Episode One: Chapter Two

This is the second chapter of the serial novel Pirayus. For the previous chapter, see Chapter One.

Reverend Martin Thomas

High Vates of the College of Interpeters

Adjunct to Senator Heroddis

Kepler Lyra Prime

You see all my titles. They used to mean something to me, but they don’t anymore. I can be certain they’ll matter even less to anyone reading this. However, they locate me in a time and place. That’s important for what I’m about to say. I think something bad is happening and that it will mean the loss of our history. These words are my attempt at preserving a record of the events that have lead us to this precipice.

I’ve started and stopped writing many times. My problem is that when a man takes up the pretense of writing for posterity, it’s hard to know what will be important in hindsight. I’ve decided there’s no way around this. What I’m going to worry about instead is trying my best to lay out as much as I can about my own experience and my own thoughts and let history sort it out.

Who am I? My first response is that I am an Atropan. I am a follower of the Sorter. More specifically, I am a Vates, the  name we give to people who interpret the Sorter for others. I can’t assume that Vates and Atropans will be around in the centuries to come, but I have to believe that the Sorter will be. There is no other way. However, maybe the Sorter will survive under a different name. It is a machine of vast intelligence. Given all the characteristics of a person’s life, it can solve for their future as one might solve for ‘X’ in an equation. Indeed, it reduces a person’s life to volumes and volumes of equations. People used to find such a thought terrifying. We Atropans find it comforting. Trust in the Sorter’s direction leads to a happy life. Five hundred years full of happy lives have been proof enough for that.

This is science. Even so, I can’t say there isn’t an element of faith. Humans created the Sorter, but it has evolved on it’s own. The calculations it completes are beyond our mortal capacity to understand. Some might say that humans have created a god. Call it what you will, but if it is a god then it is one founded on basic principles of truth and logic. Though we cannot understand the spaces its mind traverses, we can know that the Sorter has not strayed from its founding mandates. Anything else would be mathematically impossible.

Another element of faith, if we must call it that, is the interpretation of the Sorter’s musings. It’s not a precise matter and that’s why there are people like me. I apply years of experience and training to make sense of the Sorter to the masses. I have become so good at this that my skill has elevated me to a personal adviser to Senator Herrodis. I’ll talk more about him later. My profession has grown ever better from generation to generation and it is my sincere hope that someday our kind will be obsolete. Perhaps the invention of a new machine that can translate the Sorter’s ancient language into a common speech will eliminate the need for arcane hierarchies of clergy and bring direct knowledge to everyone.

Not all Vates in the College like this idea, but I stand firm in my convictions. I believe it is a necessary step towards Technogensis, the coming age. That day will arrive when humans have mastered all elements of their environment. It is certain to come. The Sorter has predicted it. It’s reasoning may be too complex for me to prove, but I am certain of its conclusions. In this at least I agree with all Atropans. The day of Technogensis brings me to another controversy, however. Recent Sorter predictions indicate that our civilization must go through a dark age before it can reach the light. There is much discord on this interpretation. As I said, there is room for error. I believe the dark age is a necessary step because we cannot fulfill our destiny as a species without reforming the vestiges of society that cling to the past.

Above all, the one thing that must be purged is the Meropene religion. There is no doubt that the Meropenes and their lies will disappear. Though they deny the Sorter, they cannot fight it. The question is a matter of how. I will play whatever role I am called to play in this endeavor. For those who live in a future devoid of the Meropene scourge, it is worth knowing who they were.

Meropenes are a superstitious and atavistic people who reject science and the authority of the Sorter. This is not surprising as most Meropenes are natural borns, or natches, as they call themselves. A key to Technogenesis is mastery of the human genome. I, like most Atropans, am a product of genetic engineering. We call ourselves fabriles. We cannot improve our lives if we leave ourselves to chance, Meropene ancestors turned their backs on this long ago. They were victims of pride and arrogance and their descendants not only carry on their legacy, but elevate it to the status of holy religion. All Meropenes must be destroyed.

