Akropolis

by Catherine McCallum

  “I have a feather marked for you, Nathaniel,” he whispered in Nat’s ear, tightening his hold and causing Nat to clench his jaw in pain. Nat attempted to strike him with his free arm but it flailed the air, useless.

  With Nat still held in a tight grip, Cade turned his attention to Argos.

  “Who will judge me?” he mocked. “You? The servant of Zen priests, an advocate of non-violence? You can hardly save yourself‌—‌how can you save others?”

  “Like this.”

  For a heavy dog, Argos moved with surprising speed. He lunged at Cade and buried his massive jaws in the man’s throat as Nat broke free. The attack was so sudden his victim’s laughter still lingered, converted to a terrible curdling sound from his opened neck. Cade Delaney staggered, grasping at his throat, reeled and fell forward on his knees, dead.

  Norika turned away. Nat stood staring, unable to move or speak.

  Argos said mildly, “Leave him. He’ll be carried out with the tide.”

  Nat’s voice was weak. “I thought you hated violence.”

  “I do. Sometimes there’s no other way.”

  They looked up as Seb came from behind to join them. “Maybe I should learn from you, Argos.”

  Argos said, “Then you should know this. I have studied you and those near you for many years, preparing to serve and protect you.”

  Seb was surprised. “No one should serve me.”

  “I will die serving you.”

  Seb gave a slight smile. “There are better ways to die.”

  “Not for me,” Argos said.

  Nat glanced sideways at Argos. They were walking back towards the dunes, a short distance ahead of Norika and Seb. Nat walked in silence. His failure to defend himself against Cade’s attack had shamed him, and he vowed such weakness wouldn’t happen again. He wondered moodily why Argos had declared his loyalty to Seb. I will die serving you. What was that about?

  He said casually, “So you and I go our own way from here?”

  Argos said, “Not unless it’s what you wish. I’ll continue to protect Sebastian from a distance. For now, I am free to accompany you and Norika.”

  Nat allowed himself a small, relieved smile. “Yeah, no problem,” he said.

  He turned to wait for the others but it was Norika alone who joined them.

  “Where’s Seb?” Nat said, suddenly afraid.

  “Gone,” Norika said. “We’ll continue without him.”

  30

  With dusk the wind dropped. They were in the shelter of the dune, Argos on watch, Norika silent and thoughtful. Nat scanned the final map segment and aligned the four layers. The map was complete. He turned the screen to Norika and Argos so they could view it.

  They watched as he scrolled down. “This should lead us to the Garden,” Norika said.

  Argos was studying the map closely. “There’s a faint line of markings in the lower right corner.”

  Nat zoomed in on the area. The markings, although blurred, seemed familiar.

  Argos said, “They’re Zelean numerals. It’s a Zelean identity code.”

  Nat sat up. “The rock! Those are the markings on the rock.” He removed the rock from his pocket and placed it on the sand. “I thought the grooves were natural fissures but they’ve been carved into the surface.”

  “Their numerics are nothing like ours,” said Argos. “Numbers are believed to possess character, to have soul. They provide a total system of identification.”

  Norika tried to shake off a growing sense of unease. “Identifying what?”

  “Anything‌—‌places, dates, events, people. Once a code is recognised, they can follow it.” He paused. “People can be tracked.”

  Norika kept her voice level. “Seb?”

  “All Zeleans are born with a code,” said Argos. “It’s a calculation based on the precise location and time of their birth, a point in spacetime. Only one person can ever occupy that point so their code identifies them forever. It becomes their name, their lifelong contact.” He glanced at Norika. “Occasionally, a code is of such importance it is signalled across galaxies. Seb’s code was recognised immediately, but not the future path he would take. Then the question became whether to protect him or destroy him.”

  Nat said, “The woman in the mist was after Seb’s code.”

  “Are these markings Seb’s code?” said Norika.

  Argos hesitated. “I don’t know.”

  Nat stood, thinking he couldn’t wait to leave Shearwater Beach. The gritty, constant wind, the beach strewn with dead birds, the sadness. They’d remained here long enough.

