by Mark Lingane
Nikola waved toward the elderly man. “This is Albert, head of Physics.”
Albert nodded toward Oliver.
“What happened out in Talinga?” Nikola snapped.
The sudden question startled the teacher. “Er, nothing,” Oliver replied.
“Obviously, that is incorrect.”
“When I was there, nothing happened. Not one boy gave any signs, or responded to the tests.”
“Tell me about this boy’s parents.”
Oliver fidgeted with the corner of his shirt. “The father was a local. Been there for generations, but passed away last year. The mother, Isabelle, she didn’t talk much about herself, but the residents said she arrived about thirteen years ago. Met Alex. Stayed there. She never told me where she came from.”
“Thirteen? Describe her to me.”
Nikola and Albert glanced at each other as Oliver outlined her description and attitude to life.
“That will be enough, Oliver.” He waved the teacher away, who stood and looked between the men uncertainly.
“You don’t need to bow, Oliver, just go.”
He nodded nervously as he left the room.
The door closed and Albert turned back to Nikola. They sat in silence for a moment.
“He got here on his own, being chased by cyborgs. He’s a boy! They are killing machines,” Nikola said.
“Do you think there may be something unspoken?”
“It’s so unbelievable I struggle to credit it. We need to watch him.”
“I’ll make a note.”
Nikola toyed with the gold chain around his neck. “Thirteen years, Albert. Could it be her?”
He shrugged. “Is that our main concern?”
Nikola sighed. “You’re right, of course. A boy. The messages from Number One said he’d be a man. A warrior can’t be thirteen.”
“Ja, it is a surprise. It means he’ll know nothing. No training. No avareness.”
“Could the messages from the Omega have been wrong? Could something have happened that hastened things up?”
“Nein. It is not possible. They are from a future that has already been.”
“Don’t start with the science talk; I’m not in the mood for it,” he casually waved his hand aside. “And who is this girl?”
“Ja, a complete surprise.”
“She couldn’t have somehow mucked it up?”
“Not if the messages from the Omega didn’t say so.”
“The warrior was meant to turn up alone, wandering in from the desert.”
“Vat if the varrior isn’t him?”
“Today is the date. Omega said today and he turns up.”
“Vat if the date is wrong? Vat if it is a concept rather than a person? The pair could make the varrior.”
Nikola raised his eyebrow. “Can that happen?”
“Ve are dealing with probably. There is alvays an element of possibility.”
“How could Stephenson have got this wrong? It was a simple task. The man is a fool.”
“Let’s not be too hasty. He may still have a use. The boy needs to be educated.”
“Yes, I can see that going well with the reception the other teslas have got.”
Albert nodded sagely. “People vill come around.”
“Albert, you know that people don’t always come around. Tensions are running high between east and west. What are we going to tell them at the city council gathering?”
“Maybe ve should keep it quiet.”
Nikola nodded, then turned to peer out his window into the west. “If we keep Sebastian here, his mother will want to come. What if it is … her?”
“Don’t inflate your hopes. Ve don’t know.”
“It must be her. It sounds exactly like her.”
Morning came and City Hall throbbed with the indignation of senior officials called out on a Sunday without the promise of either food or double pay. City Hall towered high, dwarfing the assembled officials in height, if not self-importance. A large circular table sat in the center of the hall, made from a composite of woods and metals. Nikola located himself close to the doors, hoping for a quick and unnoticed exit. Mayor Lincoln Trade banged his gavel on the table, attracting the attention of the assembly, which eventually fell into silence. Trade was a meek and frail—but not aged—man, sharp with an accounting pen and efficient with contract agreements. He walked with a slight stoop and was prone to the occasional coughing fit. But he had returned the Academy to profit after the decades of his predecessor’s reckless spending. He refused to wear the robes of state and settled for more practical attire.
“I-i-item one on the agenda.” Trade looked up at the assembled officials. “Barton, you wished to discuss something?”
An elderly man, all gray and spittle, slowly rose with the aid of a cane nearly as ancient as he.
“You, Tasman.”
Nikola sat upright, “What, Barton?”
“What are you doing with these things inside our walls?”
“Things? You mean the teslas? They have a name.”
“I will certainly give them a name. I don’t like the fact that you are freely allowing these … these deviants into the city. We have policies and acts regarding people’s entry. I, myself, had to pay to come here, yet you are allowing them in for free.”
“You came on the ‘ONE DOLLAR TICKET’ scheme, didn’t you? I realize what an expense it must have been. Times change. Our only weapons against the cyborgs are the towers, which are hardly mobile. We are investigating options through the teslas. They could be a great aid to us and our interactions with the enemy.”
“Times do not change. That is the whole point of this city, and that’s why so many of us came here. Anyway, they talk funny.”
“I think you’ll find, Barton, they talk exactly like us. Only their accents are different.”
“They are different. They are a drain on our resources, yet produce nothing.”
Nikola sighed. “They are covered by the military budget, and frankly, your words are only causing friction.”
“I’m only saying what everyone is thinking.”
Nikola pointed over to Oliver. “Stephenson, enlighten the man. Barton, Oliver here has been specially chosen to train the men, and he tells me surprising progress is being made.”
