The Reality Thief (Deplosion Book 1)

by Paul Anlee

  “Ah, back to religion.”

  “Sadly, yes. People have used religion to provide the justification to carry out horrible acts of war, murder, slavery and discrimination. Anyone should hate that part. Religious faith can inspire people to overcome their limitations to act for the common good beyond their normal family and tribal groups. But it can also get abused. It's used to vilify and dehumanize outsiders, to claim some twisted sense of superiority, to call individuals, communities and whole countries to war. Faith itself isn’t the problem, but specific belief systems can be counterproductive to human progress.”

  Paul looked at his son in a whole new light. It’s not just that he’s smarter. He’s mature, wise beyond his years. “So, without any religious faith, with just Nature, how do you find the strength and motivation to carry on?”

  Darian spread his arms wide, grinning. “Look at me. I’m young. My body is full of life-affirming hormones coursing through my veins. I have a pretty good life. I haven’t lived long enough for fear to conquer me.” Paul was relieved to see this flash of boyish playfulness—his son!—still alive and well inside this passionate philosopher sitting across from him.

  “Seriously, though? I don’t know. I don’t have an answer to that. The universe is still full of so many fascinating things. I hope to figure out the point of it all before it becomes boring and predictable.”

  Paul marveled at his son’s growth, fearlessly facing the universe on its own terms, exactly as it was. “You know, I realize the dendies make you a lot smarter than you used to be, but when did you become so wise?”

  “Wait until you read my analysis of War and Peace before you conclude I have any wisdom at all,” quipped Darian, back to being a typical smart-aleck teenager. Paul shook his head and rolled his eyes with dramatic exaggeration.

  They laughed it off, and parted with a hug. It felt good to share a rare “normal” father-and-son moment. Exhausted, Paul wished his son goodnight and they went to their rooms.

  Darian drifted off to sleep thinking about the challenge his father had given him earlier, to figure out how one might live a life of meaning and purpose in the universe as it was, without the promise of some future reward or the threat of future punishment. His dreams that night were more vivid than normal, and his dendies were unusually active. While Darian dreamed, the dendies got down to work. They estimated a lengthy computation.

  18

  “INTERESTING,” repeated Lord Mika as he reviewed Brother Yonteg’s memories of the previous night.

  All twelve Brothers, monks of the Alumita, had been invited to dine with Brother Stralasi and Shard Darak on their last night on the planet.

  Although nobody included him directly in the conversation, Brother Yonteg was able to follow most of what was said from his seat at the far end of the table. At one point, feeling emboldened by Darak’s friendly and open manner, and owing to a generous portion of the Alumita’s best wine, Yonteg asked the Shard if he might perform a small miracle for the Brothers.

  The Angel, Mika, watched the whole event play out vividly on an isolated sub-lattice of his mind.

  * * *

  “LORD DARAK HAS MORE IMPORTANT THINGS TO DO than exhibit his powers for our amusement,” Brother Stralasi chastised. The Shard graciously put the monk’s objections to rest and assured them that it would be his pleasure. “Please, if someone would dim the lights for us,” he requested.

  Holding his hands slightly apart, a glowing ball of blue fire emerged between them, hovering over the remnants of his dinner. He moved his hands, rotating the fist-sized ball this way and that. The Brothers applauded encouragingly and asked for more.

  Darak parted his hands, releasing the glowing globe to float freely. It rose gently, rhythmically expanding and contracting as if it were breathing. Upon reaching the ceiling, it descended a meter or so, and then bobbed unsteadily into each of the four corners of the hall, like a balloon caught in a breeze. As it neared each successive corner, it traced a small vertical circle, leaving behind a yellow toroid that started to rotate as the sphere moved on.

  Centering itself between the soft, yellow, twirling donuts, the sphere resumed its original position above the mesmerized audience. They cooed appreciatively as the bobbing sphere transformed into a glimmering pyramid with a delicately fluted pinnacle that started spurting red luminescence, like lava from a volcano.

