It occurs to me, the only person whose motivation I actually know happens to be the one person who has blatantly betrayed me, Lolu Eetatu the Technician. She’s in the Games to get medical care for her terminally ill mother—an eerily familiar and sympathetic reason for me. And she betrayed me in a desperate bid to save her brother. Maybe that’s why I’ve given her more slack than she probably deserves, and a second chance.
As for the others on Team Lark, I haven’t the faintest. . . .
Even Brie is a mystery. I know she’s supposedly in this thing via a special leniency deal to alleviate her criminal sentence. Prisoner Brie Walton has been granted the opportunity to be a Games Contender and to redeem her character, in exchange for two things—providing clandestine Earth information to the Atlantean authorities, and discreetly helping me in the Games.
By this logic, I should trust Brie somewhat. She stands to gain from this deal. And she did save me already, and looks out for me . . . so far. But I’m still uncertain of her true motive, why she volunteered for this crazy deal. Until I know it, I need to be ready for treachery.
As I make plans to get to know my allies, starting with Walton, Avaneh the Warrior continues to scroll through the surveillance feeds for views of our Game Zone arena.
“See anything interesting?” Kateb is lying on his back, hands folded behind his head, as he speaks casually.
“Will let you know when I do,” Avaneh replies curtly. “So far we have views of each pyramid side from various angles, the underside of the pyramid, the summit view of the top stones, the beach, the ocean, various scoreboards, and the panorama of the audience. Oh, and a very pretty sunset. . . .”
“What of the interior?” Kateb says.
“Still scrolling,” Avaneh replies. “All right, now we have several dark screens and various poorly lit views, which I assume are the interior. Wait—I have several Safe Bases! Scrolling through them now, they all look alike, so hard to tell. . . . Mostly unoccupied. . . . Ah, here are a few with residents. I see Team Irtiu has found one too. So has Gratu. And there’s Kukkait. There’s Naat and his crew. And here’s ours! I can see us on the display.”
Everyone comes awake, and people glance at the screen where Avaneh zooms in on one of the windows to show us our own view of ourselves.
“How is this even considered a Safe Base?” Zaap asks after a few moments of staring at the self-view. “We’re exposed, with no walls, nothing to protect us from attack.”
“You forget, the pyramid itself is a constant danger,” Chihar says. “At this stage of the Games, even safety is limited. Be glad we have even this much.”
“Oh, I’m glad,” Kokayi says, settling down from an elevated lotus into a normal one. “In fact, I praise every deity for every moment I’ve not dropped dead in these delightful Games. A stable floor underneath is sweet luxury.”
“Agreed,” Kateb says. “We remain vigilant. But we also rest.”
And for the next hour it’s exactly what we do. As the teal twilight deepens to evening, we occupy the large slab of stone, variously resting, napping, and taking turns looking at the surveillance screens, from where we observe the artificial lighting turn on and illuminate the Game Zone.
I admit, seeing the night lights go on around the pyramid is a heart-stopping, beautiful sight. The primary sources of illumination are hovering orbs of warm golden light that appear everywhere, each one about a foot in diameter. They drift from the cliffs, rise unexpectedly from the sandy beach beyond the transparent wall border, and float at various levels around the pyramid slope, on all four sides, and the underside. The cliffs also fill with powerful projection lights, as the spectator seating platforms and food and merchandise courts turn on, and the entire shoreline plateau becomes a jeweled scarf of light wrapped around the cliffs.
At the same time, the interior of the pyramid surprisingly lights up also, as hundreds of smaller hovering orbs, about the size of golf balls, enter the field of stones and dart between the blocks, filling the empty spaces with a pale yellow glow. We see at least three small orbs up-close, as they enter our Safe Base area and then slow down to float past our faces and move deeper into the interior. . . .
“Of course, they wouldn’t leave us in the dark,” Avaneh the Warrior says cynically. “All for the sake of the audience. How else would they see the fine details of the night action?”