“I would be very much pleased to hear this,” boomed Barton, “as I cannot determine any benefit to date.”
Lincoln held up his hands. “Yes. I-I-I think we get the point. Perhaps you may discuss this offline. Agenda, i-i-item two,” he called out. “Trade. Oh, that’s me.”
Nikola leaned forward. “I think, Mayor, we are meaning to discuss our trade difficulties. With other people, not you,” he clarified.
“Oh, yes.” He laughed nervously. “I-I-I haven’t had my second c-c-coffee. Steel supplies are still running low. I-I-I understand we are not able to fulfill our c-c-contractual obligations to the eastern territories. Treasury tells me in the last six months we have bitten heavily into financial reserves.” He glanced over to Nikola. “Except for the military, of course.”
Barton went red, but was deflated by an equally pompous man taking the stage.
“We are behind,” Lord De Monet declared. He grasped the lapels of his jacket as he reclined in his seat. “The steel trains on tracks A and C are also delayed. No word from the steel works either.”
“Why is this happening? Are they still taking water under the trade deal?”
“Yes, but less than quota. I suggest we cycle back the supply. We’ll get a response one way or the other.”
Trade turned to Nikola. “Do you know the reason?”
“We believe the cyborgs are forcibly taking over the steel mills.”
“Why?”
Nikola shrugged. “They need steel.”
“But so do we. It’s our steel. I-I-I thought they had their own i-i-i-iron ore deposits.”
“We believe they do. They’ve been self-sufficient for a millennium. They’ve never wante
d to trade, only attack.”
Trade turned back to De Monet. “Where were the A and C trains c-c-coming from?”
“Tinto magnetite steel works,” he replied.
The group went silent.
“How much do they supply to us?” Trade asked.
“About forty percent.”
“Oh. What c-c-can we do? Nikola, should we do something with that big military budget?” The mayor gave Nikola a smile.
“Attacking is not a wise direction. Our people are safe within these walls. We can defend. If the cyborgs want water, they can come and ask for it.”
“Do their weapons look like they want to talk?” De Monet shouted. “They’re designed for killing people.”
“C-c-can we put the squeeze on them from the other water traders? Perhaps we can force them to c-c-come to us?”
Nikola nodded.
“They’re only small, so it shouldn’t be too difficult. I’ll go out with a reconnaissance force and have a look. Maybe a tesla will come in useful,” he said, as he glanced over to Barton.
“Oh, good. Thank you, Nikola.”
Nikola glanced through the rest of the agenda. “Mayor, by your leave I’ll get straight onto the reconnaissance.”
“Certainly.”
Nikola stood and quietly left the room.
“I-i-item three,” Trade called out. “The express is allegedly out of operation. I-I-I think we should send some of the engineers out to check on its status.”
The door closed, silencing the ongoing bickering. Nikola exhaled and counted to ten.
Colonel Parker casually wandered over. “Boss, you look … relieved.”
“It would be for the first time after a city council meeting. Start thinking about who we could pull together for a small force.”
“We attack?” Parker said. His voice resonated concern.
“Not yet. I want to take a tesla, give them a chance to earn some respect in the community.”
“You know how the locals are feeling about them.”
Nikola nodded. “Someone has let the community know where they originally came from.” He looked back to the council chambers. “And I think I know who.”
14
A LOUD CLANGING erupted down the stairwell. The boys groaned and put their pillows over their heads. Sebastian forced open his eyes, and for a moment couldn’t remember where he was. He panicked and jumped up. The early morning light shone in through the street-level window.
Isaac laughed. “Keep your southern necessities on. That’s the breakfast warning.”
“What do you mean ‘warning’?”
“You wait until you taste it.”
The boys shuffled out of the room and trudged up a gloomy set of stairs. The first level opened out into a bright, airy room full of the clatter and aromas of a frantic kitchen. The boys reluctantly formed up into a queue that haphazardly wound through the dining benches and up to a long steel bench next to the kitchen. Several assistants hustled in through the doors, bringing out cutlery and great steaming bowls. An oversized lady, with a wide smile and red cheeks, ladled out a thick gray sludge, which made the other boys grumble and mutter. But Sebastian hadn’t eaten for two days, so for him it was as good as his mother’s best dessert. He finished the bowl, then went back and asked for more.
A tubby, red-faced man in tight clothing gave him a ferocious glare. Sebastian stood in front of him, holding up the bowl in both hands.
The man took his details in a small notepad and underlined his name. He turned to the large woman. “Mrs. Wasp, the boy wants more.”
The woman bustled over, surprised by the seconds request. “It’s good to see a lad with a bit of an appetite. Let me know if you or your friend want any more. You’re new, aren’t you?” She gave him a warm smile.
Sebastian nodded and thanked her.
“If you need a tour, my daughter is always available to show the new boys the city sights.”
“I’m okay, thanks. I won’t be staying long. I’m passing through.”
Mrs. Wasp’s smile didn’t fade, but her eyes drew a little sadness. “Fair enough.” She turned and went back to her serving bench, and he returned to his seat next to Isaac and tucked hungrily into the food
“No one’s ever asked for more before. You must be amazingly hungry,” Isaac whispered.
