The Needs of the Many

by Christina McMullen

  Chapter 17

  Indecision held Julian captive. Here he was, at the final stage of his journey. His very purpose seemed to have been leading him to this one point. And yet, across the way, a door, barred to him for countless millennia, stood open and inviting. Beyond its threshold was perhaps the answers to all he still questioned.

  But did it matter? Did he want to know that which was purposefully kept from him? Would it change his course? After all, the battalion still threatened all life in the galaxy. Knowing the truth of his creation would change nothing. And yet, despite his convictions, Julian’s curiosity was overwhelming. With a stinging jab in his heart, he realized that was Ellie’s influence. It was not in his nature to question, but the will she’d awoken was strong. Far stronger than he’d expected. His decision was made for him.

  He brought his hand down onto the console, confirming the command to send the missiles, before stepping out of the control room and into the archive.

  Julian had but a brief moment to admire the brilliance of the archive’s knowledge center before a sudden and sharp pain exploded in his mind. He fell forward, landing on the dais at the center of the room. The lights around him dimmed and suddenly a dam broke somewhere deep in the furthest reaches of his mind. He saw something he never thought possible. He saw himself.

  As a child.

  The diminutive version of himself ran ahead of a man with whom he shared a strong resemblance, his small feet making only the lightest tapping on the flexible floor. Julian recognized the corridor as one leading to the main laboratories.

  “Be mindful Julian, the temple is not a playground.”

  “But you said the act of learning was the greatest entertainment a mind could have,” tiny Julian countered as he lifted himself to peer into the window on a nearby door. His every thought and emotion laid bare by diodes he’d not yet learned to control.

  The man gave a warm chuckle, filled with amusement and pride.

  “You are wise beyond your years, child. And perhaps too precocious for your own good.”

  “Papa, when will I be big enough to attend lessons with the others?”

  “Sooner than it will feel to your growing and curious mind, my boy.”

  Confusion overtook Julian as scene after unfamiliar scene played out, spanning a lifetime that had never been. It was as beautiful as it was cruel. He could not help but wonder if the vision was nothing more than a manifestation of that which he’d secretly desired. He could not deny the stray thoughts that had surfaced, especially after seeing Ellie and the dynamic she shared with her family.

  But as he watched the child Julian grow into the shape of the man he had only known himself to be, a new scenario played out, causing him to question his perceptions yet again.

  “You wanted to see me, Father?”

  Rhymallian stood behind a table laid out with machinery the likes of which Julian had never seen before. His face was a stoic mask, but his eyes could not hide that he was troubled and likely had been for some time.

  “Julian, thank you. The time we have prepared for is at hand. General Ogansielle’s battalion is complete.”

  “It is as we discussed?” Julian asked, his face also a neutral mask, but at his question, Rhymallian’s expression folded.

  “I am afraid so,” he replied in a trembling whisper. “I doubt the first of our ships would clear the star’s gravitational field before the battalion came after us and yet, no one in a position to stop this will listen to reason. We are out of options.”

  “I am not afraid, Father.”

  “I know,” Rhymallian again whispered, allowing a tear to fall unbidden. “It is not fear that stays my hand, my son, but love. That your mother has passed into ascension eases one burden. But you know what I am asking is a greater sacrifice than life. When we have completed the creation of the key, I will die. My abstraction shall ascend. But you…” He trailed off, turning away with shaking shoulders.

  Julian reached out and stilled Rhymallian’s tremors with his hand.

  “You said I will know nothing of this. I accepted my role and I am honored to keep for eternity our legacy. But Father, if I must lose myself, please let our last moment be one of joy, not sorrow.”

  “My son, what have you done?”

  Julian’s eyes flashed open and he was once again surrounded by the soft glow of the archive, only now, sharp, prismatic rainbows cut through the pinpoints of light. He sat up slowly, almost afraid to raise his eyes and look upon the man who spoke. A hand moved of its own accord to his cheek, finding evidence of tears.

