She stopped a moment on the stairwell. Her legs were beginning to feel like jelly from the descent. The SOs who had stopped her at the entrance to the sky bridge had barely registered her at all. She hadn’t even needed to give them her thumbprint for identification, unusual considering she was only a Mid. Somehow, they had expected her, knew she was coming. That leaned weight to her theory that there really would be someone waiting in the library.
She descended again and noticed that she was still up on the 26th level, not even halfway yet. A heavy sigh of frustration and exhaustion escaped her mouth; how were there so many damn stairs?
While catching her breath, something rather uncomfortable occurred Alexa. If this voice could have so easily influenced the SOs and Mr. Dean, what about her? Had she actually chosen to become an Inspector in the Runnercore, or was someone or something else manipulating her to do so? Was she just a puppet on a very long and invisible string?
She passed floor 16 and had to stop again. This time, she sat down. Alexa knew she should have taken the lift down. She looked upward and realized that there had been an exit for a lift on the 22nd floor. If she wanted to abandon her descent now, it meant traveling upward again, and she couldn’t bear that idea. No one walked up and down the sky bridges anymore; there are just too many damn stairs. The upside was, she had discovered a new workout regimen. Her breathing slowed, and she stood and continued her descent.
“Why in the world did you choose to take the stairs?”
It was that voice again, or a voice at least, this one sounded a little different from the first one she had encountered. Its tone was deeper, thicker like smooth maple syrup.
“Hello?” she responded.
“We're waiting for you, Alexa, we had said it was urgent, so why in the world would you take the stairs?” said another voice.
“Let her be, can’t you feel it, she’s nervous. She isn’t even sure we're real,” said another voice.
“Yeah, don’t you remember how it felt your first time? I thought I was going insane,” said a third voice.
Alexa was almost entirely overwhelmed. Three different voices had just shown up in her head, with distinct personalities and all, and were arguing about why she had taken the stairs. It would have been hilarious if she wasn’t so terrified she was losing her mind. Butterflies flapped against the walls of her stomach, and her legs felt even weaker. She was going to sit for a month once she got to that library, they would have to carry her everywhere from this point on.
“You’re making it worse, be silent. Let her meet us before we start bickering in her mind,” said one of the voices.
The voices vanished, and there was nothing but silence. She savored it, suspecting that silence from this point on in her life may be a rare commodity. Her suspicions were at least partially correct.
As she reached the ground level, her thighs burned. She had never known that going down some stairs could be so tough.
Then, his face moved into the forefront of her mind. It spread into her awareness slowly, gently, and she realized just how deeply she wanted to be near him, to touch the scars on his face. If she hadn’t joined the Runnercore administration, she would have never met him. It occurred to her that regardless of whether or not it was her choice to become an inspector, she was glad to have met 17.
That thought gave her a moment’s pause, and she realized how childish it was to put so much into someone she had met for only a few minutes, but the connection she felt to him, she didn’t know how to describe it. She tried to tell herself she was a stupid and immature girl, acting like a silly teenager, but there was something tugging on her in the back of her mind that knew, simply knew, that this was the wrong way to perceive this feeling.
She left the exit of the stairwell and walked quickly toward the entry to the library. She stepped between the crumbling statues that mounted either side of the stairs. She noted that the statues had mostly melted and crumbled away with time. Such appeared to be the nature of all such things.
The front door was locked. A wave of panic and fear crept over her. She was crazy, completely and utterly insane. Of course, this would be no surprise to her family, who had told her she was crazy when she turned down that job in the courthouse to become an inspector, but that was of little comfort. Alexa felt tears of rage and fear welling up in the back of her throat. What in the world was she going to do? The voices and the poster and the fact that she had left work in the middle of what was clearly a very important shift. It had all gone so badly since she had first opened her eyes a few hours earlier. She felt the threads of her life about to unravel.
“Oh my, I'm so sorry, little one. I should have told you; there is a side door that we use. I certainly did not mean to make you feel that you were losing your mind. I promise you; you are quite sane.”
There was something soothing and mothering in that voice, and Alexa felt the urge to cry vanish. Then, curiosity became the mantle she carried to move forward and she, as instructed, went looking for a side door. She found it.
She turned the ancient, faded, copper-colored doorknob and opened the door. It creaked and groaned so as to communicate its great age.
2.
Historians Note to the Text:
Dear Reader,
There are times in our lives when we open both physical and metaphorical doors that so clearly mark the passage between our old life and something completely new that later, when we think on it, we will mark on those moments as being fundamental to who we are and who we have become. Usually, this is a difficult thing to realize in the present moment when you are caught in the moment of action and reaction. Most of us mark these moments in our hindsight. But, for Alexa Turon, walking through that door was the convergence of a thousand different forces that had brought her to that single door, the door that would change not only everything for her but for many future generations.
This door was a kind of nexus of reality, to which the very nature and future of humanity hung on its hinges. Alexa could not see it at that moment, but the weight and pressure on those pores held the gravity of a thousand suns going supernova simultaneously. Such doors in the human experience are extraordinarily rare, but there have always been a handful of individuals who find themselves standing before a great paradigm shift in human consciousness, in human possibility; such was the lot of Alexa Turon at that precise moment.
