*
Letting the old man go, Barsch tried to focus on walking, but watching his feet quickly became boring. Instead, he decided to speed up, in an effort to catch up to Alza, who had gained quite a lead. Trying to make it as though he was merely heading towards the same destination -the far side of the cavern- he slowly got closer.
“Do you need something from me?”
“Well, so much for subtlety.” Out-loud, however, he answered, “Um... just checking in to see if everything is alright?”
“Alright? I fail to see why the status of my well-being is of any concern to you.”
“Well, I guess I was just worried about you... because of the ç’aether. So, if anything is bothering you, or if you saw anything that has upset you... you can tell me.”
“Why do you care? Have I ever done anything that would make it seem as though I needed your reassurance or compassion?”
Barsch felt like slinking back to Kingston and Maloch. He had seen many different sides of Alza in their travels together... admittedly, many of those sides had merely been different shades of apathy, but he had never seen her like this. If he had to judge, her reactions to his presence and her dismissive words would have seemed like anger to most. However, she had proclaimed that she had no capacity for emotions, so something like anger should have been out of the question. So, either he was seeing her first display of human emotions -which even he thought was unlikely- or he was simply mistaking her tone for anger.
“Well, I would like to think that we are fri- alli- compani- fellow travellers, so, obviously your well-being is of great concern to me.”
Although it was almost too quick to catch, the look that appeared on Alza's face was one of confusion. For a moment, her face softened, and another impossible emotion rose to the surface: regret.
“I... I see. We have travelled together for some time now, so I suppose you are entitled to certain things. To answer your question, I am fine. I have not yet seen any hallucinations, ç'aether-based or otherwise, but I will inform you if that statement becomes untrue. Is that enough to sate your inquisition?”
The difference between her harsh words to what she had just said was too much for Barsch to process, so he meekly said, “Yeah, um... thanks?”
Their conversation unquestionably over, Barsch returned his attention to the scenery. It had changed little since he had last checked, although they had gotten closer to the tunnel opening at the far end of the cavern. The unchanging, pulsing light from above had not wavered, although the constellations of ç'aether had changed too many times to count. Suddenly, a new sound broke into the quietude that had filled in after the conversation had ended. It was faint, but with every step, it grew louder.
“Kingston, do you hear that?”
The old man had ceased walking, and was now standing several feet away, his head cocked in the direction of the sound. Closing his eyes, he said, “Water, flowing fast. It's close. Fifty, no, forty feet away. Come on.”
Dismissing Kingston's brevity as fatigue, Barsch followed the hermit towards the sound. After a few minutes of scrambling over a particularly rough patch of cave floor, Barsch could also make out the source. The water's gentle yet persistent hum called to his aching bones, while his body realised that it had not rested in some time. And although it was hard to tell how long it had been since they had fought Guardian, Barsch knew that it had been several hours at least.
After climbing over a jagged mound of rock, Barsch saw it. Half-hidden by a sloping floor, the river was as fast and ferocious as Kingston had foretold. It was at least ten feet wide, and several feet deep. It had carved a path through the granite-like cave floor, probably over several thousands of years, and now ran from one end of the cavern to the other.
“Ah, just what we need! I don't think anyone would complain if we were to stop here for the night. And after everything that's happened today, I think a good, long rest is in order.”
“You read my mind,” said Barsch, as he allowed his legs to collapse beneath him. While stretching out all of the many aches he had acquired that day, Barsch crawled over to the fast-flowing stream. Without hesitation, he plunged his head in, allowing the cool water to wash away some of his fatigue. Tasting the water, he found it to be a perfect balance between refreshing and soothing. He drank his full, savouring the first real drink he had had since waking from his second cryogenic sleep. When he was finished, he lay back on the cold stone floor, a sense of peace quickly stealing over him.
After checking the area for any possible threats, Kingston sat down beside him, followed soon after by Maloch. Instead of following suite, Alza chose to stay standing.
As Kingston went about preparing the meal -a cold soup made from various tins of vegetables and preserved meats- he spoke, “When I was but a lad, and the world had yet to descend into chaos, I had the opportunity to visit the greatest city in the world.”
Barsch, helping Kingston sort out the sealed cans of food, said nothing. If Kingston wanted to tell a tale while he cooked, Barsch would not be the one to stop him. Although he had a feeling he had heard this particular story before.
