Hollow World

by Michael J. Sullivan

  “Again?” Warren asked.

  “To be honest, I thought the worst, for both of you.” Pol looked back at Ellis with a smile. “But here you are, safe.”

  “Pax is fine too,” Ellis replied, although he wasn’t at all convinced that the Chief Councilor’s concern was sincere. Seeing the confusion on Warren’s face, he added, “We ejected Pax’s chip through a portal into space to avoid being followed.”

  “Well, that’s unfortunate,” Pol said. “Now we have no idea where to look. Pax really should be found and helped. Do you know where Pax might be?”

  Ellis shook his head. Maybe it was his long bias against politicians, but he didn’t trust the wine-sipping Buddhist monk.

  I’ve looked after Pax for centuries, wonderful, wonderful person, and not at all crazy, you understand.

  He remembered the tear running down Pax’s cheek.

  I’m not crazy.

  Was he being blind just because Pax was the first friend he’d made?

  He focused on the statesman monk. “How did Pax know about Ren? In your office, Pax asked if you knew who Ren was, and you said you didn’t know. Why is that?”

  Pol shrugged. “I have no idea how Pax knew. To be honest, I had no idea who Pax meant. The question was so completely without context. Like you said, how could Pax know? I’ve never spoken to anyone about Ren.”

  “None of us is allowed to,” Hig said.

  “Shut it while your better is speaking,” Dex snapped, and Hig cowered into the upholstery, looking at the floor.

  Pol ignored them both. “I suppose if the question had been about a Darwin named Ren living at Greenfield Village, I would have given a different answer, but I was caught off guard and downright confused.”

  “And what were you talking to Geo-24 about? Pax asked about that too. I didn’t catch your answer.”

  Pol glanced at Warren briefly as he sipped from his wine again. “How much do you know about Hollow World?”

  “A little. Spent about two days there.”

  “Do you know about the geomancers?”

  “They’re like weather forecasters, only they predict seismic storms, right?”

  “Wonderful, but that’s only part of what they do. Geomancers are the descendants of the old energy corporations. Dyna Corp founded the Geomancy Institute in the years just before the Freedom Act.” Pol looked concerned. “How much of Hollow World history are you familiar with?”

  “Very little,” Ellis said. “I watched a show where a dancing hourglass told me about how everyone moved underground. Didn’t get all the way to the Great Tempest, though. I fell asleep.”

  Pol looked at Warren.

  “Go ahead and fill him in. It will save me the trouble.” Warren got up, heading for the kitchen. “Hey, Yal, why don’t you bake cookies or something? Make your lazy ass useful.”

  No one moved to take Warren’s seat, and Ellis wondered what would happen if he did.

  “The thing you have to understand is that the Three Miracles changed everything: the Dynamo, the CTW, and the Maker.”

  “CTW?”

  “Controlled Terrestrial Wormholes. Most call them portals.”

  “Oh—yeah, I know about those.”

  “The Dynamo was invented first, and initially the technology was tightly controlled by Dyna Corp, which supplied the world with limitless energy.”

  “Wait a second, what do you mean limitless energy?”

  “A Dynamo is a…” Pol looked at Ellis, searching for the right words. “Well, it’s like what you might know as a battery, only it never runs out of power. Well, not never. Never is a very long time, after all. The Dynamo is mostly self-sustaining, although it does lose a small percentage of power each cycle, given that even a tiny Dynamo generates enough power to operate a whole quad of Hollow World for years, it’s as if they are eternal. Similar principle as the sun. It has a finite lifespan, but since that is so long, we never really think about it running out.”

  “Fascinating.”

  “Ellis used to work on batteries and solar power back in the day.” Warren mentioned, returning with a ceramic cup of something.

  “Lithium-ion cells mostly,” Ellis clarified. “At least until everything was moved to LG Chem in South Korea.”

  “How interesting all this must be for you then,” Pol said, and smiled. “But getting back to your question—along with the agro businesses, Dyna Corp built most of early Hollow World. They were the first to put their headquarters underground. People were out of the weather, but now had to be concerned about seismic shifts, and that’s when they established the Geomancy Institute. It is devoted to the study of not only seismic activity but also prevention of dangerous shifts.”