  Identical fountains materialized between the corners of the room, and the liquid light danced wildly for several more seconds, spraying droplets in all directions. Much to everyone's delight, the four outer fountains rose above the diners’ heads, and started moving clockwise around the center one, slowly at first and then faster, until the room became a kaleidoscopic blur of blue and red. With a loud “pop!” the spinning halted, and all five fountains and the spinning toroids exploded in a shower of brilliant rainbow droplets of light.

  * * *

  “CHEAP MIND TRICKS,” muttered the Angel. He had to admit, though, Darak had demonstrated a masterful command of the InterLat broadcast function. For a non-augmented human—even for one with access to secret knowledge of lattice technology—hacking into the perceptions of twelve individuals at one time without using a visible induction matrix was pretty impressive. Good enough to astound the dim-witted masses, in any case.

  On the other hand, while such illusions were trivial for a real Shard to perform, they were not of sufficient caliber to verify a person’s claim of a holy connection to Alum. Not like the time-honored miracles of curing a deadly disease or changing water into wine, for example.

  As a level-headed Angel and an unflappable strategist, Lord Mika concluded that perhaps Alum was reacting somewhat overzealously.

  So what, if some unknown person claiming to be a Shard makes an unscheduled visit to this lonely planet on the edge of the Da’arkness? Why should that matter to Alum?

  Granted, there was that niggling mystery of how the audacious poser had arrived. Had he hacked the starstep, hiding traces of his arrival and origin? It was entirely conceivable that a renegade engineer with the skill set this man possessed might be capable of pulling off such a feat. Even at that, it seemed frivolous to employ an Angel for such basic policing duty.

  But Angels do as Alum commands—he reminded himself. If Alum thinks an Angel’s presence is warranted, it is my duty to be here.

  He did not consider it heretical to question the judgment of the Living God. Over the ages, Alum had endowed the Angels with adequate programming to match their great power. He had come to trust that the combination was crucial in ensuring His Will was followed. As trusted enforcers of Alum’s Will, Angels wielded high levels of independence and discretion. In Alum’s Name, they were sent to dangerous places, home worlds of advanced alien races and asteroid warrens of renegade colonies, and were often out of communication for extended periods. In many cases, simplistic, mindless execution of guidelines from thousands of light years away could lead to unfortunate setbacks in the Divine Plan.

  Lord Mika resumed his scrutiny of Brother Yonteg’s memories.

  * * *

  clear night sky became visible. The stars! The Brothers looked around, once again in utter amazement. Sometime during the light display, the entire dinner assembly was transferred from inside the Residence to the lawn outside in the middle of Center Park. Everything on and around the table was still in place. No one had sensed any movement and yet, here they were, surrounded by grass, flowers, and tall trees framing the night sky. They applauded and cheered, drawing the startled attention of people strolling along nearby paths. Passersby gathered around to hear excited stories of the Shard’s miraculous display. A smiling Darak humbly accepted the praise and adoration of the Brothers and their flock.

  * * *

  OKAY, SO THAT WAS A NEAT TRICK—Lord Mika acknowledged. Darak’s considerable skill at mental manipulation had convinced several hundred people at once of a single, shared hallucination. But from the response of the passersby, relocation of the dining table
from the hall to the park outside was, by all appearances, an actual, physical transfer. How could that be possible? No one other than Alum, Himself, had that power!

  Maybe Alum was right to send an investigating Angel, after all. If Darak’s powers were real, even if they were based on technology rather than Divine Grace, he could pose a threat to the Realm. I have to confirm.

  He reviewed the recent memories of the remaining population of Alumston, searching out those who had interacted with Darak. The citizens of the town received no more than a few seconds warning by InterLat before the Angel plunged into their minds. They dropped whatever they were doing and sat or laid down wherever where ever they could for the next several minutes, as Lord Mika simultaneously, and painfully, examined their memories to find those from the several hundred who had met with the false Shard.

