Year of the Black Rainbow

by Claudio Sanchez

  The tank ground to a halt, and then backed up, mashing even flatter what was left of the bodies. Then it rolled forward once more before stopping completely. Once again, Ryan’s voice boomed so that it was heard throughout the city:

  “My people! The pains you experienced as a result of the Mage Wars surely remain fresh in your minds. But I ask you this: As you were slaughtered in between the warring Mages, trampled like grass underfoot, where was your Almighty then? Is It too good to meddle in the Fence’s affairs? Or is It simply not there? The Ghansgraad makes empty promises to you, based on so many ifs, whats, and whens. I challenge that there is no celestial watchman from on high waiting to save anyone. My rule is here and now. Should you be willing to embrace it as my believers, than you’ll receive greater rewards than you’ve ever dreamed here in this life. Why wait patiently like dogs for a tidbit from the master’s table when I, Wilhelm Ryan, invite you to sit at the table and feast? Wilhelm Ryan will guide you! Let us cleanse ourselves of On High and Its deceit! Deftinwolf, let the cleansing begin!”

  As he had been speaking, the cheers escalated in volume until they came close to drowning out Ryan’s voice. It was the cue that Deftinwolf had been waiting for. He gestured for a squadron of soldiers bringing up the rear to come forward. They unholstered their nozzles as they did so, then took aim at the crowd and—upon Deftinwolf’s order—began firing. Liquid blasted out in all directions, and at first people stumbled, taken aback, fearing foul play. Many of them screamed, their mouths naturally wide open as a result. The liquid cascaded down their throats. They staggered, looked surprised. The soldiers let up on the “assault” for a few moments to allow the reaction to set in. Others in the crowd, who had been running instinctively, stopped in their tracks when they saw broad grins spreading across the faces of those who had been soaked.

  “The finest refreshment, courtesy of House Atlantic,” Ryan declared. “Let this be a day and night of the greatest celebration Apity Prime has ever known. And let it start here!”

  The soldiers turned on the nozzles again, and this time people in the crowd were falling over each other to get a taste.

  “Let all the pleasure and joy that can be shared, be shared by all! I, Wilhelm Ryan, so order it!”

  And Ryan looked upon what happened next, and found it to be good.

  The city had gone berserk. Word spread quickly of Ryan’s treat for those who supported his reign, and that was only the beginning. Whereas before, the sight of the Red Army moving through the city was enough to cause fear and panic, now they were greeted with interest and anticipation. They provided wine in copious amounts, and champagne to celebrate the greatness of the rule of Wilhelm Ryan. Everything else that followed more or less, developed naturally.

  The relief that the people of Apity Prime felt over the fact that the wars were over and that they were going to live, and that Wilhelm Ryan had a grand vision for where they were going to go next that was certainly going to benefit them…all of that came together and combusted like a volcano that had been stoppered and was now being unleashed.

  The city exploded in celebration.

  When the libations that Ryan provided had been used up, the citizens began looking elsewhere. The bars were as overrun as if a dozen sporting events were being celebrated simultaneously.

  Unfortunately, some of the exultation led to violence, particularly when some of the bars wound up going dry. Revelers turned to liquor stores, and when some of them couldn’t sell the booze fast enough, they were looted. Other victims of assault were those still bold enough to oppose Ryan, by waving their signs and shouting their protests in the drunken faces of his new followers. The revolutionists wound up with their placards ripped down, and were beaten into silence.

  But those were merely blips in an overall air of gleeful, unrestrained, unrepentant insanity that consumed Apity Prime.

  Their heads clouded with drink and pure, raw emotion, the citizenry unleashed its passions. The air was thick with sweat, and cries of ecstasy mingled freely with moans of agony from those who tried to keep their heads and suffered physical abuse as a result.

  The bars that still had supplies finally stopped taking money. It seemed ungracious and not keeping with the spirit of joy, somehow. That worked out fine for the bartenders and owners, because willing partners rewarded the graciousness of the bar owners in other ways.