  “How do they do that?”

  Pol started to speak, hesitated, then held up a finger. “I’ll get back to that. We have two more miracles to get through.” Pol took a sip of wine. “The Dynamo was created as a result of the Energy Wars of 2185.”

  “You can always count on a war to move along innovation,” Warren said, retaking his seat.

  “Another group had been working on solving the transportation problem. Traffic on the surface had become unmanageable, and elevators into Hollow World were jammed, dangerous, and cut into the workday. But it wasn’t until Dyna Corp bought the CTW technology and applied the unlimited power of their Dynamo that the portal was made practical. This threw construction in Hollow World into a frenzy, because portals allowed for easy transportation of heavy equipment and the easy disposal of dirt and rock. All strictly controlled by Dyna Corp, which built portal booths everywhere, allowing people to pay to travel. This also coincided with the Great Tempest, a worldwide nonstop storm that killed millions of people left on the surface. There’s a wonderful holo that was made recently about the heroic evacuations called Ariel’s Escape.”

  The others all nodded enthusiastically.

  “I loved the part where Nguyen opens the portal as he’s falling,” Hig said.

  “Great holo,” Dex agreed with a big grin. “Completely unrealistic, but a great holo.”

  Warren yawned.

  “Anyway,” Pol went on. “The Great Tempest caused the invention of the Port-a-Call that we know today, but it wasn’t sold except to a very few. Now, the Great Tempest was followed by the Famine. The storms had wiped the surface of usable soil, and there just wasn’t enough food in Hollow World to feed all the refugees. And that’s when the Maker was invented. Created by Network Azo—known to the world as Net. She was an employee of Dyna Corp. Almost overnight Maker booths popped up alongside the portal booths. They had a touchscreen menu—think they only had about a hundred patterns at the time, and after a retinal scan that deducted money from a digital bank account, you could use the Maker to create anything from a chicken dinner to a new shirt. Only problem was that few people had any money. Most had evacuated the surface with nothing. They were starving in the old tunnels while an unlimited supply of food was right at hand. All that dirt and stone could have been turned into vegetables and loaves of bread. Net was appalled, but the patent was owned by Dyna Corp, and when she protested they fired her.”

  Warren started to scowl as he shifted uneasily in his seat, sipping from his cup. The others, in contrast, were leaning forward, listening intently. They all must have known the story, but Ellis assumed that in a rural farmhouse that lacked even an old radio, story time was grand entertainment, even if it was a rerun.

  “That’s when she did it,” Pol said. “Net wrote a pattern for her own invention and made it public—a free download. People could walk into any Maker booth and create their own Maker. Net was arrested, but the dam had burst. From her cell, she called on everyone to revolt against the tyranny of a system that artificially forced restrictions that led to the deaths of thousands. It wasn’t long before a Dynamo and a portal pattern were stolen and released to the public. After that, everyone could go anywhere and make anything and all for free. Dyna Corp and the agro companies—well, just about every busi
ness collapsed. Net became a hero, the mother of Hollow World, and the first Chief Councilor.”

  “And the destroyer of humanity as we knew it,” Warren said.

  Pol nodded solemnly. “But the Geomancy Institute remained untouched. The last vestige of the Dyna Corporation, they continue to indulge in secrecy, divulging their knowledge and techniques only to fellow geomancers and only after they pass the long and grueling initiate process. They are followers of the Faith of Astheno, and no one who isn’t a geomancer really knows for certain what they do down there. It’s suspected that they track the currents in the asthenosphere, determine where pressure is building up, and—using portal technology—relieve the pressure before it causes a damaging shift in plates. Which means they are all that stands between Hollow World and certain destruction.”

  “So what do you think happened to Geo-24?”

  Pol looked toward Warren, who nodded.

