Kharmic Rebound

by Yeager, Aaron

“Oh.”

  She thought for a moment, gently biting down on her luscious lip. But I suppose I could create an analogue. Project the aether as something mundane that your primitive brain can comprehend, like colors.

  “Is primitive really the best word?”

  You’re right, of course. Primitive indicates that you could one day progress and evolve, and that is impossible. Perhaps retarded would be more accurate.

  “I think I preferred the first one.”

  Her ta’atu flashed and suddenly Gerald was surrounded by a sea of colors. Rivers of turquoise and vermillion flowed in and out of the room like a gentle breeze. It flowed into each person, then out of them again. The people themselves were filled with the stuff, passing through their veins and arteries like droplets of sunlight, swirling about their muscles like curling vines. When they spoke it created indigo ripples, when they thought it created periwinkle eddies. Their emotions wafted off of them like pollen, swirling around and filling the room, before gently descending and dusting those around them. It surprised him so much that he nearly lost his footing.

  The conveyor belts he had seen were not empty at all. They were beams of light that extended like a spider’s web for nearly a mile in every direction. He could see down at the far end where garbage trucks dumped their collected refuse onto the beams. Then workers would channel the pools of indigo through themselves and into the trash. They willed it into dozens of claws that pulled apart the material, breaking it down into its basic components. Other workers refined it further, creating millions of tiny hands so small they were little more than a mist; breaking down the matter into its smallest elements. The next workers in line would create a breeze of lavender that sorted some elements onto one belt, and other elements onto another. Still more workers infused magenta rays into the dust, and it took on its own color, as if it were aether as well.

  From there the readied material entered new rooms where still more workers sung to the floating colors around them and the matter reorganized itself, following patterns laid out by master copies that hung in the air above them. Structural crystals like bones, circuits like nerves, motors like muscles, covered by still more workers with stylish casings.

  By the time they were done, the products were fully formed and boxed, and the floor would reshape itself into tubes that sucked up the boxes like great worms, taking them down to the floors below where the aether would be restored to normal matter.

  “You recycle everything from trash?” Gerald asked aloud.

  On a planet like Central it’s cheaper than mining the ore ourselves, even when you consider the exorbitant amounts we pay for these individual’s unique talents.

  Her voice was everywhere, through him and around him, as if she was the voice of creation itself.

  Plus, the local government pays us a hefty sum to do the trash collection, so we make money at both ends. That is the Ssykes way.

  Gerald realized that he was actually looking through the walls as if they weren’t there at all. He looked down, and he could see arteries of crimson energy moving through the planet, continents and tectonic plates held up by blossoming fountains of it, all connecting at the core, which pulsed like a living heartbeat. He looked out and could see out into the sky. Streams of light fanned out into space like a giant tree. The vast interstellar distances between planets suddenly felt like nothing, and for a second he swore he could see where each branch connected to another living world like this one. And each of those beat with a heart of their own. The sky was no longer a black void dotted with small points of distant burning gas, but a sea of life, filled with a chorus of voices. Roots growing out through space, connecting all life everywhere like a giant tree.

  “This is incredible.” He looked back towards her and was amazed at what he saw. Cha’Rolette floated in the air above him, surrounded by the purest white light that fell off of her long, flowing robes. Each of her ta’atu appeared as an estuary of energy that reached out and touched everyone and everything around her. She looked like an angel.

  And then, just as soon as it had appeared, the vision was gone, and Gerald was back in a colorless world of dull grays and empty conveyor belts.

  Losing his strength, he began to wobble, and she had to prop herself underneath one of his arms to keep him from falling over.

  “I... I can’t believe it,” he stammered, trying to remember everything he could. Reviewing what he had seen over and over again to fix it permanently in his memory. “I... I get it now. The priests and priestesses always taught me that through the aether everything was connected, but I never really understood it until now.”

  Cha’Rolette gently patted his rock-hard bicep. And yet you presume to lecture me.