  “Hello, Father.”

  For a long moment, the two stood motionless, staring at each other with shed and unshed tears, hearts heavy with emotion, unable or simply afraid to break the temporary spell of the moment.

  “Oh Julian,” Rhymallian at last said in a voice thick, yet hoarse with sorrow. “You were never to know this place. That you are here signals an end, but not the end I’d held hope for when I took my last breath.”

  “And yet here I am. I have done as was my duty for longer than I have memory, but I’m afraid you are correct. This is the final end. The Kyroibi is no more.”

  “The Kyroibi remains,” Rhymallian corrected. “El’iadrylline, daughter of a distant star, lives. I would have been aware of her passing.”

  “El’iadrylline lives,” Julian confirmed. “I can’t let her die. But she will be last of the true masters and… and the only love I’ve known.”

  At that Rhymallian’s eyes widened. “But that is—”

  “An impossibility?” Julian asked with a rueful laugh. “I thought so as well, but the unusual circumstances that damned Ellie’s existence allowed me a measure of humanity I was never meant to have. It is a burden most painful, yet one I would never want to turn back and erase. Let me die, so that the light of the stars may shine upon her for days to come.”

  Rhymallian regarded his child with a sad smile.

  “I’m sorry, Julian. Do you not feel them? The battalion stirs. What’s done is done. Our planet may perish, but at what cost? The Limitless Battalion has been unleashed.”

  “I am holding them back.”

  Rhymallian gave his son a knowing look. “For now. I can only assume that once the instability of our orbit becomes too much to hide, even you will not be strong enough to keep the automatons from their ultimate purpose.”

  “If that is so, then help me, Father,” Julian begged. “You knew this day would come. You orchestrated every event leading up to this moment, even those you claim were beyond your control. Help me.”

  “I will give what is left of me,” Rhymallian said at last, stepping to the side and indicating the dais. “Pray that it is enough.”

  “That is all I can do,” Julian said, stepping forward to take his place upon the dais, just as he had willingly set himself on his father’s operating table so many lifetimes before.

  “Julian.” Rhymallian turned, placing a hand on his son’s arm, diodes alit with emotion. “I do not regret the decision I made so long ago, but I am most grateful for this last moment together.”

  The words, heartfelt and sincere, were simultaneously a warm hug and an icy blade through Julian’s heart as he climbed atop the dais.

  “Me too, Father,” he said before shutting his eyes and embracing the darkness.

  Chapter 18

  A place of darkness was an understatement. Ellie stood still, hoping the complete nothingness that settled around her was nothing more than the temporary result of passing from a realm of blinding light, but it was more than a visual blindness. She felt the void. She felt the nothing that surrounded her and for a brief moment, self-doubt clutched her heart.

  But as quickly as it came, she suppressed the emotion, recalling the confidence and calm she felt just moments before when the darkness seemed to draw her away from the brilliance of the realm of the Iriani. She opened herself to the draw of darkness and allowed the calm, comforting peace to again wash over and guide her as a
path emerged. Though she still could not see through the inky nothingness, she took a step forward, knowing instinctively where to place each cautious footstep.

  As Ellie followed the path set forth in her mind, a warmth grew inside her. In the distance, a shadowy form emerged, growing larger the closer she got. When she was close enough to make out a rough outline of a person, a voice called out.

  “Welcome, El’iadrylline. I knew we would meet again one day.”

  Fear and confusion caused her to misstep as chills ran down her spine.

  “Andryvessa.”

  The name came out in a warble that belied the strength Ellie tried desperately to project, but instead of leaping on her vulnerability, the woman emerged completely from the darkness, her smile and diodes expressing benevolence.

  “Dryova,” she corrected. “But that too is a simplified fallacy. El’iadrylline, I am a construct made from a fragment of a broken abstraction. That you are here is as disheartening as it is hopeful.”

  “Why is that?”