  The carnal delights that spread through the city were hardly limited to the business sector. It was overall a night of drunken debauchery such as no one could remember in the history of the Fence.

  Ryan had left the city as the insanity began, retreating to his new abode at House Atlantic. He had embarked on the remodeling of the keep, replacing an assortment of murals and statues depicting the achievements of the previous owner with images of himself. He had also created a tower for himself, a high tower that many felt attempted to reach to the clouds. From the tower, and his sanctum within, using the technological wonders at his command, he watched a city that was gripped in the throes of celebration with much the same manner and intensity that people were seized by orgasm.

  He waited to see if he would feel something as the debauched and occasionally depraved spectacle unfolded.

  He looked upward toward the night sky and said, “Honestly…was this the best you could do? Truly? Create creatures willing to work themselves into a state where they toss aside all reason? If the answer is yes, then what does that say about you? If the answer is no, then why didn’t you put some more effort into it?” He shook his head. “You disappoint me. We are going to have words, you and I. When I am running the universe—when I am lord over all creation—rest assured I’ll do a better job than this. And my followers will never doubt me the way yours are beginning to.”

  With that, Ryan retired to his inner chambers. He did not sleep as normal beings did. Instead he retreated into a deep contemplative state that he could control at will. Typically he remained in that state for an hour, two at the most.

  This night he stayed that way for six.

  He considered that most unusual.

  When he emerged from his inner chambers, he found something even more unusual waiting for him against the morning sky.

  Chapter 6

  The Black Rainbow

  On the Star IV world of Bendelesh, the home of the Prise—the winged guardians of the word of God—Paranoia was the first to see it.

  The Prise had no single leader. Instead, each of the sisters took turns serving as the main voice of the Prise as situations required. In those instances, even the term “leader” was not one that they used. They preferred the term “guardian,” for “leader” implied that there was a diminishment of free will amongst the Prise. Not that it mattered all that much, the Prise customarily operated with one mind and spoke with one voice. Never had there been a hive mind that nevertheless valued its individuality as much as the Prise.

  To an outside eye or individual, there was nothing to distinguish one of the Prise from another. Physically they looked identical. They were long-lived, certainly, yet could die of natural causes or in battle. But who would be mad enough to battle the Prise?

  Wilhelm Ryan. That name was intruding upon Paranoia’s musings with growing frequency these days. It seemed his shadow continued to grow and stretched everywhere—even here into the heart of the Prise’s orange and gold temple, where great columns stretched nearly to infinity and walls shimmered in pale colors that evoked the star itself.

  This day Paranoia was wearing the tiara that signified her status as guardian. It was the first day of her term, one that had no set termination point. The Prise would simply decide that it was time for the tiara to change wearers, and the guardian would hand it over to the next individual. Paranoia reached up gently and touched the tiara. She knew that it was not appropriate for any of the Prise to take pride in the status of guardian. Yet secretly she was rather enamored of the tiara and wondered if some daunting situation would present itself during her term that would
require her to serve, well and truly, her sisters, rather than simply be a figurehead.

  She walked to the outer rim of the temple and stared out at the skies. Morning and night were merely abstracts on Star IV, with the view never changing. Still, she had come to think of those arbitrary divisions as a means of keeping track of the passage of time in the universe.

  Paranoia blinked in confusion, not fully comprehending what it was she was staring at initially. She rubbed her eyes, blinked several times, and rubbed them again. It didn’t appear to make any sense; it had to be some manner of freakish cosmic occurrence, an illusion, a trick of the eye or of the mind, certainly. One that would vanish in short order, back to the inner recesses of her subconscious.

  It did not.

  “What in God’s name…?” she said, and quickly came to the conclusion that that was exactly in whose name it was. It was a signature written upon the fabric of reality and only one individual could have been wielding the pen that produced it.