  The ceiling opened up above them and she levitated him back to where they had begun. Gerald looked over at her with new eyes. Even now, the angelic image in his vision dominated his thoughts. He wondered if perhaps he had been wrong about her. He wondered if perhaps she was someone he could trust. He wondered if this was someone he could...

  And then he saw it.

  “What is that?” he called out, forcefully tearing himself away from her and walking over to a stack of crates.

  She lifted an eyebrow. What is what?

  He picked up a small box. The logo on the cover was something he had seen nearly every day of his life. Something that he had grown to despise more than anything else.

  Without thinking, he tore into the box and began yanking out the packing material.

  I hope you plan to pay for that, Gerald.

  He pulled out a gaming helmet and held it out before her accusingly. “Ssykes makes True-Life?”

  Harec Toyline is one of our subsidiaries, but yes, it is part of the corporate umbrella.

  His face twisted with disgust. “Do you know what this did to my people? Do you know how dangerous this thing is?”

  Dangerous? Pffftt, it’s a children’s game. Not even that popular anymore. We probably won’t support it past next quarter.

  “Yes, to aliens it’s just a toy, but to humans, this thing is recklessly addictive.”

  It wasn’t made for humans. It was never designed with the human brain in mind. We had no way of knowing...

  Gerald threw the helmet to the ground, cracking the faceplate. The violence of it startled her. “But you didn’t stop making it when you found out, did you?!”

  She folded her arms before her. No. Of course not. It was already alliance certified as safe, so we can’t be held responsible for any side effects from its misuse.

  The iciness of her response enraged him further.

  “Misuse?”

  Yes, it was made for Veludens. For any other race to use it counts as misuse and voids the warranty.

  Reaching up and grabbing his necklace, he tried to pray, but the words just wouldn’t come.

  “Please don’t take this the wrong way,” he forced himself to say, “but I don’t think I can accept your donations.”

  She blinked. Why not?

  “Because I’d really rather not owe you people anything.”

  She floated over to the waiting crates of vegetables. You like to remain your own master. I can respect that. But, if you leave it here, this food will rot and go to waste.

  Her ta’atu glowed and Gerald’s mind was filled with the memories of the children at the orphanage.

  She tucked a ringlet behind her ear. I’m not asking you to do anything you wouldn’t already be willing to do.

  “But you’re asking me to do it for you.”

  If you chose to leave it here I won’t stop you.

  Gerald gripped his necklace even more tightly, threatening to break the leather strap. He was at war with himself. His disgust from years of neglect and resentment by a mother so hopelessly addicted she couldn’t even bathe or feed herself. Everyone he had ever cared for, ever known— all their suffering, and this was the source of it. He wanted nothing more than to turn and leave this foul place, hurling a flippant last remark from
his lips— a real zinger this time, and never thinking on it again.

  But another part of him realized that doing so would solve nothing. No one’s life would be improved. When he returned to the abbey, he would have to explain to Father K’Natarl that he had refused the donation out of foolish pride. Logically, it was obvious what he should do, but his emotions were too raw. He felt like he was standing in the middle of a river, impotently holding out his tiny arms and attempting to halt its course.

  Cha’Rolette watched from a distance as Gerald struggled with himself. The air next to her rippled and suddenly Jonarl was standing there next to her.

  Keeping an eye on me? she asked, sending her voice to him only.

  “Always.”

  You know, it’s funny. It’s the same everywhere you go. Everyone thinks they’re above taking dirty money, everyone thinks they are incorruptible, but that’s because they don’t realize how our family works. It’s simple really, you just create a series of situations where they feel they have no choice, and slowly lead them away from the light. If you do it right they won’t even notice until one day they wake up and wonder how in the world they got there.

  “So what’s your angle?”

