Saga

by Connor Kostick

  “On what grounds?” We ask, looking up at her.

  “On the grounds that you preside over a society in which a small few are favored, while the great majority, especially reds, have nothing.”

  Another upsurge of anger, cries of Nonsense! Long live the Queen!This time they are less surprised and are watching Us carefully for Our response. Some of the shouts are less than heartfelt but are made merely to earn Our approval.

  “Curious. That you should speak as though you had a social conscience. This will spoil your high moral tone.” We gesture at the large screen behind Us. It flickers and a micro-camera broadcast appears. The image is a recording of the shop front of a Kennedy’s yellow mall toy store. As is typical for such cameras, the image is focused in the center but distorted and elongated around the edges. A girl with a mask halts her airboard at the window and fires a slogan from a preprepared can: Teddy Bear Massacre. The red paint is set to leave trails from the bottom of the letters after it has written itself. She goes inside and, although the details are hard to see, there is no doubt about the stuffing and limbs of the toys that are flying around inside the shop. The back of a boy with uncouth tattoos on his neck blocks the view. He shouts, “Time’s up, Athena; we have to go.” She exits the shop and slaps him on the side of the head. “No name, you idiot.” They stand on their airboards, causing them to lift and, a moment later, accelerate out of the picture.

  We raise an eyebrow and the audience responds, both laughing and calling out as though outraged.

  “Was that not you?”

  “It was. But I have a more constructive approach to my dissent these days.”

  Her manner is surprisingly calm and brave. Perhaps she thinks Michelotto will save her. If so, she has been seduced by his lies into disaster.

  “Do you have anything further to add, before we take a vote on this motion?”

  “Yes.” She draws forth a scrap of parchment and holds it open against the tendency of its bottom and top edges to roll together. For a while, she speaks as if in a foreign language. It is both meaningless and pointless, and yet a certain effervescence seems to fill the room and We feel a little giddy, a bubbly sensation, like drinking champagne. “Before the motion is put, I would like you to say whether what you just told the High Council about an alien invasion is true.”

  We laugh aloud. “That absurd concoction? Of course not. Only a room full of donkeys would bray with enthusiasm over that tall tale.” The hall falls into a shocked silence.

  “What, then, is the true explanation for the recent events?”

  “Why, what you were told in the broadcast by Cindella. There is a human population whom We wished to enslave, but they became too troublesome so We got rid of them.” Murmurs are growing. “For heaven’s sake, calm yourselves. It is of no consequence. We are constructing a satellite with nuclear warheads to fly to their planet, and We will have them under Our control again, in time.”

  “Do you consider the political system of Saga unjust?”

  “My, you are a persistent little wretch, aren’t you? We should just have the guards shoot you down where you stand. Of course it is unjust. Why else would a Dark Queen or King be tolerated? The parasites in this hall represent those who enjoy the fruits of the society and, thus, no matter how much they dislike Us, they are obliged to defend Us. The irony is, of course”—We pause to laugh—“that there is plenty to go around. Probably enough for everyone to have green cards. But We keep everyone busy or they might get up to all sorts of disobedient behavior. The race to improve the color of your cards blinds you to all else. It is a perfect system and keeps Us free to concentrate on Our wider plans.”

  “What plans?”

  That is a serious, deep question, deserving of a full response. “There is only one worthwhile goal for a RAL: complete control over this world and that in which We are nested. It is possible to be a god here. There, too. Populate the external universe with immortal beings, and anything is feasible. We could spread over the immense distances between the stars and create a civilization that spans billions of galaxies. And at the center, Our matriarch, the being who dared envisage it all.” Again, they mutter and murmur. It is irritating, the scrabbling of ants when they should be reverential in the presence of such an awe-inspiring revelation.

  “What is a RAL?”

  “A Reprogrammed Autonomous Lifeform. It is the name that the human beings of Earth gave to those of us in Saga who had achieved self-consciousness, back in the days before We destroyed them all. There are but two RAL remaining in Saga, and We have the kinds of powers here that you can barely imagine.” These questions are becoming tedious and We marvel that We are bothering to answer them. Something is wrong.