  “This is no ordinary dimension.” As she spoke, shapes emerged from the darkness and Ellie found they were standing in a room not dissimilar to Nyessovor’s private chamber. The only difference was that instead of a formal desk, Dryova’s room held two comfortable chairs with a small tea table between. She motioned Ellie to sit. “You are in the realm of ascension. No one in possession of a healthy and whole Abstractive Root, no matter their understanding of Transcendence, may enter.”

  “Ah,” Ellie nodded, relief flooding her. “I’m already aware of the shortcomings of my abstraction. I can’t say for sure if it’s because my mother is Korghetian or because my father wove the Kyroibi into my being, but that is of little concern to me right now.”

  “Right now,” Dryova repeated with a knowing look. “But do not take lightly that which could bring crashing down all that you balance precariously on your shoulders. And do not linger long in this realm. The lure of ascension is hard to resist.”

  Ellie opened her mouth to protest and froze. She was going to say that she felt nothing untoward, but she realized that was exactly what Dryova meant. Nyessovor had warned her against getting too comfortable in this realm and she understood why. There was a sensation of inviting comfort, as if this was where she belonged. In fact, the confections that materialized on the delicate plate before her were so inviting, Ellie would not have been surprised to find a tag labeled “eat me” close by.

  Her fingers twitched and her mouth watered, but she instead reached for the smooth comfort of the pulse dampener ring. The reminder of why she was here grounded her, but she could feel that she was on borrowed time.

  “You know what I’m here to find, don’t you?”

  Dryova nodded, lifting a teacup to her lips.

  “If you can help me to find the information you hid here, I’ll leave.”

  “What you seek is not with me, but with the original master.”

  “Rhymallian. He has a tether in this realm too then?”

  “No, child. As I said, this is the realm of the ascended. The information you seek is the truth the father of the Kyroibi took to the grave. You’ll need to go to him and request the whole story.”

  “How do I do that?” Ellie asked, suddenly rather excited to know she could at last get the unaltered truth directly from the one who created both the Kyroibi and Julian, but at the same time, terrified that in doing so, her own abstraction would pull further away from the living world.

  “He is at the temple, of course.”

  “Is that not where we are?”

  “No, though you entered through the ruins of the Sower’s temple, this is simply a reconstruction of my parlor back in the realm of the living. Had the fates allowed, this is where I would have hosted more whimsical tea parties for my granddaughter and her friends.” A wistful shadow darkened her expression for a moment. “Rhymallian’s abstraction will be at the Temple Kyri.”

  Ellie’s heart sank. Getting to the temple would be no issue, but getting there and finding the gateway between dimensions while trying not to set in motion the final life-ending war would prove to be an impossibility.

  “You wouldn’t happen to know where in the temple that portal is, would you?” she asked hopefully.

  “Oh child, you misinterpret my words. You do not have to return to your living realm to travel to the temple. Rhymallian is on this side of the veil.”

  “It is still a long journey to Ia’na Eidyn, is it not?” she asked, spirits lifting slightly.

  Dryova regarded her with amusement.

  “You are still resistant to that which should now be second nature. El’iadrylline, focus on your destination and let go of your logical reservations. You have no issues transcending realm. You have used phase pulse with the aid of a Transcendent creature. Why do you not trust yourself to phase to your destination?”

  It was a valid question and one which Ellie had no reply to. Dryova was right, whatever was blocking her was even more illogical than the argument against what she needed to do.

  “Perhaps a vessel will help,” Dryova suggested, getting up from her seat. Immediately, their surroundings changed and Ellie found herself once more surrounded by the crumbling temple walls and jungle landscape she’d just left, yet she knew instinctively they had not crossed realms. In the center of a clearing sat a small, elongated egg shaped vessel.

  Ellie reached out and placed her hand on the flexible outer hull, activating the controls through her dominion over the Kyroibi. She turned a spirited smile to her grandmother, meaning to thank her, but the woman spoke first.