  I offer to pay him to do something he would have done anyway. Over the next few weeks I’ll increase the donations to his mission, which will encourage them to expand their operations. Then, just as he realizes that they cannot sustain their new size without my contributions, I’ll name him our liason to the Soeck temple. He’ll have to accept or shut down their new branches. He’ll do photo ops at charity drives, groundbreaking at the new homeless shelter, all that sort of dopey stuff the reporters can’t get enough of. He’ll become the poster boy for Ssykes charity work. The big doofus will make us look like friggin’ saints. By the time he realizes what is happening, it will be too late. Heck, those stupid monks will end up owing me money before this is done.

  “What are you going to do?”

  I’ll buy the property rights to their temples as a reward for all the good P.R. work he does under the guise of relieving them of having to pay property taxes. Then, in three months, I spring the trap. I’ll casually ask Gerald to recant the things he’s been preaching on campus. That’s when he’ll finally realize that he has no choices left. If he doesn’t recant, I’ll close every location, his entire church will collapse on this world and all those people he cares so much for will starve.

  She turned to Jonarl, smug satisfaction on her face. And the best part is, all it will cost me is a few pallets of second hand vegetables, and a couple old warehouses to be renovated. I’ll destroy his life for pocket change.

  The bodyguard snickered. “You really are Mr. Ssykes’ daughter, aren’t you? He used the same trick on the Precentor Martial last year.”

  Her face pinched. Of course I am his daughter. I would think that I have proven that many times over by now.

  “Not to him, you haven’t.”

  It was then that Gerald walked back over to them holding a box of unwashed carrots.

  “You’re doing it with me,” he said, shoving the box into her hands.

  Ewww, I’m not touching dirt, she gasped, dropping the box and wiping her hands off on Jonarl’s suit.

  “I’ve made my decision. I’ll only accept this donation if you help me deliver it to the orphanage.”

  What kind of bargaining posture is this? You don’t get to make conditions on accepting a hand-out.

  Gerald pushed past the pain in his eyes and folded his arms. “You showed me your world, so it’s only fair that you let me show you mine.”

  Cha’Rolette crinkled her cute little nose and looked to Jonarl. Can you believe this guy?

  The bodyguard chuckled. “Looks like he made you an offer you can’t refuse.”

  Very Funny.

  * * *

  The front door to the orphanage flew open and Gerald stepped in. “Hey everybody, I’m back,” he announced playfully.

  A little apayebian child ran up and punched Gerald straight in the groin. “You said you’d bring food,” he complained as Gerald crumpled to the floor, moaning in pain.

  Five Ssykes muscle men walked in, carrying the crates of vegetables.

  “I did bring food,” Gerald groaned.

  A couple of dozen children of every shape and color poked out from behind worn furniture and peeked out through the flickering lighting. When they saw the food, they all began cheering and jumping in place.

  “Oh, bless you, bless you, a thousand times bless you,” Priestess M’Quagta called out as she waddled up, long strands of grey hair falling out from beneath her habit. She gave Jonarl a big grandmotherly kiss on the cheek, causing him to blush.

  “Oh, you are just a blessing from Soeck himself.” She looked down at Gerald and gave him a swift kick in the rump. “Get out of the way, boy, let me show these nice gentlemen in.” As she led them back towards the sparse kitchen area, Gerald struggled to his feet.

  Cha’Rolette wrapped her arms around herself as she stepped in and looked around. Here she seemed a different person almost. Her movements were unsure, her eyes sorrowful. She looked at the sputtering air filters, faded walls, and cracked windows. It was as if seeing this place caused her pain.

  Once Gerald helped Priestess M’Quagta get dinner underway in the kitchen, he came back in and sat down with each kid, speaking with them in turn, asking them about their day. Some of the kids had drawings prepared, and explained to him in detail what they meant.

  Cha’Rolette, for her part, mostly sat in a corner, trying not to draw any attention to herself. She watched him oddly as he talked to the kids, as if she were watching a stage magician and trying to see through the trick.

  “Whatcha got in your pocket?” little Vixikiz demanded. He reeled back to try and punch Gerald in the gut, but he managed to turn out his pockets in time.

  “Well, it just so happens that the hypermart down the street was emptying out their lost and found, and guess what they said you could have?”

