by Jon Chaisson
“They aren't jinko, you mean,” Saisshalé said.
Natianos winced at the racist term. “No, they're not. But they're sympathetic to the cause. I want them to know they have this choice.”
“Why would you want that, Dahné?” he asked.
“Saisshalé, think about what I've just said. If we went out there and forced all the Shenaihu to follow us, we'd have a revolt and our movement would die. What Nehalé Usarai has done out there is awaken everyone, Mendaihu and Shenaihu alike. And they all have their own free will, Saisshalé. They can choose to follow, they can choose to abstain, they can choose any damn thing their heart desires. Because the main thing is, it's their Trisandi spirit that's been activated. Remember, their connections to Trisanda are just as close as ours. We populated this planet, and we can control it if we so wish. But we don't gain control by taking away free will. We gain it by giving them their free will, but with one small shadow hanging over their heads at all times.”
“And this shadow would be...?”
“Fear,” he said. “In whatever form that works best. The rumor of war. Incompetence of the leader. A dangerous uprising. The threat of personal liberties being taken away. Have you noticed the general mood of the people on the street? Studied indifference. The people have become detached from their reality. Why? Because they know that something's wrong. They just don't know what it is yet.”
Saisshalé nodded. “Someone's been studying Gharné history lately.”
Again with the mockery! “Why do you say that?” he said.
“Well, because this studied indifference has been going on for centuries now, Dahné. Why else do you think the people of Earth accepted the Meraladhza so easily? They were expecting alien contact at some point. It was only a matter of when. The Gharné have gone past jaded and gone straight into apathetic. They're sick of waiting for answers that aren't going to be given to them.”
“Exactly. So they’re going to want to find them on their own.”
Saisshalé snorted at him. “Good luck with that, Dahné.”
“Faith, dear Saisshalé,” he countered. “Have faith. I believe history has changed this time out. And I have a few things planned that will get these people moving.”
“And you're not going to share, are you?”
“Not yet.”
Saisshalé fidgeted in his chair and crossed his arms. Natianos' expectations of this man were still high, but he was yet to prove to him that he was worthy of being the deity he claimed to be. He had no doubt he was the once-mighty Saisshalé...but the emphasis, at least for him, was still on the once-mighty. The man had a high intelligence, extraordinary strength, and stubborn will to get what he wanted; it was just a matter of getting him to use them properly and consistently. Right now, all Natianos saw was a hired strong man with a good mind for planning, just like any of the others he'd hired. And quite a deeply embedded strain of cynicism.
Perhaps it was time to start the next phase.
“I need you to do something,” he said.
Saisshalé cocked an eyebrow at him, again with that amused smile. “Consider it done, Dahné.”
He ignored the subservient tone and brought up a holo of the Bridgetown Sprawl map on his desk. He refocused on the southern end of the Sprawl and zoomed in. He caught Saisshalé's slight head bob to the right as he watched and hid his amusement, oddly comforted in the fact that underneath the bravado, the deity was still human. He halted the image above a strip of high rise buildings a few miles west of Lexington Square in South City.
“I believe you’re familiar with NullTech Alley. These are the corporate headquarters of three biggest companies on Earth, all conveniently right next door to each other. EdenTree Universal Technologies: the leaders in ajyinul research, nulltech and Light travel. Khema-Jamison-Shimura: leaders in low-orbit research and information technologies. And DuaLife: leaders in medical and psychological research. Do you understand what I’m saying? There is no actual industry down in South City. The production of any company is made outside the Sprawl, in the Outpost Cities and shipped here. The Sprawls only deal with sales, research and profit now.”
Saisshalé frowned. “I'm not sure I follow you.”
“I wasn't quite finished. Now, Bridgetown is called ‘the center of Gharra’ mainly because we first landed here, but that’s really taken on a completely different meaning. It is now the hub for virtually every important industry on the planet. Corporate business is not what I had in mind here, however. What I want you to do is keep an eye on these three buildings. They're quite the valuable asset, more so than anyone would ever imagine. If anything were to happen to these three buildings, Bridgetown would be financially and politically crippled for a long time to come. I suggest you go, keep watch down there. Make sure they still know the meaning of studied indifference.”
Saisshalé fidgeted in his chair, and said nothing for once.
“Thank you, Saisshalé. That will be all.”
Janoss Miradesi stepped into the office minutes after Saisshalé had left it. Janoss was repeatedly glancing at the door, as if expecting the man to come rushing back into the room to tear things apart. They had passed in the anteroom and said nothing to each other, but the fire in the man’s eyes sent Janoss reeling. His belief in the older deities was stronger than Natianos', and he had regarded Saisshalé with reverence and trepidation ever since Natianos had summoned him.
Janoss was looking a little disheveled, as if he'd been running around multitasking all morning. His suit hung from him like he'd slept in it for the past two days, his body was hunched over in visible exhaustion and defeat, and there were heavy circles under his eyes. This was not the same man that attacked Nehalé Usarai, nearly destroying a church in the process. Something was wrong but Natianos said nothing; Janoss would come around soon enough, given time and a reason for doing so.
