Akropolis

by Catherine McCallum

  “This is what Seb meant us to find,” Norika whispered.

  They studied the illustration closely, comparing areas of the garden to the map‌—‌the trees and lake, the pathways and teahouse, the temple. The illusion caused Nat to track, by his eyes alone, over the stone bridges and along the streams to the Zen garden, to Rock Island standing tall in its sea of raked sand.

  “Only a small number of these books were made because of the amount of work involved in constructing them,” Declan said. “Their creator died before finishing the task and those he finished were promptly bought by collectors.”

  “When was this one made?” Nat asked.

  “More than seventy years ago, when the Garden of Kenji was at the height of its fame. There are many famous gardens in the book but the illustration of the Garden of Kenji was considered closest to the original. The artist must have had access to plans or photos of the garden at that time.” He glanced at them over his glasses. “The garden was destroyed in an earthquake, as I’m sure you know.”

  Nat said, “I suppose this book would be one of the few remaining records of the layout of the garden?”

  “Just so,” said Declan. “For that reason I’m afraid the book is not for sale.”

  “Would you mind if we took photos for reference?” said Nat.

  “Not at all.”

  Nat placed the book under a low-hanging lamp and opened it at the Garden of Kenji spread, stood back and viewed it on the screen. He hesitated. Something about it seemed different from the map. He dismissed the thought until later, but for good measure he scanned the illustration from several angles.

  As they prepared to leave, Declan gave him a card. “My research will be of interest to you one day, Nathaniel,” he said with a smile. “It’s the numbers that count. Your friend Zev will find them of special interest.”

  Nat stopped. How did Declan know Zev? Or Seb, for that matter. His head hurt. Did he really want to know this now? He was tired enough to let it pass.

  On the street he glanced at Norika but she was preoccupied. He concentrated on walking, thinking about Seb, the places Seb had been since he left St Annes, the people he’d met. It was the life of someone different from the brother Nat knew.

  How long had they been gone, anyway? Nat wasn’t even sure. Was it weeks, months?

  Was it millennia?

  * * *

  “The diagram. Do we look at it tonight or find somewhere to sleep?” Norika said, anxious to leave this timespace, to complete the journey. She longed for Seb. She knew Nat had noticed the change in her and she wanted to confide in him. But nothing would ease her longing.

  Nat said, “There’s something I’ve got to do first‌—‌a debt to pay.”

  She looked at him, eyebrows raised.

  “Someone I met on the ship. Zev. I owe him money.”

  “Declan mentioned his name. He must know him.”

  “I have his address.” He found the paper Zev had given him. “We could be there in ten minutes. You okay with that?”

  Norika was thinking it would be the next day before they studied the diagram. Another day could seem an eternity, or just another day. “Yeah, sure,” she said.

  The address was a tenement on the lower east side. A woman in a headscarf was about to enter the building. Nat quickly climbed the steps to where she stood.

  “Excuse me,” he said. “I’m looking for Zev Topolski.”

  The woman turned and Nat recognised her under the streetlight as Zev’s aunt.

  “Nathaniel!” the woman exclaimed. “Please. Come inside!”

  She led them upstairs. Zev opened the door to them and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw Nat. He drew them inside, talking excitedly, and his family insisted they stay for the evening meal. Their kindness reminded Nat of Bruno and Rosa, and he wondered if Sabine were missing him.

  Over the meal the family shared their news: Zev was attending school, he worked evenings, his father had a job and his mother worked in a nearby clothing factory. Things were good. When they stood to go, Zev saw them down to the sidewalk. It was a clear night, clear enough to see stars and a new moon.

  “Do you ever wonder about the stars?” said Zev.

  “Sometimes,” said Nat.

  “I do. This is what I want to study in America‌—‌astronomy. One day I will.”

  “Do you know someone called Declan?” Nat asked.

