Steffor was content to hold hands with the women he had just met, yet somehow intimately connected to, leisurely walking down the veranda for several minutes before his curiosity surrounding recent events finally forced him to ask the obvious.
"What happened?"
"Well, what do you remember?"
"Everything up to the impact with the mysterious branch."
"Mysterious branch? What makes you call it mysterious?" Calivera asked perplexed.
"Nothing. Just tell me what you know proceeding the accident up to now."
"Somehow you managed to break through the branch and emerge from the dive chute. By the unnatural contortion of your body and flailing limbs, we assumed you were unconscious at the time." She paused at that moment, looking at him for confirmation.
"My last memory was right before impact with the branch," he repeated, gesturing with raised eyebrows for her to go on.
"Anyway, about midway between the chute's end and the Deagron Fields you slammed into the Trunk. Amazingly, your body landed in a rut between bark. As a result, your descent was dramatically slowed. You appeared destined to slide down the remainder of the Trunk and disappear into the depths of the Belly Briar, when your body was abruptly thrown outward toward the edge of the Deagron Fields. At the last second, you formed a source sphere to break your landing."
He knew she wanted him to fill in the blanks but the fact was he could not. "Who won?"
"Grimlock. After what people are now referring to as The Crossing, Vejax and Grimlock had lost too much time to overtake your lead, emerging from their respective chutes a few seconds after you did. Vejax had a half second lead on Grimlock, plenty of time to win but when he saw your condition, he pulled up. No one knows why and neither has shared their thoughts on the race. Everyone is waiting to learn of your condition."
Based off Calivera's recital and her response to the branch mysteriously appearing, it seemed safe to conclude that the branch had always been there. Could I have overlooked it? No, I am positive it was not there until the last moment. So what then?
As he contemplated Calivera's feedback, he began to notice the probing stares of those around them. Word that I am alive, if it hadn't already, was surely being transmitted by this time, he surmised by the excited faces. Questions, lots of them, where sure to follow.
He still had time. Respect for each other's privacy was one of the many values held sacred by the Provider's society. No one would force him to do anything he was not comfortable doing. Even so, truth and honestly held an equal value. Not coming forward in a timely manner to share his experience with the whole would set a precedent unknown in modern times. Still struggling with the foreign emotion of not wanting to return to life, Steffor was at a complete loss as to how to explain what happened. He had never needed the Provider's guidance more than he did now.
A young Guardian apprentice running in their direction broke his train of thought. The boy stopped before them, leaned over and put hands on his knees to catch breath. "What is it man?" Steffor asked.
"Guardian Steffor," he formally panted, "The Teuton High Council regretfully informs you Master Teuton Eldrak passed over to the Provider this past evening. You are requested, if able, to participate in the Teuton Staff Forging ceremony."
Eldrak was a great man and Teuton. All will miss him but his passing was a shock to no one. Two hundred and seventy three years old, he had defied the odds for the past two decades. Regardless, in light of recent events, Steffor perceived the timing of Eldrak’s death as an omen. Steffor was immediately overwhelmed with a sense of obligation, as both a Guardian and Citizen, to participate in the hallowed ceremony.
The brief walk with Calivera was enough to know he was physically able to attend; Calivera was truly a gifted healer. This fact aside, he remained hesitant. The excitement he would have felt about the ceremony only days ago was gone, replaced by cold indifference, stale deep inside and the desire to change it absent. Apathy aside, Steffor sensed the choice he made in the coming seconds would set in motion a series of events, the outcome of which was beyond his conception.
Steffor turned to Calivera. Her pleasant face was neutral, but her eyes conveyed an intimate understanding of his struggle. She knew his body had mended before he left the Healer's table. The wound to his soul is what both concerned and scared her. Seeing that fear in the face of someone who had done so much for him in so little time made his decision clear.
He turned to the apprentice waiting patiently. "Please inform the council I will be attending the ceremony."
With a nod, the boy turned to go. Dawning on him at the last second, Steffor called after him, "Guardian!" The boy stopped and turned inquisitively. "Why was I not contacted by Mystic?"
The young man squirmed, looking down at his feet for several seconds before meeting Steffor’s eye. "None could locate you."
Chapter 6
Compared to most days, the lab was a flurry of activity. Designed to accommodate over two dozen lab technicians and their respective workstations, the spacious room somehow felt confining to its only occupant. After entering from the southern and only entrance, Stalling and Antone strode across the room and sat in one of the many ergonomically correct chairs positioned around the main lab table and made a point of not getting in the way.
Jennifer jumped with dizzying speed from one virtual station to the other, acknowledging their presence with a curt hand gesture: extending fist with index finger pointing skyward, effectively saying, don't interrupt my train of thought. Based off the volume of blue data streaming across her green eyes—the concentrated light accentuating her long lashes—Stalling, used to this type treatment from his top scientist, appreciated her need to concentrate and leaned back in his chair to wait.
