Shadowland: Book III of the Brotherhood of the Conch

by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni

  Now they are in front of a row of shabby buildings, and with a start Anand recognizes them as the Terraces. A group of children are saying good-bye to their families. A large hover bus, impressively new, waits nearby. The families appear both proud and worried.

  “Be sure to write every week, Asha,” a woman tells a pigtailed girl, who nods vigorously.

  “Sir,” a quavery-voiced old woman—Sumita’s grandmother, perhaps—asks a scientist who is waiting beside the van with barely disguised impatience. “You promise you’ll bring them back soon to visit?”

  “Of course!” says the scientist, flashing his teeth in a smile. “They can come and see you whenever they want.”

  Now the projections change color, turning pale sepia. Anand guesses that the scenes being projected now are older, that they occurred before what Dr. X and Vijay can consciously remember. He sees a half-built structure, its shiny, reflective walls identifying it as Futuredome. Around it there is a jumble of men with digging machines. Dust rises from gashes in the earth, or perhaps the air is turning brown? There are no trees. Have they died already? Guards shout at the laborers to work harder. They point their tubeguns at laggards, who drop to the ground in pain. He sees gates being armed with machines and guards. He sees towers where jammers are being strategically positioned to cover all of Kol.

  In the next scene, families are leaving their homes at night, their movements hushed and hurried, taking only what they can fit into cars they have enchanted to look old. It is the exodus of the magicians. They travel to a poor part of Kol, with garbage heaped on the streets and buildings with cracked-glass windows. They hide their vehicles in junkyards and enter houses that are little more than hovels. There they sit in a circle, holding hands, weaving a spell that will keep them and their few magical objects from being found by the scientists. Outside, sirens scream; bullet cars cross and recross the skyways, searching. In the morning, their stately, deserted homes are taken over by the Security Council, and the best dwellings and belongings are awarded to the council’s new favorites. In a hovel, a boy of perhaps five years sits on the floor, chewing on hard, day-old bread. Could it be Vijay? He turns his face in the direction of the home he has lost, his face twisted with hate.

  An even older scene takes shape above their heads, a council chamber where scientists huddle together. No one in this scene wears masks yet. Someone says, “We must call the magicians back to the council and apologize. Without their cleansing spells, the air’s turning brown.”

  But the others refuse. One says, “We’re better off without them. They’re always objecting to whatever we suggest, holding us back.”

  “Remember how upset they were when we suggested genetic experimentation so our livestock would eat less and produce more milk?” another adds. “They wouldn’t even agree to treat fruits with growth enhancer. They’ll never approve our plans for Futuredome or the Farm.”

  “Maybe they’re the ones poisoning our air,” someone else says, coughing.

  “Their magical objects are what make them so powerful and so arrogant. Maybe they need to be relieved of a few of them,” a fourth scientist declares.

  Now the scene changes to an earlier council meeting where different groups are still present: scientists in white uniforms, magicians in elaborate cloaks and shawls. People are arguing vociferously. The leader of the magicians, a gray-haired woman, demands that the council passes a law requiring a more stringent lifestyle for all—especially the scientists, who have grown overly fond of luxury. Several scientists bristle at this comment. Ignoring them, she points out the growing problems around them—prolonged droughts, receding oceans, dying animals, withering crops, air that is increasingly harder to breathe.

  “That’s why we need more experiments, so we can increase crop productivity,” a scientist says. “But your people are always vetoing our ideas.”

  “Tampering with nature is dangerous—you’ve seen that already,” another magician says, rising to his feet. He reads out the most recent crime statistics. “Robbery and vandalism have increased to such an extent that the police force can no longer handle it,” he ends.

  “That’s why we’ve recommended the creation of a larger elite police force,” says a scientist. “We’ve allotted enough money in our budget to buy them the best cars and firearms. And we’ve come up with a highly advanced weapon that doesn’t require bullets—”

  “I’m against that,” a magician says emphatically. “Violence against our own people is no solution. If we want to reduce crime, we have to fill their empty stomachs.”

  “That’s exactly what we are trying to do with our new methods,” a scientist says. “What are you doing, except for accusing us?”