“What’s wrong with it?” Sebastian asked, his mouth full of food. He continued to shovel it in.
“It’s school food. There’s a principle at stake. You’ll see it differently tomorrow.”
Sebastian munched on until a small brass bell by the stairs exploded into life.
“Come on. It’s time for school.” Isaac grabbed him by the arm.
Sebastian quickly shoveled in a couple more spoonfuls before Isaac dragged him away from the table. “School?” he mumbled. “I like school.”
Isaac gave him a look of disbelief. “You like it? I can see you’re going to need a lot of educating.”
They followed the boys up a level and into a long classroom strongly smelling of damp. On one side, shelves stacked with scientific equipment covered a dark brown brick wall. The other side of the room was made up of large windows, gray and grimy. A tired, sickly yellow light filtered in through the dirt-encrusted glass.
“This place is a bit grim,” Sebastian said.
“Yeah, they say it was used to lock up the criminally insane. Even now,” Isaac waved his hands in the air, “the ghosts of the murdered inmates haunt the walls.” He lunged forward in an attempt to startle Sebastian.
Sebastian gave him a flat stare, unmoved.
“Yeah, well, that’s how the rumor goes.” Isaac wiped his hands on his shirt, dislodging some of his breakfast.
A large blackboard took up most of the wall at the far end of the room. Various half-erased equations and formulas covered the broad expanse of gray slate. Beside it, fiddling with a collection of beakers and pipes, was Oliver.
Sebastian’s spirits lifted. Mr. Stephenson. A school class. A class full of other people who didn’t want to be there. It was almost like home. Maybe with a couple of his teacher’s bright words to start the day, like he always did back in Talinga, and Sebastian could put some of the horrors of the last days behind him.
“All right, you miserable lot, stop wasting time.”
Or maybe not, Sebastian thought.
The other boys had already shuffled to their seats, most trying to get as far away from the front as possible. Sebastian’s delay in eating extra food meant that the only seats available were at the front.
Isaac gave him a look of despair. “That’s one of the reasons you don’t ask for more. If you’re late getting up here, you end up sitting at the front.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“You’ve got a lot to learn about school.”
As they walked to the front seats, Sebastian noticed the absence of one particular boy. As they sat, he turned to Isaac and asked, “Where’s Gavin?”
“He arrives when it pleases him.”
“What makes him so special?”
“You’ll see,” Isaac said, cryptically.
Oliver began by explaining the fundamentals of the study of Earth’s magnetic field. He talked about isogonic lines, referring to a line of constant magnetic declination, and the variation of magnetic north from geographic north. Exciting stuff, demonstrated by several boys at the back of the class falling asleep. He then spoke about wells of isodynamic lines, which connected points with the same intensity of magnetic force.
This intrigued Sebastian. He thought it would be interesting to see if someone could drown in a magnetic well. Oliver had talked about these lines before in his class back in Talinga. In fact, the whole lesson seemed familiar, although it was better presented. Maybe Oliver had used the Talinga school as practice for these tesla classes. Either way, he’d heard it all before.
He opened a book and started to draw.
“Interestingly,” Oliver droned on, “you can get
various wells of isodynamic lines, one within another within another, and so on. Points where there are wells of magnetic buildup. These can get incredibly strong, so even the most inexperienced tesla could detect them. Isn’t that right, Sebby?”
“Huh, what?” Sebastian sat up straight, unsure of what had been asked.
“Ah, Gavin. It’s great to see you. Where would you like to sit today?”
Sebastian sagged with relief as the attention was taken off him.
Gavin sighed theatrically as his gaze drifted across the students, indicating that communicating with the ordinary was dull and tiresome. “I think I want to sit here today.” He indicated the seat where Sebastian was sitting.
“Sebastian, you need to move,” said Oliver.
“I was here first,” Sebastian tersely and defiantly replied. He closed his book, clasped his hands together, resting them on his book, and stared straight ahead at the blackboard.
“You must move for him.”
“What’s so special about him that he thinks he can just come in here and push me aside?”
“Really, Sebastian, Gavin is a one-in-a-million person.”
“Why couldn’t I be a one-in-a-million person?”
“Come on, Sebastian, you can’t compare yourself to Gavin. Please, just move and we can get on with the lesson.”
Sebastian played his trump card. “What would my mother say about this, after she invited you into our home and fed you when she was so sick?”
Oliver’s eye twitched. “Sebastian, you will see me afterward. Gavin, I’m sorry to do this …”
“Don’t worry about it.” Gavin waved his hand vaguely in Sebastian’s direction. “I wasn’t really interested in the seat anyway. Today I’ll sit over here.” He wandered to the back of the class and gave one of the younger boys a fierce glare. The boy moved over and Gavin took his place.
Oliver waited until Gavin had settled. He gave him a barely detectable nod and continued. “In today’s experiment we shall examine the detection level of a small battery.” He took out a battery no bigger than his thumbnail and three small metal containers. “Gavin, please come to the front and try your expertise with this experiment.”
It sounded to Sebastian more like a groveling request than the usual command a teacher would give a student.