Meanwhile, our focus is on the Game Zone. Kateb and I take our turns at the surveillance board, and examine the top of the pyramid with its flat, brightly lit plateau of stone blocks. The Pyramid of Giza back on Earth has been missing its capstone and some of the uppermost stones for quite some time, so what we have here are a few floating upper stones, with the centermost six stones adjacent to each other in one solid slab, not unlike a Safe Base. In the center of this slab, rests a strange circular stone that’s definitely not a part of the original pyramid. And on top of it is the Blue Grail.
“This is convenient,” I say, as I zoom in on the Blue Grail and the flat round stone holding it. “We can examine the Blue Grail and the Symbol Lock cradle on which it sits, without having to climb up there and risk a confrontation with other teams.”
“True.” Kateb nods. And then he takes over the control panel and starts turning the zoom view to examine every inch of the Grail and its mysterious cradle. “So far, nothing. I see no symbols. . . .”
In that moment, the Games bells ring three times to indicate a shift in the pyramid.
At last, it’s time to test the usefulness of the Safe Base.
Immediately everyone drops whatever they’re doing. In that first instant we all freeze in place.
“Crap . . . this is it.” Brie looks up and all around us, watching the stones nervously. “What should we do? Just sit in place?”
“No idea,” I say, seeing the stones nearby begin their usual slow, menacing rearrangement. The slab underneath me remains motionless.
“I don’t recommend anyone stand up,” Tuar says, blinking tiredly. “We don’t know how high the safety zone is from the floor up.”
“It’s logical to assume that the safe area is at least as high as the four beacon lamps on each corner,” Lolu says. “Otherwise the beacons would get crushed.”
“In which case, the safest thing to do, this first time, is for everyone to lie down flat, below the tops of the beacons,” Chihar says, and calmly lies back down on the slab.
“Good idea,” I say. “Whatever sensors trigger the stone motion above us should be able to read the height of the beacons and prevent the overhead blocks from coming down.”
“Or so we hope,” Brie mutters, lying very flat, and giving the overhead stones an intense glare. It occurs to me—now that we’re not forced to be moving, and I can take the time to notice such nuances—she might be a little claustrophobic. When we were busy climbing and getting out of the way of the shifting pyramid all day, there was no time to do anything but move as fast as possible. But now, as we watch the entire activity and wait, we can observe each other’s reactions. . . .
And so we lie down flat and watch the rearrangement process. The stones move like deadly chess pieces, but none of them encroach upon or even approach our overhead space. The whole thing takes only about two minutes, but it feels like forever. And when it’s all done, we can safely assume that we have a permanent safety zone with a vertical clearance of at least six feet.
“Good to know,” Chihar says, sitting up and stretching. Then he lies back down again and turns on his side. “Don’t wake me up unless we’re under attack.”
The rest of the evening is surprisingly uneventful. At first glance, almost no one is out and about, and surveillance shows us the outer stones of the pyramid slopes are empty. However, it’s a different matter in the interior.
Now that we have artificial lighting, Contenders are climbing all over the pyramid’s insides, looking for symbols on all surfaces.
“Thalassa’s crew have left their Safe Base and are on the move again,” Zaap ann
ounces with a big yawn.
“They need to die already,” Lolu retorts in a very annoyed voice, as she fiddles with some gadgets in her equipment bag.
“Unless they’re headed this way, it doesn’t matter,” Avaneh says, lying on her back with her eyes closed, her hands straight at her sides, and her head directly on the cold stone slab.
“Aren’t you cold like that, with your bare head on the stone?” Kokayi asks her the question that some of us are thinking.
“Mind your business, Entertainer,” the Warrior replies in a voice devoid of emotion.
“I’m only concerned for your comfort, amrevet,” Kokayi says. “The night will only get colder. We’re near the ocean, after all, even though we’re in the middle of Mar-Yan. . . .”
But Avaneh says nothing and seems to sleep.