Matron Mariposa Phillips 836.6.17 I.S.
3.
A warm hand reached out to greet Alexa Turon. It took hers, not in a handshake gesture, but in a gesture that indicated it would continue to hold her hand in its own. It was the hand of a loving grandmother, one that cared nothing but for your well-being. This hand had put aside the stresses of motherhood long ago to play a new and more profound role of guardian and sage.
“You. You’re that scholar and Senator... and one of my professors. You’re the voice that’s been in my head?” asked Alexa.
Noatla just smiled.
She ushered Alexa in and shut the door behind her, turning the bolt lock to keep out others who were not of the Order.
Alexa was a little starstruck. “I’ve read all of your books and articles. I mean, I love your work.”
“Well, little one, I have had a number of duties in the last few centuries, between the archeological dig and the Senate and the Order, I've been quite busy. So, you have my apologies, and I can honestly say I wish we had connected more deeply. We have been searching for someone like you for a few decades now.
“Because I can see in other people’s heads?”
“Yes and no. Alexa, every one of the women you meet tonight can skim minds, but none of them can do what you can.”
Noatla led Alexa down a small stairwell and into the entrance of the basement archives. The air was still and thick, so thick that Alexa felt as if she was taking massive gulps of air into her stomach rather than her lungs.
“What is this Order thing?”
“The Order of the Eye is a women’s
order. Each city has an order, and we do our best to bring to fruition the great plan,” said Noatla.
“The great plan?”
“In time. First, you must be welcomed.”
“But what... how... I...” This was all happening so fast, and Alexa didn’t know what to think.
“Come and see for yourself,” invited Noatla.
Together, they entered in through a large room filled with endless shelves of books. Fifteen women stood in a circle in front of her, their faces dim in the low light. Alexa felt a strange sensation. Her whole body began to overflow with warmth, and she felt truly loved. Peace filled her every cell. If she could remember what it felt like to be in the womb again, this would likely be it. Noatla was her mother, her true mother. She remembered an ancient saying, “the blood of the covenant is stronger than the water of the womb.” All resistance fell away, and she knew deep down that this was her covenant, and that no matter what happened, from this moment forward she was loved and accepted by these women, and she would love them in return.
Standing just inside the entrance next to her, Noatla asked, “Alexa, I am sorry to rush this on you, but time is short. I must ask you, will you join the Order of the Eye?”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that you will join our sisters in watching and protecting the city, that you will use your talents to help and benefit people. A member of the Order will not use their talents for selfish gain or harm others. But mostly it means that you will work with us to prevent the destruction of this city.”
“Destruction?” Alexa thought, was that why all those Runners were in the dock?
“Yes, Alexa. We believe this city is in serious danger.”
It was going to be hard getting used to having others skim her mind, but she thought she would grow to like it.
Alexa considered the offer. She didn’t know these women, but she did know Professor Lightfoot. She had enjoyed her classes and respected her deeply. This order also had a pledge to protect and do no harm. That seemed important. She had never had close friends; her talent always seemed to get in the way. She loved her family, but she had always been a black sheep.
When she really thought about it, it was an easy choice. What did she have to lose? “Okay. What do I have to do?”
Noatla nodded her head toward the circle. Alexa stepped forward, and Noatla followed. With the two of them joining the circle, Alexa felt that it completed something that had long needed to be complete.
In chorus, the women spoke. “Welcome to our new sister.”
One of the sisters spoke, her voice was soft and sweet.
“I am Darla of the Lowers,” spoke the first.
“I am Rachel of the Mids,” spoke another.
“I am Lucy of the Lowers. Welcome.”
“I am Mimi of the Nowhere.”
The Nowhere? What did that mean? Alexa’s mind tried to meet with Mimi’s, tried to touch it and understand it, but she was blocked. She realized now that she could not touch any of these women’s minds and for only a brief moment that terrified her. They were blocking her. Then she felt that warm feeling rush back into her.
“I am Fatima of the Uppers.”
“I am Vala of the Mids.”
“I am Rebecca of the Uppers.”
“I am Serah of the Runners.”
A Runner? How could this be? Alexa knew from her brief time working in the docks that the Runners could not leave the alcoves for any reason other than deployment. What was happening here? Here was a Runner who used her birth name, the idea almost seemed absurd. Alexa wanted to speak up but thought better of it. It would be rude and improper to interrupt these introductions.
“I am Joan of the Lowers.”
“I am Patricia of the Lowers.”
“I am Rosita of the Lowers. Welcome.”
“I am Lana of the Mids. Welcome.”
“I am Yoshi of the Uppers. Welcome.”
“I am Kayla of the Mids. Welcome.”
“I am Aurora of the Lowers.”
All eyes were on her, and Alexa realized it was her turn. “I am... Alexa of the Mids?”
Noatla nodded and said, “I am a Noatla of the Uppers, Standing Matron of the Order of the Eye, and I welcome you, Alexa.”