  “The man who owns the bookshop? I go there to study sometimes. He told me about a famous scientist who will be coming here soon. He said maybe I could study with him, this professor.” Zev laughed. “Some dream, I think!”

  “What was the scientist’s name?” said Norika.

  “Albert Einstein. Have you heard of him?”

  Nat grinned. “Not here, not yet,” he said, “but Declan may be right. Good luck, Zev.”

  They set off down the street, feeling more hopeful than either of them could have imagined a short time before.

  Things were good.

  26

  Ahead of them, the street started to shimmer but Nat was too tired to notice. He turned to see Zev still standing on the sidewalk, gazing at the stars.

  When he turned back to Norika she wasn’t there.

  No one was there. He was alone in a thick mist. He froze for a moment, closed his eyes then opened them. Stay calm. He turned slowly in a full circle, his arms outstretched, keeping his eyes straight ahead to make out a shape, anything, from the totality of mist. At first, there was nothing but the sound of wind. And then, the humming of the rock.

  He took a step forward into the mist, back, took another step back, sideways. Nothing. At least he was on solid ground although he could only just see his feet.

  Finally, something. He saw the woman first. She came towards him through the mist, a shadowy figure in long clothing, her head covered as it was in the park. She stopped a short distance away. Then he saw the dog beside her.

  “I opened a portal for you, Nathaniel. Very convenient. We need to talk.” Something about her voice.

  “Where’s Norika?” he said.

  “Where you left her.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Someone who can help you. We can help each other. You can agree or I can leave you here.” She gave a soft laugh and glanced at the dog. “Or worse.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Your brother. You can tell me things I need to know.”

  “Like what?” In the corner of his eye, to the left, he saw a slight movement.

  “His father. What do you know about him?”

  “Seb’s father? I don’t know much about him. And I wouldn’t tell you if I did.”

  “Then I’ll tell you. He was a leader, until he betrayed his own. Ascendants don’t like weakness and he was weak. He had to die.”

  “I don’t believe you,” said Nat. “Seb’s father was married to my mother. She would have told us. My father would have told us.”

  “They knew about Sebastian’s code. His father knew from the moment his son was born. He betrayed us to protect him.”

  “His code? What code?”

  “Sebastian’s code marks him as our enemy. Whatever you do, you can’t protect him. Where is he?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Her voice hardened. “Then you’ll have to find him.”

  He felt something land on his left shoulder, a bird. A crow. It put its beak near his ear and murmured, “Watch the dog.”

  The woman had seen it. She quickly bent down to release the dog from its lead. As the dog lunged towards Nat the crow flew at it, landing on the dog’s head and pecking ferociously at its eyes until blood streamed down its face. The dog was in a frenzy, blinded, snapping its great jaws, snarling, screaming in pain, twisting desperately in an attempt to shake the crow from its head. The crow leaned over the massive neck and with a single movement of its sharp beak slashed the dog’s throat. The dog convulsed and in seconds lay dead.

  The crow flew back to Nat’s
shoulder. “The image of the garden on your phone. Click on it.” It was a command.

  Shocked by the bird’s attack, Nat fumbled to open his phone. The photo he’d taken of the pop-up book was still on the screen. He wavered.

  The woman had dropped to her knees and was bent over the dog, stroking its head, grieving. Too late she became aware of their actions. She rose and moved swiftly towards them. The rock was humming loudly.

  Nat clicked on the image and they were gone.

  * * *

  NGC-1097, from the Dome

  Seb was again to appear before the Committee. With Demokritos by his side he waited, seated on the platform in the Dome. He stood and started pacing restlessly.

  “Sit down, Sebastian, and relax,” Demokritos said.

  Demokritos was tired. He had taken on this last assignment as a favour to Yoshiki and it had been the most important of all. Sebastian was yet to understand his own part, but this would come. He, Demokritos, would be long dead by then. On Yoshiki’s instructions he had sought to influence Seb, to instil in the boy his own ideas of science and philosophy, to prepare him for imminent change.

