Known Afterlife (The Provider Trilogy, Volume One)

by Trey Copeland

  "Your two o'clock is prepared to sync. Are you ready?" his assistant's purposeful voice said over the audio feed of his link visor, breaking his train of thought.

  Damn it, not now! If it were any other meeting, Stalling would have blown it off and stayed with his inquiry till a solution emerged. But such are the times we are in; this is all part of the plan, no turning back now.

  "Stalling? Are you prepared to speak with Archbishop Clortison?" Margaret probed again, turning on video communications this time to appear in the left quadrant of his screen. He half met the attractive women's concerned eyes, refusing to move away from the planet’s image rotating in the center.

  "When have I ever not been?" He finally replied, beaming a confident smile.

  "Wonderful," she said, a genuine look of relief washing over her face. "I'll make the connection. Good luck!"

  Stalling reluctantly closed the planet visual and opened 'conference room 302': a drab, window-less, medium sized room with a long rectangular table, and waited for the other participants to take their places. Within seconds, seven individuals materialized in seats on the opposite end of the table. The person seated at the head of the table directly adjacent to Stalling was the only one receiving his attention, the other six sitting to the right or left of the man having no purpose at the meeting beyond the conveyance of power; a gesture utterly wasted on Stalling.

  I guess old habits die hard, Stalling thought. In reality, the sight of the Archbishop's devoted followers by his side produced the opposite of its intended purpose, always giving Stalling an unexpected but welcome boost of confidence. It was a reminder of what Stalling had become: the most adept, and longest-living, adversary the Church of Salvation had run across in its entire ancient history.

  "Gentlemen," Stalling said by way of greeting to the room, his eyes never leaving the Archbishop. "Before we address the list of topics to be discussed on our agenda, please take a moment to sync the contract located in the corner of your right screen quadrant, ensuring this address is untraceable and will be deleted upon our completion." Each synced the document without reading, knowing full well that Stalling controlled the means to both trace and delete every address on the Auranet. Unlike their failed attempt to exude power, Stalling's gesture hit the mark.

  Like any meeting hosted on the Auranet, false avatars were forbidden. Attendees saw in one another no more and no less than the creased hands, stained nails and mole speckled brows of their worn mortal vessels. Stalling reserved for himself the technological talent of seeing beyond each man's grey husk and into his emotional aura. This tool laid bare a current of insecurity pervading the Archbishop and his parade of sycophants, though an attentive child could see as much in the shifting eyes, timid gestures and hunched shoulders on display around the table.

  Stalling reflected on all the anguish the Church of Salvation attempted to inflict on him over the years, hardening his heart for the events about to unfold. He vowed to show them mercy when victory was finally his, regardless of how little they showed him and those he cared for over the past twenty-five years.

  "Seeing as you requested this meeting and set the agenda of topics to discuss, I welcome your opening comments and suggestion as to how we best proceed." Despite the cavalier deliverance of the opening statement, the significance of Stalling's unexpected capitulation to lead the proceedings was lost on no one. Stalling took great satisfaction in seeing the strategic move throw his adversaries off their game so early in the proceedings. He was confident the men before him, or at least their legions of lackeys, had spent every waking hour over the past month prior to this long awaited face-to-face confrontation preparing to react, to defend, to justify. Not lead.

  Clortison was quick to compose himself, looking indifferent as he calmly replied. "Very well. Let us start by mapping out Stage 1 of the complete and legal transfer of Alterian Enterprises to your beloved Church and province."

  Though everyone in the room knew nothing discussed today would be that simple to approach, Stalling could not suppress the impulsive rush of anger triggered by the entitled statement. The audacity of these people! Even with them squarely in front of me, I struggle to believe they are human.

  "Well, that is the root of it, isn't gentlemen? I publicly announced I would do no such thing. What do you have to inform me of today that will change my decision?"

  "Mr. Alterian," Clortison said with a snide tone that could only be made by one used to getting his way, "need we remind you of the law that was passed by the electoral senate and ratified by the entire judicial panel over year ago today. The law, created with the sole objective of ensuring our thriving economy remains stable for generations to come, states: all privately held corporations, and their subsidiaries, providing any form of service and/or products related to or within the telecommunications industry must relinquish entire control of said services and/or products to the Drakarlean federal government."

  "I am very aware of the law that was created solely to usurp Alterian Enterprises as the most powerful organization in the world. What is not clear, assuming we continue to not comply with your silly law, is how you intend to make us?"

  "We'll jerk every last one of you liberal bastards from your cozy island if we have to," Cardinal Thortizan blurted, seated to Clortison's immediate left. Stalling's defiant statement had contorted the angled features of the chiseled man into ugly curves. Clortison gave his underling a glare of disapproval but was quick to turn back to Stalling and see how he would respond.

  "Military force is out the question, we both know it would result in an immediate and complete worldwide revolt," Stalling baited, fully aware the Church, if push came to shove, would rather take on a full blown social uprising over allow Stalling to stay in his current seat of power.

  "We do not share that assessment of the situation. While never pleasant for anybody, we have dealt with revolts in the past," Clortison countered. No, seizing control of Alterian Enterprises by brute force was no easy feat, but no one in the room dismissed it as viable option.