  “Everything became worse after you performed those weather modification experiments, sending rockets filled with chemicals into the sky,” a magician shouts. “You said it would bring rain, but it made the drought worse.”

  “The experiments might have worked if you had cooperated with us and used your mind power to boost the rockets higher into the stratosphere,” yells a scientist. “You probably sabotaged us, just so you could prove that we were wrong.”

  “Not that you had a better solution,” says another scientist. “All you want is to keep us stuck to the old ways, doing rain chants—”

  “I refuse to listen to such insults,” cries a magician, jumping up. “You have no understanding of how hard we work to keep the energies of the earth balanced, to heal things. We just can’t heal them as fast as you’re destroying them—you and your cohorts, the machine manufacturers who refuse to follow the safety guidelines we set.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen!” cries the leader of the scientists, an old man who takes off his spectacles and rubs tiredly at his eyes. “Order, please! We must work together to find a solution to this situation.” But no one pays any attention. They yell at each other until the magicians walk out in a huff.

  And now the hologram grows very faint, almost transparent, as though the scene above them is being resurrected from a truly distant past. Anand sees the inside of a laboratory, though this is a very different room with its wide-open windows from which trees can be seen. People sit at long tables. They are all dressed in white coats, so Anand cannot tell which group they belong to. They are working on projects together. Someone—perhaps a scientist?—types something into a computer. Someone else waves his hands and chants, and the image on the screen changes. In a corner, two women pore over a liquid bubbling in a beaker, discussing what diseases it might heal. Elsewhere, a magician enunciates a spell and conjures up the model of a city. Her partner admires the structure and points out how the foundations of the tallest skyscrapers can be strengthened.

  A bell rings, signaling the end of the work week. A man with glasses—is he the leader Anand noticed in the earlier hologram?—suggests that they all go out for dinner. Among laughter and quips, the men and women stream out into the multicolored evening. They sit at a crowded street-side café, under a Krishna Chura tree laden with flame-colored blossoms, passing bowls of food to each other. Passersby, smiling to hear their infectious laughter, do not know who is a scientist and who is a magician, and they do not care.

  * * *

  It was evening by the time the last hologram had faded away, though in the smoky gloom all distinctions of hour or day had long become meaningless. The people stirred, rubbing their eyes as though emerging from an amazing dream. As he looked around, Anand’s heart lurched with anxiety. He could tell that the conch had relinquished its control over the crowd. What would the scientists and magicians decide to do now?

  “Akshay,” he heard a shaky voice call. It was Chief Deepak, Basant’s grandfather, rising to his feet. Was Anand imagining it, or did he seem stronger? Basant’s mother hurried to offer him her arm, but he strode forward without assistance until he stood in front of Dr. X. “Akshay!” he called again, his voice firmer now. “It is time we called each other once again by our true names, which we had hidden out of fe
ar, or discarded because of our fascination for a different lifestyle.”

  Akshay. That was Dr. X’s true name!

  Dr. X stared at him, still dazed.

  “Akshay,” Deepak said. “You were one of us once—the most talented apprentice I’d ever seen. I don’t blame you for forsaking magic. Yours was a restless spirit, and the quick results that science produces called to it. But for the sake of the Powers that you once venerated, I ask you to listen with your heart to what I say now.”

  Anand stared, astounded. Dr. X a magician? But of course! That was how he had known to use Colorpower when designing buildings in Futuredome. That was why he could use Persuasion so consummately. That was why he had been able to forestall the magicians whenever they attempted to destroy his machines.

  The chief continued, “Both our people have made mistakes. We’ve hurt each other in many ways. But today we were reminded that once we were friends. Once we helped each other create a better world. Can’t we put our wrongs behind us and try to live that way again?”

  The old chief extended a trembling hand to Dr. X and another to the commandant. “Come, Vijay,” he called. “Let us join hands in amity.”

  Vijay did not look too happy, but after a moment he came forward and held the chief’s hand. The other magicians followed him, promising the old man their cooperation. Anand held his breath, watching Dr. X. What he did now would make all the difference. Vijay, too, was watching Dr. X intently, his eyebrows knotted. Anand knew that he would not tolerate any disrespect to his uncle. Dr. X hardened his jaw and raised his chin. He was going to disagree—Anand was sure of it. The air rippled with tension. The guards raised their tubeguns.