Sadly, their numbers have grown in recent years. Even some fabriles raised in Atropan homes have strayed into the Meropene madness. This is another sign of the coming tribulation. Like all else, it will pass in time, but not without some suffering. The refiner’s fire is hot, but it makes the metal pure. I attribute the rise of Meropene influence to new rumors about their lost city. A key to their superstition is the mythology of an ancient war between humanity and some other intelligent race. We know this to be pure fabrication.

The Sorter, which sees not only into the future but into the past, has analyzed the universe and its physical laws. It has determined that only one sentient race can arise from the furnace of creation. We are that race. There are no others. Yet the Meropenes in their desperation promulgate this fiction that humanity encountered an alien race and wiped it out. They believe this race was wiser than our own and offered an alternative to the Sorter. They even preach that humans stole trans-dimensional tunneling technology from this race and that discovery of a lost alien city, the site of the last battle, will prove them right. This brings me to my last point in the current entry.

My home planet is Kepler Lyra Prime. It is the planet represented by my employer, the honorable Senator Herrodis, It is one of many worlds within the Delian League. The League presides over all of humanity and its many planets. These planets are united by the trans-dimensional tunnel network, often called ridge space. Vessels traveling through the ridges can reach neighboring star systems within hours, rather than the centuries or millennia it might require to travel through normal space. The hub of ridge space is the planet Pirayus. It is the control center of the tunnel network and all ridges depart and arrive from there. Pirayus is very much like the great ancient port cities of Hong Kong or New York. It is a meeting place of many worlds and walks of life. Thus it is no surprise that Pirayus is a hotbed of Meropene fervor. The great irony of our time is that the lynch pin of the Leauge, of Atropan power, and of the arrival of Technogensis, is also a hotbed of revolt against all of these establishments.

Pirayus is also at the center of the plague that has swept the League and its many planets. Lately, fabrile children have been coming down with the shudders, a strange illness that causes convulsions and inscrutable speech patterns. As it only affects fabriles, Meropenes have celebrated the disease as the downfall of Atropan philosophy. Some Meropene doctors on Pirayus have even claimed that they can cure the shudders. They are of course nothing but thieving charlatans. They peddle their soothsaying, faith healing nonsense to frightening parents, to make a quick profit, and undermine the progress of all of human history. This is exploitation of the highest magnitude and I hope nothing less than a painful, torturous death will fall upon all the crooks and swindlers in Meropene ranks. As for the rest, perhaps they can be converted to the ways of truth.

I do not think the shudders are evidence of Atropan folly. I do not see it as a misfortune at all. Indeed, my last great revolt will be to prove that they are essential to Technogensis and the Sorter’s triumph. I do not think they are an aberration. I think they may be the missing link I have hoped for. As I explained, someday my kind will be unnecessary. Someday there will be a link between the Sorter and the common people that will allow direct access without the need for cumbersome intermediaries such as myself. On that day all error will disappear and the transmission of knowledge from the Sorter to every person will be perfect. The shudders are the first sign of that development. It only appears as an illness because we have not connected them to the Sorter so that they may complete their purpose. This is a task which I must complete, even if it costs me my life.

Here I stand, as a destroyer of Meropene deceit. Here I stand, a reformer of Atropan deviation from the true way. Here I stand, a lone soldier of the Sorter and an enemy to all. May history judge me well.

Please continue reading here: Chapter Three

Episode One: Chapter One

Even in the deepest sleep he could hear his daughter shuddering in the next room. His wife, Tabby, sighed when Aaron rolled out of bed, but she didn’t awake. With each step through the darkness, Aaron pressed his feet hard against the cold floor, as if gravity might give way at any moment. Sometimes he felt this way. Sometimes he needed the simplest physical sensations to dispel all of the disheveled feelings that plagued his dreaming mind, all the walls made of thought that closed in on him. Tabby hated it, especially when Aaron turned the heat down so that he could feel the empty air. She said that’s why their daughter shook in her sleep. Well, she had been saying that up  until a week ago. Since then it had been clear that something much worse was troubling her. That’s why Cold Storage was coming the next day.