  Weaving together the many images, he formed a complete picture of the man, Darak. He saw how it was only the proclamation by Brother Stralasi, and not by Darak himself, that had led the townspeople to believe he was a Shard of Alum.

  Darak seemed like a kind man, knowledgeable about details prohibited to the general population but, otherwise, not overly special. Were it not for the post-dinner theatrics and lack of transfer record, Lord Mika would not have thought anything of him at all. Yes, we will have to locate and interrogate this Darak in order to clear up the mystery.

  Which brought to mind the other detail bothering the Angel: he could find no trace of either Darak or Brother Stralasi on the InterLat. The planetary satellite system was in place and its self-diagnostics didn’t indicate any functional issues.

  If the two men were on the planet, they should be registering an InterLat signature and location.

  If Darak was hiding their presence, that would make him an extraordinarily talented engineer, and blatant breaker of Alum’s laws. Such skills and knowledge should situate him, mentally and physically, within the upper echelons of the technological elite on Home World, not traveling around like some vagabond on the edge of civilization.

  Their public travel plans matched the memories of those they encountered as they left town. They were headed for the foothills to the west of Alumston.

  It should be easy enough to locate them there. He left the Alumston Transportation Ceraffice, with his Securitor Cybrids trailing close behind. They rose a few dozen meters into the air and sped westward.

  19

  BROTHER STRALASI WAS GROWING HOT and impatient. He had been meditating cross-legged on the hard, dry ground for over an hour and he was eager to be on the way.

  As Head Brother, he wasn't accustomed to waiting for people. Quite the contrary. He glanced over at Shard Darak, a motionless and inscrutable pillar, who had not stirred the whole time. Even a Shard’s rear end must be growing numb by now—Stralasi grumbled.

  As if hearing the monk’s unspoken words, Darak rose. He looked eastward, back toward town.

  “What is it, my Lord?” Stralasi inquired.

  “Our wait is coming to an end. Now we will learn how Alum deals with surprises.”

  The words were spoken clearly enough, and yet they made no sense to Stralasi. The monk unfolded his stiff, aching legs and cajoled his frame upright, to better see what had attracted Darak’s attention.

  Three small dots punctuated the blue sky above the hills a kilometer away. They swept to the left, and then to the right, executing a narrow search pattern.

  Stralasi was a learned man, having spent several years at the Home World Alumita Seminary. He recognized the advancing dots immediately. Securitors! What are they doing here? Is this Darak’s missing entourage? Have they come to escort us?

  He raised his arm and waved a helpful greeting. The Securitors ceased scanning and headed directly for the pair. As they drew closer, Stralasi saw they were not three Securitors, but two Securitors and an Angel. An Angel!

  He had encountered Angels on Home World, and so was not as terrified as the common man might have been. He knew that he was so far beneath the notice of an Angel, he had nothing to fear. Had any of his transgressions merited Alum’s disciplinary attention, he would have been a smoking cinder long ago. So, what could they want?

  The Angel settled gently to the ground a few meters in front of Darak. The pair of Securitors took positions on either side of the men. Darak waited patiently while the Angel studied him.

  The Angel smiled, though there was neither welcome nor comfort in the gesture. “I am Lord Mika, Commander of the Alutius Wing. My Cybrids detect nothing to draw you to this place.” His voice was the most beautiful sound Stralasi had ever heard. It resonated all around him and echoed lightly off the nearby hills.

  Darak returned the smile. “Yet here I am, and so here,” he swept his arms outward, palms up as if showcasing the desert view for their visitor’s appreciation, “must be where I intended to be.”

  The Angel’s smile grew broader and colder. “Yes, we have questions about how you came to be here but, first, we will know who you are,” he commanded.

  “I am Darak Legsu,” he replied, and bowed.

  “Not Shard Darak?”

  “Oh, no!” Darak laughed. “Not Shard Darak, no. At least, no longer. Surely that ruse has no further purpose, not to one like you.”

  Brother Stralasi stared at Darak. Not a Shard? That’s not possible! Everything about him screams Shard. I've seen him perform miracles. If he’s not a Shard, the only possible explanation can be…he must be a demon of the Da’arkness!

