The man bows and steps aside.
Next up is a woman. “I am with The Daily Bay Flow, and my question is for the Imperial Lady Gwen Lark.”
Immediately my heartbeat speeds up.
“We learned that yesterday My Imperial Lady visited Themisera, along with several other Champions, to participate in an impromptu celebration event. We would like to know your impressions of this poverty-ridden area, and what your plans are, if any, to improve the lives of the population living in such hardship.”
I feel the sudden weight of so many gazes upon me. I take a deep breath, open my mouth. “Thank you for your question. It was very—it affected me very much and made a profound impression on me. I honestly don’t know what to say right now, because I just don’t know enough about Sky Tangle City—yet. The people were—are—gracious and full of dignity. So brave and cheerful—even joyful, from what I could see—despite circumstances that would cause anyone despair . . . I saw only a tiny, superficial aspect of what they must deal with on a regular basis, and yes, I visited one home, but—” I pause, my heart pounding, and glance at Aeson. “Some of it broke my heart. No, not some of it—all of it. And I want to do whatever I can to help.”
“Thank you, My Imperial Lady. Those of us local to that part of the Bay take hope in your sympathy and appreciate it.” The woman from the media bows and steps away.
Another older man takes her place at the podium. “Our question is from Talk and Laugh News Digest, and it’s actually somewhat less frivolous than we would like. Normally we cover the lighter side of Poseidon living, but you must admit that some of the events of the last few days have been very disturbing. For example, what is going on with the Ghost Moon? What is it? Where did it come from, and what unspeakable danger does it pose? My Imperial Lord, in your capacity as Star Pilot Corps Commander, you must be more informed on this subject than anyone else, so the question goes to you. Please, enlighten us!”
It’s Aeson’s turn to take a deep breath. He nods slowly, before speaking. “In my capacity as SPC Commander, I can tell you that we are actively investigating this truly strange phenomenon. Indeed, it is my first priority right now—a global priority. Multiple highly qualified teams are on site, and we are analyzing the data we have. I must admit, it is not much, nor am I able to give any specifics yet. However, I’m able to tell you that there is no immediate danger to our planet. The moon appears to occupy a stable orbit around Atlantis, but is somehow outside any physical state of interaction with us, so no gravitational effects have been observed. That is all I have for you right now—thank you for your question.”
The crowded room gets noisy as whispers race around the chamber, but the Imperial Palace coordinators signal everyone for quiet.
The next media representative is with Eos News Feed. “In our capacity as a media watchdog organization,” the man says, “we would like to ask if there have been any updates in the investigation of the several unexpected and—one might say—strategically timed service interruptions to the media feeds all throughout the Games, by the illicit entity self-referred to as ‘The Rim.’ The Rim’s actions could have potentially affected Contender performance as a consequence of preferential bias or otherwise malicious intent to rig the Games. This serious breach must be addressed—for the sake of continuing integrity of the Games process. Therefore, we continue to ask—have any individuals or groups been found to be affiliated with The Rim, and any arrests made in connection to this organization?”
At the mention of The Rim, I get a flashback to the creepy image of the golden mask against a black background, cutting in during various critical moments of the Games with their anti-establishment propaganda. And I think of Hedj Kukkait who saved me, and who secretly admitted to being associated with The Rim. . . . When I shared this confidence with Aeson, right after Stage One, I was definitely taking a chance—I didn’t want to compromise Hedj and get him in trouble, but I felt I had to let my Bridegroom know. Fortunately, Aeson took it well—but only because of Hedj’s role in protecting me.
So, a tricky situation, since The Rim continues to pose a problem.
How will Aeson answer this question?
Aeson pauses thoughtfully before responding to the Eos News Feed reporter. “As far as I’m aware, no arrests, and no persons of interest related to The Rim have yet been identified. Regretfully, I don’t have a better answer for you regarding this heinous security breach, having been preoccupied with other pressing issues. I recommend you take it up with the Media Safety Committee of the IEC.”
There are more waves of talk through the chamber, hushed quickly by the Palace staff.
The next woman in line at the podium asks her question. “With your permission, Imperial Lady Gwen, Contemporary Court Style and Gossip would like to know your feelings about the outrageous EBDL, or so-called ‘Earth Bride Death Lottery’ that was a running joke segment on so many feeds for the past month, and whether you would like to press criminal charges against the perpetrators.”
The room noise level rises again.
My lips part. With a painful twinge in my chest I recall that awful thing, that deeply disturbing symptom of the negative attitude toward me—both as the Imperial Bride and as a Contender—that had prevailed for so long, until the tide of public opinion finally turned in my favor. . . .
If I’m to be honest, the EBDL crushed me. In that awful, interminable period just before the Games when I was still actively training and living in uncertainty, it terrified me, leeched my energy, undermined my will to fight—basically, it hurt me immeasurably. To know that millions of people were eagerly betting against me, laughing at my coming defeat and assured death at the hands of celebrity Contenders like Deneb Gratu—it hurt like hell. All those weeks, I tried not to think about it, to suppress my awareness in order to keep it from flooding my mind with helplessness.
And now—would I like to bring whomever was responsible for this malicious cruelty to justice?
