by JB Penrose
She watched him disappear into the main cavern. His footsteps faded quickly – the sound of boots on stone, and still she waited until she felt him leave. Although he didn’t press his thoughts upon hers, she could feel his presence on alert, until finally, she was alone.
The library felt completely at home to her. Books had always held a special symbolism; she had written many and read almost everything in print. Rachel sat on a close bench and let the whispers come to her.
“Spokesmon.” “Spokesmon.” “Spokesmon.”
She heard their calls and listened closely to the distinction of each author.
“Meimei.”
That was it! “Meimei.”
Rachel silenced every other thought and tried to grasp the thread from the voice that called her by her name, a very old nickname. Meimei. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard the whisper again and stood to find the author. With her eyes closed, she let her heart guide her footsteps.
“Meimei. Auntie Meimei.”
Rachel found herself holding a rolled parchment written in ancient Chinese. She clutched it to her chest and let the voice bring back memories she had long ago forgotten.
“Pei Ling,” Rachel thought with some relief. “You weren’t killed in that battle.” Joyful tears dropped off her cheeks and she wiped them from the parchment to prevent a smudge any of the printed characters.
Pei Ling was the great-grandson of the fierce Emperor Genghis Khan. When his uncle, the Kublai Khan killed his father Ariq Boke, Pei Ling was just a young boy. He grew into adulthood thinking the Khan was his real father, a secret Rachel helped the family keep until Pei Ling was an adult.
Pei Ling was a sensitive young man, subject to strange dreams and visions. During the war with Toghun Temur of the Ming Dynasty in the mid-fourteenth century, Pei Ling disappeared.
Kublai Khan quickly pronounced him a coward and removed his name from the family history. Rachel always felt he had finally followed his heart – an act she considered braver than fighting wars. Now she would learn of his destiny.
Her knees gave-way at the realization of this Circle of Life that she was a part. His history entwined with hers and now she was here – holding a story written for her over a thousand years ago. Rachel never felt as grateful to be immortal as she was right now – holding the answers of a past memory in her hands.
Her life as a yotou, a bondmaid to the powerful family had taken her freedom, even though she had grown to love the family she served through many generations. Pei Ling’s disappearance and the ensuing war between dynasties that ultimately freed her, was the end and then the beginning of a new life for Rachel.
She sank to the floor and slowly opened the parchment that would reveal the same circle of life for Pei Ling.
“I don’t know if you will remember me,” it began. She closed her eyes and let his voice tell the story.
“I am grateful the Oracle revealed your image in my dream last night; to know the Spokesmon as my Meimei rests easy in my heart. You were always the kindest and most generous person I’ve known. Someday you will read this farewell; something I was not able to say when I left as a young man.
I have so much to thank you for. My dreams led me to Delphi and I am grateful you taught me to believe in and follow them, and to believe in myself. I know not what my family said of my disappearance, nor do I care, but I do know that in Delphi I have contributed to our future, yours, mine, and the world’s future, by this service I have gladly rendered. Your devotion to my family could never be as great as the Service I know you will give to this world. Trust that I die a very old and happy man - just as you always predicted.”
Rachel was grateful to be alone with these stories, and she felt no rush to return to her quarters. Wandering amongst the volumes of Pathways, she felt as though she was finding herself through the Service of others.
For centuries, Rachel had denied the destiny her dreams alluded to; she attempted to deny her immortality every day – ignoring that friends would eventually die or that she would have to sell a home she hated to leave.
In Delphi, she could no longer escape what the future laid out for her, nor did she want to try, even if it might have happened in an easier fashion. Although Mother Star’s conversation reminded her of her separation from Peter before she read the Words of Thunder there was no fear of Peter losing the document, and there was no denial Peter would be looking for her – even at this moment. But she wondered if she had she been able to fulfill that part of her journey, reading the Words, maybe the indecision she currently felt might not taint her next thoughts or actions.
