“If Argos is right,” said Nat, “we need to study the fourth diagram alongside the markings on the rock. It could be the signal to overwrite Seb’s code. I think we’re close.”
“If we are, you’ve done it yourself,” Norika said quietly.
“Not quite yet. We have a way to go.”
She hesitated, no more than a heartbeat. “It’s not my way, Nat, it’s yours. You don’t need my help now.”
Silence. “I thought we were in this together.”
“I went with you because…because of Yoshiki. He always believed you could overwrite Seb’s code. It was important to him. Seb’s father was his friend.”
Another silence. Nat said, “Will I see you after this?”
She answered evenly, “If our paths cross, we’ll meet.”
“If our paths cross?” He looked away.
Norika hesitated, unsure of his mood. She had expected this to be difficult.
“Paths cross,” she said, “I believe ours will.”
He turned back to her and smiled. “Goodbye, then.”
She took the hand he offered and let him draw her gently to him in a farewell embrace. “Thank you,” he said softly near her ear.
She held him briefly, her throat tight. “Goodbye, Nat.”
He turned to Argos. “Are you leaving as well, Argos?”
“Now that you’re close to the solution, Seb is in greater danger,” said Argos. “I should be near him. If you need me, I will know it and come.”
Nat gave a wry smile. “I’ll miss you.”
He didn’t ask where they were going, and Norika did not turn around as she and Argos walked further into the forest and entered the portal.
Nat watched them go. They were choosing to be somewhere else, out of his life. He went and stood by Finn’s grave, he wasn’t sure why. A thought took over his mind. Don’t despair. He brushed the tears from his face and sat on the grass to think.
The pattern that will one day come alive.
He took out the rock. It was late afternoon but there was still enough light to scan the markings. He cleaned up the image, removed the background, increased the contrast, then he superimposed it on the map image, over the symbols in the lower right corner. They were an exact match.
As he stared at the composite image, the top layer duplicated itself in quck succession, an increment or two from the one before so that the pattern intermeshed. The file had changed. Something about it was familiar. Circuitry. It was a circuit board, designed to send signals. Where was this one located? And where was the circuitry it was communicating with?
He saved and closed the file. When he opened it again it was the same image, the living pattern. He clicked on it and it took him to the website of a small museum in New York City.
Nat studied the image of the museum shown on the home page. The exterior hadn’t changed much over the years, he thought, the building was still recognisable. He scanned the photo gallery for images of the surrounding neighbourhood, and eventually found one that explained everything.
* * *
New York City, 2020
The sound was the first thing he noticed—the roar of traffic on the downtown streets—and the crowds, that colourful amazing rush of people.
He caught his breath, taking it all in.
More than a century had passed since he had last stood on this corner, watching Bruno crank an Italian melody from his street organ and Sabine collect coins from the children gathered around them. He half-expected Sabine to appear and leap on his shoulder. Memories filled his mind. He found himself missing the steamy smell of horse dung and the cries of the stallholders as they hawked their wares.
The museum was housed in the tenement building where Bruno and Rosa and Sabine had once lived. The museum entry was at ground level and the flats on the upper levels had been restored to their original appearance, the way Nat remembered them. He went inside and stood near the staircase he and Bruno had climbed to the third floor, where they’d struggled under the weight of the barrel organ. I’m used to it, Bruno had said. Nat smiled at the memory.
A woman looked up from a desk and smiled at him. “Can I help you?”
Nat said, “I’m looking for a garden, a small Zen garden somewhere in the neighbourhood. I saw it in a photo on your website. It was near this address, at the back of a tenement building.”
“That would be Kenji’s garden. He’s usually there at this time, tending it.” She wrote an address on a piece of paper and handed it to Nat. “It’s further down the street, not far to go.” She gave him an inquiring look. “It’s a most unusual garden. Not many people ask about it.”
“I like Zen gardens,” Nat said.
He walked past busy shops and cafés to the address on the paper. At ground level were two shops and above them apartments. He checked the list of tenants—Kenji’s name was not on it. He entered one of the shops, a delicatessen, and asked the shopkeeper behind the counter if he knew the garden.
“Yeah, I know it. It’s out back, hidden from the street.” He pointed outside. “First doorway left, in the wall. It’s a narrow laneway. Go to the end, you’ll be surprised.”
The laneway led to a gate. Nat pushed it open to enter an enclosed rear yard, larger than he’d expected from the street. On the far side a narrow Zen garden was constructed against a high brick wall, its raised bed of coarse white sand raked into straight lines along its length. At one end the lines continued in angles to form polygons around a group of rocks. Kenji stood nearby, holding a rake and watching him. He lowered it as Nat approached.
“You have found me,” Kenji said mildly. ‘Very few do.”
Nat took the rock from his pocket. “I’ve come to bring you this. It belongs here, in your garden.” He stepped forward and placed the rock on the sand near the larger rocks. “You told me once that the best place to hide something is among others of its kind. It will be safer here than with me.”