I shake my head with a painful smile. “No, of course not. I know that Atlantida loves to bet on everything. I suppose now that it’s over, I can take it as a compliment that someone bothered to include me in your favorite pastime. After all—ultimately, someone won the EBDL. And to do that, against all odds, they had to bet on me.”
Quite a few claps sound at my response, including the woman from Contemporary Court Style and Gossip. She then bows courteously to me and steps aside.
The next in line is another woman. “Imperial Lady Gwen Lark, I am with Bay City News and Entertainment. I have one simple question for you. Do you possess the Logos voice of the Kassiopei Dynasty?”
Chapter 31
The conference chamber erupts with noise.
I freeze, for one moment only, while my mind races with options. I’ve always known that this question was going to be a possibility, and Aeson and I had discussed it on various occasions, going back even as far as before the Games training started. . . .
I face the reporter who asked me the provocative question, keeping my face neutral.
“Look,” I say. “I understand your curiosity about my voice, and to be honest, I’m not quite sure what it is, only that I can do some things very well with it. . . . But you need to remember who I am—I’m from Earth, an ordinary girl from Northern Vermont, USA. I am Gebi. I am going to be Kassiopei by marriage only. So, what you imply makes no sense. It’s impossible.”
“Yes, but is it possible somehow that the Logos voice manifested on Earth? Manifested in you, maybe even in others?” The female reporter persists, loudly, over the rising noise level in the room.
I shake my head at her, slowly, while at the same time the Palace official coordinator raises both hands and cries out, “One question only! You must step aside! Everyone else, maintain quiet!”
But it’s no use. From every direction, Media representatives stand up from their seats, begin calling out questions. “Imperial Lady Gwen! Please elaborate! Do you have the divine Voice of Creation?”
> “Is your bloodline enhanced?”
“Are you of a particular sacred ethnicity—?”
And then, as the situation grows even more out of control, there are random cries from the back, “Gebi goddess! Gebi goddess! You are our new hope—”
Aeson raises his hand and signals to the Imperial Palace coordinator. “Thank you. We’re done here.”
He then stands up calmly, pulling me with him, and we start to descend the platform from the back, to avoid the media representatives clamoring around the podium in the front. At once, our personal guards step in, surrounding Aeson and me as we move to the exit, hearing more shouts behind us. In this moment I come to understand why Aeson insisted that, in addition to his own standard guards, my own personal guards accompany me while still on Palace grounds—this is an event open to the public, and it’s to prevent exactly this kind of thing.
“Imperial Lord Aeson! Please, just a moment, wait!”
“But we only had seven questions! We’re owed three more! You promised!”
“We still have more questions!”
“Please proceed outside and maintain order. The interview is over,” Palace officials respond conclusively.
Even as the noise retreats, Aeson and I escape into a long hallway, and hurry back upstairs.
“Are you okay?” Aeson asks me, squeezing my hand.
“Wow . . . yes . . . I think.” I look up at him as we walk quickly; his expression is grave.
“I hoped this would not come up,” he says. “But unfortunately, there are some public aspects of the media we cannot control—at least not outright.”
“Nor should you. You have laws to protect free speech, right?” I ask. “Similar to the democratic countries on Earth?”
Aeson does not reply at once. “In some ways, yes, we do. Atlantida is an Imperial Democracy, and we have popularly elected officials in charge of the government, and basic human rights are protected, including free speech—short of treason—and freedom of information. And yet, everything is relative. The Imperial Kassiopei and other rich and powerful entities wield enough influence to curtail some of the freedoms.”
“I thought as much. But people still have the right to ask questions and demand true answers.”
“Yes. And we always let them—up to a point. Although, right now, the last thing we want is for them—for anyone—to find out certain problematic things that would cause civil unrest and even panic. The nature of your voice is one such thing.”
I nod. “I get it. That ‘Gebi goddess’ crazy cult stuff really scares me. I want nothing to do with it.”
We exit the elevator on our own floor.
“Notice how these mostly unaffiliated, lesser venues asked more substantial questions, even blunt ones,” Aeson continues, nodding to the guards who take their places on both sides of the doors of the Imperial Crown Prince’s Quarters.
“Yes,” I say, as the two of us go inside, closing the doors behind us. “Completely different questions, compared to Hel-Ra and even Tiago. Hard questions, with real world relevance.”
“Exactly.”
I take a deep breath. “They even asked about The Rim. . . . Aeson, before we go back to your workroom—in case anyone’s still there, even though it’s late—I want to remind you about Hedj Kukkait, who’s a good person, and I don’t want him to get in trouble—”
Standing there in the antechamber I describe once again, in careful words, Hedj Kukkait’s secret affiliation to The Rim and how he saved my life in Stage One of the Games because of The Rim’s mysterious instructions on my behalf.
Aeson listens as I speak, and his expression remains composed. When I’m done, he simply nods lightly, then takes my hand again, pressing it gently, and pulls me after him.
“I completely understand how this situation with The Rim might still be a problem,” I say quietly as we walk. My voice is uncertain as I try to come up with the right balance of words.
“It is definitely complicated,” he says, directing me forward.
