by A I Zlato
I Really Love Sci-Fi
Grenade editions – 158 Bx de la Colline
92213 Saint-Cloud Cedex - FRANCE
© Copyright 2019 – I Really Love Sci-Fi
ISBN (pbk) 978-2-491193-02-7
ISBN (ebook) 978-2-491193-01-0
Publishing consultancy: Leaders Press, www.leaderspress.com
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any informational storage or retrieval system without express written, dated and signed permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business, events, or locales is purely coincidental.
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CONTENTS
1. SPACE H. (PERIPHERY)
2. PRE-E.S. ERA
3. SPACE H. (1ST CIRCLE)
4. SPACE H. (OUTSIDE CIRCLE)
5. CYCLE 1100 1010 0011 1111
6. SPACE H. (PERIPHERY)
7. SPACE H. (1ST CIRCLE)
8. SPACE H. (1ST ENCIRCLEMENT)
9. SPACE H. (PERIPHERY)
10. INTERSPACE (LEVEL 2)
11. SPACE H. (1ST CIRCLE)
12. CYCLE 1100 1010 0100 0001
13. SPACE H. (OUTSIDE CIRCLES)
14. PRE-E.S. ERA
15. SPACE H. (1ST CIRCLE)
16. INTERSPACE (LEVEL 2)
17. SPACE H. (PERIPHERY)
18. SPACE H. (1ST ENCIRCLEMENT)
19. SPACE H. (1ST CIRCLE)
20. CYCLE 1100 1010 0100 0010
21. INTERSPACE (LEVEL 2)
22. SPACE H. (1ST CIRCLE)
23. PRE-E.S. ERA
24. SPACE H. (PERIPHERY)
25. SPACE H. (OUTSIDE CIRCLE)
26. SPACE H. (1ST CIRCLE)
27. CYCLE 1100 1010 0100 0101
28. SPACE H. (1ST ENCIRCLEMENT)
29. SPACE H. (PERIPHERY)
30. SPACE H. (1ST CIRCLE)
31. PRE-E.S. ERA
32. SPACE H. (1ST CIRCLE)
33. SPACE H. (OUTSIDE CIRCLE)
34. SPACE H. (1ST CIRCLE)
35. PRE-E.S. ERA
36. INTERSPACE (LEVEL 2)
37. CYCLE 1100 1010 0100 1000
38. SPACE H. (1ST CIRCLE)
39. SPACE H. (PERIPHERY)
40. SPACE H. (1ST ENCIRCLEMENT)
41. SPACE H. (1ST CIRCLE)
42. INTERSPACE (LEVEL 2)
43. PRE-E.S. ERA
44. SPACE H. (1ST CIRCLE)
45. SPACE H. (OUTSIDE CIRCLE)
46. SPACE H. (PERIPHERY)
47. SPACE H. (1ST CIRCLE)
48. CYCLE 1100 1010 0110 0000
49. SPACE H. (PERIPHERY)
50. PRE-E.S. ERA
51. SPACE H. (1ST CIRCLE)
52. SPACE H. (1ST ENCIRCLEMENT)
53. SPACE H. (1ST CIRCLE)
54. INTERSPACE (LEVEL 2)
55. CYCLE 0000 0001
56. SPACE H. (PERIPHERY)
57. SPACE H. (OUTSIDE CIRCLE)
58. SPACE H. (1ST CIRCLE)
59. CYCLE 0000 0010
60. INTERSPACE (LEVEL 2)
61. SPACE H. (PERIPHERY)
62. SPACE H. (1ST CIRCLE)
63. SPACE H. (1ST ENCIRCLEMENT)
64. SPACE H. (OUTSIDE CIRCLE)
65. SPACE H. (PERIPHERY)
66. PRE-E.S. ERA
67. SPACE H. (1ST CIRCLE)
68. CIRCLE ZERO
69. CYCLE 0000 0011
Everything has a beginning, and the beginning is one thing. But starting at the beginning can only bring about one question — what was there before? The time limits inherent to the human spirit cannot annihilate infinity.
Lessons from Chaacetime
CHAPTER 1
SPACE H. (PERIPHERY)
Paul was half asleep, and his mind veered in all directions incoherently. Tiny bits of ideas and words floated in his mind, and sometimes formed concrete thoughts.
He pulled the sheet onto himself to hide the sunlight that was sneaking into the room. Everywhere around the house, he heard life buzzing and forming. The periphery was gradually waking up. He turned around, opposite the window side, and let his mind wonder.
He pondered what the sun’s color was in the spaces where the star was hotter with blue rays — or otherwise, colder with a bright red. Did the word ‘yellow’, which was common in the Elders’ lexicon, still apply to the star, thus referring to different colors? Did everything exist by itself or relative to its environment? Even in his dreams, his job triggered questions that led to more questions. The Earliest Space... the world of the Elders... the other spaces... Space H. where he lived... all these thoughts floated in his neurons, as they often did. That morning, while enjoying the coziness of his bed, he pondered colors... or rather the concept of relative vs. absolute.