  Now he waited for the Committee to formally relieve him of his duties as a Guide, knowing with sadness he and Seb might never meet again.

  Seb had scoffed at this. “Of course we’ll meet again. You have taught me to think in a different way. I will always consider you my Guide.”

  “You no longer need a Guide,” Demokritos had said, “You must depend on no one, not even me.”

  Seb gave a laugh. “Don’t worry. I’ve learned enough to go my own way.” His voice dropped. “This Committee will be replaced. You know that.”

  “Then be ready.”

  Nike was abrupt, as usual. “Have you overcome the barrier?”

  Demokritos replied, “Until we know who created it, the barrier will remain.”

  “Leave it now. Nathaniel and Norika are making progress”‌—‌she paused‌—‌”despite distractions.”

  “Progress towards what?” Seb said.

  “You are here because your life is in danger. We wish to protect you. This is all you need to know.”

  “Don’t patronise me,” Seb said. “I don’t care about the Second Transition, the coming of Ascendants. These are your problems. I plan to be free.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Will I never return home?”

  Another pause. “There are compensations.”

  Seb took his time. It was useless to have trusted the Committee. He glanced at Demokritos and gave him a grim smile of reassurance.

  Demokritos was uneasy. Neither he nor Kleitos had known the reason for Seb’s exile, not at first. They had been told only that Sebastian had been temporarily repositioned for his protection. What will happen to Seb now?

  He decided. “I can remain with Sebastian in his own timespace for as long as necessary to secure his freedom.”

  “He will not be safe there, even with you.”

  Seb said calmly, “Demokritos is free to return to Abdera. I’m not answerable to the Committee and I don’t need a Guide. From now on I act alone.”

  Nike softened her voice. “None of us acts alone, Sebastian. The new Committee will have a leader who will deal with insurgency more effectively than I have done. He will need your support.”

  “What will become of you?” Seb said.

  “I will go home.”

  Seb smiled, a smile with no warmth. “As I will.”

  Demokritos glanced at Seb. What was Seb doing?

  “Your Committee has made a mistake,” said Seb. “You trusted me as I trusted you. We were both wrong.”

  As Demokritos watched amazed, Seb vanished from the room.

  * * *

  Japan, 1937

  Nat’s immediate reaction to the Garden was one of disbelief. After the enveloping mist, here around him was the pop-up illustration come to life. The sun was high and he guessed it was around midday. He was standing on a grassy bank overlooking a large lake with an island in its centre. Two curved stone bridges connected the island to the banks of the lake, where shrubs had been planted and clipped into rounded sculptural shapes.

  The Garden of Kenji.

  Paved paths led to the bridges and to other areas of the garden. One led to the teahouse and another to the pair of stone lanterns flanking the entrance to the mossy contemplation garden. Ahead of him was the way to the Zen garden. He was drawn to its path in growing anticipation, as if to follow it would be enough.

  He glanced sideways and remembered he was not alone. The crow was perched on a low branch beside him, looking out over the Garden. Instantly an image took over his mind‌—‌a vast orange ocean, seen from the prow of a strange ship. How did I know that?

  “Who are you?” said Nat.

  The crow turned its head. “My name is Kenji.”

  Nat stared as connections formed. “You can’t be that old. It’s impossible.”

  “I come here often,” said the crow, “and I always return to the Garden on the same day, the day before the earthquake. On that day it was closed to the public. There are no people here today, no one but you and me in the whole Garden, and I alone know the portal back.”

  “You brought me here for a reason,” Nat said carefully. He meant it as a question.

  “This is my garden. I want you to know it as I do.”

  Nat’s throat was dry. “You’re an Ascendant.”

  “I’m a Survivor from the First Transition. The dog was an Ascendant. I saved you.”

  “I would have escaped the dog, or stopped him somehow. You murdered him.”