“And the investigation is ongoing—which makes sense. But—if somehow it gets out who and what Hedj is . . . please don’t let him be harmed. Remember when I first told you about him, you said you’re not angry at him,” I whisper as we go from corridor to room, to another corridor. “Where are we going?”
“And I’m still not angry—far from it,” he replies, giving me a quick curious look, as he stops before one of the many closed-door chambers in the Quarters.
“Okay, thank goodness.” I let out a held breath, watching him unlock the door and turn a recessed latch.
“Come,” Aeson tells me, as we step into a dark interior. “As I said back then, I’m eternally grateful to Hedj Kukkait for what he did to keep you safe. In fact—”
He flicks on the light, and I see a small room with sparse furnishings and dark walls—so dark in fact, that they appear to be painted black. Aeson goes to a small desk with a lacquered ebony surface and slides open a drawer. He takes out something, and shows it to me.
In Aeson’s hand is a golden mask.
It’s the same featureless mask that I had seen on the TV screens, worn by the anonymous person in black, uttering incendiary words of treason against the Imperial Kassiopei in a digitally modulated, creepy voice.
My eyes widen. . . .
“I was the one who sent Hedj to protect you.” Aeson smiles faintly, his burning gaze on me. “I am The Rim.”
And then Aeson tells me everything.
“Aeson! What the hell!” I exclaim. “Why? How? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Im amrevu,” he says, angling his head slightly as he watches me with a soft expression. “The whole thing was done to keep you safe.”
My jaw continues to drop.
Aeson pulls up a chair—the same black, tall-backed chair that I now vaguely recall from brief glimpses during The Rim’s pirate feeds—and sits down, then points me to a second chair just like it.
“Let me tell you everything now, okay? Here, sit, look at it—” he hands me the golden mask as I obey silently and sit down next to him, shocked into absolute attention.
Aeson leans forward, lets out a held breath, takes in another, flattens one hand against the desk surface. “When I realized there was no longer any question and you were going to be forced into the Games, I knew I had to act—to do something. But there was nothing I could do to help you directly. Not with my Father’s direct orders and surveillance. Yes, training you was one thing, but it was not enough. Once you were in the arena, I couldn’t sit idly by and watch you get hurt. . . . Unacceptable. And so, I came up with the idea of disrupting the live feeds during those critical times when you were in greatest danger. The disruptions were intended to redirect attention from you, if only for a moment, and in so doing, give you a fighting chance.”
“Okay. . . .” I shake my head, frowning with the effort of understanding while I turn the heavy golden object in my fingers.
“I thought long and hard in those agonizing days when we began training you,” Aeson continues. “I had to come up with the perfect cover for my interference. What could be a better cover than a terror organization, an enemy of the Kassiopei? And then I remembered something else—an old story from the historical archives, of an ancient uprising against the Kassiopei Dynasty, many hundreds of years ago.
“The rebel group called themselves The Rim, based on the notion of the Rim of the Grail, or Ae-Leiterra. There was some kind of political crisis, brought about by yet another cowardly Imperator being reluctant to die—refusing even to go on the Rim mission to properly reinforce the Quantum Shield around Ae-Leiterra. The Imperial inaction resulted in civil protests, violent confrontations, then hard retribution by the authorities. Numerous people were punished by death, after which the victims’ families banded together and actively rebelled against the Kassiopei of the time.”
“That’s intense . . . okay.”
“It was; very much so, apparently—” Aeson’s fingers drum along
the desktop lightly. “So, the idea of this historical group served me well. I started to formulate my plan of action based on The Rim’s original ideology. I set up a behavior profile and evolved it forward into the present, to reflect contemporary issues. Then I brought in Anu and Gennio on the clandestine project and assigned them specific tasks.”
“Anu and Gennio?” I stare in amazement. “So . . . they were in on it. Anyone else?”
Aeson shakes his head. “No, only those two were allowed into my confidence—not counting Hedj Kukkait who was contacted later. At first, I considered bringing in at least some of the daimon, but decided to keep it tight—the fewer individuals involved, the better secrecy levels we could maintain. Besides, it only took one person to act behind the mask, and two as technical backup.”
I make a sound of continued incredulity. “So how in the world did you do it?”
Aeson chuckles. “Anu wrote unique hacker code to bypass Imperial Palace network security from the inside, and Gennio cleverly masked the intrusion into the public feeds and covered our tracks with subtle algorithm changes in routines and Imperial standard security protocols. Once that was done, and insertion point slots readied, the way was clear for us to drop our own feeds into the private network and then auto-propagate them into the greater public system.”
“But when did you guys manage to do it? I mean, you were always present when it was happening. Even that first time, right after my dreadful interview with Tiago when we were back in the living room at Phoinios Heights . . . and then during the Games you were in the audience—”
“Everything was pre-recorded.” Aeson points to the desk and slides open a drawer full of small gadgets that I recognize as memory storage. “I made several hours of these recordings, rambling extensively, speaking at various pre-measured and timed lengths, to give us choices of what material to run and when. Short monologues of a few minutes, even a few seconds. Longer ones for up to half an hour. It was rather amusing.”
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