  An ebony band was curved across the entirety of the skies above Heaven’s Fence. It was absolutely massive, as if someone had just reached into the firmament with unprecedented fury and ripped out an entire strip of reality, leaving a vast, gaping arc of nothingness in its stead. It was like a gigantic, pulsing open wound. A massive black hole seething with smoke and gas. It had no beginning, no end, and seemed as if it could swallow the entirety of Heaven’s Fence with absolutely no trouble. And from deep within its recesses, Paranoia was certain that she could hear distant screeches of infuriated agony, as if a doorway had been opened to a realm where a billion tortured souls were howling over their fate of eternal torment. That should not, could not have been possible across the void, even were that truly the case. Yet that was what she thought she was perceiving within her own head.

  Ordinary eyes would not have been able to see it set against the blackness of space. But Paranoia’s eyes were hardly normal; they could locate a single speck of meteorite dust bounding across the night sky.

  For those residing on the planets below, however, as the vast triangle of Heaven’s Fence slowly pivoted on its unseen axis, it would certainly be visible during the daylight hours that the Keywork provided.

  Paranoia closed her eyes and reached out with her heart, her soul, her very being, to perceive the reaction that was being prompted from below by this…this Black Rainbow—the words seemed to have a unusual weight or import to them—that had appeared out of nowhere.

  “What do you sense?”

  Her sister, Ambellina, was standing several feet away from her. Paranoia had not heard her enter. The Prise typically made no noise, unless they were charging into battle. The saying was that to hear the Prise meant that you were hearing the hoof beats of your death approaching. Ambellina typically was not much for small talk; she tended to cut straight to the heart of matters.

  “You’ve seen it, Ambellina?”

  “Of course,” she said impatiently. “And I know you are feeling for the concerns of Man. Again, what do you sense?”

  Paranoia kept her eyes closed. Then she let out a slow sigh and spoke as if whispering. “Panic. Confusion. Fear. Elation.”

  “Elation?” Ambellina cocked a thin, blonde eyebrow. “Elation? “

  “Yes. Among other—”

  Ambellina shook her head impatiently. “Man can be utterly ridiculous sometimes.”

  “Sister!”

  “I love you, Paranoia, you know that. But you continue to have far too much empathy for them. Elation!”

  “Why not?” said Paranoia, defensive as always about the humans who scurried about on the worlds below like ants with opposable thumbs. “Why should they not have a full range of reactions?”

  “Because of what it means!”

  “They don’t know what it means. Neither do we.”

  “Yes,” said Ambellina firmly, in a tone that left no room for argument. “Yes, we do. It is a direct sign from God that He is angry with us for the way that we have stood by and let Ryan engage in his battle for power and dominance. We are the guardians of the word of God, and if God is displaying His ire with those above, then obviously it cannot bode well for those below. The sisters know that, but do you?”

  Paranoia circled her, studying her. Ambellina remained perfectly still, not meeting her gaze. “What does that mean, precisely?”

  “It means that it is going to be your responsibility as guardian to make the right decision in this matter.” Ambellina tilted her head, listening to the air. “Our sisters have awoken from their slumbers. They are seeing the Black Rainbow as well. Swift actions are going to be required. You, Paranoia, are going to have to be prepared to do the right thing.”

  “The ‘right thing’ meaning whatever you believe is the correct course of action.”

  Ambellina closed her eyes as if trying to gather her thoughts so that she could then explain them as simply as possible. Then she opened them, and Paranoia was sure she was imagining it, but there actually seemed to be a bit of moisture in Ambellina’s eyes, as if she were deeply in mourning. “The fact is…the fact is, sister, that we have failed Him. We have let down our maker, and this is more than just a display of his anger. It is a warning. A warning that Ryan must be taken firmly in hand.”

  “And what would you suggest? That we charge down en masse to destroy him?”

  “We have no choice.”

  “We always have a choice. That is the essence of free will.”