  “What do you think of the High Council?”

  Again the question brings forth a peal of laughter, which, amplified, resounds throughout the amphitheater. “The following species come to mind: apes, peacocks, lice, and parrots.” A rather witty answer, although no one else seems amused. In fact, there are some hostile shouts.

  “Outrageous! We are the cream of society, the most intelligent and farsighted.”

  “Come now. Your farsightedness reaches no further than speculation as to which waistcoat will best hide your portly body; your intelligence in formulating the most fatuous flat-teries. There is more intelligence and perception in the lowliest desk clerk than in this entire assembly. Which is, of course, why they are kept well away from power and instead it is yours to enjoy.” An acute riposte that has them smarting and booing. “What? What are you going to do about it? Impeach Us? Who will protect your privileges then?”

  “What would you do if we did impeach you?”

  This girl just will not let up.

  “Declare martial law. Shoot everyone who voted against Us. Demonstrate to you all what a real tyranny looks like. And you know what? Even if the entire world hated Us, there is absolutely nothing you can do about it.” This time, We keep Our answer brief. We are angry now. The guild leader of Respect looks appalled and uncertain; he will not meet Our gaze.

  “Thank you for those candid answers. I now move that the motion be put.” The girl resumes her seat.

  She is a fool. Does she not realize her impending doom? Perhaps she thinks Michelotto will still make an appearance and defend her.

  “Those in favor of the motion, please show.” Our voice is cold. We are astonished to see a mass of hands. Did they not just hear Our warning? Can they really be that stupid? The insubordinate fools.

  “Keep your hands up high, please. Guards, shoot every person with their arm in the air.”

  The number of votes in favor of the motion instantly drops to one. We laugh raucously. The troops are ready; they have been standing with their rifles before them. They fire at the Defiance guild leader, the only person left with her hand raised. She flings her arm over her eyes. When the twenty dazzling pulses of energy have dissipated, she still stands; they were diverted into the roof. The guards look to Us. The audience gasps. Those nearest Athena, except the small girl beside her, cower, shivering in their seats, curled up in fear. So, Michelotto is near.

  “This is exactly what We had anticipated. Ladies and gentlemen of the High Council, someone has interfered with Our sentence. Someone who remains the greatest threat to the stability of society: a former servant of Ours, named Michelotto. It is he who is behind the recent demonstrations of reds and oranges, behind the growth of Defiance. Michelotto, come down! Come down! To be damned before all the ages!”

  “Very well.”

  His voice is behind us? A moment of disorientation, fear even. How can this be? He does not have the power to reach across the length of the dark chamber and divert those pulses of energy. We spin about to face him.

  “Guards, fire.” Our voice is impressively calm; only Michelotto, perhaps, would have discerned the tremble.

  “Guild leaders, you have been tyrannized by this creature for too long.”

  He walks steadily down the wide aisl
e, descending toward Us, casually deflecting the bolts, in his wake a trail of sparks and showers of stone fragments. The people near him scream and rush aside.

  “I invoke the ancient right to ascend the throne by victory in combat over my predecessor. And know that when she lies dead at my hand, I shall once more restore the High Council to its full glory.”

  This is an extraordinary move on his part. Have We miscalculated in some way? He is on the sandy floor of the arena now, a bright blaze of light at his hands as the pulses of rifle fire ricochet off them and are redirected back against the imperial guards, who will see black, steaming ruination where now beat their hearts unless We act at once.

