“But what about the expedition? As your superiors must have informed you, I’m here leading a state-funded mission to gather data on climate change. We haven’t even begun the survey of Hathor moth populations, for example, and even setting up the tracking system for apex predators will take at least thirteen—”
“The Empire thanks you for your service,” Tribune Torr interjected sternly, “and now requires your cooperation in this urgent security matter.” As the Tribune spoke, Kaeylor watched over his shoulder as Santor Yarril, her colleague at the Institute and next in command on the climate mission, emerged from one of the tents and looked helplessly in her direction. Their eyes met, and he shrugged as if to say, in the semi-private body language that develops between old friends, “there was nothing I could do.” She nodded understandingly, and then looked directly at the Tribune. Santor was right—there was nothing either of them could do.
“I’ll pack my bags” she replied curtly and marched past the Tribune. The legionaries tensed up but the Tribune waved them off, and they parted deferentially to allow the scientist to pass.
3.
…Heresy 41. (a): World is a giant space whale surfing the cosmic sea, and human life a commensal stowaway in its vast gut. This myth is common among the animist fisher tribes of the southern isles of West Mundus, although possibly deriving from an earlier eastern legend…
The flight back to the Capital took six hours, and the lion’s share of it was over The Eye of Haberac, the shallow sea that severed the northern regions of the vast m-shaped continent of Mundus into its East and West halves. Kaeylor detested these flights, all the more so when made by heliplane. Flying in general made her anxious, and these glorified choppers in particular seemed such small and vulnerable things to be crossing a sea, even a thin and shallow sea like The Eye. Barely three weeks before, she had made the same trip going in the opposite direction, heading with her team out to the Andelyne range. They had managed to book a proper cargo plane for that flight, a sturdy re-purposed war rig, and even then she kept picturing their vessel being flung down into the gray waves by some errant gust, all of them drowning like fruit flies in an abandoned wine glass. It was a recurring, obsessive thought, not a conscious act of imagination, and try as she might, she had been unable to exorcise it. Today, though, the water shimmered such an inviting opal below them, a soothing kaleidoscope of blues and greens, that (although she knew that alarming atmospheric changes were probably responsible for the clear, warm air), her mind managed to relax.
She dozed off for a bit, but when she awoke the first thought in her mind was of the papers in the metal box back at the Observatory. She wanted desperately to pore over the photos she had taken, but with several armed legionaries escorting her, she didn’t dare glance at her handheld. Her memory would have to serve.
What she remembered cemented two key conclusions that she had been flirting with now for the past fourteen months: one, that she no longer had any idea what was true or false regarding the history and origin of World, and two, that she probably knew more about the history and origin of World than anyone else alive.
She knew, of course, that all but the most gullible had privately rejected the ridiculous fables otherwise known as the ‘State Religion.’ Yet only the bravest few dared to publicly voice such heretical skepticism, and fewer still lived to do so more than once. Despite her own reckless curiosity, which had driven her to skulk around the Observatory without permission, Kaeylor was decidedly not among these brave few.
Nevertheless, she was a scientist, so reckless curiosity was, if not a professional necessity, certainly a predictable trait. Curiosity, along with a concern for actual facts. Not the state-sanctioned just-so stories and superstitions masquerading as official “truth,” nor the various “heresies” she catalogued alongside her more serious work, stories ranging from the barely credible to the utterly fantastic. Just the facts—cold, hard, and empirical, discovered outside oneself in the real world. It was this palpability of empirical facts that had attracted her to science in the first place. There was a comforting timelessness in the truths revealed by science that made all the precariousness of life under the Empire seem somehow less threatening. Built on a steady foundation of observable facts, the truth was something that could never be contained by political repression, she thought. Limited, maybe, for a time, but never fully circumscribed. It was more durable and resilient than any empire ever could be. Paradoxically, its very durability was exactly what made repressive governments work so hard to suppress it—it would undermine the Emperor’s power to admit of anything more enduring than his own self-asserted authority.
Take the “temples,” Kaeylor thought—the perfect example of the Empire’s strained relationship with truth. Strewn haphazardly across the landscape, the “temples” were unmistakably relics of advanced technology left behind by whatever civilization prevailed long before the Civil War. For Sol’s sake, she jeered inwardly, they bore black instrument panels that were barely-distinguishable from the touchpad of her handheld. Any astute observer could also see that the veils so carefully draped over them by the priesthood barely concealed long-dead illuminated displays, access ports, and instructional labels in archaic text—much like the rusted remains she had discovered at the Observatory. Once as a teenager she had managed to examine one of these “temples” up close. This was during the frenzied period of Reconstruction immediately following the end of the War, just before the Imperial Guard started to aggressively discourage curiosity seekers. The problem was that back then her knowledge of both computer and human languages was far more limited than it was now. Even though she had vastly outstripped her grammar-school peers, and embarrassed her fair share of instructors, she hadn’t been able to make sense of the strange glyphs, twisted whorls, and alien runes. If only she could get close to one of the damn things now! With all of her subsequent training in physical science and machine languages, she could doubtless extract some knowledge of the circuitry, at the very least, some clue as to what original function the “temples” had served. Forget it, she told herself. It was probably a hopeless pipe dream—although, she mused subversively, so was visiting the Observatory, at one point. But the Observatory, though nestled on a remote mountaintop, was unguarded. Not so the temples, which were impossible to approach within five meters before some Imperial lackey pointed a blaster at your sensitive parts or poked a truncheon into your navel. Unless, that is, you wore the sigil of the Priesthood, which Kaeylor did not.