  Stralasi’s heart raced as the events of the past few days fell into place. The shock that he had been fooled so easily hit him like a physical blow. I prostrated myself before this demon! I introduced him to the townspeople as a Holy man! Worse yet, I’m standing here alongside this demon as he confronts an Angel!

  Oh, dear Alum! How could I have been so blind? He dropped to his knees, burying his head in his hands and bawled. “Forgive me, mighty Angel of Alum, for I have been tricked by this Deceiver! Destroy him and free me, I pray!”

  Darak turned to the distressed Brother. “Rise and bear witness, Brother Stralasi,” he said in a voice as commanding as the Angel’s.

  Stralasi couldn’t help but obey. He shuffled to one side so as not to stand between Darak and either of the hovering Securitors. To his dismay, they adjusted their positions and maintained a bead on him. That’s it. I am doomed.

  Lord Mika’s golden eyes flared. “You display some admirable talents, Darak Legsu, but you are no more demon than Shard. Let us see whether your talents extend beyond trickery, shall we?”

  Tendrils whipped out from the smooth black surfaces of the Securitors and curled tightly around the two men, lifting them up, and leaving their feet waggling a good half meter above the ground.

  “No, apparently they do not,” Lord Mika smirked as Stralasi struggled and Darak tranquilly contemplated his bindings.

  The Angel rose and turned back toward town, satisfied and a little disappointed. “I didn’t think so. We shall return to the starstep and proceed to Home World for questioning.”

  “Thank you, Lord Mika, but I’m afraid we’ll have to decline. Brother Stralasi and I have other plans,” Darak explained.

  The Angel wheeled around to address the impertinent man. The Securitors’ tendrils retracted and the two men dropped freely to the ground, issuing soft “oophs” from their diaphragms as they landed.

  “Well, that was rude,” commented Darak.

  The Securitors each emitted an ear-splitting squeal, shuddered, and fell to the ground, inert and deaf to the Angel’s commands. Lord Mika scanned for signs of damage or system subversion but found nothing to explain their failure. And yet, impossibly, their internal microverses—their practically indestructible power sources—had collapsed. Without power, they were dead.

  Ignoring Brother Stralasi, Lord Mika zeroed in on Darak. The golden eyes narrowed and took fresh assessment of the offending man before him. “Clearly, there is more to you than I expected,” he admitted.

  He
translocated himself to a point immediately behind the man and wrapped his arms, rumored to be strong enough to crush entire buildings, tightly around the man.

  Darak spun around within the powerful grip and faced the Angel. He drew his knees sharply upward and, pushing off from his sternum, escaped Lord Mika’s clutches.

  The Angel struggled to recover his balance and composure, while Darak drifted gently to the ground, four meters away.

  Angels do not get angry—Alum dictates that anger is counterproductive in battle—but they do get determined. And this particular Angel was now supremely determined to submit this mysterious man to full interrogation back on Home World. No matter if all that remained to interrogate was the man’s neural lattice inside his severed head.

  Lord Mika drew his sapphire sword. He closed the distance to Darak in two inhumanly fast steps, and took a mighty swing, intending to remove the head of this perturbing anomaly.

  Darak ducked effortlessly beneath the blade.

  Impossible! The Angel’s movement had taken less than two hundred milliseconds. It wasn’t possible for a human to react fast enough to avoid the severing edge. And yet, Darak had.

  Lord Mika reconsidered the situation. This man, by all outward appearances and cursory scans a normal man, had exhibited skill in altering starstep records. He’d changed the perceptions of hundreds of individuals by hacking into their neural lattices and providing false input, simultaneously and in real-time. He’d disabled two Securitors, possibly collapsing their microverse power systems, squirmed out of an Angel’s grasp, and avoided a sword moving at hypersonic speeds. He’d demonstrated the strength and speed of an Angel. This man was not at all normal. He was not simply a talented renegade engineer.