  His phone buzzed, a sudden, shocking sound over the wind.

  Click on the map.

  He looked to Norika and Argos for confirmation but they were silent.

  It was Nat’s decision.

  * * *

  Japan, 2020

  The area where the construction site had been was unrecognisable. There was no fence enclosing them. No guards, no machinery.

  They were standing in some sort of urban precinct. The sun was high and Nat guessed it was about midday. He could see the mountains in the distance, hazy in the harsh light but unchanged. He was mildly surprised he could see them at all through the narrow gaps of land and sky visible between the gleaming, glassy high-rise buildings surrounding them.

  Hundreds of people spilled from office towers, leaving their desks for a quick lunch from one of the sushi bars or cafés along the wide pavements, talking and laughing, taking no notice of the strangers and their dog, disoriented and confused in their midst. For a few seconds Nat noticed the same out-of-sync effect, a slight blurring as the crowds passed, and then it disappeared as if a correction had been made to a faulty setting.

  “The site’s been developed,” he said. “This is our own time.”

  “How can we tell which part of the Garden we’re standing in?” said Norika.

  Argos was looking around, taking it all in. “There’ll be some way of finding where the Zen garden used to be. It’s the key to the solution.”

  Ahead of them they could see a busy central square surrounded by more office blocks and urban parkland. They started walking towards it. Nat bought food from a nearby takeaway while Argos and Norika waited at the kerb.

  “Hungry?” he said, offering a large roll to Argos.

  Argos took it in his jaws and demolished it. “Thank you,” he said. “I enjoyed that.”

  “Hard to tell,” said Nat, smiling. He handed Norika a roll and they sat on the grass while Argos observed the crowd. “Argos, you’re thinking again.”

  Argos looked up at the buildings. “Someone knows we’re here, I sense it. I have a bad feeling about the place.”

  “Noted,” Nat said. “Let’s go.”

  The square was a vast, paved area, the focal point of the precinct. The crowd was starting to thin as they headed for the far side, where people were clustered in groups around a low hedge enclosing a large rectangular area.

  As they grew closer they realised what it was and quickened their pace. When they reached the hedge they stood staring at a full scale replica of the Zen garden. Beyond them was the area of white sand as Nat remembered it, raked into waves around rocks and surrounded by the same paved borders and low shrubs. At one end a replica of Rock Island rose taller and darker than the other rocks.

  Norika said, “There’s a plaque on the gate.”

  They waited until the group of tourists in front of them had moved on, then stepped forward to gain a clearer view. The plaque was engraved with a brief history of the precinct in several languages.

  Welcome to the Garden of Kenji Precinct, constructed on the site of one of the world’s most beautiful gardens. The Garden of Kenji was destroyed in an earthquake last century and this urban precinct has been named in its memory.

  The Garden’s main attraction was its famous Zen garden, designed by temple priests in accordance with Zen beliefs. The large boulder known as Rock Island, believed to be a meteorite, was the Z
en garden’s most striking feature.

  This reconstruction of the Zen garden occupies the original site according to records of the time. The site was discovered during excavation when a layer of white sand was uncovered and a number of rock fragments found. All the boulders including Rock Island have been re-created from synthetic material and the shrubs planted and shaped to the priests’ original design.

  The Garden of Kenji Precinct was opened to the public in 2020 and dedicated to the memory of Kenji Takada, the well-known scientist and art collector after whom the Garden of Kenji was named. There has been no record of Kenji Takada since the garden was destroyed. He is believed to have perished in the earthquake.

  Nat stood gazing in amazement. This was the garden he knew as the map of a galaxy, with its cosmic microwaves represented in sand and its stars and planets in rocks. He read the plaque again‌—‌a number of rock fragments found. Were they identical to the rock he carried in his pocket‌—‌synthetic parts, intended to reactivate on a signal?

  Others were waiting to take their place and they moved to an area outside the crowd. Nat and Norika sat on a bench and Argos stood nearby, alert and ready.