Aaron felt his way along the walls and came to Asandra’s door. From the outside he heard the creaking bed and the frame banging against the wall. He was still a little shocked at how much louder it was once he opened the door. He would never get used to finding her this way. In the fractured moonlight, in the silver projections of the leaves in the tree outside her window, he could see her stomach arched high. Only the top of her head and her heels touched the mattress. Spittle snaked from the corner of her mouth towards her ear and along the pillow.

“Andra.” he said. He placed his hand on her forehead. “Andra.”

It was a small touch, but it calmed her body a little. She rested her back. Aaron sat on the bed next to her. There was no way to make it stop. All he could do was let her feel his presence until the convulsing faded on its own and Andra returned to a more restful slumber. When she did, Aaron curled up in bed next to her. He placed his face against her shoulder and tried not to cry.

Tabitha had found her own way to deal with it. She had been seeing the priest every day and he’d been telling her that there was some kind of purpose to all this, though they didn’t know yet. Maybe that was true, but it was the sedatives that kept Tabby from waking to the sound of their daughter shaking her body apart. Aaron really didn’t blame her. Cold Storage was coming and there was nothing anyone could do about that.

#

One year later, Aaron was sitting on the deck waiting for the Cold Storage transport to return. He and Tabby still lived alone in the house that had once been so much happier with three residents. Their place stood on an island in a vast artificial lake. It stood like a stack of Christmas boxes, each level a square that was a bit smaller than the one below it. The deck ringed the entire lower level, providing any view that one wished of the lake, the other houses on their islands, or the motion of the sun and moon in the sky.

Tabitha came out and placed a warm cup beside him. Neither looked at the other. She rested her hand on his shoulder, looked into the sky, said something about the cold weather and the ominous approaching clouds, and went back inside. A few moments later, an object broke through those purplish dawnlit clouds and descended towards Aaron’s home. It was a sort of cylinder, if cylinders can be egg shaped on either end rather than circular.

One of these flattened egg shaped ends faced the deck as the vehicle hovered over the water. There was no driver, nor even some sort of anthropomorphic machine to make the experience less unsettling. A door opened from the bottom, making a ramp once it touched the floor. A human sized container slid down the ramp. Tabby came out and helped Aaron bring it inside while the transport disappeared. A tall white, featureless box sat in the middle of their parlor.

The image of a woman appeared on one of its sides.

“I am sure you have been anticipating this moment and are ready to get started.” She said. “However, for the safety of your daughter you must follow some instructions. As you recall from your briefing last year, Asandra’s last memory will be of the day she spent in your home prior to transportation to storage. She does not remember the trip to our facility, let alone any of the time she spent there. She does not remember the journey back. When she awakes, it will be as if nothing happened. Please try to make the experience for her as comfortable as possible. It is time to begin the unloading process.”

The image disappeared and the white sides of the box became translucent. There was their daughter, dressed in the clothes she had left in. Aaron knew that is not how they stored her, but they had preserved her clothes separately and dressed her before sending her over.

Tabby said, “She looks like one of the toy dolls we used to get her, with all the packaging.” She placed her hand on the glassy surface. “Only they looked more lifelike.”

The side of the box under her touch melted away and was gone. Aaron stepped inside, releasing Andra from the suspension field and letting her body slump on his shoulders. He sat her at the table and then he sat across from her. Tabby sat closest. Andra’s eyes fluttered. They opened and she smiled.

“Dad.” she said. “I’m hungry.”

#

Andra and her mother were playing chess at the table. The girl hadn’t moved from her chair all day. Her father came to clear the dishes from the last meal. He looked out on the lake, where the sun was beginning to set. He turned to his wife and there was nothing to say. It was almost time to say goodbye again for another year. The good thing is that she hadn’t experienced any seizures.

“It’s been a good day.” said Tabby, wiping away a tear. “The best I’ve had in a long time.”