  “Would you rather I let him kill you? You are like Sebastian, unwilling to take the necessary measures.”

  “You don’t know Seb.”

  “Sebastian is a Descendant, a hybrid, he is moved by pity. I am a member of the Committee, I have heard him speak. Compassion is an indulgence we can ill afford. The Second Transition is already here. Ascendants want control. We must stop them from gaining it.”

  A silence. Nat said, “Why am I here?”

  The crow flew down to the ground, where the transformation was instant. The shock of recognition left Nat speechless. Standing before him was the man Nat had known for years as the stallholder from the market, in charge of the curio stall‌—‌Yoshiki’s friend. His voice as a crow had sounded different from the voice Nat remembered, but there was no mistaking the man in front of him. It all made sense‌—‌the exotic curios, the textiles, the miniature artworks sold from the stall over the years. All had been salvaged from Kenji’s museum after the earthquake.

  “There was nothing left of my home,” Kenji said. “I took what objects remained from the museum, a collection of minor curios, and eventually followed my friend and curator, Yoshiki’s father, to Tasmania, to a life far from my homeland. Yoshiki was then a boy, no more than a child when I first knew him. I watched him age to an old man, while I have remained the same age I was when I first arrived on this planet many centuries ago.” He smiled sadly. “I have lived too long. I left Tasmania many times, of course, and for long periods, in order to avoid detection. In the end I tired of it. Are you afraid of dying, Nathaniel? I was once. But now I would welcome death. Having achieved immortality, I have lost my desire for it.”

  “Immortality is a myth.”

  “Immortality is believed to be a myth. Many of us reject the idea. Some dream of it. Our hybrid science allows it‌—‌a matter of advanced physics and our belief system. If you succeed in saving your brother you will be given that choice.”

  “I’m not interested,” said Nat. “My brother’s in danger. This is not about immortality and power.”

  Kenji looked at him for a moment. “Without the power to overcome others, you may be unable to save your brother. The cost of protecting him is time.”

  “Why am I here?”

  “Because I can help you. The more you know about the Garden, the better your chance of success. Look around, take n
otice, remember things. You’ve studied the map. It will help you recognise any differences, any traps. The Zen priests were careful to protect their knowledge and devised safeguards.”

  Nat was silent. Kenji sighed and turned. “Now you must allow me to show you my Garden, my escape from the world.”

  It was as strange and rare as Nat had imagined. They walked along the path to the first bridge and crossed it to the island in the lake, passing the contemplation garden with its stone lanterns. In a small inner garden by the teahouse Nat rinsed his hands in the cool mountain water contained in a carved stone basin. The ritual calmed and prepared him for what he most wanted to see‌—‌the Zen garden.

  They entered the temple and went through to the deck overlooking the inner courtyard. There, finally, was the sand raked into waves, the border edged with tiles, the moss-covered stones. There stood Rock Island, flanked to the south by a group of smaller rocks and guarded to the east by further rocks. Near its base was a small circular patch of black sand.

  “I used to come here every day to meditate,” Kenji said.

  “What do the other rocks represent?” said Nat. “Are they all islands?”

  “None of them is an island, no more than planets or stars are islands.” Kenji smiled. “The Zen garden is a celestial garden, not an earthly one. It’s the map of a galaxy.”

  Nat stared at him. “But Rock Island?”

  “Rock Island came from space. I named it for the island where it landed, off the coast of what is now Greece. When I removed it and brought it here no one believed it had special properties. Even I was sceptical. I discovered its powers by chance and from then I sought to protect it.”

  “How can you protect such a rock?” Nat said. “You can’t hide it.”

  “I didn’t attempt to hide it,” said Kenji. “I placed it in full view of hundreds of people, visitors to the Garden, and surrounded it with other rocks‌—‌the safest location possible. No one suspected it was different. At night it was guarded by the priests who slept in the temple.”

  “Only to be destroyed in an earthquake.”