As a scientist, she was compelled to wear the sigil of the “Natural Philosophers,” a designation no doubt dredged up from some ancient codex, like all of the Imperial titles. She knew that this harkening back to a pre-scientific past was as politically necessary as it was anachronistic. The Empire needed science if it intended to stay in control, to maintain the power plants, irrigation systems, transportation routes, telecom lines, and weapons production. At the same time, it needed to suppress the more critical aspects of scientific thinking, at least in the public mind. To fail to do so could weaken the State Religion, dominated by the cult of what Kaeylor and her peers at the Institute called the “Great Reflector,” but what the Empire insisted be honored as “The Unconquerable Sun God, Sol Invictus.” Kaeylor laughed to herself at the honorific. To a scientist, the “Sun God” was obviously artificial, a man-made “Sun” placed here by… who knows? Maybe the ancient engineers who had designed World? Indeed, this was the first of the many heresies that she had scrawled in her notebook so many years ago:
“Heresy number 1: World is a giant space station (an ark?) built to save the human race from extinction and transport the vestiges of human civilization to a new home.
Corollary a: ‘Sol’ is an artificial Sun that uses advanced technology to focus energy (geothermal? interstellar?) and reflect it back to the surface of World.”
That notebook, or more correctly the subject recorded in it, was the only reason why she had agreed to a remote mountaintop expedition in the
first place. She knew that on this trip she’d have an opportunity to visit the Observatory, and that she’d likely get away with it. And she knew that whatever she saw there would provide new heresies for her notebook, each one bringing her closer to the truth.
She had no idea whether or not to believe the latest heresy, a secret that had lain dormant for so many years in that metal box at the Observatory. But it thrilled and terrified her just the same.
She hadn’t even needed to jot it down. She did so out of ritual rather than necessity. It was so easy to remember—just one word:
“OuterWorld.”
4.
…Heresy 78: World is an experiment, a petri dish or zoo exhibit maintained by some higher intelligence…
Back in the Capital, Kaeylor had been ferried by Imperial Guards to a waiting chamber, a bare but adequate studio done up to resemble a hotel room, in a State-run office building. There was no outside phone line, and her handheld had no reception. They must be using a surveillance net to block any outgoing communication, she realized. Bastards. She felt nervous being in Imperial custody, and was hoping to message Santor to update him on her whereabouts. Although she knew it might be unduly paranoid, at this point, to worry about being “disappeared,” she figured that her odds were better if she had people inquiring about her, and she knew she could count on Santor to inquire. She could also trust him to get in touch with her family, as he had with such tact and gentleness the time that her polar expedition had been suddenly extended for six months by royal decree. Being unable to reach Santor or her family—especially poor Selenia, who by now was probably getting used to being raised by her grandmother, Kaeylor thought ruefully—was torture.
Still, she was grateful for one thing, and that was the opportunity to take a proper shower. The mountain camp did not have running water, so bathing involved either sponging herself in her tent or laboriously melting snow in the dingy aluminum tub of the wooden “bath-house” her team had constructed. After three weeks of the gritty snow-melt, with its briny after-film that never allowed her to feel quite clean, she would not pass up this opportunity to enjoy the louche excess of a long, hot shower.
After bathing, she dressed herself in clean clothes from the one bag the guards had permitted her to bring. She then lay down, fully dressed, on the firm double bed that took up the majority of the room. It had been over three hours since she had been brought here, but there was still no sign of the Imperial Guard. The door to the chamber was locked from the outside, and there was no way to leave or to communicate externally, not even an emergency intercom or fire exit. Anxious, she got up and paced the floor for a while, then tried her handheld again. Still no signal. Overcome with exhaustion from her earlier adventures and the long hours of travel, she returned to the bed, and dozed off to a fretful, dreamless sleep.
She had no way of knowing how long she had been sleeping when a genteel feminine voice boomed over a hidden speaker box in the ceiling, startling her awake:
“Rise and shine, Dr. Lirin.”
How did they know she was sleeping? The creeps must have been monitoring her on a hidden camera. Either that or the room was very well-bugged. They were trying to scare her, and although she didn’t like to admit it, Kaeylor conceded inwardly that it was working.
The voice continued, loud but emotionless: “Your appointment with the Inspector General will commence in twenty minutes. Prepare yourself to leave. Use the facilities if necessary.”
There was a loud, firm knock at the door. Kaeylor composed herself, gripped the door knob. It yielded to her pressure. Outside were Tribune Torr and three heavily armed Imperial Guards.
“Come with us” said Torr. “Leave your bag behind.”