“I believe I was about twelve at the time; a young boy filled to the brim with ideas and fantasies, ignorant of the truth. I had just finished my schooling for the year, and I was eagerly anticipating my annual meeting with my father.”
“Annual?” Barsch said, before he could stop his treacherous lips.
Kingston, however, did not seem to notice Barsch's slip-up, and continued unabated. “You see, my father was a very important man. He was a great visionary, and an extraordinary scientist. He was knowledgeable about pretty much everything, from biology to string theory, but he never became arrogant or haughty when speaking to someone of lesser status. My mother, may the gods shelter her soul, was a kind woman, but she had no aptitude for science. Instead, she devoted all of her time and effort to raising me, so that my father could continue his work uninterrupted.”
Although Barsch had been listening only half-heartedly, Kingston's childhood story had perked his interest. It was a side of him that he had never seen before, a precious insight into a man he knew so little about. So consumed was he by Kingston's tale, the task of preparing dinner all but evaporated from his mind.
“So, with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety, I set off for the capital of the world: Pure. And let me say this, when I first heard of its stark white buildings and ivory towers, I did not believe. I, who had grown up in a town that was only just big enough to make it onto the map, could not even imagine a place so grand. But, as I stepped off the Mag-Train, I realised how small-minded I had been.”
Barsch, still listening intently to Kingston's every word, felt a presence behind him. Without turning his head, he rolled his eyes, until he could just make out the silhouette of the figure standing behind him. Without making a sound -although Barsch had only ears for Kingston's narration, and would probably not even have noticed anyway- Alza had crept closer. She was now leaning against an errant stalagmite, while casually listening to the story.
“Ah, I can still picture that wondrous place, with its spiralling columns of purest white, and that diverging river that separated its white-washed walls from the rest of the world. At that moment, I fully understood why it had been called the capital of the world, for every nation and culture on the planet was represented. Men and women; scholars; scientists; soldiers; and senators, all gathered together with the common goal of bettering humanity. You should have seen them, mingling and mixing, without a care for race, age or sex. It was the perfect melting pot of ingenuity and will, and, over the years, it gave birth to some of the greatest men and women of all time. But still, I would not want to bore you with the petty details of that grandiose place. I mean, I could speak about the city for days without even covering half of the things that I saw... but, as we are short on time, I will keep my description of the city brief.”
Kingston, while speaking, had still managed to finish p
reparing the soup, which now lay forgotten on the cold stone floor. “Anyway, where was I... oh, yes! So, there I was, enraptured by the magnificence of the city before me, when a strange man approached me. He was a tall man, well, I guess most people are tall to a twelve-year old... with deep-set eyes and a short, well-kept beard. Even then, when I was still in awe of the great city around me, he stood out. He was like a force of nature, impossible to resist. At the time, I did not even stop to think about why he was approaching me, or whether or not I should try to escape. I just stood there, waiting for him to speak. And when he finally did, it was not with the harsh, haughty tones of an adult speaking to a child. He spoke to me as if I was his equal, if not his better. And to this day, I have never met anyone who could match him in insight or wisdom. It was as if he could peer into your mind, and read the contents as if they were on public display.”
“Who was he?” Barsch had not realised he had spoken until he heard his own words.
“A great man, who introduced himself as Professor Valmann. He had been sent by my father to find and escort me back to the lab, where they worked. He had been asked by my father to help unravel a mystery that had boggled the greatest scientists for years.”
“What kind of mystery?” He would have been on the edge of his seat, if his seat had had an edge.
“The best kind: one that dwelt on the creation and development of the world. You see, for decades, the top scientists of the world had been puzzled by the apparent acceleration of early human development. They worked out that it should have taken thousands, if not tens of thousands of years, for humanity to reach the level of cultural and technological development which would allow them to build the civilizations that they had. From the ruins found around the world, along with a number of preserved settlements, they estimated a hundred-fold increase in human development as opposed to what they had been expecting to find. Of course, no one knew about the Avatars back then, so the scientists were left clueless, doomed to be forever stumped by the greatest puzzle in human history.”
Barsch had edged closer, wanting to ensure that not a single word was missed. He had always had a fascination with pre-history, which had probably been cultivated by years of wishing to go back in time, to an era without the constant threat of pollution.
“So did Professor Valmann solve the puzzle? Did he figure it all out?”
Kingston, for the first time since his story began, gave out a long sigh. The look of bliss he had had when remembering Pure had faded, replaced by a visage of guilt and regret.
