by Kir Lukovkin
They walked through a spacious hall, past broken windows, piles of trash and benches and tables overgrown with cobwebs. The hall reminded Rick of both the dining hall and the gathering hall in the Commune. He imagined how the ancients walked around here, busy with their own matters, discussed various issues, solved problems, became happy or sad, loved or hated each other. This place was once full of vibrant life, but now only emptiness lived here.
A large rat sat enthroned on the parapet in front of them. Once it saw them, it raised its muzzle and sniffed, without even a thought of escape.
“They are the masters here,” Maya said, nodding at the rodent.
Another rat appeared on the parapet to their side, and two more a little further along. The long-tailed creatures were carefully observing their guests with their red, beady eyes.
“They're so big,” Rick whistled.
“And fearless.” Maya checked her weapon, just in case.
The companions made their way along a wide corridor towards the Chorda, curiously looking around. Even though everything was seemingly abandoned, they could not help being pursued by the feeling of an alien presence and someone's implacable gaze. Rick kept glancing at the upper balconies, but saw nothing there apart from the hanging remains of rotten fabric and broken structures. The corridor changed into a wide bridge, which ended in a wide stairway. They walked up, and a wide archway appeared before their eyes, framing the Chorda that glimmered in the distance right at its center. All three of them stopped in their tracks. And it wasn't because the color of the Chorda had changed from magenta-orange to bright yellow.
There was a man standing beneath the arch.
He was no barbarian, mutant or any of the creatures they had come across on their journey. A rather elderly, tall man with a carefully groomed beard and silver-streaked hair who held his back straight and looked down at them from above with an obvious expression of superiority. Something in his gaze reminded him of Croesus—this was the gaze of a man that was used to issuing orders, a man that was in power. The only clothing he wore was a light toga that hid his legs down to his ankles. The stranger held a rather large and fearsome looking weapon.
“Put the blaster on the floor,” he told Maya in a calm voice, as if he knew her for a long time. Then he immediately turned to Rick, “Put your knife away. It cannot harm me.”
Rick and Maya obeyed, putting their weapons on the ground.
“Than you for understanding. You may approach.”
The stranger lowered his intimidating cannon. They came closer and Rick could not believe his eyes—the strange had the Omicron sigil tattooed on his neck. Rick looked at his absolutely unremarkable face and...
“Warden Drachus!” he breathed out.
“How is the Commune doing?” the former Warden replied.
“We have problems with the holy... We have energy supply issues.”
“So it did happen, in the end,” Drachus replied sadly. He had to go into exile many years ago.
He was considered dead, like everyone that had gone into the Expanse before him, but there he was, standing in front of Rick, hale and hearty, but aged by time.
“I apologize, we didn't introduce ourselves,” Maya said respectfully. “This is Rick from Omicron. I am Maya, from Kappa sector.”
“You are probably hungry, aren't you?” Drachus asked with a smile. “If you like, I can invite you to my humble abode for a cup of tea.”
“Oh,” Maya respectfully touched her chest with her hand, “we would be very obliged.”
Rick looked at her enviously—how did Maya manage to speak in such a beautiful way and use body language to make a good impression on people?
Drachus led them up along one of the side stairways behind the arch. They ascended three levels and stepped onto an oval platform that supported a rounded wall on one side where entrances to several rooms could be seen. A view of the Chorda opened up on the other side of the platform. A large aquarium which had long dried out stood at the center of the platform.
The former Warden led them to one of the doors, entered an access code and let them in. Inside five minutes, they were sitting behind a table and warming their hands with mugs of a hot aromatic drink, while looking around without hiding their curiosity. The most interesting was the transparent wall that had a view of the Chorda well. Drachus walked over to the glass and nodded at the pillar of the Chorda that had become a lot lighter than it was before. The Axis of the Expanse was heating up like a metal that had reached a high temperature.
“I would bet my future bald patch that this is your doing,” Drachus said.
Rick glanced at him sheepishly.
“The very fact of your presence here says a lot.” Drachus crossed his arms on his chest. “And don't tell me that you've been banished.”
“No. We are escapees and criminals,” Maya reported.
“Seriously? So it's like that...” the former Warden looked at both of them with reproach and then spent some time examining the prole with great interest. He finally uttered, “So what did you do?”
Rick started to tell him about how he met Maya and about their escape, their adventures and the final goal of their journey. Drachus stroked his beard, sometimes glancing sideways at the Chorda behind the glass. When Rick reached the point of describing the hall of living pictures, Drachus stopped him.
“Enough.”
Then, he went quiet, thinking about something.
“How did you manage to survive out here?” Rick could not resist asking.
“Very easily.” Drachus shrugged, as if he was talking about everyday matters. “The Expanse gives a man all he needs to survive. It was created for this very purpose. You just need to know where everything is. I have lived here for many years, and I have been waiting for someone like you. People who are brave enough to overcome the barriers and survive in the corridors of Thermopolis. People who will come to me one day, and start asking questions.”
“And do you have answers to them?”