  “What now?” said Norika. “Do we place the rock in the garden?”

  Nat picked up on her doubt. “Or?” he said.

  “Or we could leave. We don’t know what we’re doing, Nat. We don’t know what could happen. We’ve come this far, and now I’m frightened.”

  “Leave?” Nat’s voice was sharp. “We need to delete Seb’s code. He’s still in danger.”

  “Seb can deal with danger.” She added quietly, “I’ll be with him, Nat.”

  A flicker of shock went through him and he let it pass before facing her.

  “I know.” It occurred to him he’d always known, although he hadn’t‌—‌not until now. The glances, the silences, the unspoken words‌—‌he’d chosen to ignore them. He thought of Seb, of his solitary nature, and he felt compassion for Norika. He heard uncertainty in her voice and recognised the pain of loss he himself was feeling. She was yet to find that Seb needed no one, not even her. He blinked hard. Why had he been so stupid?

  He looked across at Argos. Give me some direction. Argos returned his gaze, then walked over to him and calmly, gently, licked his hand. Nat tried to reply, but his throat tightened and he was forced to look away.

  For a brief time they were silent. Norika said, “Argos, you said you had a bad feeling about this place. So do I, that we’re being guided on a course, manipulated.”

  “If we are,” said Nat, “it’s a guided tour we can’t get off. It’s more important to continue than it was to start.” He paused. “I’ll go on alone if I have to, no problem.”

  “We’ll stay together,” said Argos. “Finding the solution is only the end of the journey‌—‌it’s the journey that counts.”

  An hour later the shadows were lengthening across the square and the lunch crowds were dispersing. Nat thought if the rock were ever to respond to a signal, it could only be here on the original site. Where would the signal come from, after all these years inactive?

  Nothing remained of the Garden. Everything in the precinct was new, the buildings on concrete, the pathways paved. The only unchanged feature was the backdrop of mountains. He looked around and his eye fell on a gap between the buildings. He could see the afternoon sun on the mountains, carving deep shadows in the foothills. It reminded him of something he’d seen with Kenji, in the Garden.

  There it was again‌—‌a flash, a metallic glint on the far peak. Nat looked at the sky. From behind a cloud the sun would soon be striking the peak full-on.

  He turned to the others. “The rock should be in the Zen garden, now!”

  He moved fast through the crowd with the rock in his hand. Once through the gate he ran across the sand. Where to place it? He looked wildly around. At the foot of Rock Island was the small patch of black sand he remembered from the Garden‌—‌the colour of the sand on Zelos. He placed the rock in its centre in a direct line from the mountain, ready to receive the signal.

  People in the square had stopped to watch him, curious. He sprinted from the garden and turned to look back at the distant peak.

  The glint had become brighter, its beam flashing in the sun, striking the rock. The crowd was hushed, waiting. The rock’s layers became translucent and pulsing, responding to the light from the mountain. A strange high-pitched sound reverberated about the square as the rock steadily reproduced itself, over and over, until Rock Island stood reformed. And then it all stopped. A blinding white light filled the area and compressed in a silent incandescent implosion.

  As the light faded people stood stunned and uncomprehending.

  “What happened?” said Norika in disbelief.

  “It’s gone,” Nat said, still dazzled. “I underestimated the science. The only way to restore Rock Island was from a thousand clones. The rock was a synthetic component with a programmed response. Once the signal delivered a code, the rock cloned itself in front of us. The clones reassembled and were transferred materially, probably to Zelos. It’s a scientific procedure, not a natural one.”

  “Why? What for?” Norika said.

  Nat was thinking fast, on a roll. “Rock Island isn’t a meteorite, it’s a probe. It’s been transmitting information to Zelos since it landed here.”

  “Even after the earthquake?” She waited. “Nat?”

  He looked past her to the garden. “The rock didn’t go! It’s still here, where I placed it on the sand. I have to get it back.”