  “That was an unfortunate incident. You see, one of our associates was speaking to Geo-24 about our plans to settle the surface—just general questions concerning long-term climate and such. We weren’t sure if Firestone was the best place in the world to start such a project. Geo-24 was less than encouraging, and there was concern that the geomancer might urge the HEM to interfere with our plans. Since geomancers have considerable influence, this was a real danger. We hoped this would not be a problem, but one of us wasn’t satisfied with just hoping for the best. This ex-member was—well, there’s no other way to say it—a zealot. The idea that the geomancers were plotting to stop us became an obsession. We don’t know all the details, but it seems that the unthinkable happened…but you saw that for yourself, didn’t you?”

  “And you were okay with this?” Ellis looked at Warren.

  “Hell no, and that psychopath knew better than to come back here.” Warren said.

  Pol looked at Ellis. “I believe this person tried to become Geo-24, but you and Pax saw past the disguise.”

  “Why do you think Pax accused you of being an impostor?”

  “Pax has been called in to help arbitrate a number of deaths. I can’t express enough how unusual and stressful that can be. I suspect Pax is suffering from paranoia and sees conspiracies around every corner. As we’ve already established, Pax is not of sound mind.”

  “And the scar on your shoulder?” Ellis asked.

  “This?” Pol exposed the mark. “Hig actually gave me this almost a year ago with a scythe.” Pol pointed at Hig, who displayed a guilty look.

  “I remember that,” Warren said. “Lucky Pol didn’t lose the whole arm. Hig was still learning the ways of the farmer. But it’s proof that what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.”

  “Survival of the fittest,” Pol said, smiling.

  “Now to the real point of this meeting,” Warren said.

  This is a meeting? Ellis had thought the point was to digest the food they’d just eaten.

  Warren stood up and, setting down his cup on the green tablecloth covering the little oval table, hooked his thumbs under his suspenders like some old-timey preacher. “I’d all but given up hope of finding Ellis, but God has guided him to us, and I feel more certain than ever that the Almighty has sent both of us. It’s just like when he sent John the Baptist and Jesus to set mankind—who had gone astray—back on the path of righteousness. It’s an abomination what mankind has done to itself. Ellis and I are here to help guide you in ridding yourselves of your sins. Abandoning Him, and His teachings has led to a self-made hell, but we’ll create paradise.” He turned to face Ellis. “I’ve already begun to tell my friend of our plans to reintroduce women. How is that going, Dex?”

  Dex’s face scrunched up miserably. Bad news was coming. “I tried again, but the ISP refuses to grant me access to the patterns and development labs.”

  “Pol?” Warren said. “As Chief Councilor, can’t you do something to fix that?”

  “Not really. Hollow World doesn’t—well, you know—work like Firestone Farm. I have more authority here than there. I can guide and suggest, but I can’t compel anyone to do anything. Policy decisions like that are made by a general vote. Even then, the ISP can ignore it if they want to. People just don’t take orders in Hollow World—because they don’t have to. But that’s where Ellis Rogers can help us.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes,” Pol said, looking over at Warren, who picked up his drink and motioned for Pol to continue. “You might not know it, but you’re a celebrity status.”

  “Huh?” A mosquito had entered one of the windows and was buzzing around Ellis’s head near his left ear. The pest, the faint flickering light, and the heat were all aggravating. How did people ever live like this?

  “Your appearance in Wegener caused a riot—not literally, of course, but people have been sonic—ah, excited—since they spotted you. Grams have circulated everywhere. There’s all sorts of inquiries going on. People want to know about the Darwin sighting. Most think you’re a hoax, a joke of some kind, maybe some sort of street theater or an interactive art exhibit. Everyone is waiting for the next sighting.”

  “Why are they so shocked?”

  “No one has ever proved a Darwin exists.”

  Ellis pointed at Warren. Pol smiled. “We keep Ren a secret, at his request.”

  “Meaning I’d kill the bastard who betrayed me.” Warren took a second to eye each of them with a cold stare.

  “I can see now the wisdom of his decision,” Pol said. “You, on the other hand, have already been exposed. If I take you back, if I show you off as real, all of Hollow World will be at your feet. A genuine Darwin—a unique man—the people will worship you.”