  Vixikiz perked up, his little freckled face trembling with excitement.

  Gerald pulled out a small tablet.

  “A D-16!” Vixikiz snatched the device out of his hand and happily scurried off to one corner to play the game.

  “What do you say? Huh?” Gerald beckoned. “What do you say?”

  Vixikiz ignored him and began tapping the tablet happily. Holographic images flickered to life in the air above him and he began zapping away. Gerald laughed and sat down next to Cha’Rolette. “That boy has never once thanked me, but I think I’m starting to wear him down. Another five years and I’ll have one out of him, I’m sure.”

  Cha’Rolette narrowed her voice so she was only speaking to Gerald. Why are you so kind to these kids? They’ve been discarded, she said remorsefully. Then she said something so faint he nearly missed it. Not so much her voice, but more like a stray thought accidentally projected. Nobody loves them.

  “I do,” Gerald insisted, grabbing little Nust by the collar and pulling him close, and ruffling his hair.

  Cha’Rolette’s eyes grew wide with surprise. Her ta’atu flashed briefly as she peeked in his head to confirm it. You really do, don’t you? It’s not just an act.

  “Gerald’s teaching me how to be a photographer,” Nust boasted, holding up a piece of wood carved into the shape of a holo-recorder and making a ‘click’ sound.

  Did you carve that?

  Gerald shrugged. “Just a hobby of mine.”

  Nust smiled adorably, revealing a missing tooth. “You’re a vewy bootiful wady, when I get famous, you can model for me, kay? He held up the piece of wood and said ‘click’ again.

  Um... thank you... I guess.

  A few minutes later, the kids sat enthralled in a semi-circle as Gerald stood before them, acting out the climax of his story. “...then, just as The Enterprise cleared orbit, the Reliant came out from behind Regula and came after her.”

  Gerald slowly stomped around like a dinosaur. �
�Low and aggressive, it moved in for the kill.”

  Vlogt gasped. “What did Captain Kirk do?”

  “He knew that his ship couldn’t take on the Reliant on her own, but nearby, was the dangerous Mutara nebula, where neither ship would be able to see or defend themselves. There, the Enterprise would stand a chance, but... just... one... chance.”

  Vixikiz folded his arms. “Nebulas are just hydrogen and aether. What kind of ship can’t see through that?”

  “Not this one. This nebula was filled with lightning, fire, and blinding lights. It roared like a beast!”

  Little Zagi sat up in shock, her eyes wide as saucers.

  Gerald bent low, hovering menacingly over the children as he wiggled his fingers. “And then, the two ships plowed into the nebula, and all their sensors went black.”

  Gacar covered her mouth and gasped. K’h’u grabbed her pigtails and pulled them over her eyes. Even Vixikiz looked worried. “What happened to Captain Kirk?” he asked.

  “I’ll tell you after you wash up for dinner,” Gerald announced as he stood up. The kids groaned in unison and dragging their feet as they walked over to the rusted bathrooms.

  You are very cruel, you know? Cha’Rolette observed from where she sat in the corner.

  “I have been called many things, but this is a first.”

  Sadly, she turned away as she watched Nust pretend to slap a fresh memory crystal into his camera, then she closed her eyes. You’re giving them hope. That is the cruelest thing you can do.

  “Soup’s ready!” the elderly priestess called out. The children cheered, sprinting across the creaky floor to the sparse table.

  “Wait, kids, you didn’t finish washing up yet,” Gerald said, trying to stand in their way, but the kids washed over him like a tidal wave, knocking him to the floor as they ran around and over him, laughing as they went.

  “Hey, watch where you’re stepping, that was my eye!” he protested, but the kids sprinted on. A couple even took a moment to jump on him a couple of times before proceeding.

  “Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

  Gerald grabbed Nust by the foot and wrestled him to the floor. The Zuburian child extended his claws and began tickling Gerald, who laughed uncontrollably as he tried to roll the kid off of him.