odd thing to see one of you carrying around."

  My hand gripped my travel sack tight. "They have their use."

  "Agreed," Micaela said, smiling. "But as most of you tend to stay in your blessed form."

  My eyes dropped to the floor, hands shifting to the edge of my sack.

  "How long has it been since you tried?" Micaela asked. When I looked up at her, brow furrowed, she went on. "The blessing. How long since you tried to take the form?"

  "Fifteen cycles, High One." My mind wandered off. She frowned at the moniker but didn't say anything, so I continued. "There's been no reason to try again."

  "Not once?"

  I shook my head. "I failed and missed the blessing. Seems moot to try again or pine over it. Not all of us are that lucky."

  Her silence drew my attention. She sat there, eyes locked on me, a frown on her face.

  "Did my words offend you, High One?" I asked, bowing my head.

  "Besides your refusal to call me by name? No, they're just confusing." Micaela waved a hand at me. "My apologies, you don't want to talk about it." Her eyes narrowed as she looked out the window. "It's just a different way of thinking."

  Another moment of silence followed. I shifted the sack and felt the mysterious box move inside. Pursing my lips, my mouth opened to speak, then stopped, uncertain of how to proceed.

  "Out with it," Micaela said, her eyes turned back to me. "I know a question when I see one."

  "Might you tell me a bit about you?" I asked, putting on my best smile in hopes of hiding my nervousness. "You know, your story? I'm a scribe, and taking notes on people is my hobby."

  It sounded plausible to me.

  "My story?" She glanced over my shoulder toward t
he foyer. "Is this her idea?"

  Attempting to feign confusion didn't fool Micaela.

  "It is." She shook her head and chuckled. "Dragged me all the way down here to have me talk." She scrunched her nose slightly. "It's not a tale I like to tell." She glanced at my hands gripping the edge of my pack. "You've got what you need to hear my story tucked away in that sack of yours."

  There didn't seem to be any point in hiding that fact, so I pulled the padd out from the sack. I placed it between us and activated the recording software.

  "It's unclear what we're supposed to be recording, but the Queen did seem adamant it happen."

  Micaela smiled. "She usually is when she sets her mind to something." She glanced at the padd. "So, just talk? Now?"

  I waved her on. "By all means."

  The woman nodded, her eyes wandering back to the window. My back began to hurt, and shifting on the sofa didn't help. Micaela noticed and nodded at the table.

  "Would you be more comfortable there?"

  I glanced at the table and fingered my sack. "Maybe."

  Soon, we sat across from each other at what turned out to be solid wood table. My hands ran along the surface, marveling at the feel.

  "You don't see much wood around here," Micaela stated, eyes twinkling with a smile.

  "It's so rare these days," I whispered. "Trees vanished long ago, you know. The fact that some of this still exists is amazing. This must have cost the Queen a fortune."

  Micaela nodded, looking down at the table. "You have no idea," she whispered.

  My eyebrow arched at her. She smirked and shook her head.

  "Where were we?" she asked, waving a hand at my padd on the table.

  "You were about to start telling me your story."

  "That's a broad topic. Maybe be a bit more specific."

  I pursed my lips, searching for the right words. In the end, boldness seemed the best option.

  "The network is breaking, or so the Queen believes. She thinks I can help her figure out the reason."

  “Perspective,” Micaela muttered.

  "Mine?"

  She nodded. "Outside perspective. You said you're a scribe?" It was my turn to nod. "So, outside perspective coupled with a curious mind used to noticing details."

  I frowned and looked down at the padd. "She gave me some other names along with yours."

  "I'll bet she did," Micaela stated, running a flat hand across the table. "One is Quentin, yes?"

  Our eyes locked. "Do you know where he is?"

  Her head moved up and down, very slowly. A tremor of emotion broke through her clearly practice calm.

  "He's dead," she whispered.

  I frowned again. "How am I supposed to talk to someone who's dead?"

  She continued speaking in a whisper. "Well, as good as dead."

  My head cocked to one side but I held my tongue. She arched an eyebrow at me.

  "Confused yet, dear scribe?" I nodded. "My part in this story I can tell you, but for his part, there is only one person who you might find answers in. A Nomad named Suyef. If anyone knows where Quentin is or if he's even still alive at this point, it's him."

  "Where might he be found?"

  "Probably on the Nomad shell."

  I pulled a single sheet of paper out along with the stylus and jotted a note down. She leveled a questioning look at me.

  "I like to take my own notes."

  She fell back into silence with me waiting, not looking at her out of respect. After a moment, she nodded and sat upright.

  "I'm supposed to tell you my story," she said. "It isn't a fun one to tell. But, if the Queen believes the answer to her puzzle is in it and you want to hear it, well, here it is." She paused, a single finger tapping the table, lips pursed in thought. "This is the story of how my world ended."

  Chapter 4 - The Illness

  I guess this story begins with a question: When did I lose hope? It's not something most people think about. Can you think of a time when you had hope then started losing it? Can you quantify it? Well, I know when it started to fade.