“Weird Goldilocks, looks like a corpse,” Brie whispers to me, turning to lie on her side, facing me. “Wonder what’s her story. . . .”
I shrug. Then, since exhaustion takes over, I close my eyes also and give myself a few minutes of mindless rest.
Next thing I know, the bells are ringing to announce the new hour and another pyramid shift. I open one eye, hearing my teammates stir around me, also awakened by the bells. I see Lolu and Kateb stop watching the surveillance screens and look up at the overhead stones, but with no worry.
We watch the moving stones, which once again leave a nice clearance space overhead, and then we go back to sleep.
This happens a few more times, until the Midnight Ghost Time comes, and then it continues throughout the night. We’re awakened every hour by bells, and occasional distant screams of violence happening somewhere out there in the pyramid, but now that we know how the Safe Base works, no one seems to care, and some people sleep through the bells.
As I lie on cold stone, my mind filled with the bells, and the constant background sound of surf, floating in those hazy moments between waking and sleep, I think of Aeson, and hope that he can see me safe and resting, at least for the moment. I hope against hope that he’s getting some rest also. . . .
Kokayi was right, the night here on the ocean is freezing. The air is colder by at least ten degrees compared to the daytime, and the ocean wind blows relentlessly through the empty spaces.
By morning I find myself shivering, curled up in a ball to preserve my body heat. My uniform is well insulated, but somehow the chill creeps in. I wake up completely, teeth chattering, soon after dawn. So much for a decent rest.
But I shouldn’t complain. At least we weren’t attacked overnight, which is a miracle in itself.
Thirst is overwhelming, so I take a few sips of my water, and a few bites of food, then join whoever’s at the surveillance at this early hour, who happens to be Tuar.
“Nefero eos. Anything happening?” I ask him.
The large Athlete shifts to make room for me and shrugs. “Watching Deneb Gratu and his team on top of the pyramid. They’re measuring something on that cradle stone.”
I peer closer at the screen. “So, Deneb has assembled another team,” I say, looking at the nine Contenders next to Gratu, and recognizing only two team members from the previous stage, Fadut the Entrepreneur and the nameless woman Entertainer—the only two who survived. All the others are strangers.
“Yes, he seems to get his pick of the strongest.” Tuar’s dark face with its heavy features is dispassionate as stone, and at the same time subtly disapproving. “Even though he treats his crew poorly.”
“They’re a bunch of bullies. Except for Kateb, I mean.” I say, with a quick glance at Kateb the Inventor, who defected, and is now on my team. “So, did they find any symbols?”
“No.”
I take a deep breath. “Did anyone find any symbols overnight?”
Tuar shakes his head negatively.
“Great,” I say.
Looks like we all have our work cut out for us.
We spend the rest of the morning (and afternoon, for that matter) of day two doing very little worth mentioning. As soon as Hel rises sufficiently in the sky, the artificial lighting fades and daytime natural twilight returns to the interior.
It occurs to me, we must be the most boring team in the history of the Games, because we mostly just sit around the Safe Base in a kind of semi-stupor, until they announce the meal is being served. It’s a little after Noon Ghost Time, and at that point we emerge outside and make the dangerous and annoying trek across the outer stones to the front side of the pyramid facing the cliffs.
“Move quickly! Grab the food and water, and go!” I remind everyone before we set out, thinking about how much I’d hate to have a repeat of what happened yesterday with the Plural Voice chorus and my Logos voice. “Then we go to the sewers side. . . .”
“Ah, not again,” Brie says. “You really need to just pee wherever, Lark. We all do. It’s practical, and you’re being stubborn and ridiculous.”
“I am,” I say in a surprisingly acquiescing way. “But until I decide to act differently, it’s how I will be.”
Brie merely lifts her brows, but does not pursue the matter.
One major advantage of our location is that the Safe Base is right near the outside. Instead of taking an hour to climb outward from the deep interior, we take a few minutes, then simply traverse the outside stones to the front-facing pyramid side.