“Unfortunately, not all of them,” Drachus shook his head. “You are going upwards. I am too old to accompany you, but I will try to help how I can.”
“Even for that, we are grateful,” Maya replied.
“It's nothing. Does your friend not know how to talk?” he nodded at Tommo.
“No, he doesn't. He only listens and follows orders.”
“Interesting. I have never seen one of them.”
“He is from the lower sectors.”
“I see. So, you are saying that you need to get to Gamma sector.”
“That's right,” Maya confirmed.
“But that is incredibly high up! You can't even imagine how high.”
“Oh no,” Rick interrupted, “we definitely can. We have a map of the world. Show him, Maya.”
The girl unfurled the Thermopolis diagram. The old Warden was examining it, walking around the table, his jaws tense with concentration.
“Well now,” he concluded. “I saw a copy once, a long time ago, during a border war between sectors. Paper was considered to be excellent fuel for lighting fires back then, and no one looked at the little shapes that covered the sheets. But what can you ask of idiots? And now you have found one of the last copies to get into the Control Center and start up the generators.”
“Yes,” Maya and Rick said in unison.
“How are you going to do that?”
“We'll act according to the situation,” Rick replied.
“You mean that you don't know how to start up the generators.”
“No.”
“Do you have access codes and passwords?”
“I know several, but I don't know if they will work up above,” Maya admitted. “We will have to check them all.”
Drachus started to slowly stroll back and forth around the room. After a couple of minutes he stopped, and said, “Your idea is doomed to failure.”
“We will not step back,” Rick declared.
“I am not making you turn ba
ck. You will just smash yourself against a wall. That's all.” The old Warden paused. “This is why, before you stick your noses into the Control Center, you must get right here.”
He stabbed his finger at one of the sectors of the first aeon.
“Delta,” Rick read out, syllable by syllable. “La-bo-ra-to-ries. Ar-chi-ve, Lib-ra-ry. Da-ta-ba-ses.”
“That is where all of the valuable information you require is held. All of the knowledge that the ancients had when they created this world. Their sciences, their art, poetry, history and cultural records. If you want to understand what the Thermopolis is, your road lies that way. Endless vistas of thought will be open to you. Under the condition that the repositories have survived, of course.”
“Have you ever been up above?”
“I tried,” Drachus said, “several times. But I decided not to risk it anymore since I almost lost my hand.”
He showed them a disfigured hand that was missing two fingers—the ring finger and the little finger.
“Monsters or mutants?” Rick enquired.
“No. Humans.”
“What are they like?” Maya asked with interest.
“Those that live above? I... I don't know. I never even saw them. The thing is that they have closed off the shell of the first aeon with a security system. That system destroys anything that comes near and shows any signs of life. They have established an unassailable citadel up there and I have no idea what goes on inside.”
“What a mess!” Rick frowned, thinking over what he just heard.
“You gave us really good advice, respected Warden,” Maya said. “Your help has been priceless.”
“It is a shame that I cannot help you on your journey, as I am too old,” Drachus spread his hands. “It's a shame that your chances of success are so incredibly small, as nothing works in the sectors apart from the emergency systems. The automated systems refuse me access when I try to activate the central terminals. Thermopolis was conceived as a unified system, as a living organism in which every aeon and sector are interconnected and perform a particular function. And on their own, the sectors are worthless. The ancients knew how to control them, but the knowledge was lost. This is why the Expanse is a giant tomb now. A dead place, that had remained abandoned for many years. This is why my words are not that useful. How will you go around the security system? You can't. The knowledge of how to break the shell is inside the shell. It's a closed circle.”
“We must try,” Rick stated decisively. “We can't retreat just like that.”
“Your motivation deserves praise,” Drachus agreed. “But determination is not enough on its own. You must understand that. Or,” and he narrowed his eyes, “you have something with you as well as the diagram? Something special? Some sort of password, or key, something that can overcome the security system?”
“No,” Maya replied. “Apart from the prole, the weapons and the papers, we have nothing of value.”
Drachus was looking at them so attentively that it seemed that he noticed something that only he could see, and that is why he asked those leading questions. He was looking for something, staring at their faces in concentration. He was thinking, and his thoughts feverishly reflected in his large, intelligent eyes. However, he was also obviously tortured by doubt, as if he knew the truth but was also wrong in his conclusions. Finally, Drachus moved and walked around Maya, then Rick and looked them up and down. He did not afford Tommo even a single glance.
“Do you know anything about the Omega protocol?” Rick suddenly asked.
“Omega?” Drachus breathed out, his eyes going wide as if he had suddenly been sucker-punched in the back. “There are only a few words about that in the oath of the Warden of the Commune. But no one knows their meaning.”
“Then, maybe you know something about the Chronos program or the Gaia and Uranus programs?”
Drachus started to look increasingly restless. He was almost running around the room now.
“I don't know anything about that. No! What about it?”
Rick watched he former Warden carefully, increasingly coming to understand that this exceptional man, who had once been the head of the Commune was simply overcome with fear. Drachus was afraid. But of what? Or perhaps, of whom?