  Despite his intentions to provide them perceived control over the meeting, Stalling had grown weary of the game and wanted to get back to solving problems that really mattered. Reminding himself the purpose of this meeting was to buy them just a few more precious days, long enough to complete the project, Stalling put his impatience in check and re-addressed the group with feigned enthusiasm.

  "Look, let’s put our emotions aside for a moment and identify what really matters. The impact A.E. has made on Antium is irreversible. The world has discovered a new way to communicate, learn and play and does not have the appetite or desire to turn back. Our intimate connection to and extensive database on the majority of the world's population places us in an unprecedented seat of control for any privately held company."

  "Get to the point," Clortison said impatiently.

  "We don't want things to get bloody any more than you do. And trust me, our issues with the law in question have nothing to do with any grandiose desires to take over the world," Stalling partially lied, selling it with a smile. "However, it does have everything to do with money. Come on guys, I know you appointed church officials aren't supposed to get caught up in all the materialistic stuff our capitalistic society promotes, but we are talking about billions here. You have got to sweeten the deal a little bit!"

  "Why? Regardless of whether or not we believe you have a desire to challenge our divine authority, your proven hunger for material wealth is justification in itself to remove your pervasive influence from the world."

  Fine, Stalling thought, if they do not want to buy the "it’s all about greed" bit, which he admits was even a stretch for these dolts considering all he had done to the counter, then I'll just pull out the trump card now. "Fair enough. But that brings us back to square one. Without the cooperation of our senior staff or me, Alterian Enterprises is worthless to you. If you still have any desire to gain control over what we have started, you have got to find some way to compr
omise."

  The Archbishop sat up in his chair, squared his shoulders and puffed out his round chest, looking all too eager, as if Stalling had finally triggered a trap. For the first time since entering the virtual room, the Archbishop exuded the self-assurance one would expect from a man of his status.

  "We have recently been contacted by a member of your senior staff, a Mr. Janison Satiago. His intel was very...provocative," Clortison said, staring long and hard at Stalling as the others seated in the room tried to read Stalling's reaction.

  Showing none, the Archbishop elaborated, "Mr. Satiago is your CTO, yes? His detailed report on every piece of technology ever produced by A.E. was very revealing to say the least. Tell me Mr. Alterian, how do you think this unique tithe from one of our faithful followers will influence our mood to compromise?"

  Stalling had anticipated Janison's eventual betrayal. At first, the revelation repulsed to the core but once accepted as inevitability, Stalling used its momentum to advance the ultimate objective. No, it was not the action causing his head to swim in a swift current of doubt. It was the timing. Why now? Why not wait until the project was completed. While Janison certainly had his own motivations, he had as much at stake in the project as the rest of us. Why risk losing it all now?

  Clortison cleared his throat several times in attempt to engage Stalling back into the conversation. After the third failed attempt, he finally said, "Our willingness to make exceptions to the law has come to an end. We no longer possess the energy to go forward under the current conditions—"

  "That's it!" Stalling shouted to the room, causing the group before him to flinch. Not enough energy! Stalling was frantically piecing together all the signs his instincts had been screaming at him for the past two weeks. How could I have miscalculated? He had little time to relish enlightenment due to the complete absence of a solution. He needed to get his team on it now; there was no time to waste.

  "I am sorry gentlemen but this meeting needs to be cut short, I have more important matters to attend to. Please contact my assistant with dates and times to reschedule in the coming weeks and I will prioritize the time accordingly. Best wishes." The link disconnected.

  *****

  Archbishop Clortison removed his link visor and glanced about the unadorned, windowless conference room. His eyes flit from face to face, registering surprise, hope, and cautious optimism. Today they saw something no one had ever seen, something he had never imagined he would see. The infallible Stalling had stumbled.

  Chapter 3

  Eyes closed in deep meditation, Steffor took another deep, purposeful breath. Inner silence consumed the mind as the Source merged with both soul and material body. The cheers of millions abruptly melted away as his core being swam in divine energy. Aligned with the Provider, where both time and space hold no meaning, in a dimension where the ego was powerless, Steffor shut out all conscious thought and manifested his immediate future.

  The Dive Chute below his feet unfolded before his mind's eye: an arborescent tube shifted from interwoven branches, thickets of stems and tangled vines. Steffor observed his sinewy body, shielded by a transparent shell of electric blue Source, fly down the manmade shaft as it traversed the Provider's mighty limbs. Presented with thousands of course options, he deftly dodged one bone crushing dead end after the other and successfully navigated his predetermined route.

  Steffor shot from the Dive Chute at maximum velocity, leading his fellow divers into the final leg of the race, a five-mile high free fall. As the Deagron Fields raced toward him, he sensed Grimlock and Vejax bear down on him in one last, vain attempt to gain the lead. A millisecond away from smashing into the lush grassland, Steffor emitted a powerful Source sphere to break his fall. Dive Shifters raised their flags, indicating Steffor was first to hit land and win this year's Dive Championship. He had done it! He had become the youngest dive champion in history.

