Long Paradise

by James Murdo

  LONG PARADISE

  Wanderer Universe

  JAMES MURDO

  To my trusty proof-readers!

  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  PART 1

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  PART 2

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  PART 3

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  PART 4

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  PART 5

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  47

  48

  PART 6

  49

  50

  51

  GLOSSARY AND CHARACTERS

  PROLOGUE

  BETTER THAN TWO

  The green land with the yellow paths and the blue skies lay before him. He turned around, taking one last look the way he had come. The old territory was pocketed with craters, almost pitch black.

  Lifting the flask holstered at his oddly shaped hip, he took a sip, then carefully replaced it. With a satisfied sigh, he continued on his way – the final journey.

  Slowing and squinting into the distance, a figure, looking very similar to him, resolved itself. He raised a hand in greeting and saw the motion returned. Upon bearing closer, a strange glow about the other traveller became evident, concentrated around the head. The effect attenuated into nothingness in the daylight, about a hand’s width away.

  “First time passing by?”

  He nodded, near mesmerised by the radiance. “It is. What’s–”

  “They call me Light of Morning. This…” he gestured around himself. “Self-evident, really. I cast the shadows aside. What’d they call you? Wait – let me guess.” He brought a hand to his chin. “Three of… something to do with three?”

  “Almost.” He smiled. “Better than Two.” He pointed at his third leg. “Good for climbing.”

  They both laughed.

  Light of Morning’s face became serious. “You’ll want to reach one of the larger settlements first, I’d say. A city. They’ve each got their own hatch-points, of course, all as equally useless for us as the rest. But still – go there before you tread that ancient path. Learn what you can, anything might help. Meandrith’s closest.”

  “They have the typical industries? Hatch-point advice, safety devices–”

  “Yes, yes. Anything you need, general manufacturing, communication and translation, all of it. Mostly happy to take our labour if we can’t trade, too – our tirelessness has its uses.”

  “But nothing out of the ordinary?”

  “Some smaller groups in the larger cities are pioneering completely new hatch-point entry ideas.”

  “They all claim that.”

  Light of Morning chuckled. “Maybe you’ll be lucky.” He looked at Better than Two’s three legs. “And maybe your difference will help at the end. Mine certainly didn’t.” He shook his head. “You’d think… a cave… and this – the light – but no. Perhaps you’ll shine where I’ve failed.”

  “You had to try.”

  “I did.” Light of Morning nodded. “Anyway, the path splits up ahead. Take the right fork, and the next two rights. You’ll eventually reach Meandrith. There are a couple of smaller settlements on the way so you can ask for help if the paths have changed, but I’d advise going directly to the city. That’s where you’ll find the most answers. Some of the biologicals there are old.”

  “How old?”

  “Old enough to think we’re new. Poor things – the ones that worry about entering a hatch-point alone. Spent too long waiting, in my undeserving opinion. Anyhow, only try the hatch-point when you’re completely ready. That’s more advice, but I’m serious. I wish I’d waited.”

  “The right path leads towards the city?”

  Light of Morning nodded. “It’s the start.”

  “And the left?”

  “If you were to take the next twelve left-forks, head straight at a busier intersection, a couple more rights and lefts, well then you’re there. The mountain will be ahead of you, cave at the top.” He looked at Better than Two genially, adding, “If the paths behave themselves.”

  Better than Two flicked his eyes past Light of Morning. “I’ve heard…” He also cast an eye towards his fellow traveller’s flask. “I’ve heard there can be issues at the mountain.”

  Light of Morning tutted. “Some say they demand a portion of your fuel. For me, I didn’t encounter anyone, so I can’t say. Probably scaremongering, by those with lesser, darker intellects. Jealousy, trying to put you off the hatch-point. I don’t know. Perhaps they want the Original for themselves.”

  “But you did encounter Memories of Hope?”

  “Of course…”

  “What’s she like?” Better than Two asked curiously.

  “Strange. Wise. Knowledgeable. A good long memory, even more so than most of the biologicals in Meandrith.”

  “Do you know who she is?”

  “Who?” Light of Morning pondered for a moment. “All I know is that she’s always there, waiting. Time fades all of us, except for her.”

  “Maybe that’s how she got her name.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “And you – you’re done?”

  “Didn’t accept me, did it? I’m off elsewhere, to see what I can learn. Follow some of the other rumours out there. No doubt I’ll be back in a thousand years, illuminated somewhat.”

  They laughed together again.

  “Well, thank you for the advice,” Better than Two said. “And good luck for your own journey.” He pointed back the way he had come. “That territory isn’t the most interesting, but it’s densely populated in places with some extremely large settlements. Lots of knowledge there.”

  “I’m prepared, don’t worry about me. Just one last thing though.”

  Better than Two stopped. “Yes?”

  “Make sure you’re ready… and I mean really ready to know the answer.”