“You say that you did not take anything with you,” Drachus pronounced. “But then, how did you manage to launch the particle accelerator and make the Chorda come alive? How? Or is it a coincidence?”
Rick explained that he simply put his hand on the screen, and the machine obeyed his instructions.
“Without and access code?”
“No, there was an access code,” Maya replied. “The machine called it a genetic code.”
“A genetic code? What is that?”
Maya explained the main features of that ancient science to him as well as she could.
“But of course...” Drachus whispered, forcefully descending into a chair. “But why...”
He stared at Rick.
“You. Wait. Let me try and remember you.”
“What exactly are you trying to remember?” Rick wanted to help find the answer with all his heart.
“Don't hurry,” Drachus ordered. “Let me just sit awhile and look at you. The answer is close. I just need to distract myself.”
“Then tell us everything you know,” Maya offered. “Everything that might help us, and maybe you will find the answer.”
“That's right.”
The old Warden calmed down a little and made them another mug of hot tea each to finally gather his thoughts. Eyes fixed on the corner of the table, he started to tell them the story of his life—all that remained in his aging memory.
Drachus' life did not stand out with any particularly notable events, apart from one. It was him that managed to find several packages of seeds when he was moving onto a new life level, during a hunt in the external Expanse. When the seeds germinated and grew, they turned out to be beans—an undemanding and nutritious plant, which was a great addition to the ration. The room in which Drachus had found the seeds almost became his grave—an ancient machine was trying to kill him with a red hot beam, for some reason. The future Warden was saved by his innate sense of self-preservation, as he managed to find a safe place that the beam could not reach and escape the deadly trap. This is how he moved onto a new level into better living conditions.
Drachus was always concerned with the issue of finding sustenance. He was always thinking of how to increase the life cycle of crops and harvest them not once, but twice. He experimented with potatoes, wheat, carrots and other vegetables. He understood that plants did not just need good soil but also special fertilizers that he decided to extract from phosphorescent mushrooms. Even though these mushrooms were poisonous by themselves, they were great at being absorbed by root systems once dried and ground.
During a test to pass into another Circle of Life, they needed to collect as much water as possible. Drachus led the team and offered the most effective collection method—the evaporation of molds, mushrooms and slime. No one wanted to touch such disgusting, poisonous things, but Drachus bravely gathered pieces of it and put them into bags, so that he could condense water on a film that he put over a fire. The water was then filtered and poured into containers.
The Commune had a new method for getting water. Drachus was noticed by the aging Warden. He invited to visit him as one of the most exceptional of the adult Brothers of the Commune and without further ado, offered him his own position. Had Drachus known what accepting the position entailed he would never have agreed.
He was inducted into the secrets of the Commune Committee.
“There is no Machine God,” he uttered, stressing every word.
Maya and Rick kept listening.
“He does not exist,” Drachus repeated.
“I already know,” Rick smiled sadly. “Maya helped me understand and explained everything.”
“Hmm, well then,” the former Warden shrugged and continued his tale, “But th
is was not all. I found out that the Expanse was not infinite, but bound by walls that separate us from the external environment. And that it is not black emptiness beyond the borders of the world, but another world which is unlike ours. My predecessor also told me that our world is actually a gigantic tower that has different peoples living on different levels, but they are separated for safety reasons, and it is for this safety that the people of the Commune cannot be told this truth, otherwise there will be panic, disturbances and rebellions. At first, I did not understand the ideas of the Committee, but after many years passed I gradually almost accepted their dogma. And so, I gave my oath and became the new Warden. According to custom, the previous one had to go away into the Expanse, and he did it with dignity. That man believed in the ideals of the Commune and the existing order of things very deeply. He preferred to plunge into the chasm to banishment. Then, I occupied my position until my time had come to a close.”
“That is atrocious,” Maya said. “Keeping people ignorant—how much do you have to despise them?”
“Not despise them, but love and care for them,” Drachus corrected her.
“We care for the pigs too,” Maya countered, “but for very different reasons.”
“Have you finished your story?” Rick enquired.
“No, that isn't all.” Drachus grunted as he adjusted himself on the chair. “Apart from the Committee, there is also the Warden's Council that consists of three priests—small and inconspicuous people. This is who rules the commune. These people almost made me truly believe in their damn God.”
He lowered his voice, as if they could be overheard.
“They took me to their temple—you know where it is, Rick—and showed me its internal workings. All of these little screens and buttons, which they called the greater and lesser altars of the Machine God. They taught me to read and count—not immediately, but they did teach me. The greatest shock for me was my first visit to the temple. One of the priests came up to the control panel, pressed some sort of button, and the screen in front of me came alight. Then, a face appeared on the screen. At first, I did not understand what was going on. But then the head of the man on the screen said, “Glad to meet you, Warden Drachus!” A human head talked to me out of a machine! I almost fainted, I could never imagine such a thing. Then they explained it to me that this was the way to communicate with those who truly rule Thermopolis.”