  No, no! Anand cried silently, fisting his hands so tight that the nails cut into his palms. To come so far and lose like this!

  He sensed a movement out of the corner of his eye. Swiveling, he saw Sumita. She crossed the stage and, without taking her eyes from Dr. X, gripped Chief Deepak’s outstretched hand. Asha came and stood by her side, then another scientist, and another, until Dr. X was left alone.

  * * *

  Dr. X’s shoulders slumped for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and shrugged. “You’ve won,” he said with a strange smile, and put out his hand to clasp the chief’s fingers.

  15

  TROUBLE

  Anand walked up and down Sumita’s living room, waiting for the scientist to return. Every few minutes he glanced at the timekeeper on the wall and sighed. Nisha, who was watching a comedy program on the Pod with grim determination, rolled her eyes at his impatience. But he knew she was just as anxious. It was their seventh afternoon in Shadowland. Unless they returned to the Silver Valley in the next few hours, their quest would fail.

  Neither of them had eaten anything all day, though Sumita had urged them to help themselves to whatever was in the freeze cube.

  “You can eat the leftover chicken curry for lunch. If the council meeting goes on too late, go ahead and have the vacuum pacs of rice and lentil soup for dinner. There are mega-bananas on the table—enjoy them while you can. From next week on, everything’s going to be rationed.” She had waved them good-bye as she rushed to the elevator.

  That was yesterday. Why hadn’t she returned, and why hadn’t she called?

  From time to time, Anand peered out of the window, hoping to spot Sumita’s hover van, though he doubted that he’d be able to spot anything at all through the haze outside. Yes, even inside Futuredome the air was brown. The first decision the New-Kol Council had made—though not without some fiercely heated debates—was to start dismantling the domes. The power thus freed up was currently being stored in the lab. Soon they would start using it to improve conditions in the more beleaguered parts of the city.

  “The scientists were the loudest opponents, of course!” Sumita had told them after that meeting, which had taken place immediately following the summit in the Maidan. She had come home late that night with her hair frazzled but her eyes bright with plans. “At first, Dr. X was the most vociferous. You can’t blame him. It’s hard to give up your place at the top of the pyramid. For a while I was afraid he’d win. He can be very convincing when he tries. But the council, which is now made up of magicians and guards and Terrace dwellers as well as scientists, managed to push the reforms through. So, all the domes except for the Farm have had their Fresha-Vents and Simulo-Suns turned off. We’ll have to wear masks until things start getting better. And even with everyone cooperating, that’ll take quite a while. It’s a pain, but I don’t mind. So many exciting things are happening! The jammers have been deactivated, and with them gone, the magicians are slowly regaining their powers! Already, Commandant Vijay gave us lessons in a breathing technique that allows you to cleanse the air as you’re inhaling it. They’re quite amazing, the magicians. And all this time I thought they were Kol’s worst enemies!”

  * * *

  Early yesterday Anand and Nisha had been asked to meet with the council in the conference room on the top floor of the lab. A shiver had traveled down Anand’s spine as he remembered his last trip to this building, but this time they were honored invitees. They sat at the sleek circular steel table with the council members and drank fizzy Orangeroos in tall narrow bottles—a great honor, Sumita had said, for Futuredome’s stock of Orangeroo was fast dwindling. Pretty soon, everyone would be drinking only water, sipped through purifier straws. They were thanked formally for their part in what everyone was calling the Reconciliation. For the most part, it seemed to be working. A few magicians and scientists still shot each other suspicious looks, and Dr. X maintained an icy silence in the background, but for the most part people were eager to be friends. Anand and Nisha were particularly interested to see that Vijay sat next to Sumita, dressed in a brand-new royal blue bodysuit, his hair neatly combed. A couple of times, they caught him smiling at something she said. When it was time to leave, he held the door open for her with a flourish, and Anand could have sworn he saw Sumita blush.