As he stepped back the rock started to hum. Nat looked quickly behind him, to the gate. Nothing. He turned to face Kenji, who held his gaze. The glow faded. Nat hesitated, then glanced around the yard, uneasy. What was it that worried him about the garden?
Kenji was still looking at him.
“In case I don’t see you again,” Nat said, “I wanted to say goodbye, and ask you something.” He chose his words carefully. “If I succeed, you told me I would have a choice. Is this true?”
Kenji smiled. “If you achieve your goal, you will have a choice.”
“I don’t wish to be immortal.”
“I understand.”
A long pause. Nat said, “Will you remain here?”
“I can never remain anywhere. Immortality brings loneliness. You’re right to fear it. I once wished my life would end.”
“And now?”
“Now I am curious. The Second Transition will bring changes. I would like to witness them.” Kenji glanced at Nat. “But you clearly have doubts.”
Nat hesitated, then sat on the bench Kenji indicated. “We’re a hybrid people. Whoever comes, we have to live with them. But Ascendants will continue to divide us.”
“Ascendants can be controlled under the right leader. The Second Transition will be whatever the new leader makes of it. He will inspire fear, but he will be a leader for his time.” Kenji sighed. “I am training him myself. Nike was wrong. Until Zelos is destroyed we will have no peace.”
“But the rock has been deactivated.”
“It can be reactivated. Zelos has deteriorated to the point where it is barely habitable. Yet still our people yearn for it. As long as it exists, it will live in our memories as the homeland.”
Nat stared at him. An image filled his mind—the orange sea, a changing gaseous sky, black sand. Kenji’s memories. Nat was sharing them for a second time. He said, “Is that what you plan to do with the rock? Destroy Zelos, against the wishes of Nike?”
Kenji gave a slight smile. “I have no plans. I prefer to re
spond to circumstances.”
Nat was silent. He was thinking the Committee would soon be led by someone like Kenji, someone who would decide the fate of two worlds. He couldn’t let it happen.
As he stood to go his phone buzzed. He glanced at Kenji before reaching for it. With a slight bow, Kenji offered to make tea and disappeared into the building.
The image on the screen was the fourth diagram. No message. Not for the first time Nat imagined the phone could read his mind. He knew that someone had to be activating it, sending it a signal, but who was controlling it, and from where?
He looked again at the diagram, the one the priests claimed held the key to the solution. He scrolled over the image of the stone lantern and zoomed in on a section of roof. Faint markings appeared. The stonework was more complex than it seemed.
He took it to the maximum enlargement and scrolled again. There. He stared hard, his eyes fixed on the area. Carved into the stone, more finely than he would have thought possible, was the same circuitry he recognised from the composite file. The living pattern. Another shape began to emerge, encasing the pattern. He strained forward, trying not to lose focus.
When he realised what it was, he sat back to consider the implications of his discovery. How was it possible? How could a diagram from eighty years ago reveal the unmistakable outlines and inner workings of his cellphone?
Kenji arrived with tea. Nat looked up and said, “I think I know where Seb’s code is.” Without comment Kenji continued to pour tea for them both.
“It was here all the time, in my phone,” Nat said. “Whoever placed it there left a message in the diagram.” He stopped, remembering that Kenji had worked with the priests on the design of the Garden, he knew the diagrams and had created the Zen garden with its concealed probe and secret meanings. Kenji knew the science.
As the connections grew in his mind Nat realised what it was that troubled him about Kenji’s garden. The sand was raked into parallel straight lines broken up by small geometric symbols—circles, squares, polygons. It was a different circuitry from that in his phone, located somewhere else, communicating with it.
He turned to face Kenji. “Was it you, Kenji? Did you plant the circuit board in my phone? Was it you who hid the message in the diagram?”
“I did what I could to help you. The data in your phone needs to be overwritten to achieve your goals.” Kenji hesitated. “The signal is now activated.”
Nat remained still. “What signal?”
“The circuit board contains your code. It’s the signal that you are ready.”
Nat looked at him. “I have no code. I’m not a Descendant, like Seb.”
“Your mother is Zelean. She came here with Seb’s father under the highest security. When he was murdered, her code was rewritten and even the Network was unaware of her identity. Then she met your father and chose to remain here. Her secret has been safe with me until now, but I believe her son should know it.”
Nat stood, shaking his head in disbelief. “I don’t believe you.”
“Ask why you can hear our thoughts. Unless humans have Zelean blood, they can’t communicate with us through the mind.”
Nat cast his mind back to something Kenji had said earlier. “You said I was ready. Ready for what?”
Silence.
Nat slumped down on the bench and raised his hands to his head. A moment passed. “You told me the new leader was being trained to take over soon.”
“He is. You are. The journey was your training.”
Nat felt his stomach quicken and he swallowed hard.
Kenji said, “Your code is unremarkable, Nathaniel, not like your brother’s. If not for him, you would have gone unnoticed. Now your code is known to Ascendants. It marks you.”
“Then why would you want me as leader?”
“Because you have proved resourceful. You are close to discovering how to access your brother’s code. Overwriting a Zelean code requires courage and persistence. Such a man makes a good leader.” He paused. “We all have responsibilities. These are yours. If you succeed, you will have time to adjust to your role. Your life and studies will continue as planned.”