The northern end of the room was a half hexagon constructed by three walls of thick glass with real lab tables built along the length of each. The rectangular tables housed an assemblage of computing equipment designed to regulate, calculate, register, measure, display—or a combination of all the above—a specific component of the project.
In the beginning, a bastion of technicians mined data around the clock coming from the various stations. The link visor was one of the first reengineered bi-products of that data and, practically overnight, made the rest of the technology obsolete; accelerating the development and commercial consumption of every bi-product derived from the project thereafter.
From day one, the project exceeded the expectations of everyone except for Stalling.
Forced to find more patience as yet another new stream of data flit across Jennifer's tense face, triggering a new set of anger-laden humphs and heavy sighs, Stalling settled deeper into his chair and gazed across the massive server farm. Contained in the underground cavern located on the other side of the glass walls, the farm filled the vast majority and occupied the farthest reaches of a massive warehouse.
No one, outside of Jennifer, was more intimate with each box that was as much organic being as machine. From trivial maintenance, to the smallest upgrade, to a mysterious power spike, he knew the experiences of each server better than most parents do their children.
Miles of vine like cable pulsed with golden light, connecting each computer to the stalagmite shaped mainframe stationed in the middle of the room. Stalling visualized the chamber located directly under the mainframe and its precious contents therein. The energy from which all else flowed had lain dormant for too long. Stalling battled with the fraternal impulse to protect, driven as if a soul mate bent on sparing a brother from life's crueler realities.
That familiar and welcome flutter in his chest, confirming vision and actions remained aligned with the Universe, helped summon the strength not to act on the urge. He had overcome too much, too often, up to this point to lose focus now. Stalling continued to calm down as he looked back at how fast his epic vision had materialized. Despite all the contrary views and beliefs from his most trusted advisers, he never wavered in his faith, purpose or definit
eness of his vision.
*****
"It's beautiful." Janison had said, his rich baritone cracked with emotion. "It's just not possible...not yet. The technology required to simply study some of the basic concepts are at best ten years away."
Janison's fervent spirit, broad intellect and direct honesty were what made him such a rare asset. If there was any one person capable of persuading Stalling to alter his plans at that time, it was Janison. Stalling swallowed the well-rehearsed arguments he had prepared to everyone's objections—especially Janison's—and beckoned his friend to continue. Too many miraculous events had led up to that moment to let his ego get in the way now. Experience demonstrated more than once, patience, if he allowed it, would fit every piece into its proper place.
"I mean, don't get me wrong, its pure genius. Your theories alone will enable technology in a dozen fields to leap frog decades of arduous R&D." Janison drifted off as he dove deeper into schematics scrolling along on his telipad, his eyes lighting up with excitement every time he reread yet another novel approach. Stalling left Janison to dive deeper into the data and surveyed the reactions of his other guests.
A comfortable light bathed the intimate room, generated by an aged fire serenely glowing in a large hearth located against the back wall and a half dozen aesthetically placed antique lamps. Gathered in his home were the most brilliant minds Drakarle had to offer, each with an insatiable drive to push the edges of discovery.
In turn, these were the people feared most by the Church of Salvation. Each had made a conscious choice not to conform to the norm, yet born into Drakarle's elite ruling class and entitled to all its privileges, these rogues quickly earned confined positions early in their careers, culled from the rest of the flock where their radical ideas could not infect others.
Once safely tucked away into the farthest reaches of the theocratic machine, the C.O.S. leveraged their collective genius at leisure, forwarding the ulterior objectives of the leaders they stopped believing in long ago. Alone, each mind could be controlled and used as the "Almighty" intended, for the betterment of the Church and its followers, advancing technology and industry at the expense of the planet and all its living organisms.
Stalling relished the look of hope invading all the faces around the table. Calculating minds dug deeper into his supporting data, transitioning from "it's impossible!" reaction to "I never thought about approaching it from that angle. Maybe, just maybe, if we had the right people, the right resources, we could pull this off."
Dr. Jonas was the first to vocalize his thoughts, his chin still tucked into his neck as he read his telipad, lifting eyes above his reading glasses just enough to address the group as he spoke. "I fear my heart is preventing me from making a logical argument to any of this. Many a night, in this very room, we have allowed ourselves to imagine what the world could become if any of these concepts were to be realized. If I had known those inspired musings were the building blocks of the vision you present to us today...well, I might have allowed my optimism to linger once the sobering reality of morning came back into view. But, I just don't see how we will get past the first stage before..."
"They scuttle the entire project and manage to put us some place worse than we already are," Dr Whindem interrupted. She had come directly from work and had been unable to change out of her stiff monastery robes. Stalling smiled inwardly at the irony, the one person in the room, outside of himself, who resented the oppressive theocracy the most, was the only one in the room outwardly representing their order.
Unconsciously pinching the garb, plucking it away from her body, she continued with her heated tirade. "Shame on you Stalling Alterian! Shame on you for allowing us to dream again! We have confided in each other because we all benefit from its cathartic value but to present this monumental goal in the face of such great odds has been a waste of all our time and more importantly, an arrow to a soul that could not sustain another blow." Her rant diminished into a sorrowful plea.