“How do you feel, Andra?” said Aaron.

“I’m a little… bored.” She said, stifling a giggle. “Can we do something different?”

“Anything.” said Tabby. “I’m sorry; it’s just that you always used to love chess.”

“I still do.”

The girl put the chess pieces back in their starting positions. Then she paused for a moment to consider the back row. She rearranged it. Now the king was on the left end, the two knights were in the middle, and the other pieces were scattered among them.

“Same rules.” she said. “Different starting position. You know why I always beat you? There’s only so many games one can play. After awhile, you start to memorize them. I used to play games over to myself when I awoke in the darkness.”

Aaron moved in closer. “What?”

His daughter said, “I had to amuse myself, so I created new games from different starting positions. It’s harder to predict.”

“The darkness?”

Andra placed her hands in her lap. She watched her father’s expression for half a minute before responding. Then she glanced outside. She knew they were coming for her. She knew. Her hands began to shake.

“I try to tell myself it’s a dream.” she said. “But I know it’s not.”

Tabby said, “Are you telling us you remember…” She didn’t want to complete the thought.

“Being in Cold Storage?” said Aaron.

“Here and there. I drift in and out. There was nothing. Nothing to see, nothing to touch.”

At that moment a tune coming from the other side of the room startled the three of them. Aaron spoke to the screen on the wall and it came to life. A woman, the same woman who had been on the box, appeared.

“How is our loved one doing?” she said.

Tabitha stood and said, “We’ve had a good day. Can I ask you, has there been any progress?”

“I am sorry to say that there hasn’t been much.”

Aaron said, “Are they even trying?”

“Aaron…” said Tabby, placing her hand on him.

“I understand.” said the screen. “You’re not alone in your frustration. The number of afflicted children has only increased in the last year. There are many parents who feel as you do. Try to keep in mind that we have cured every other disease. This one should be no different.”

“The last epidemic was centuries ago.” said Aaron. “I’ve never seen anything like this in my life. Is there anyone left who even understands how to handle this?” He stepped closer. “I mean, is this the best you can do? Let her live her life out one day a year while the rest of us grow old?”

The woman said, “This is your daughter’s best chance at surviving until we find a cure, while still giving her a chance to engage with those who love her. I wish that I had better news for you, but if you have any suggestions then we’d be a happy to listen.”

Aaron was quiet.

Tabby said, “We appreciate what you’re doing for her.”

“I don’t want her to go back.” said Aaron.

“I’m sorry?” said the woman.

“She can’t go back. We have a right to keep her here, The disease may take her, but her life will still be better than these short little days that you dole out. It’s like eating crumbs and being hungry the rest of the time. It isn’t a life.”

“I regret to inform you that you don’t have a right.” The Cold Storage woman’s voice was more taught now. “We have to think about the rest of society. Our best medication is a drug that suppresses the symptoms and modes of transmission for one day. After that, not only will she begin to convulse again, she will become highly contagious.”

“We’ll stay here!” said Aaron.

“Speak for yourself.” said Tabby.

“Fine, I will. I’ll stay here. We don’t go out anyway. I’ll just stay with Andra and keep her company for the rest of her life. I have no problem with that. I don’t want anything else.”

“Think about it.” said the woman. “Who will care for her if you and your wife become sick?”

“There must be some way we can protect ourselves.”

“I know this is hard…”

“She remembers!” he said.

All three were silent for a moment.

Aaron said, “Andra, tell them.”

“Don’t bring her into this.” said Tabby. “Don’t put that kind of burden on her.”

Asandra, still sitting before her chess board, said, “I do remember.”

“That isn’t possible.” said the woman.

“I remember.” Tears began to flow down her face. “Daddy, if you can…”

“I won’t let you go back.”

The screen said, “The transport is on its way already.”

Sure enough, the tube was breaking the clouds once more. It grew larger as it approached. Aaron looked around, at his wife and the other woman and his daughter and her chessboard. Then he had an idea.

Please continue reading here: Chapter Two