The interrogation room was icy cold and had no windows. Across the grey, metal table sat Inspector General Tovin Marsqill, an elderly bespectacled man, gaunt yet sparsely handsome with an aquiline nose and imposing cheekbones, looking almost foppish in a dapper suit and tie. For several minutes, he perused a file on Kaeylor that listed educational qualifications, places of residence, academic appointments, and other data both public and private. He made no effort to conceal the file, allowing Kaeylor to read with him the impressive trivia they had compiled on her, from her age (thirty-three years, two months) to her blood type (O negative) to her first pet (an orange tabby named Octavian).
Kaeylor tugged at the shackle that held her right arm to the table, hoping to gain his attention. The Inspector remained undistracted.
“I thought I wasn’t under arrest,” Kaeylor blurted out in frustration. The Inspector looked up mildly, as if noticing her presence for the first time.
“Have you ever seen a snow leopard at eighteen thousand feet?” he asked softly.
“What?” Kaeylor was nonplussed. “I am an Imperial citizen. I have rights. I was told that my help was needed for an investigation, not that I was under arrest. I want to see my lawyer.”
“I’ll ask you again,” the Inspector’s voice tightened, the interrogator’s harshness beginning to show. “You’re a climatologist. What is the usual elevation range for a snow leopard? Have you ever known them to wander as high as eighteen thousand feet?”
Kaeylor’s blood became as ice-cold as the room. He was talking about the incident on the mountain.
“I don’t see the relevance of what you’re asking.” She tried to summon courage in her voice.
“Answer the question.”
“I don’t know. I suppose not. The warming climate has pushed several species to higher and higher elevations. It’s not impossible. Can I speak to my lawyer now?”
“We don’t have time for games, citizen.” The harshness in his voice thickened momentarily, then abruptly abated, replaced by a calm superciliousness. “We know exactly what you were doing at the Andelyne Observatory. Do you think you’re the only person clever enough to fiddle with droids?” Kaeylor had no reply. “We have enough evidence to convict you of high treason, the penalty for which, I am certain you are aware, is death.”
Kaeylor refused to show weakness in front of a sniggering Imperial bureaucrat. “So the snow leopard I fired at was an AI? Impressive. If you have evidence, I suppose you’ll present it in court and have me convicted. In the meantime, I demand my lawyer.”
“The only thing that’s impressive is your arrogant stupidity.” The Inspector whirled around her file, opened to photos of a middle-aged woman and a young girl. The photos were labeled, “Mother, Violar Kurvok, sixty-eight years. Daughter, Selenia Lirin, nine years,” followed by hundreds of lines of surveillance data on the woman and child. Kaeylor’s throat tensed up visibly as she swallowed hard.
Inspector Marsqill’s thin mouth curled faintly upward in a half-conscious grin.
“As you and I both know, under the emergency legislation enacted three years ago, the right to representation and trial by jury are suspended in terrorism cases. And enemies of the state open up their family members to prosecution as well. Complicity, accessory to subversion, and so on.”
“Terrorism? What the hell are you talking about? Nothing that you’re alleging—I should say implying—constitutes terrorism.”
“On the contrary. We have reason to believe that one of your family members is involved in a terrorist plot against the Empire.”
“I don’t understand.” She tried to sound unafraid, but was unable to stop her voice from jumping half an octave. “Listen. Whatever you’re getting at, whatever you’re trying to do to me, leave my mother and daughter out of this, you understand? My family was unaligned during the War. After you people took over, we did our duty without complaint. My own husband was killed on East Mundus serving your bloody Emperor. My mother takes care of Selenia so that I can travel all over World trying to stop the climate change your Imperial bosses are so worried about. My family is innocent. Whatever this is, leave them out of it.” Her heart and breath were racing. She tried to repress it, but her panic was becoming visible.
“Stay calm,” the Inspector
closed the file and put it aside, “and listen to me. I bring up your mother and child to impress on you the gravity of the situation. But we— The Emperor. He is ruthless with traitors. But he is not unreasonable. He has permitted me to offer you a fresh start, immunity for your family and a pardon for your impertinent snooping at the Andelyne Observatory. But as you correctly alluded to before your little outburst, we need your help.”
“My help?”
“Yes. As I said, one of your relations is involved in a sinister plot against the State. I am speaking of your elder sister, Illyvia Lirin.”
“My sister is dead. She died in the sinking of that ocean liner, the Moravia. Almost thirteen years ago.”
“Yes, that is what we believed as well. Until about six months ago, when intelligence was acquired placing her at the site of a bombing raid on an Imperial outpost on East Mundus. We now believe that she was involved in the sinking of the Moravia. She likely used the incident as a pretext to fake her own death and to join the rebel forces.”
“This is unbelievable.” Kaeylor couldn’t accept it. Her sister alive? And a terrorist?
“You can see for yourself.” Inspector Marsqill stared at her placidly. Kaeylor stared back, confused.
“What are you talking about?”
“We’d like you to help us locate her. Maybe even bring her in, if possible. She would never speak to one of our agents, but a family member? We know how important filial ties are to you unaligned families...” He trailed off.
“So you know where she is?”
“Not exactly. That’s where you may be of assistance to us.”
“I’m afraid I’m not following you.”
The Heresies of World Page 2