  My family lived on the outer edge of the Colberra shell. My father and mother both worked in the one industry that mattered: water extraction. As they made their home in what is called the Outer Dominances, water came at a premium and people with my parent’s skill more so. Sure, the outpost had a water station connected to the shell's water network, but that had proven unreliable in recent cycles. Even before my parents moved to the outpost, the water supply from the network had begun to dwindle. Not in a noticeable amount at first, mind you. Most people would not have noticed the drop in output, but my father discovered it soon after he and my mother moved there.

  See, my father had a particular knack for technology. We never understood where it came from, but he could make the network systems do things no one else could. He was very quiet about it, as it wasn't good to flaunt such abilities. You never knew when the Seekers, our shell's police force, might take offense or get suspicious. So, he kept it to himself. I remember asking my mother about it, and she just shrugged.

  "He's always been that way, dear," she said in answer to my question, when I was about ten. "Something between him and those machines, it just works."

  I tried pushing him for an explanation of how he did it, and he'd just smile, rub my head, and send me off to study. I persisted one day, and the look in his eyes still haunts me. They were empty, hollow, staring right through me. He sat like that for a long moment, then blinked and looked away. I swear he wiped a tear away. He just waved me off, telling me the answer lay in my studies.

  So, I studied, but not the normal stuff like arithmetic, reading, science, or history. We did those, too. No, my siblings and I learned the code. The language of the machines. Dull, boring stuff. We would spend entire days just creating code on paper, forming constructs, learning symbols, and making sentence columns from them. My parents never ran out of the paper, even though we never figured out where they got it. One of my brothers, Donovan, insisted they just erased what we'd been working on the day before and reused the same sheets. Seeing as we never saw our work again after completing it, he might have been right. All four of us: me, the eldest, down to the youngest, my sister, Jyen. We all learned the code.

  We learned other things too. My father, he could find things in the network most people couldn't. That included some things from history most people don't know. Early on, it became apparent I’d inherited my father's knack for working with the network. Maybe it came from all those hours drawing code on paper; I'm not sure. Soon, my father began giving me coding projects, having me create programs inside safe working environments he called sandboxes. Many a happy afternoon was spent making simple programs to do useless things on a side section of giant touch screens we called terminals. We even made games for Maryn, my other brother, and Jyen to play on the rare occasion my father allowed them near a terminal.

  Yes, we were a happy family. Then, the illness came.

  There was no pattern, no way of figuring out who would be next. It didn't come all of a sudden, like a plague. It was slow. At first, no one really noticed anything was amiss. Little old Marie, a kind-hearted lady who lived up the street from us, caught it first. Walking past her house, we could always smell fresh bread baking in her convection oven. Then it stopped, and we knew it was serious. Before you knew what to think, she was gone. We had no proof she died, but everyone assumed she did. One day, her house stood empty, and her only relative in the town refused to discuss it. There were rumors, though.

  You must understand that paranoia dominated the people’s emotions in that part of the shell. They believed the government ruling the Central Dominance in Colberra Citadel was after them. They were a very isolated sort, and they liked it. It was true all along the Outer Dominances. For years, the central government had been trying to find ways to get the people to give up living in these regions. At least, that's what the people out there would tell y
ou. My father had his own opinions about the issue, but he kept those to himself. He didn’t do it out of fear of the people, but because he feared the Seekers. Who didn't?

  When the illness began, that was when we first saw them. Seekers, come from the Central Dominance. You could spot them anywhere. Long, silvery-colored cloaks, billowing in the wind as they strode through the streets. The empty streets. No one got in the way of a Seeker, because those that did often disappeared. People said Seekers didn't come out to the provinces unless trouble was starting. Some said trouble started when the Seekers showed up. All I know is they came when the illness did.

  #

  At first, we ignored them. As long as people stayed out of their way, the Seekers left the people alone. As much as the residents disliked having them there, they knew better. Seekers were the hand of the government, the power behind the force that governed the shell and the most elite fighting force in the history of Colberra. They were the law and could change it as they saw fit. Most of the time, they enforced established rules, as written by the Central Dominance. Sometimes, the Seekers would bend those rules to their own liking and benefit. When someone threatened the peace of the land, Seekers came. When disaster or disease struck, Seekers came. And when they came, everyone got out of the way.

  We could only stay out of the way so long. As the illness spread, people began to get nervous. Even with their reputation, or maybe because of it, people in the Outer Dominances distrusted most things from the central city state. The Seekers were no exception to this distrust. Rumors spread that the Seekers had brought the illness with them, that they spread it on purpose, that the Central Dominance was trying harder to get the people to leave.

  My father thought they were all wrong. He didn't share what he believed, but I could tell he didn't like the way they talked. Soon, we weren't allowed to leave the house. At first, we thought it was to keep us out of the way of the Seekers. Now, I think it was to keep us away from the people.

  Either way, it didn't work. The illness was spreading. No one knew what was causing it, and the Seekers weren't very forthcoming with details. Someone would get ill and they'd disappear. It became clear to us very quickly the Seekers were there to contain the illness. Well, it became clear to me. My father was skeptical, but he always encouraged us to think things through.