  His vision locked with the future's pending reality, a moment yet to fully occur, but certain to happen, Steffor closed with a prayer.

  "I love you Father. Thank you for all that exists. Please forgive me."

  *****

  Steffor trusted his garments as he did every gift from the Provider. Bestowed at induction, garments intuitively conformed to a Guardian's physiological needs, making it possible to survive most any condition, including the extreme altitudes of his starting block. That be as it may, reactive shock ran through his system all the same as he transitioned from deep meditation to the thin, frozen air atop of the world.

  In an attempt to shake the lethargy still lingering from his recent theta immersion—a deep state of consciousness he had maintained for the past two hours—Steffor soaked in his new, awe inducing surroundings. He gazed skyward, his powerful site revealing the curve that separated the Provider's upper atmosphere from outer space. He then trained his site onto the panoramic view below his feet, the vast snow covered evergreen canopy known as Toliver's Peak. Steffor scanned for miles across the Provider's northern most branches until his heightened vision spotted the tops of Instenkul's piney foliage, bringing into focus the point of demarcation between the two regions.

  He would have stared at the majestic vista for hours on end if not for the pressing task at hand. Having served its purpose in waking his physical senses, Steffor took one last moment to acknowledging the fruition of his dream to one-day stand atop the world, for without gratitude, nothing mattered past this point.

  Steffor brought his attention back to his near surroundings. Vejax stood on an identical starting block a few yards off to his right. After a curt nod, Vejax returned his attention on the dive chute directly below feet. He is committed to his vision, Steffor thought with respect.

  Grimlock stood to his left. With concern, Steffor studied the big man still immersed in a deep meditative state. Come on Grimlock, lock it all together, Steffor thought with a natural impulse to help his friend. Steffor’s confidence in the manifestation of his immediate and pending future placated his concerns, ensuring him that Grimlock will not only gather his wits in the coming seconds but also surprise everyone but himself this day.

  Ripping his gaze away from his tormented friend, Steffor concentrated instead on the narrow stem supporting his starter block. Shifted directly from the rim of his dive chute, the long pole elevated thousands of feet above the Provider's snow covered peak. Despite his garment's ability to feed his body with oxygen, Steffor began to recognize the precursors of hypoxia setting in; realizing the time to start the race had finally arrived.

  As if on cue, the Master Dive Shifter and Dive Mystic emerged from a square opening in the center of the observatory platform located between the three starter blocks. Swaddled in thick robes, both men wrapped their head in scarves, the Shifter an indigo blue, the Mystic pearl white. Getting down to business—their ability to survive at this altitude rapidly diminishing the second he arrived from the elevator shifted below the platform—the Mystic stepped forward first and raised his arms chest high in front of his body.

  The Mystic—a telepathic conduit to every Citizen—looked deep into the eyes of each competitor for several moments then transmitted the images of the Guardians atop their respective starter blocks to the Mystics strategically placed along each dive chute and amphitheater. The instant the Mysticnet feed was established and synced to millions of Citizens around the world, Steffor and the euphoric wave of energy produced by the expectant spectators merged, bent to one purpose.

  The Master Dive Mystic zoomed out at that point to provide a view of all three divers then lowered his arms, moving to his left as the Master Dive Shifter took his place. The niche Shifter then promptly addressed them with the customary introduction.

  "May the Provider guide the Source in each of you!"

  "May your craft touch the Provider and do his Will!" came the accustomed response from each Guardian.

  A rush of silence seized the crowd in excited anticipation. The Source flowed in every leaf; its energy vibrated in each custom
crafted seat. Citizens drank in the Source as all prepared to witness history. It was time to dive.

  Meeting the eye of each competitor one last time, the Master Dive Shifter contorted arms and hands in three brisk, succinct movements, simultaneously dropping each starting block. Steffor forward flipped, straitened his body like an arrow and aimed for the upper left quadrant of his dive chute opening.

  Body fully enveloped with the Source, forming a protective 'halo', garments encasing him head-to-toe in aerial-dynamic body armor, Steffor shot toward what appeared to be a dense thicket of conifer branches. Hitting full speed moments before reaching the thicket, Steffor safely flew through a small, camouflaged opening.

  The reward for avoiding the more inviting, wide-open entry located on the bottom right was a clear path down the left hand side of the chute. Had he gone to the right, he would have exhausted much of his energy on the first leg of the race navigating a tight weave of barbed branches. Instead, he now faced a clear flight to the first amphitheater juncture.

  Steffor admired the expert craftsmanship of his chute, enjoying the adrenaline rush produced with each sharp curve designed to test the limits of his shifting abilities. After a dozen spine-tingling bends, the chute straitened and aimed downward, temporarily juxtaposing into art: a trellised passage replete with diamond shaped wickets from which bright sunrays beamed a kaleidoscope of geometric designs.

  He flew through the aesthetic patterns, calming both mind and spirit within their precise mathematics to pull forth his vision for the immediate future. He replayed the events of Vejax, who had chosen a similar, not so obvious entry and was only a few seconds behind Steffor. His friend's chute was relatively open but much narrower, requiring him to exert small bursts of the Source to prevent being thwacked by a multitude of pesky stems.