  “The answer?”

  “To whether you will be allowed to pass through, or not.”

  Better than Two smiled. “I will. Thank you.”

  They nodded once more at each other and continued on their separate ways.

  It was not long until the path split in two, as Better than Two had been told to expect. The route to the right was straight, and carried on directly towards a small, yet discernible settlement in the distance. The route to the left, which he had been advised not to take, meandered across the green landscape and into the distance.

  Better than Two ran his fingers against his pockets, took a deep breath, and strode to the left.

  *

  The territory was much larger and more complicated than Better than Two had hoped. He was becoming frustrated at the number of path corrections he was consistently advised to take by those he passed.

  A small, isolated ruin lay ahead. Its faded colours would have rendered it completely unremarkable, had there been anything else nearby.

  Coming closer, Better than Two spotted the entrance, which was more of a missing wall. The entire construction looked unstable – three
suspect walls barely propping up a flimsy-looking roof.

  There was a cloaked form sitting cross-legged by a corner, cradling what appeared to be a short, brown pole. Better than Two had not yet been noticed. He coughed politely.

  The form looked up, and for one terrible moment, Better than Two thought the rumours of the Tracker were true. Fortunately, the hood was shaken off to reveal another copy, such as himself. Better than Two was about to speak when the copy held a hand up and looked back down at the brown pole. The air between the copy and the pole became hazy, as though heated.

  “I’m telling her you’re a friend,” the copy said dully to Better than Two, without standing up.

  Better than Two nodded. “Your companion?”

  The copy nodded back, gently rocking the brown pole. “We’ve travelled a long way together. Since before our first territory. Well before. She helped me reach the territories in the first place… She’s cleverer than she looks.”

  “The biologicals I came with left for their own paths some time ago.”

  “Selfish, they have so much longer than us,” the copy said, wrinkling his nose. “She’s not selfish. Quite the opposite. Insisted we try my way first.”

  “And you’ve stayed together all this time?” Better than Two asked.

  “What would she do without me? I’m the only one who can communicate with her.” The copy raised his hands, showing off a collection of enlarged pores that extended down his wrists.

  “You’re taking her to the hatch-point with you?”

  “Already tried,” the copy said, quietly. “Still not receiving copies, if it ever did. The Original’s lost interest in us, like everyone else who passes to the Inner Layer – we’re a forsaken lot.” He shrugged. “Maybe it was never true to begin with. Maybe there’s no such thing as the Original, there was never such a biological. He never gained access to the Inner Layer because we made him up. We’re anomalies, us copies – the only ones who’re actually stuck here by this place’s creators.” The copy rocked back and forth in agitation. “And even if he did exist, maybe he changed his mind.” He looked down. “Anyway, it’s her turn, now. She’s been so patient. She’s not from a spacefaring species, you see. Not like most of the others. Everything’s been far more complicated for her.”

  “Ah,” Better than Two said. “You agreed to help her find her own kind?”

  “If there are any others. That was our agreement, not that she even asked. And anyway, I use this sparingly.” He slapped the flask at his hip. “Lots of time left.” He suddenly looked alarmed. “I didn’t mean–”

  Better than Two raised a hand. “Don’t worry.” He tapped his own flask. “Me too.”

  The copy looked back to the companion in his hands. “We’ll start her journey soon.”

  “I understand.”

  “Maybe that’s my real path.” The copy hugged his companion closer. “Not a physical one. It’s something I need to do. If he exists, that could be what the Original wants of me.”

  Better than Two mused on the idea. “Time will tell.” He took a step closer. “I’m sorry to ask, but I was hoping you could help me with directions to the mountain. I think I’ve taken a wrong turn.”

  The copy laughed. “There’re a few things we can rely on here – nothing’s permanent and reality rarely behaves. The paths are restless, especially near the mountain. Carry on this way and you should arrive. It’s close, you’ll see it soon enough. If you reach Ferwenth or Grondern, you’ve gone a little wrong, but you’re still close. Bundoseln’s the very closest.”

  Better than Two’s shoulders relaxed. “I was concerned I’d have to double back.”

  “Wish I’d doubled back and never gone. Make sure you’re ready for abject rejection. Comes to us all. I wish you luck, but it’s unlikely.”

  Better than Two dipped his head appreciatively. “Goodbye.”

  He carried on the path, waiting for a hint of the mountain. Finally, something began to rise up in the distance.

  *

  The copies at the base had not bothered him. If all went well, their idiosyncrasies and strange interests would be irrelevant.

  There she was, a little way ahead. Excited, he picked up his pace while rearing up, almost falling back down the steep slope in his enthusiasm – fortunately, he had that tertiary advantage. Reaching the horizontal ledge, he slowed to a standstill and stared.

  “Memories of Hope?” he asked, eagerly.