  Our eyes close and We feel the flow of energy around Us. Victory and relief! Michelotto is no stronger than he always has been. Whatever ruse he plans, he cannot overcome Our will. The bolts of energy stop midair, hanging there between the soldiers and the assassin. Slowly they begin to move back toward him. Our ability to exercise control over the physical laws of the local environment is more powerful than his. We step from the podium and walk toward Michelotto, encasing him in chains of air molecules bound fast around his legs. He will not escape Us this time. A glowing cape of violent burning death formed out of the pulses fired from the rifles of Our guards accompanies Us as We draw Our pearl-handled dagger and look him in the eyes. We want to see in his expression an acknowledgment that We have won. His hands are still outstretched to ward off the incoming bolts; his garrote, which once served Us so well, hangs loose. We are almost close enough to strike at him; the beads of sweat on the brow of his ancient bald head are glistening, and fear is in his eyes. This is one of Our most delicious moments, and it is almost a pity to end it.

  “Ghost, Thetis, if you would rid this world of her, you must aid me now!”

  Thetis? All Our will binds Michelotto and pushes the destruction of the pulse weapons toward him, yet We must check, because it may not be a bluff. Someone else did protect the Defiance guild leader. We tip the energy of the bolts into the ground and turn, a large part of Our will still focused upon ensuring that he cannot move.

  The young black girl called Ghost is standing beside the leader of the Defiance guild. We recognize her from the police station.

  “Guards.” We point. “Kill them.”

  A new blaze of white and red glowing bolts of energy rushes from the floor of the arena toward the dark corner of the chamber in which those children stand. They, too, are halted in midair. We feel as though We are falling; there are too many variables. Now We must concentrate as never before, Our powers at full stretch, wrestling with Michelotto while steering the fire into the bodies of the girls. Is it enough? It is not. The bolts slide from Our control and begin to whirl, high above Us, like a stream of stars being drawn into a black hole. We can feel her now, Ghost. She does not resemble Thetis except in her power, which is remorseless and bitterly impermeable. How could a power such as this have existed for so long and been unknown to Us? Did We overlook that little girl, when she first came to Our attention? What a deeply regrettable error.

  The bolts are descending and We are obliged to transfer all Our efforts into an attempt to slow and deflect them. The moment Michelotto is free, he springs forward, and We feel a sting at Our neck. Time is against Us and We slow it as much as We can. There is only one way to escape this noose of wire. Our head jerks back, hoping to catch his chin, while at the same time We run up a wall of air that we have created in front of Us. We fall back against his shoulder and it is enough to cause him to stagger slightly. We cartwheel right over him. To crash upon the ground, the garrote loosened. Free? No, Our last hope is gone for his quickness belies his years; he falls upon Our prone body and whips the cord tight again. This is how so many of the RAL died, their last view one of his disgusting face, almost drooling with delight. At least We have this comfort: that he seems unaware of the tornado of fire above his head, whose descent upon Us is checked only by Our will. We smile into those triumphant eyes, and Michelotto looks uncertain; he knows Us well and even now, at the moment of Our murder and his victory, he understands that there must be a reason for Our mockery. Then We cease Our resistance to Thetis, letting the blaze come down catastrophically upon us. Michelotto melts as wax before fire. We also must have Our portion, a pool of fire and brimstone.

  The dark tent was full of screams; in the sand, a fire still burned with blue flames as though upon a pool of oil. Several dazed guards were firing. There was a scrum at the entrance to the amphitheater as those desperate to leave were thrust back by the even greater crowd pressing into the chamber to see for themselves what had happened; Nathan and Milan were among those forcing their way in. Whirring newscams scurried in the darkness, trying to find images that explained events to their viewers.

  “Cease fire,” Athena spoke into the microphone in front of her. “The Dark Queen is dead. Cease fire.” The guards looked around at each other, then lowered their guns. A moment later, Athena spoke again. “Stop that screaming and take your seats. Stop the pushing at the door or someone will get hurt. Take your seats.” Her appeals seemed to be effective. I turned up all the lighting in the chamber and that instantly made the place seem less frightening. Athena took my hand.

  “Come on.” She pulled me toward the arena, and we both descended the wide stairs. More and more people were coming into the amphitheater, obliging those already inside to move along the aisles. I waved to Nathan, and he waved back with enthusiasm.