  “Free will that was given us by God, and haven’t we done a superb job of it so far.”

  “Our province is the sky, Ambellina. Thrusting ourselves directly into the affairs of Man…that is not our way.”

  “But it was our way. We have convinced ourselves of that over the years, but ‘twas not always so. Once upon a time, Man was our business. We routinely took a direct hand in their affairs. They were like our children.”

  “But children cannot remain so forever. Sooner or later, they must learn to walk on their own. To become adults. We were trying to be kind to them by letting them exercise their own free will, to deal with the consequences of their own actions. We were allowing them room to grow…”

  “Nonsense, Paranoia. We turned our sights inward long ago, all but forgetting our children as they drew away from us and into the waiting hands of war. Their deaths are the direct result of neglectful caretakers.”

  “No one has died at our hand, Ambellina!”

  “No; they’ve died because we stayed our hand, and in many ways that is just as bad, if not worse.” She pointed toward the darkness. “That is what He is saying.”

  “We don’t know what He is saying. We have yet to truly listen.”

  “Paranoia,” she said patiently, “I know that contemplation is your way. Contemplation and caution and studying all aspects of a situation. But we do not have time for that. Not now. Not when the pure anger of God is incarnate before us.”

  “If that is indeed what it is—”

  Ambellina hit her.

  Her fist struck Paranoia on the side of the head. She hit the ground and sat there for a moment, stunned, clutching her skull and trying to overcome the ringing in her ears. She looked up at Ambellina, who was staring at her fist as if it had operated entirely on its own without regard to her wishes. “I…” Stricken, she looked down at Paranoia and then extended a hand. Paranoia gripped it and allowed Ambellina to haul her to her feet. Ambellina immediately put her arms around her, hugging her tightly. “I am sorry. Please accept my…I am so, so sorry.”

  “You believe passionately in your opinions. I understand that.” She touched her jaw tentatively and then pushed hard on it, snapping it back into place with an audible click. “But you see the danger and pointlessness of unbridled violence.”

  “I know. And your wisdom about such concerns is extremely important to me. But Paranoia…the timing of the Black Rainbow cannot be ignored. You are aware of what transpired on Apity Prime. Ryan celebrated his triumph. Depravity and debauchery ran ram
pant through the cities as a result. Come the dawn, the Black Rainbow appeared as mute condemnation of both Ryan’s victory and the lack of the public’s condemnation of it. It is a warning to them. They should be united in their interpretation of it. You said yourself that they are not. We must be united on their behalf, if we are to save them and live up to the trust that had been placed upon us by our Maker.”

  Paranoia stared at the Black Rainbow, hoping that it would speak directly to her. Make some sort of a statement, ideally speaking in a sepulchral voice projected directly into her mind, that would put forward the common sense of the matter to the Prise in terms so plain and firm as to command their assent. But there was nothing. Nothing save for the decisions that she was going to have to make.

  She could, of course, wait. Her term as guardian would eventually expire and another of her sisters would take charge. Then it would become her problem. Paranoia could step back and let someone else attend to it, content that her purpose was to follow instead of to lead.

  But something within her bridled against that.

  “There is a reason,” she murmured.

  “What?”

  “There is a reason that this happened while I am guardian. There is a reason that I am expected to deal with it. And I will. This will be dealt with. Ryan will be dealt with.”

  “Excellent,” said Ambellina. “I will alert the sisters.”

  “Ambellina…”

  “We will descend from on high—“

  “Ambellina—“

  “—and show both Ryan and Deftinwolf the dangers of…”

  “Ambellina!”

  The sharpness of her tone snapped Ambellina from her contemplation of slaughter. “What?”

  “That’s not what’s going to happen. Ryan’s actions are the affairs of the land. It is not enough that we gather our forces to combat him directly. Instead, humanity must respond in the only way that it can: with innovation. With imagination. With its own resources marshaled to meet the enemy and stop him.”