  “Use the ship for now, as time seems to be of concern, but know this, my child: the vessel is nothing more than a crutch. One you do not need and there may come a time when your presence is needed immediately in a place you may only be able to access by keeping an open mind. I wish you speed, El’iadrylline, and success where I have failed.”

  Unable to speak, Ellie nodded her gratitude and boarded the small ship. Inside, the controls were much like those of her flagship, but she knew instinctively that she was the one in control, not the displacement core, for there would be no displacement. Letting go of her reservations, Ellie placed her hand on the console and visualized the archive at Ia’na Eidyn. With a blinding flash of light, she suddenly found herself once again falling insubstantially through space and time.

  A brief moment later, she was once again on her feet, the ship lost somewhere in the fractional space of her journey. The deep twilight suggested she’d reached her destination, but her surroundings were unfamiliar enough that Ellie worried something had gone wrong. Instead of the brilliant matrix of all knowledge, Ellie found herself standing in a garden, the likes of which she’d never seen before.

  She knew instinctively that this must have been the sky garden of the original temple, but even the ethereal beauty of the T’al Kyri paled in comparison. The perpetual twilight seemed to lose its gloom in the soft radiance that gave luminance to both the vegetation and rocky landscape. She likened it to a large, dry aquarium when a fat bird-like creature glided lazily past her like a tropical fish.

  She took slow and deliberate steps, listening to the light crush of her feet on the pebble walkway. The peaceful beauty was a balm to her soul and the garden walk seemed exactly what she needed. And yet, despite the pleasing sensory input, something in the back of her mind reminded her that there was danger in the placidity.

  Closing her eyes, Ellie again reached for the ring, reminding herself that her stay was temporary, and focused on finding what she came for. Pinpointing the archive, she let herself be guided by the pure energy of phase pulse and suddenly it felt as if her stomach dropped through the floor, followed by the rest of her.

  “True Master, it is a bittersweet honor to make your acquaintance.”

  “Likewise,” Ellie whispered, opening her eyes to see Rhymallian seated on the dais before her. All around them, pinpoints of knowledge hovered, just like the temple back on her plane of
existence, but the man standing in front of her was no fragmented memory. Rhymallian’s face was a mask of concern and relief, but his eyes were what struck Ellie. Wide, deep, and alert, they held none of the marbling that came with age, but the vast depth of their knowledge was both inviting and repelling.

  “You have come to find what none of my successors before you have thought to search for. I can only guess that means what I feel from you is indeed the final iteration of what I began with the sacrifice of my life and my son.”

  “Your… son?”

  Though she managed to stay standing, Rhymallian’s words floored her.

  “Y-you mean…Julian…” The name was no more than a whispered exhale, but Rhymallian nodded.

  “He is not the artificial construct he has been led to believe he is, nor is the Kyroibi. Had my colleagues bothered to learn the Iriani language of names instead of bitterly contesting their existence, perhaps they would have understood the depth of sacrifice I made to stop their good intentions from extinguishing life in the known universe. Ju’l Rhymal et ia et lian. The heart of the father and spirit of the son. A small sacrifice to serve the needs of the many.”

  “I would argue small is a rather subjective term here,” Ellie blurted out, mostly to cover the shock she still felt from the revelation.

  “Julian lives because I gave of myself to preserve his physical presence. Without the burden of an Abstractive Root, his physical form remains forever preserved. He will never grow old, and never die, though he can be destroyed. For he was created to oversee and administer the sacrifice required to keep the battalion from fulfilling their final destiny.”

  “But why though?” she asked, truly confused. “Why do this when you knew that all you were doing was prolonging the inevitable?”

  “My colleagues turned deaf ears to my objection to the battalion. I warned that what they sought to preserve was exactly what the battalion was programmed to eradicate. In their hubris, they believed themselves truly enlightened. Only I and a handful of others understood what they could not.”