Iscar had done everything possible to be generous, to a fault, she couldn’t help but think. Still, it reminded her of the saying, If there’s anything false in the statement, it’s a false statement. Iscar was a different person in Delphi than the one she knew to be involved with the OneWorld bombing. Nevertheless, they were both still Iscar.
At the thought of the Septorian, a voice from one of the journals whispered louder in her mind than the others. She walked through the bookshelves until she found the Pathways that seem to be talking.
“Wren.” An image flashed in her mind of a black-haired Incan princess who had followed her dreams to Delphi. Wren obviously had a crush on Iscar, no, a more serious emotion Rachel noted, but she knew it was a secret Wren died without sharing. Rachel replaced the journal without reading it. She had to admit Iscar’s reputation with Delphi’s citizens could not be taken lightly.
Rachel was amazed at the amount of people who lived and died in Delphi. There were hundreds of thousands of journals, each bound simply, but unique to the author and their background. The information in each Pathways was a true reference of Delphi’s history and she was honored by the secrets they shared with her.
Just when she had gotten comfortable with the silence in Delphi, she found another room that spoke to her constantly. The whispers were like threads of a string, individual yet grouped, and the journals linked tidbits of their recordings to any miscellaneous thought she would have. It was almost overwhelming and Rachel had to guide her thoughts or withstand the energy of being pulled from story to story.
She let the words and visions of Delphians weave through her mind like a chain of melodies, each thought a note, the whole was a song. Young, old, male or female, the Oracle passed to them a sense of precious timing, the Calling of their own service to the Spokesmon. “Gather together our hearts, our minds, and our souls, that we may become as One Fire.” Each of the volumes began with the same phrase.
Rachel felt every person was as interesting and important as the next. The voices spoke to her with their natural tone and accent and she had an immediate image of the writer as well as their name. It gave Rachel a chance to thank that person for the information they left for her, but it also opened a range of emotions and she struggled to manage the input.
“Oldest journal,” she focused her thought. Instantly she knew the aisle where she would find a scroll protected in a leather tube. The parchment was aged but the ink as black as new. Mentally, she unrolled it.
I decided to write down the most incredible dream I’ve ever had so that I may reflect upon its wisdom and direction for the rest of my life. Let me say now, how I am grateful for this Gift.
It was the opening entry for Shirzad, an architect from a Chinese royal court who got off a docked boat while his master shopped for supplies during an annual pilgrimage. His dream eventually led him to Iscar and together they drafted and designed what Shirzad hoped to be the most beautiful city in the world.
Shirzad’s dream was a reminder to her why the city was built, for the Spokesmon and the Awakening. At that thought an onslaught of whispers about the Oracle rushed into her mind; it was difficult to quiet the voices. They spoke of dreams and sent images in all forms rushing into her thoughts. She concentrated on the quietest whisper.
Sora; the first child born in Delphi. As she looked at the world though Sora’s eyes, crawling on the ground
in front of a pair of feet absconded by darkness above the knees. Rachel trembled with the same fear Sora felt. One thing about Iscar, his appearance never changed. She knew those boots!
Sora’s first entry was extremely practiced writing for a child, clear and with no mark out’s, but the print size was double that of her other entries in the volume.
“Are you the Spokesmon?
Are you the Spokesmon?”
Poor Sora, for her the answer was probably as bad as the question. However it had happened, Iscar had at least discovered the truth.
Rachel laughed to herself, empowered as old fears broke away to reveal new ideas; she was relieved with the explanation for her nightmares.
As she replaced the Pathways, Rachel sensed there was a deeper connection she shared with Sora. Her thoughts moved to Sora’s mother, Barbara, and then to the generations before the Arrival in Delphi.
Mary Magdalene was the connection! Rachel sensed that Barbara maternal grandmother Belien, had been a friend to Rachel’s mother! She had a clear vision of her own mother laughing with her friend, sharing a meal. It was a nice thought to know her mother’s life was normal in some sense.