He finally woke up, turning off his alarm before it triggered. He sat down, randomly maneuvered through his untidy hair, and stretched. He hoped that his thoughts in the last few minutes would not come back to haunt him during the day. Yet he knew for sure that would not be the case. His thoughts — or rather the daydream ingrained in his brain — would float around for a few hours. Dreams were the reflection of his subconscious mind... of messages he would have to carry out... their importance... relative or absolute... Was the dream really over? He stood up, with things still fuzzy in his mind, and walked out of the house.
It was the 150th day of the third year of the 1010 0111 Cycle. The pale rays of dawn shone on the neighboring houses, far away from the towers. Frost was gradually vanishing off the rooftops. Depending on one’s perspective, the size of houses increased linearly, reflecting a hill of glass and steel. The city looked like a galaxy. In the periphery, houses, far one from another, formed a broken line of houses in the green landscape. The closer you got to the city center, the more compact buildings were, so tight that they appeared to form a continuous block of residences.
In this city, each human being had his or her place, established by the Machine. The Machine was the center of the galaxy, sitting in an immense tower overseeing everything else. Based on people’s skills and capacities, the Machine defined their respective jobs, which in turn defined where they lived. A slim, sharp skyscraper, the Tower was the central, black hole. He looked at it, wondering about the crowds of humans who were working there. In the Primary Circles, people worked exclusively for the Machine, communicating via a chip affixed to their temples. The closer one got to the center, the more sophisticated the devices were. In the farther circles, there was only an interface allowing the transfer of basic information with terminals, which were extensions of the Machine.
In the periphery, humans had nothing similar. They did not need it. Those living in the center would look at them with disdain — but for them, for Paul, the lack of devices meant freedom. The Machine... Just how many humans did it absorb every morning to pass on its instructions? What strategies were engineered in that Tower? The Machine oversaw Space H. Every space had its own Machine. Equilibrium... Machine... inseparable... two sides of the same coin...
Paul was ready to leave. From his house, he could see the city, the Machine and in the diametrically opposite direction, the flowery meadow. This grassland covered several hundred square feet before touching the fringes of the Unique Forest, an expansive and compact stretch of trees that covered the
entire Earth.
Like every city resident, he admired regularly, although from afar, this green expanse, without thinking for a second about wandering over there. The dark forest was a wild land where no man had ever wandered and where no man ever could wander. To go there, to be surrounded by trees, to be unable to see the city or the sky... these things were unthinkable. Under these shades of greenery, did the human world stop? The forest and the Machine wielded on Paul an uncanny attraction; a mixture of respect and fear. It was as if being parts of the same universe, these two forces kept him in the periphery; in an area where he could reach his full potential, being far from the edges. To reach... which potential... that remained the dream question.
Seemingly oblivious to the wanderings of Paul’s mind, Edgard, the kandron, half stretched its wings and got closer to request breakfast. Paul once again admired this splendid animal. Its fur shone in the sunshine, although the word ‘fur’ was inappropriate in this context. Although it had a fluffy feel, it was as resistant as metal, remained shiny as glass, and reflected a beautiful copper color. Its two buttocks, powerful and separate, could carry Paul indefatigably. Its upper parts, much smaller, had an extraordinary dexterity, which would make one think of hands, but only in their deployment. Visually, they were three big, dark, retractile claws. Its back featured wings from the shoulder all the way down to the mid-backbone. When folded, those wings formed a majestic line pervading the animal’s rump. When unfolded, they made the kandron look gigantic and able to fly farther. When covered with blue scales, they resembled a moving ocean.
Paul wondered how the kandron would describe him — a common human; an animal with naked skin who offset this disadvantage by wearing clothes; stands on his hind legs; his upper body parts share the same functionality as those of a kandron but with a lower performance; cannot fly; blond with gray eyes; with an average height when compared to his fellow humans; without a distinctive particularity.
Who could tell?
The kandron was a very intelligent animal. It carried a human on its back only because it wanted to, not because it underwent a specific training. It decided when and who was entitled to this privilege; the honor to ride on its back, to put his or her legs around its neck, and to fly along. The reasons why kandrons had relationships with humans were unknown. Humans took advantage of benefits the kandrons offered, without ever reciprocating. Why would kandrons cultivate such relationships? Why would some decide to stick to one person while other animals would decline any such contact? Few would ponder the question.
Kandrons formed a powerful community. They all seemed to connect through invisible links, which made them veer in a specific direction and stay static for a long period, as if they immersed themselves in a profound discussion. The Machine would regularly summon their representatives, a clear proof they were not only an integral part of the space and the Equilibrium, like every other living being, but also that they controlled their respective destinies.
Nobody knew exactly what the kandrons’ preoccupations were, because they never answered questions clearly. That morning, Paul tried nonetheless to glean some answers.
“How do you spend your days, Edgard?”
“A question makes sense only if you are ready to hear the answer.”
“What makes you think I’m not?”
“The Gateways know it.”
This cryptic sentence, which Edgard routinely would utter, meant nothing to Paul. Somehow, he never dared ask for an explanation. The Gateways... knew.
“So I cannot know the answer?”