“Yes... and no. You see, after he had finished going through all of the official records and classical works, he did something rather unorthodox. He began researching fairy tales and local legends, before moving on to mythological theories about creation and religious texts. From all of these works, he noticed a recurring theme: the personification of nature. They were called many things; divine protectors, spirits of nature, planet-bound gods, though all referred to the same thing: Avatars. The stories he read told of a benevolent race of mystical beings, who had ruled over us from the dawn of time, helping us prosper and grow, while protecting us from harm. And all of the myths had the same thing in common: the abandonment of humanity at the hands of the gods.”
“That sounds like what we saw in the oasis... the Avatars told us that they once guided humanity, before they decided that they were interfering too much and departed. So Professor Valmann discovered the truth about the Avatars?”
“As I said, he had turned to children's fables and unsubstantiated myths to support his theory, a decision which ultimately doomed any chance of the scientific community taking him seriously. They called his theory a joke, and publicly mocked his ideas. And, after making sure that he would never again be able to find work as a scientist, they abandoned him to his fate. My father tried to help him, but he was called away on urgent business, and by the time he returned, Valmann was nowhere to be found.”
“So what happened? Did you ever see him again?”
“I did, but not for many years. After the war had stolen what was left of my innocence, I sought him out, hoping to find someone to teach me how to do things that did not end in death. I searched for a long time, not even knowing if he was alive or dead, or if he would remember me. And, at the end of a tiresome journey, I found him. He had been relegated to teaching children about mundane things like thermodynamics and magnetism. And it was there, in that dusty old study, that my true tutelage began... But I'm afraid that I have prattled on for far too long. That story will have to be for another time.”
“Come on Kingston, tell us more! I want to hear about Professor Valmann.” For a moment, it looked as if Kingston was about to agree to Barsch's request, but a sudden growl from his stomach dashed his hopes.
“No, I'm afraid that you will faint if we don't get some food into you right away!”
Barsch began to protest, but a second rumble silenced him. His reasonable mind convinced him that eating was more important than listening to Kingston's stories, but not by much.
“Now, eat your soup before it gets cold... um, colder...”
Barsch ate in silence, pondering the meaning of Kingston's tale. He thought about the fabled city of Pure, and how it had once been the crowning achievement of humanity. His father had once spoken of it, calling it humanity's gravestone, while Yumiere had called it Behemoth Sorrow, though he never did find out why. In either case, the city had been ruined long before he had been born, so the pain of its loss was lessened dramatically.
Thinking back, he had once heard that the city and its surroundings had been reclaimed by nature, and that's its famous white walls had become draped in green and brown. It was fitting, perhaps, that the first thing to fall to the pollution should be the first to be recovered by the planet. A city-wide metaphor then, of the futility of resisting the natural order, or the karmic irony of humanity's greatest achievement being destroyed by the very thing humanity had sought to control.
But that was all in the past now, and Barsch doubted he would ever get a chance to see the fallen city, or it's broken spires. By the time the rest of humanity had awoken, five centuries from now, the city would be no more than a layer of fertilizer for a new world. It would become a reminder of what nature was capable of, when it was forced to defend itself.
“It's almost funny. If humans had never built Pure, the toxins it created would never have ruined the land, and it would never have fallen to the resulting blight.”
Once he had finished his meal, Barsch laid down. He felt tired, tired of running, tired of fighting, and tired of watching helplessly as things spiralled out of control. Since he had first awoken, he had never been in full control of his actions. Trying to return to Genesis Station had been his last attempt at doing things his own way, and after that failure, he had simply given up. He had followed Kingston to Carçus because he had felt responsible for taking the old man's medicine. He had followed the Avatar's orders in the desert because he felt it was his duty to protect the human race. And after that was done with?
Would he just sit around and wait for fate to hand him his next assignment? Or would he try and forge his own path once more, knowing that he would have no one to blame if things went awry? Barsch still did not know the answers to these questions. He knew, somewhere deep down in his heart, that he could not simply follow Kingston, and Alza, and even Maloch forever. Eventually, he would have to make a decision, and he would have to live with it, for the rest of his life.
With his thoughts muddled and his heart heavy, Barsch allowed sleep to carry him off in its gentle embrace. Around him, Alza and Kingston had already drifted off to sleep, and Maloch had assumed his post. And so, with the violet light of the ç'aether crystals bathing the cave with unnatural light, night fell...
Awakening Page 186