So, Sora’s mother was not the first in her family to create a bond of a family-of-service, she was just the first to arrive in Delphi. Rachel netted her thoughts forward to find Sora’s current family member; the image was shockingly familiar.
The dark features had replicated from generation to generation, almost identical to their parent. Rachel had a clear vision of the twins, Gabriel and Gideon, standing on either side of Iscar; continuing the tradition of service. Rachel sighed heavily; it had the potential to get ugly.
Her breath brushed back against her face, and Rachel opened her eyes to discover the ceiling just inches above her head; it forced her gaze downward. She was no longer surprised at anything that happened in this place; Delphi easily brought forth the powers Rachel felt awakening in her psyche. Not wanting to drop suddenly to the hard surface flooring, Rachel consciously lowered herself, amused at her new talent.
She had no concept of the time spent among the volumes of Pathways but she decided it was time to leave the past and return to her residence.
Her residence! She realized how quickly she had adopted Delphi as her home. Rachel twisted the cyto on her wrist. Part of her wanted to walk back to her rooms just to see as much of Delphi as quickly as she could; there seemed a sense of urgency. Subconsciously Rachel believed whenever she felt happy or complacent in any way something would happen to change that.
She slipped past the large stone at the entrance and looked up upon Delphi. It was an amazing city, hidden from the rest of the world and working with a singular focus to produce a civilization most nations dreamt of, but never tried to achieve. Even to Rachel, Delphi felt like a dream.
Occasional sounds dropped to the depths where she stood, but mostly the city moved above her in silence. She could make out the activity from shadows that crossed the lights but she never heard a shout, a motor, a siren. In Georgetown where Rachel lived, even the birds were noisy. In Delphi, the silence was truly golden, no emotional riptides, no random thoughts, and no emergencies from which to hide. She felt more freedom than she had ever experienced in her life.
Although the exercise might have calmed her own excitement, Rachel felt it prudent to bend to Iscar’s wish and regenerate back to her quarters. Somehow, by not accomplishing everything in the first few hours or days, she hoped she might be afforded more time in Delphi - if only the Cosmos would hear her request. She activated the cyto and sighed as the lights of Delphi dissolved particle by particle.
* * *
“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice. Your assistant explained you only had a few minutes.” James made himself comfortable in a chair across the desk from President-elect Scott Cauthron.
“We’ll be brief,” Mags added, taking the chair beside her husband. “We understand how busy you must be.”
She liked the president-elect immediately. His small eyes were swallowed behind cherry cheeks and bushy eyebrows being pushed upward by the smile on his face. His gray hair showed no signs of balding, nor did his age seem to slow him down at all. Scott Cauthron was an impressive figure.
“When Lucas called for an appointment I was more than happy to spare a few minutes for Rachel’s parents,” he said. “I can see where she gets her youthful looks,” he added, eyeing Mags and James with open curiosity.
“Sometimes it’s a curse as much as a blessing,” Mags admitted with a smile.
“I’ve been concerned about Rachel. I was surprised not to see her at the Young’s funerals.”
“She sends, well,” Mags thought, “more than regrets. I know she was close to the President and his wife. But something unexpected came up and she’s out of the country for a while.”
President-elect Cauthron continued his curious gaze at James. “Forgive me, but you seem familiar. Have we met before?”
James smiled at his perceptiveness. “I’m John Reider’s brother. Don’t let the difference in our names confuse0 you.”
“Oh, I can see it now!” Scott Cauthron clapped his hands in recognition. “What a pleasure. I had no idea Rachel was his niece.”
“We’re a bit of a private family but just so you can get the full picture, Rachel is now married to Andrew’s brother, Peter.”
“She’s gotten married?” Scott beamed at the news. “No wonder she’s out of the country; a honeymoon! I saw their picture recently in the paper and thought immediately how they were a handsome couple.”