“You said I had a choice.”
“The choice is not about your role, only its longevity. We have invested time in you. The Committee would prefer that you remain as leader beyond your expected lifespan.”
Nat was thinking fast. Nothing is foolproof. He would play the part. The best place to hide something is among others of its kind. He would be the leader they expected, the leader they wanted, a leader in their own image. They would look at him and see only themselves. He would reflect their views while hiding his own.
He took a deep breath. “What about Seb?” he asked.
Kenji said, “Sebastian will be positioned where we need him to be, undetected, in order to ensure that history unfolds as it should.”
“The way you want it to unfold.”
“The best way—a compromise, combining the foundations of Earth’s civilisations with an advanced scientific system.”
The Age of Akropolis is upon us, Nat thought. Maybe Kenji was right. History would change and no one would notice. What would Seb do? He made a decision.
For the first time he saw uncertainty in Kenji’s eyes and felt the unexpected rush of power. He realised that control was now with him. Now he would take as long as he needed.
“I’ll let you know my plans,” he said, then turned and walked out the gate and down the lane to the street, into the crowds.
32
Athens, 423 BC
Andreas was delighted. Sebastian had been back no more than a week and already the word had spread among his customers. Seb had simply appeared in the shop, walked in off the street as if he’d never been away. How many times had Andreas wished he were here? How many times had he asked the gods to keep him safe? Too many to count.
Even better, Seb seemed to have no plans to leave. He was once again at his bench, creating excellent sandals for the upcoming Dionysia festival and living with Andreas’s family like a son returned from a long voyage. Andreas knew the arrangement was temporary. Seb had told him of his plans to study in Athens with friends of Zenon’s, teachers of philosophy and rhetoric, and Andreas had not inquired further. Even though Seb’s future career was a matter of great interest to him, he preferred to watch and wait.
His patience was rewarded when Zenon had asked his advice. “You know the ways of commerce, Andreas,” Zenon had said, “Sebastian needs a broad education, not just instruction in philosophy and politics.” Andreas had allowed himself a pleased smile. It was true. Andreas knew the right people. He and Zenon had discussed possible mentors and tutors, especially those not afraid to criticise the polis or to write irreverently of those who govern it.
It had been a good week.
There had been people inquiring after Sebastian. Different types. Demokritos had come from Abdera. The young girl Chloe and her mother, good customers—they had been here several times. Andreas observed the interest Chloe had in Seb, but he kept his word not to divulge information. Who can tell the future?
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of conversation coming from the front of the shop. He put aside the piece of hide he’d been cutting and went through to Seb.
“Andreas,” Seb said, by way of introduction to the dark-haired girl standing by his side. She turned and to his surprise Andreas recognised Norika. “You have met Norika before, I think.”
Norika smiled and extended her hand. Andreas reminded himself she had foreign ways, like Seb. He took her hand awkwardly and again wondered which land they were from. What could she be doing here? A young girl, not yet twenty, so far from home? He noted Sebastian’s pleasure in her company, saw the intense look Seb gave her, saw the cool passion in her return gaze. Andreas sighed. They were young and thought themselves in love. Maybe they were. He could only hope, without conviction, that perhaps they were not as susceptible as the youth of Athens t
o losing themselves in their infatuation, to forget their duty, to seek no company other than their own.
Something in the shop’s entrance caught his eye—a large black dog stood watching them. Andreas stepped back, startled. The dog continued to observe them calmly. He’s guarding the entrance, Andreas thought.
Norika smiled in reassurance. “He’s with me,” she said. “His name is Argos.”
Argos. What next from this strange girl? Andreas soon discovered Norika was staying at Zenon’s house, where she was acting as tutor to his son Alexios while receiving training in the ways of Athenian society. He noted shrewdly this was where Seb often spent his afternoons after working mornings in the shop, and reasoned from this that Sebastian and Norika had arrived here together, and the dog with them.
From where? Where had Seb been these past months? In time Andreas learned more—that Sebastian had been travelling, he was to stay in Athens, make his home here, and fulfil a duty. Norika was with him, as was Argos. For Andreas it was enough. He reasoned that with Seb’s future career assured, both their lives would benefit from such connections.
These matters were occupying his mind as he gazed out on the street the day before the festival. His thoughts drifted to Leontios and he realised with a start what had prompted his memory. One of Leontios’s pigeons had returned, his favourite, the soft grey one. She was perched on the window ledge, watching Sebastian work.
Andreas said, “That pigeon seems to know you. She belonged to Leontios.”
Seb looked up, surprised. “She’s a messenger pigeon,” he said, “with a message.” He left his bench and approached the pigeon, who continued to watch him calmly as he reached out and gently removed the message attached to her leg.
“What does it say?” said Andreas.
Seb took a few moments to read it. “It’s for me,” he said. He smoothed the paper flat on the bench and wrote a message on the other side. He folded it and attached it to the pigeon’s leg, then waited as the pigeon flew from the ledge. Within seconds she had disappeared from sight.
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