“Good afternoon, Dahné,” Janoss said, bowing slightly.
“Good afternoon, Janoss. Please, have a seat. What can I do for you?”
Janoss glanced at the door again before answering. “Forgive my intrusion, but do you really think it's a good idea for Saisshalé to be moving around down there?”
Natianos frowned at him. “Why not? It would keep him out of trouble.”
“But sir —”
“Trust me on this, Janoss,” he said. “I have a very good reason. If he gets out of hand, there are more kiralla down there than in any other sector combined, and they’ll know when something is up before anyone else.”
Janoss stopped in mid-breath and stared at him. Natianos felt a brief wave of fear wash over the man and fan outwards. He hid a smile behind a hand held to his mouth. After the frustrating and multi-layered conversation with Saisshalé, talking to Janoss was a relief. Everything was in black and white terms and with simple emotions. His face was pale, his hands shook, and many different levels of anxiety were rushing through him, all fighting to be on top.
“Did you say kiralla, sir?” Janoss said, his voice barely audible.
“That I did,” Natianos said calmly, playing at the man's fears. “I've been aware of their presence for some time now, Janoss. Just as I've visited Trisanda as frequently as I have. I'm surprised you don't know more about those wonderful spirit creatures.”
“I...I did,” he managed. “I mean, I do. I know they're here, sir.”
Natianos smiled. “Good. Then you know that they've been going through their own unique awakening process over the last few months. Months, Janoss! They knew about the One of All Sacred much earlier than anyone else around here.”
“They're not here to fight,” Janoss said, regaining some of his courage to speak his mind. “They've never been here to fight, just observe and keep everything from getting out of hand. They’re just overseers.”
“Very good, Janoss,” Natianos smiled. “Let's just hope that they don't appear in their spirit form, eh? It would be a pity for us angels and demons to be trampled to death by the true fire breathers.”
>
Janoss bristled. “That's not even a joke, sir.”
Natianos studied the man for a moment before answering. “No, I don't suppose it is,” he said. “I apologize.”
Janoss nodded ever so slightly.
Natianos continued to watch him. He’d changed over the last few weeks, ever since the failed Ascension. At first he thought he’d been afraid, since he had purposely not told him about summoning Saisshalé. Keeping Denni Johnson from ascending had been imperative to the survival of the Shenaihu nuhm'ndah. And in the process, Janoss now regarded him with a mixture of subservience and fear, two things he did not want in an assistant. First Saisshalé's disobedience, now Janoss' fear. What had happened?
“You're planning to overtake corporate, sir?” Janoss asked, breaking the silence. “Are you sure that's a good idea?”
“I’m not doing anything of the sort,” he said. “I’m just having him keep an eye on the area. Have him establish a bit of a presence there.”
Janoss frowned. “What good would it do? The workers have remained loyal to you and the company, regardless of their awakening. Begging your pardon, sir, but what are you really doing down there?”
“All in due time,” Natianos said. “The most important thing here is that everything stays according to plan.”
Janoss stared at him, the unasked question flashing across his face.
“There will be a convergence, Janoss. There's no avoiding it now. But there will be no eradication of Shenaihu, now that the One has not ascended. There will be no simple battles, as the One has not called her Mendaihu forces together. Most importantly, there will be no simple end to it. The Shenaihu will be victorious, and the cycle of death and rebirth will start again.”
Janoss shivered again, but said nothing.
“I plan to be there at the rebirth,” Natianos added.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Vigil
She felt the familiar twinge just behind her right ear, an itch like a misplaced hair irritating the skin. A second later she heard his gravelly voice, slightly tinny and crackly through the implant.
“HQ to Madin,” Matthew said. “You in house today?”
Jenn Underwood shook her head in amusement. It wasn't often that Matthew called her up in this manner, but when he did it had to be important. Her amusement was aimed at his strict use of code names and words when he was jacked in. She tolerated it only because she knew it was his way of asserting his role as leader of Vigil while throwing a little levity in there at the same time.
She sub-vocalized her voice in return. “Madin is currently waiting for a client to access some files today, thank you very much. What's up, my esteemed Dahné?”
Matthew hmmphed in response. “Go visual and I'll show you.”
She winced. “Kind of a bad time. I'm at work, remember?”
“This will only take a few moments.”
She grunted quietly and shook her head. She hated using her eyecam implants in reverse mode. It gave her a migraine if she used it for too long. Additionally, focusing between visual and realtime was always a problem, and her facial expression often turned into something of a scowl.
Regardless, she settled herself down at her desk. She flicked on the vidmat and called up the Data Research Library search engine. Her department encouraged netsurfing, especially during work hours, as there was never an end to the data in this world that could be captured and saved for reference. She began typing random phrases like mandarin oranges and Carl Jung while accessing her eyecam at the same time.