“It was a small and private ceremony in order that John and Andrew could be there too, before the launch. But not everyone enjoys the press like my brother,” James told him with a smile.
“I’m sorry for all the trouble they were given, and I’m glad the Aurora has finally launched. All we can do now is to wait for word of their discovery.”
“And we all hope that comes soon,” Mags added. “It’s not an easy way to start as President.”
President-elect Cauthron nodded. “No one trusts anyone - even their allies; armies are at high alert, everywhere. This is quickly becoming a dangerous situation,” he admitted. “I know President Young believed in John; I trust the answers they send back will be of truth; but I, too, hope it’s a quick discovery.”
“We actually came to offer our assistance with getting the OneWorld Conference back on track,” James told him. “PROBE-Tech has contained the virus and the information has been restored.”
“That’s great news,” Cauthron told them. “Now all I have to do is convince the leaders of the conference.”
“We might also be of some help in that regard, Mr. President.” James acknowledged the man’s objections to the title. “Alright, Mr. President-elect!” he corrected himself. “As John’s brother, I’ll be replacing him as CEO at PROBE-Tech.”
“That’s fantastic,” Scott Cauthron exclaimed. “My job just got a lot easier! Help does arrive from the most unexpected sources.”
“We’re glad to offer it,” Mags said. “What do you see as the best way to get the process started?”
“I have scheduled a trip to meet with Hirundi Asaad and the conference delegation to review a new location,” Cauthron began to explain. “Is there any chance you might be able to accompany me? Having John’s brother as PROBE-Tech’s new CEO assurance the Conference will go forward would go a long way to reassure the delegation, and the world.”
James took a sideways look to his wife. Mags shrugged in agreement; it was the best action for the best reason. “Hirundi Asaad is an old friend of the family,” she told him. “I’m sure you will accomplish the mission.”
“You know Asaad? That’s even better!” Instantly the President-elect rose from his desk and excitedly began to hug both of his visitors. “I knew you two are a dream come true the moment you entered my office. It will only be for five days,” Cauthron assured them. “I have to get back in time for my inauguration.”
>
“Another event that we wouldn’t want to miss,” Mags laughed.
“Everyone is still waiting for the announcement of your Vice President,” James told him. “I suppose that will be the context of your press conference this morning?”
“Yes,” Cauthron laughed. “Everything is moving along nicely. But now, I truly feel like God’s plan is unfolding.”
“That it is, Mr. President - that it is.”
“The world is full of mysteries these days.” Scott Cauthron vigorously shook James’ hand. “You two have been the greatest blessing to my day.” He kissed Mags’ hand with a grand gesture. “If our friendship is half of what John was to Rodney, then we can hope to accomplish much in our working together.”
“We’re in it with you,” James assured him. “But, if you don’t mind, while we’re here we’d like to pass along some information about Frank Morrow.”
Scott Cauthron grunted with disgust at the mention of that name. “There’s not much I can do about him now. Just between us - President Wilson plans to give him full immunity for his actions at PROBE-Tech before he leaves office.”
“We still a few things you need to know.”
“I’ll take anything I can use. Whatever he and Wilson have negotiated I’m obliged to support, but if the man so much as jay-walks, I’ll have him arrested!”
“I’m certain he requires that amount of scrutiny, and more,” James told him. “And I’m glad to know you share our concern.”
There was a quiet knock on the door before it opened and Scott Cauthron invited the assistant into the room.
“Alex,” he waved. “I want you to meet a very important couple.”
Mags smoothed down the woven robe as she stood and took James’ hand as she turned around to greet Alex. Her falling grasp almost pulled James off balance.
“Dera!”
“Mia!”
The two women embraced immediately. Scott Cauthron stood aside in wonder to see his usually reserved assistant half-crying with open recognition. “Well, I see you know my Chief-of-Staff, Alexadera Pfiefel.”