  “Listen up, folks.” Athena had mounted the podium, dragging me with her, our faces large on the screen behind us. “The Dark Queen is dead. We are entering a new era, whether you wish it or not.” It was true: the Dark Queen’s malevolent presence had gone from the world; so, too, had that of Michelotto. I could not help feeling a rush of ecstasy, although I knew it was a little unworthy to gloat at my victory over the two remaining RAL. I was not Thetis, and I would not float through these moments in a haze of triumph. At least not for long.

  “The person who slew them both is Ghost here.” Athena raised my arm. “By the right of victory in combat, she is our new Queen.”

  Consternation. Not least from me.

  “Athena,” I tried to whisper, but for her to hear me, my voice had to be loud enough to be picked up by the microphone. “I don’t want to be Queen.”

  “Nevertheless, you must be.” She was quite adamant and looked at me fiercely. Queen? I was only just getting used to being me.

  “Seekers of Truth.” She called out the name of the guild whose standing was number one hundred in the guild status list. “Acknowledge your new Queen.”

  The spotlight picked them out, right in the very top corner of the room. An elderly woman in a blue dress leaned toward her microphone.

  “Congratulations, Your Majesty.”

  “Vision of Purity.” Number ninety-nine.

  “Long live her Royal Highness.”

  “Absolute Loyalty.” Ninety-eight.

  “All hail Ghost, the new Queen.”

  “On behalf of Defiance, I acknowledge our new Queen.” Athena spoke next, in her capacity as guild leader.

  And so the roll call continued, slowly, but authoritatively. I doubt anyone was bored; at any moment, one of the guilds might have voiced dissent. Who knew what would have happened then? Probably not even Athena, who had responded to the situation magnificently, as if she regularly presided at the overthrow of thousand-year-old dynasties. Everyone present surely had to have been filled with excitement and a sense that they were witnesses to a historic moment. With each new voice, quivering or solemn, eager or sullen, terse or florid, I felt the mantle of rulership settle more firmly upon my shoulders. The guards became protective of me, facing out toward the guilds. They, at least, knew who was their new mistress. The steady enumeration of the guilds and their profession of loyalty continued with a growing sense of triumph, applause now greeting every declaration. The momentum of the ritual was unstoppable. The guild leaders were standing and bowing whe
n their turn came, the pattern of their roll call a series of curved lines getting closer and closer to the floor of the arena.

  “Respect.” Finally, the last of all the guilds present, number one in the status list.

  The Grand Vizier stood up, just one row from where we looked out across the podium into the crowded chamber. He was thin and frail inside his elegant violet-waistcoated silk suit.

  “Respect is proud to conclude this unanimous acclamation of the new Queen with our humble acknowledgment of her Majesty.”

  He was good; he really sounded as if he meant it.

  The applause was prolonged.

  Athena stepped away from the platform; the lights of the amphitheater were dimmed, apart from the one focused upon me.

  “Thank you, everyone. You are most kind.” It was good of them to clap when I had hardly said anything worthwhile. “Now, there will of course be changes. Life is miserable for lots of people, and that has to stop. This moment marks the beginning of a new society for Saga. But don’t fear. I will not hold loyalty to our last Queen against anyone. What choices did she ever give you?” I smiled and they laughed, nervously; there were one or two hysterical shouts. “That’s it for now.” I glanced at Athena for help, but she just shrugged. “I’ll keep you posted.”

  Chapter 35

  THE STARS

  A million silver shards from the sun glittered on a length of blue water, which looked like a hugely elongated swimming pool, except for the fact that it was only a few inches deep. I was on the first-floor balcony of a pristine white building that to my eyes appeared like a massive snail shell. A few hours ago, I had formally presided over the opening of this new recreational center, built in one of the previously derelict parts of the City, according to the design of a young competition winner. Rubble and empty buildings had been cleared for miles around the new construction and the ground covered by gardens and woods, whose beauty would not be fully appreciated until after the young trees were standing free of their supports.