One of the sisters departed momentarily from the circle and came back with a large chalice filled with wine. The cup moved around the circle, and each of the women drank a small sip. The cup moved counterclockwise among the women, and Alexa watched as it came to her. Despite the other women having perfect control over their minds and not allowing even the slightest transmission, Alexa knew that when that cup reached her, her initiation would begin. She had seen this passing of the cup before in a dream, but had not remembered it until now. Dreams and visions were funny like that; sometimes they were only obvious once you were in the moment.
She felt the hair raise on the back of her neck, felt the skin gradually ripple with gooseflesh down the length of her spine. There was more than wine in that cup; there was something much more potent, much more powerful. The cup was only two sisters away now, and then Noatla had it in her hands. She raised the cup to her lips and sipped it and passed it to Alexa.
Hesitantly, she took it. She knew it was an inappropriate time to speak, but did so anyway.
“What’s in it?”
Noatla smiled at her, “Whatever you put in it.”
Alexa considered for a moment and then slowly, carefully she brought it to her lips.
“You must drain the cup, little one. You must empty all of its contents into your belly.”
Alexa closed her eyes and tipped the cup just over the edge of her lips. The bittersweet liquid passed slowly into her mouth, and she felt its coolness pouring down her throat. She gulped the wine and drained the glass.
She stared back at the circle of women. She reached out to them, looking for any transmissions, any indication of what to do next, but no one spoke. The room was growing brighter, clearer, and all at once Alexa saw that light was shining from each of the women. She blinked a few times and rubbed her eyes.
A call and response began, though it was clear that none of the women had opened their mouths.
“The eyes come open,” said one voice.
“The sleeper wakes,” said another.
The voices emerged from everywhere and nowhere. Alexa knew it was the sisters that were speaking, but she could not identify who had spoken when. The voices rolled in and washed over her, echoing over and over in her mind.
“The wheel turns,”
“As Above,”
“So Below,”
“As Within,”
“So Without,”
“The Light passes and Time squints, allowing the faintest glimmer of wisdom.”
“But Fear is the little death, the one that brings an end to hope.”
The voices came faster and faster, and Alexa began to feel overwhelmed by them. Voices echoed and mirrored one another, becoming a part of a static of sound, ever-flowing into her mind and gradually merging with her. The only choice was submission.
“Fearlessness is the key that unlocks all things.”
“You will die.”
“We will all die.”
“Rest in these words.”
“Rest in body,”
“Rest in mind.”
Then, the faces, the room, the light all vanished, and Alexa was alone in darkness.
She stood, but the darkness was complete, and it made no difference standing or sitting. She couldn’t move forward without a frame of reference. She was overcome, consumed by the darkness. It was maddening, terrifying, an alchemy of misery. She felt lost, alone, and afraid. Where had the sisters gone? What had they done to her? What was in the cup? Was this death? Was her body laying lifeless on the floor of the library after a poison in her cup had overtaken her? A million questions poured from her mind, pushing against the blackness and reflecting right back at her. Her questions were a mirror, an image that she cre
ated, nothing more than a terrible story of desperation and fear.
Then she felt rage, oh so much rage. It climbed up her chest like a demon, and how she could feel that demon breathing on her neck. Its hot, sticky breath spread upward. The creature grew, and she closed her eyes, for she knew that if she opened them, she would see its awful red eyes. She thought she could keep her eyes closed forever if need be, but curiosity overcame terror and gradually, as if in a dream, she allowed just the slightest crack in her tightly closed lids. And there it was, just as she had feared, a terrifying red eye looking right into her, seeing through all of her masks and all of her walls. She was naked and spread wide open in a physical, mental, and spiritual sense. She was completely vulnerable. The eye, the red veil which filtered all she now saw, held her. It would murder her, overcome her and tear her to pieces. It would quench itself in her blood and feed on her while she remained conscious. In anticipation, her body spasmed with little hints of pain. Her terror was complete.
Alexa started shrieking, all of her will and all her effort sent those screams back out into the nothing, and she realized that with all the effort she had put into the screams, nothing, not a single utterance had escaped her lips. The blackness absorbed all light and all sound.
The creature perched on her chest and lifted its horned head up to stare into her eyes. Its rancid breath was on her face, filling her with a terrible toxin. She knew that everything about this creature was rotting, decaying with ferocious speed. It released one claw from her chest and moved to strike her throat. It would start with the throat, plenty of blood for it to quench its terrible thirst. And thirsty it was, dying from thirst, and she was its savior, its sacrifice.
Then something else burst forth from her, something raw and powerful, beyond emotion. It filled her, enveloped her, and she submitted to its power. There was light. The dark void illuminated and it was growing brighter and brighter from some source that was unknown to her.
As the light brightened, the red creature looked less and less menacing. Her fear subsided. Raw power filled her belly. It seeped out of her pores, and all at once she realized the light was coming from her own forehead, from where a blazing, brilliant eye began to banish the bastard creature. The eye on her forehead focused and fixed on it. Power burst forth from her being, and it slammed into the creature. It screamed and writhed, and Alexa saw that terrible poster emerge from its fading body.
Upon Stilted Cities - The Winds of Change Page 29