“Reality is the imaginary of the majority.”
This was how a conversation with a kandron sounded, even though the word ‘conversation’ would not fit, because Edgard did not talk. It communicated by triggering nervous stimuli in Paul’s brain, constructing thereby sentences and ideas. Unable to communicate similarly, Paul simply talked, and the kandron indicated the subject it found interesting, depending on the topic it felt was interesting... or how it felt on that day. Some things, albeit minor, would make it tick, whereas topics that were more serious would leave it indifferent. More questions... emerging from his spirit... the same reasoning... questions about himself or absolute interrogations... his dream dragged on and on...
“Reality is the imaginary of the majority” was the answer the kandron gave him when he asked how it spent its days. Hard to understand... Continuing this kind of conversation would do nothing but unsettle him, and annoy Edgard. Like others, Paul had to come to terms with a sad reality. He needed to learn to appreciate the services provided by the animal, to feed it and maintain its fur, but not try to understand its reasoning.
He cooked the kandron’s favorite meal, a mixture of cereal, chocolate and honey. Edgard stretched its long neck into the bowl and started gulping the beverage passionately. As it was eating, Paul recalled the first time they met. One morning, as he opened his door, he found the animal lying quietly in his garden. His lower claws had left clear marks on the lawn as well as large, dark bloodstains. The kandron’s physical presence left a permanent mark in the garden. Likewise, its mental imprint would lastingly dwell in Paul’s psyche. When, finally, Paul asked the animal why it was there, Edgard told him that the kandron’s space and the human’s time were nearing each other. Paul knew a kandron would use this usual formula to select the human with whom it would connect and live for a moment. One’s space would get closer to the other’s time. Only Edgard understood the real meaning of that concept. “A kandron lives through space... I live through time...”
He then asked the animal how it wanted to be called. The kandron replied its name while in human time would be Edgard. He then was fully in Paul’s life, taking a prominent place. He felt an uncanny connection to the animal, beyond love or friendship. It was something indescribable; a mental connection. He thought that nothing was more beautiful.
He did not know why he was chosen, among thousands of residents in the periphery. He did not even know how to define a kandron properly. He stopped thinking about that enigmatic aspect of Edgard, because such thoughts would always trigger anguish... some type of gap in his brain, a place to shun... this space-time connection mentioned on the very first day... He needed to leave those thoughts aside — and he had to do it quickly.
While Edgard was finishing its meal, Paul quickly got ready and took some time to brush the animal correctly. Its fur howled as Paul brushed it, generating flashes of static electricity. He liked it and breathed sighs of satisfaction. Its metal fur shone in the sun synchronically with the brush’s movements. When he finished, Paul hopped on the kandron’s back. It then flew toward the laboratory. As he traveled several feet above ground, Paul took the chance to admire the landscape, peeking at wax-colored streets, the dark rooftops of houses, the Unique Forest stretching infinitely. He observed transport’s rails, which squared the city and allowed humans who had no kandrons to commute. Organized in a cobweb, they all came from the Tower, filling transportation needs in the circles and stopping by the periphery like everything else. Nothing or nobody ventured beyond.
The Department of Ancient Sciences research lab, where Paul worked, finally appeared in the landscape, and Edgard veered toward it. Of cubic shape, its pure architecture reflected its largely functional mission. In the Sub-Cube B 23.5, in the external corridor, was the History department, Earliest Space sub-department, where Paul worked. One could even call it his service, as nobody else had been assigned to the department lately. The division featured only Paul and his assistant, Vlad, who felt his transfer was an unjust punishment. Yet... what could be more enthralling?
Everyone knew that the Elders had invented the very concept of space, which meant generating an additional space whenever the Equilibrium was out of balance. The Elders, whose overpopulation and resource waste had irremediably destroyed their environment, had converted their living quarters into the Earliest Space. They had thus saved humans from a programmed annihilation. Paul, one of their remote heirs, lived
in one of those spaces — Space H. If the Elders had sought to convey a message through this letter, it had been lost for a long time. Legend had it that spaces were connected through the Gateways, of which no one knew anything. A Gateway was just a bridge... a spatial link similar to the way the Elders were a link through time... a kind of mirror notion... a myth. As he would proceed on everything related to the genesis of the current world, Paul focused on history, on facts, as his ancestors had perceived them. His expertise was the Earliest Space (E.S.). People thought that the E.S. had disappeared, without concrete proof. As they had irreversibly damaged the environment, the decline of their world was the reason why the Elders had to create spaces. That was logical; too logical maybe. There was abundant literature on the topic, giving Paul much material to study and to question infinitely. He dreamed of finding out the number of spaces, their chronological order of creation, and most importantly, evidence about the destruction of the Earliest Space or rather a trace of its existence. Why not? What a discovery that would be. For him, studying the past would make it possible in the long term to predict the future with some relative certainty; to reach the perfect Equilibrium; and to do without the Machine, invented to avoid past errors. Paul understood the usefulness of the Machine, but thought the cost to society was too high. The fact that humans were enslaved to this artificial entity fueled Paul’s motivation, making sure he worked harder every day to stop the Machine.