  Once the niceties had been observed, the councilors brought up the real reason for the invitation: the magical objects. Knowing that they longed to feel their power, Anand took out the conch and held it up. As he had hoped, the conch sent forth its calm, golden warmth into the room. Then Nisha took the mirror around the table, allowing each person to look into it. Some drew in their breaths sharply at what they saw, while others gazed silently. Chief Deepak said, “We’re eager to learn what the mirror and conch can do to help us with the difficult task of reconstruction that lies ahead.”

  Anand closed his eyes to commune with the objects of power. “The mirror is willing to stay with you until it is needed elsewhere,” he said. “It will remind you of magical arts you’ve forgotten, or scientific techniques you’ve lost. The conch must return home with Nisha and me tomorrow in order to restore our ruined valley to its original condition, but before it goes, it promises to help you. Choose a project—whichever one you consider most important—and it will make sure you succeed.

  The councilors were disappointed to realize that they would lose the conch, but soon they were engaged in an animated argument as to which project they should choose. Finally, they decided that they wanted to send up another rocket to seed clouds.

  Asha said, “This time we’ll be careful and use only safe chemicals, the ones everyone agreed upon—and hopefully, it’ll result in rain.”

  “If rain comes,” Vijay added, “it’ll remove some of the impurities in the air. Then our cleansing spells will work faster.”

  Sumita said, “If there’s enough rain, perhaps even the river—which is all sludge and garbage now—will start to flow.”

  Dr. X, who had not participated in the discussion so far, suddenly turned to Anand and Nisha. “It’ll take a while to set up the rockets. Why don’t you rest in S—uh—Sumita’s apartment until then. She’ll fetch you once we’re ready so you can be part of this memorable event.” They sprang up, thankful to leave, but as they turned to go, he spoke again. His voice dippe
d, seductive with Persuasion, but used with great subtlety so that no one else in the room noticed it—no one except Deepak, who looked up with a slight frown. “Leave the objects of power with us. Their presence will inspire us to set everything up more quickly—and that will ensure that you get home on time.”

  The unexpected request, along with the unethical use of the skill—for it was forbidden to use Persuasion among friends—shocked Anand. While he didn’t mind leaving the mirror with the council—it was, after all, going to remain with them—he was uneasy about parting from the conch. But there was no way he could refuse Dr. X without forcing a confrontation, especially as the other councilors, touched by X’s Persuasion, added their requests to his.

  He handed the conch to Sumita. Sensing his reluctance, she squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry! We’ll be very careful with it.”

  But he did worry. He tossed and turned in his bed through the night, waiting for Sumita to return. All day he fretted, wondering why she did not send them a Pod-message explaining her delay. Had Dr. X, with his unscrupulous use of Persuasion, brainwashed the council into deciding that the conch was too valuable to give back?

  * * *

  A frantic knocking made Anand and Nisha jump. As they ran to open the door, Anand wondered why Sumita didn’t punch in the code on her keypad. But it wasn’t Sumita outside. It was Basant, hair askew, panting as though his chest would burst because he didn’t have an elevator code and had had to run all the way up the stairs.

  “Something terrible has happened,” he gasped. “You have to come to the lab right away!”

  16

  AN UNEXPECTED TURN

  Tearful and grim-faced, Basant’s mother drove them to the lab in a car that threatened to die whenever she braked. On the way, Basant told them what he knew, which wasn’t much. He had been up all night talking to his mother, telling her about his life in the rehabitational. Toward dawn, he had fallen asleep, only to be jolted awake by an intense pain in his head. Even before he was fully conscious, he recognized it as a blast from a jammer. But how was that possible when all the jammers had been deactivated? Through the jangling pain in his head he heard his uncle Vijay’s voice trying to send him a message. It was rushed and incomplete, for Vijay’s pain must have been far worse. Basant gathered this much: While the scientists and magicians were hard at work on the roof of the lab setting up the rocket, Dr. X managed to open the vault where the conch and mirror had been placed for safekeeping. He took them and locked himself into the regulator center, which housed the X-Converter and controlled all the security related to the lab as well as the missiles that were positioned along the borders of Kol.