  He turned and sprinted to the gate, dodging onlookers. People were gathering closer, questioning, seeking answers. He ran across the sand, grabbed the rock and returned through the crowd. Security guards were approaching across the square.

  Argos said, “We need to leave here.”

  Nat’s phone buzzed. This time he didn’t read the message. With Norika and Argos behind, he led the way along the pavements, out of the precinct and across the road into the busy grid of streets until they were far enough away to feel safe.

  “I think we made it,” said Norika, slowing to a walk and catching her breath.

  Nat didn’t answer.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He stopped walking and turned to them. “I think we’ve done just what we were meant to do, restore the probe. Why? For its data?”

  Argos said, “The history has already been transmitted.”

  “Not all of it. Where’s the circuitry recording it now?”

  Norika felt a chill of fear. “Could they track Seb?”

  “They know his code,” said Nat, “now they can go to an alternative past and find out which direction he’ll take. And if they don’t like it, they’ll find him and kill him.”

  Norika looked at him. “We’ve been set up.”

  “But we’re aware of it, so we can do something,” said Nat. “I’ve been thinking about Ascendants. They may be fanatical about Zelean supremacy but not all of them are murderers. I want to know them, who they are, what they think, how they can be controlled.” Norika hadn’t seen him like this before, releasing his anger slowly, taking its measure. For the first time, he frightened her.

  Nat took out his phone and located the image of the dolls’ house at Halston Hall. “We’ll get to know our enemies first,” he said, “starting with Lady Wincroft.”

  * * *

  Warwickshire, England, 1913

  It took Mrs Macgregor several minutes to recover from her surprise at seeing Nat and Norika outside her kitchen door again, but after ushering them inside she welcomed them warmly.

  “I wouldn’t have believed it, seeing you both again. It’s been two years! I thought you’d vanished. I can’t have that dog in here, though. Not in my kitchen.”

  They exchanged glances. Nat took Argos aside and said quietly, “Can you check the grounds?” When Argos had left, Nat followed Norika into the kitchen.

  “I suppose you’ll both be wanting something to eat,” M
rs Macgregor said, putting some bread and ham on the table. She sat with them, chatting while they ate. “You’ll find it quiet around here. Most of the household servants have gone. There’s only Bert and me left. Things haven’t been the same since Miss Emmeline died on that ship with her grandparents. Poor girl‌—‌they never did recover her from the sea. Sir Hugo stays up in London most of the time and Lady Wincroft keeps to herself. I never know how to take her these days, what mood she’ll be in. Grief changes people. Her daughter and both her parents, lost at sea.”

  “Where is Edward?” said Norika.

  “Up at Oxford, doing better than his brother did. As for Master Frederick, I wouldn’t know where he is. We don’t hear from him.” She made an effort to sound more cheerful. “Well then, that’s enough misery. Bert’s in the town fetching supplies so there’s only me here at the moment‌—‌and Lady Wincroft, of course. You’ll be wanting to see her.”

  Nat stood. “Don’t trouble yourself, Mrs Macgregor. We’ll search her out ourselves. Thank you for lunch.” He looked at Norika. Let’s go.

  As they went to leave, Mrs Macgregor linked Norika’s arm in hers. “I still remember that lovely dinner we worked on together, my dear. Sushi it was, what you prepared. My goodness, it caused a stir!” She sighed. “People were happy then. Now they say a war is coming.”

  They walked around to the front of the manor. The door was open and they knocked softly before entering. The house seemed deserted and cold. The clock in the hall ticked more loudly than they remembered and their footsteps echoed as they made their way cautiously from room to room. Dust covers were over much of the furniture.

  “Well, well‌—‌Nathaniel and Norika. What a pleasant surprise.”

  The words came from behind them. Again Nat recognised a voice that sent a chill through him. She had disguised it well when they had last met‌—‌her actor’s training‌—‌and he wouldn’t have known it now except for the fact that back then, for a moment, as she bent to tend to her dying dog, she had dropped her guise. In the park, and later in the enveloping mist, he hadn’t connected the woman in the hood to Lady Wincroft.