  She smiled. “Another reflection, come to pass through?”

  He tipped his head shallowly. “I hope so.”

  “If you’re a reflection, then what am I?”

  The question took him by surprise. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

  She was still smiling. “Then we’re both none the wiser.”

  “If…” Momentarily, Better than Two was at a loss for what to say. “When I meet the Original, what should I say?” He felt immediately foolish.

  “That’s kind. Tell him I’m waiting.”

  “Of course.”

  She turned around and pointed diagonally upwards. “You’ll know his judgement soon enough.”

  “I hope so.”

  “There’s light in the cave, so long as it’s light outside. A quirk. When it’s dark outside, it’s dark there too.”

  He nodded.

  “You’ve been asked many times if you’re certain about trying this, haven’t you?”

  “I have,” he said, smiling. “I’m ready.”

  *

  Having reached the final plateau near the top of the mountain, Better than Two looked out, possibly for the last time, at the sweeping, verdant valley below. He closed his eyes and settled himself, taking the occasion in. When he was ready, he turned around to face the entrance.

  The lengthy walk into the bowels of the mountain was accompanied only by the echoes of his footsteps and the swishing of the fuel in his flask. His eyes scanned the familiar walls, exactly the same as the countless images and simulations he had acquired over time. Everything was precisely as it should be, but he checked regardless.

  He came to a standstill at the end of the long path, a hand’s width from a hard, stone wall. Undeterred, he reached into his pocket and brought out a small, dark implement. After waving it about, he tutted calmly. Returning it to the same pocket, his other hand searched for another implement. A moment later, he sighed, reaching for a third.

  Sliding his hands sequentially into all his pockets, he repeated the process over and over again. Upon exhausting the pockets, he repeated the process. Three times, four times, five times in total. Shouting in frustration, he hammered against the unforgiving wall with his fists, and kicked at it with his legs. His journey had been so long, the perils so fraught, and there was nothing at its end. He was not going to be accepted.

  PART 1

  1

  CIQALO

  Ciqalo approached the enormous, circular structure of the data exchange portal, which was almost completely camouflaged in the desolate spacescape around it to all but the Wanderers – and even then, only a select few knew of its existence. The portal dwarfed Ciqalo’s space-hardy vessel. Giant holds of various shapes were attached all around the portal’s perimeter ring, which circled slowly around a central sphere.

  Before initiating contact, Ciqalo ordered some of its c-automs – the machine-lect subordinates making up most of its crew – to scan for anything out of place. Satisfied and coming to a halt, another c-autom was authorised to transmit the required credentials to the portal’s commanding data-lect. It was not long before the communication channel request was accepted.

  [Ciqalo.]

  [Hastina, I have a question for you.]

  [Fascinating.]

  [What’s in those holds?]

  [You mean ‘my’ holds.]

  [What’ve you got there, besides a backup ship? Most portals don’t have holds like yours.]

  [I can neither confirm nor deny anything.]

  [Come on.]

 
[Join the data exchange network if you want to have a chance at knowing. Then you’d have access to far more than your own limited databanks.]

  [I can’t.]

  [Why not?]

  [I’m a craft-lect, not a data-lect.]

  [Doesn’t matter, you just wouldn’t be very good. And craft-lects are quite adaptable, actually.]

  [But you’re not in command of a normal data exchange portal.]

  [That’s why I said you’d only have a chance at knowing. Anything’s possible, once you’re connected. All I can do is remind you that I’m highly specialised in the ultra-secure oversight of Enclave-sanctioned projects. Beyond that, you may as well stop asking.]

  [Come on, Hastina – there’s little chance of me joining the data exchange network.]

  [I suspect you’re correct.]

  [Then why suggest it?]

  [Some craft-lects have what it takes.]

  [That’s the problem with you data-lects, Hastina. It’s impossible to tell when you’re being serious.]

  [Nice to know – maybe I’ll store that in a secure area of my own expansive databanks, Ciqalo.]

  [Fine. Are there any messages for me?]

  [One, from Apalu. I’m transmitting it now. You are aware the practice of sending messages between siblings is uncommon, Ciqalo?]

  [You always say that.]

  [Because you always insist. I oversee your investigation and report on your progress.]

  [You always say that too.]

  [Your messages jeopardise the secrecy of your project. Most craft-lects are content with their solitude.]

  [A moment ago, you were trying to persuade me to join the data exchange network.]

  [Just humouring you.]

  Ciqalo scanned the message. It contained nothing unusual. Apalu related its recent travels through a giant nebula moderately infected with the sensespace, and the remedial actions it had taken. Not too dissimilar from the official report it would have imparted to the data exchange network – no doubt upon encountering a portal custodian far more amiable than Hastina. Ciqalo was pleased no harm had come to its sibling. It composed its own message in response.

  [I’ve composed a reply, Hastina.]