We all go together. There’s strength in numbers, and no good way of defending this kind of exposed Safe Base from a hostile takeover. Leaving half a team behind to “save our place” is out of the question, at least for now.
“What if there’s someone here when we come back?” Zaap asks before we leave.
“If we lose our spot, so be it,” I say. “I’m not splitting up this team for something as trivial as meal rations. However, we need water, and we can always find another Safe Base.”
Why, oh why, did I have to mention water?
Because just as we reach the cliffs side of the pyramid, the blinding white skies overhead start to dim. As I glance briefly at the sky, squinting despite my protective lenses, I see a very fine strange layer of something I’ve never seen before in the atmosphere of Atlantis, despite being here in Poseidon for over a month.
Clouds. . . .
There’s no good way of describing these alien clouds, because they don’t appear to be fluffy cumulus, wispy cirrus, or uniformly homogeneous stratus—some of the common identifiable cloud types that we have on Earth. Instead what they are is a whirlpool.
First, directly overhead, a dark circular spot forms. It starts out small and translucent, but thickens and darkens into a full cloud layer. It’s neither smoke nor fog, since it is so high up. It simply hangs in the sky over the pyramid, its diameter slowly widening and eventually spanning miles across, until the sky above us is overcast.
Okay, I’m calling it a whirlpool, because it’s definitely not a tornado—the circling spiral motion is so incredibly slow moving that is seems to churn like a circling drain set in slow motion.
I notice the dimming phenomenon first, and look up, pausing on my climb from stone to stone. “What is that?”
Chihar glances up and pauses also. “Not good,” he says in his mild tone.
“What is it?” Brie is looking up with a squint.
“Looks like a change in the weather is coming,” Kateb says, joining us on the same stone.
“What, you mean like rain?” I ask.
Kateb pauses to think, tapping the underside of a nearby low-hanging block with a long knife that he keeps in his hand, now that we’re out in the open. “Could be anything.”
“Wait, what?” Brie frowns and shakes her head at him. “Like what? What else do you have around here? Rain? Hail? Snow? Swarms of locusts? Holy crap, what?”
“What are locusts?” Zaap says, pulling himself up like a monkey to the top of the next block to get closer to the floating platforms carrying our daily meal, most of which currently hover about twenty feet above us.
I consider explaining to Za
ap what locusts are, wondering vaguely why such a proverbially Ancient Egyptian insect is not known to him. But I force myself to focus on the present moment.
Because, as we notice what’s happening overhead, so do the other Contenders around us. Quite a few are arriving here at the same time as we are, converging to this pyramid side to get their meal and provide violent entertainment for the audience on the cliffs—judging by the growing familiar roar.
The other Contenders pause what they’re doing and look up, point at the whirlpool cloud pattern.
Hostilities and meal rations are momentarily forgotten.
“This is an artificial weather funnel,” Chihar says. “It has been created for us, apparently.”
“Artificial weather?” I say, as my curiosity is engaged. “You guys can do that on Atlantis?”
“Oh, sure,” Kokayi puts in. “Weather funnels are generated on demand. You can order one for your region, if you have the funds to pay. You don’t have that on Earth?”
“That’s amazing!” I say. “And, no, not really. . . . Although I’ve heard there was some weather tech being developed on Earth, just not ready or available for mass use.”
“The kind of precipitation you get is completely up to the customer,” Chihar elaborates. “In this case, the Games officials. They control the weather funnel programming, and will serve up whatever they like.”
“In other words, whatever they think will make the most interesting Game Zone,” Avaneh says, watching the skies grimly.
“Ugh. . . .” Tuar makes a grunt noise. “We need to get what we came for and get out. Before the funnel empties on our heads.”
“Okay,” I say. And then I sing the voice command to call the nearest meal platforms down to us.
Everywhere along the pyramid slope, Contenders are doing the same thing.
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