  “And you plan to use my celebrity status to do what exactly?”

  “You go public with your story of time travel and how lonely you are for a mate, and the doors of the ISP will be flung wide to accommodate you. To do otherwise would be a cruelty, and Hollow World is never cruel. You and I will go on a tour of Hollow World. We’ll see all the sights, meet the people on all the plates. It will be simply wonderful. You’ll be loved by all—and then I’d like to see anyone try to deny you a woman. The people really would riot then.”

  “What do you say, Ellis?” Warren asked. “Care to be the first ambassador of the New United States of America?”

  Ellis didn’t know what to say.

  Everyone at Firestone Farm was out of bed at first light except Yal, who rose long before. The new recruit already had the stove stoked, had gathered the eggs, and was mixing muffins by the time Dex led Ellis out the kitchen door, showing him the way to the outhouse. The morning air embraced with chilly, damp arms—a world silent and gray. Dew-laden grass gave off a pungent, wholesome scent of summer; the odor of the outhouse was stronger still.

  Simple. That was the way he saw the world that morning, now that he had put a little time between himself and the death of Peggy. A man couldn’t get much simpler than sitting bare-assed on a hole cut in the top of a wooden box in a rickety shed. Ellis had sore muscles from the lumpy bed, and the damp chill was bracing—even though it was summer. How would it be when snow covered the path, and he couldn’t sit because the seat was too cold? But peering out the gaps between the wall boards, Ellis felt good. The night before everything had an ominous, oppressive tone, but much of that was likely due to the news about Peggy and having to send Pax home. Emotions were peculiar that way. Nights affected attitudes too; mornings were always the happy optimists. And in the light of day, he had to admit there was virtue in a simple, uncomplicated, unfettered life.

  On his way back, Ellis paused, just standing in the yard to witness the morning. Birds sang, frogs peeped, and a light breeze brushed the blades of grass. The brilliance of the sun pierced leaves, casting shafts of gold that splashed against the weathered boards of the barn. Ellis felt as if caught in a coffee commercial. A lovely middle-aged blonde wrapped in a homey cardigan sweater should appear behind him with a steaming cup and a life-loving smile. The breeze blew, and Ellis, dressed o
nly in his T-shirt and pants, shivered. This was the difference between reality and replication. Hollow World presented a beautiful picture, a movie of sight and sound; the real world addressed all the senses, delivering the bad with the good.

  Behind him the screen door slapped. The sound, hardly noticeable the night before, cracked offensively.

  “Come with me, Ellis Rogers,” Bob said. The former Ved must have worked by candlelight the night before, because Ellis saw the new name stitched where the old one used to be. Bob carried four bright steel buckets, swaying them as they walked to the barn. “Ren teaches us that nothing is free. That everything is reached through hard work and self-reliance. The Maker is a cheat and a sin. It makes life too easy, and a pain-free life is not the way God intended His children to live.”

  “You believe in God? You’re a Christian?”

  “I’m working on it. I want to please Ren, but…” Bob looked troubled. “I’ve lived five hundred and twenty-eight years now, and it’s hard to believe in something that’s supposed to be so vital, and yet I’ve never heard of it before. Plus, a lot of the teachings center around an afterlife, but everyone in Hollow World lives forever. I’m still trying to make sense of it all and it’s hard with everything based on the word of just one person.”

  “And a book.”

  “Yes, the book. Have you read it?”

  “Parts.”

  “Ren reads to us in the evenings. He won’t let us use the holos. He’s read several books, and, honestly, so far I prefer the ones by Agatha Christie.” Bob looked up at the sky. “I still have problems believing in something I can’t see.”

  “No one heard about germs before either,” Ellis said. “And most had to take their existence on faith. Scientists are sort of like priests that way.”

  Bob nodded. “I see your point, but germs don’t demand our belief in them in order to save ourselves from eternal suffering, do they?”

  “They do if you’re visiting a leper colony.”