"Meaning no disrespect Stalling," Dr. Glitus added, "but you have yet to experience the levels of subjugation as the rest of us. I think I speak for all here today when I point out the fact that our risk is much higher than yours."
"Trust me, in the end, my risk will far exceed the rest of yours," Stalling responded, ignoring the skeptical looks. "Risk level is not the issue. Did we all not stop worrying about risks the moment our intellect told us our station in life is not preordained by some omnipotent, vengeful deity? Has not the systematic destruction of our ambitions over the years been enough to risk it all for what we believe to be true? Alone, our attempts to change the existing system have failed. Regardless, even if somehow realized, none of it would have made a bit of difference in the end. The mission I propose is more than just reform. For the first time in over two thousand years, the playing field will be level. Join me on this journey and I will invest the entire Alterian fortune and exhaust all its associated clout in the process."
Stalling let his words wash over them as he met each eye. Many nodded their heads in agreement. The grounded science of his blueprint had already created a heady dose of optimism. The inclusion of Stalling's capital resources and political might had turned the faint spark of hope into a vibrant flame of possibility. Together, forged by a shared vision, Stalling knew they could accomplish anything, but it required all of them.
The room had fallen silent. The moment had arrived to make a decision. Stalling knew most in the room would have joined with or without his personal endorsement but a few still balked in fear. He had pulled out all the big guns and had started to scramble for something to say that would push the rest over when to his relief, but not surprise, Janison spoke.
"I'm in. The current system is flawed; the time for change has arrived. I trust Stalling with our future but more importantly, I trust our Savior has led us to this moment for this very reason." The influence of Janison's accession, the one and only member of the group with any semblance of religious faith, was immediate. Stalling had found salvation and, one by one, each vowed their allegiance toward building the road.
Leaning close to Stalling’s ear to combat the din of excitement rising in the room, Janison said with a glint of awe in his eye, "You know, given the talent in this room, we just may be able to pull this off sooner rather than later." Stalling simply smiled as if nothing could have made him happier to hear.
*****
How they would solve many of the big questions at that juncture remained unclear but Stalling soon stopped being surprised when they did. Where the team assembled that fateful day built the road, Jennifer built the vehicle, absent at the time, only nineteen years old, in the process of earning her doctorate in Molecular Engineering, the first of many doctorates she would earn.
The link visor enabled Jennifer to become dramatically more efficient, eliminating over night the need of a dozen technicians. Soon after its invention, it simply made more sense to have her do it all versus taking the time to bring everyone else up to speed. Outside of a few top assistants relegated to the role of understudy in case, the Universe forbid, anything happened to her, Jennifer was the entire department dedicated to the most important experiment the world had ever known.
No one had logged more hours in this room than Jennifer, Stalling coming in a distant second, and the wear and tear of it all was starting to show. Now, as the climactic finale approached, Jennifer, sleeping in a cot located in the back corner of the lab for the past year, spent every waking hour focused on the project's last and most important phase.
Stalling recently confided to Lorissa during one of their late evening dinners—his wife more interested in the psychological events of his day then any scientific breakthrough—that he struggled with the role he had played in Jennifer's hermit existence. Gifted intellect beyond measure, a drive to succeed rivaled by few, Stalling's gratitude for Jennifer's involvement grew every day. She truly was one of the few people he could say without them, the project would fail.
"
What I fear most," he confessed, "is that, once the project is complete, she loses her sense of purpose."
"Did you ever stop to think her dedication reached beyond the drive for scientific discovery?"
"I don't follow. We pay her a fortune and I tell her frequently she is worth every bit and then some."
With a sympathetic expression and a smile conveying love and admiration, Lorissa had reached over and caressed his hand. "You are a good man Stalling Alterian, but so oblivious at times to the ways of women."
"You’re not suggesting she has romantic interest in me, are you?"
"I swear Stalling, the size of your ego never ceases to amaze me. Yes, her heart dictates her decisions more then you realize. No, you are not the object of her love."
"Then who? Antone is more laughable then me. There is no other man in her life."
"Have you forgotten about the one man who has been in her life every minute of the day for the past ten years?" The question had haunted Stalling since.
When did he stop being a person?
The clatter of Jennifer's link visor as it hit and slid across the table slung him back to the pressing present. Jennifer rubbed her temples, puffed out her cheeks before exhaling a long, bewildered breath. "Well, it appears the issue is occurring everywhere now: the Auranet, the entrainment platform, the library, everything with a direct link to the mainframe."
As she was prone to do when her mind was fried, she threw her lab coat off, jumped on the treadmill stationed in the middle of the room and set into a brisk jog. The tight fitting one piece jumper—the breathable material providing perfect support of her sultry curves, previously concealed by the lab coat's boxy cut—and rhythmic bounce of her stride was an immediate distraction the most devout monk could not deny.
Known Afterlife (The Provider Trilogy, Volume One) Page 6