Matthew Davison’s image popped into sight in her right eye. Dressed conservatively in a buttoned shirt with his longish dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, he looked a bit nervous and tired, but that was his normal appearance. He was the leader of Vigil, one of the most feared jacker gangs in Bridgetown; when he wasn’t at his day job as a communications tech programmer at Khema-Jamison-Shimura, he was often instilling just enough chaos in all the corporate networks in the Sprawl to, as Vigil’s manifesto said, “keep the playing fields even.” Their current focus, however, was not on corporations but on the Mendaihu and the Shenaihu.
“Confirmed, visual,” he said, his image captured by the low-tech miniature camera mounted above his main monitor. He had a strangely comforting grin on his face, which could only mean that they had a big job on their hands. Something that would mean more than just the usual shenanigans. Something with more meaning.
“What do we have?” she asked.
“Check this out...” A second window popped open beside him, sharing the same cramped space. “I think I found a lead on the ‘here lies fate’ tagging. Watch this.”
Jenn let out an angry grunt. “You called me up for that?”
“Hold it,” he said, and reached somewhere off camera. “Watch the lower left corner.”
Judging from the grainy wide-focus view, the image must have been picked up by a nearby security camera. The timestamp revealed it had been shot only yesterday, around noon, at the northeast corner of Guyton Street East and Holgate Street, just across the street from St. Paul's Church in the Waterfront Sector. It was lunchtime for quite a few business people from just down the street, many of them doing their shopping or stopping at the restaurants that dotted the Guyton Street East strip.
“See that man, brown frizzy hair, dark green sweatshirt, B-Town Saints ball cap, about six-three?”
The man was standing at the end of a line of people waiting for a transit bus. “Yes...”
“Keep watching him. Ready? Three...two...one....boom.” The man had disappeared into thin air.
Jenn caught her breath. “Where did he go? Did he just step into Light?”
“Others would have felt it,” Matt said, shaking his head. “They would have heard the snap of air, and the visual would have caught the light flash.”
“So how...?”
“Watch that lower left corner.”
Five seconds went by. Ten. Fifteen. Then there was an obscurity of...light? A bird flying by? Something happened in that corner of the screen, and then the words here lies fate appeared, freshly painted at the exact spot the man had vacated. A pedestrian stepped onto the words, apparently unaware of them, and kept walking. It already dry.
Jenn stared at the image within her right eye and felt weak. “What the hells is going on?” She shook her head, blinked twice to regain her sense of balance. “What just happened?”
Matthew shut down the second window. “I don't know, but I probably should find out.”
Jenn nodded uncertainly. “You do that,” she said. “Any idea who he was?”
“Our fadin is looking into it,” he said, referring to Shirai — the Mirades Tower’s resident AI, and Vigil’s priceless connection to the inner workings of the corporate Sprawl — by calling her mother in Anjshé. It was creepy but in a funny, very Matthew sort of way. “She's running face recognition, and she's narrowed it down to about a dozen hopefuls. She should have a definite in an hour or so.”
Jenn exhaled, gathering her thoughts. Matthew’s revelation had surprised her to the point that she'd stopped entering search topics over a few minutes ago. She cursed and hoped no one had wandered by to see her staring blankly at nothing, typed out Shirai without thinking, and entered it before she could stop herself. “So how do I fit in?” she asked, while absently scrolling down the links related to the AI. “What do you need?”
“An opening. Once Fadin finds out who that guy is, I'm going to need at least a half hour of digging. Won't bore you with the details, but I know exactly what I'd be looking for. I'd do a download and cut the connection as soon as I'm done. That a problem?”
Jenn huffed in frustration, this one deliberately loud enough for Matthew to hear. If all he needed was a tiny sliver of research time, he could have come out and asked on a landline instead of distracting her with a light show. She glanced at the schedule board posted next to the vidmat for research time and what openings she could use for him, and immediately swore.
Matthew looked crestfallen. He could not get a simple hack into the DRL database, despite the wealth of technology in that back room of his. “What about now?” he said. Not asked.
“Dahné,” she sighed. “I can't just —”
“Look,” he said gruffly. “Just one fucking item. That's all I need, once Fadin gets the name to me. You know it's important.”
Goddess, she bristled, shaking her head. “Let me see what I can —”
The buzz of the office intercom interrupted her words. That had to be Christine. “I’ve got company,” she said. “Let me call you back with the time. Promise.”
Matthew hmmphed again and logged off. She blinked her eyes rapidly to regain proper focus, all the while battling the growing migraine. The intercom buzzed again, followed by Christine's voice calling out.
“Just...” she cleared her throat, hiding a grunt of pain. Damn that eyecam. Kills me every time. “Just a sec, Chris. Let me buzz you in.”
Christine Gorecki stepped through the door with a half-grin on her face and an overstuffed satchel slung across her shoulder. She closed the door quietly and took a seat on an uncluttered corner of the desk. “Hey there, eichi,” she said, touching her on the shoulder. “Long time no see. How are you?”
“Headache from hell,” Jenn managed, “but otherwise okay. Day's lasted a little longer than it's supposed to. You all set with your research, or do you need a tutorial?”
“All business,” Christine said, cracking a smile. “I've trained you well. I'm all set with the tutorial. So honestly — how are you, Jenn? I mean, I haven't seen you in six months. Let down the guard and talk to me.”