The Star Whorl (The Totality Cycles Book 1) Read online

  So, as he rode home, descending from Algna Suprum to the Segela Miridum landform through one of the via-Ways, and through a short-travel terminus, he began to browse his favorite discussion forums, looking for personal accounts on interesting events around the world. Since the Industrial Collapse, there were no formal, public information sharing outlets, but the populace had taken to communicating any and all events even a little bit out of the ordinary themselves, and it was all available through the world’s dataSphere interlinks. Finding what he wanted required some elaborate search parameters, however, with over a trillion Gu’Anin citizens in the Totality to sift through. He delved into the local Gu’Anin Spheres without fully engaging his dataSphere interlink, however – he was reluctant to use it outside of the residence, over an insecure link. Instead he used the mobile glyph-sphere of the transport as his data identification Sphere, one that would disappear without a trace when the transport glyph was de-Nil-ized.

  First he checked the Sweeper, who kept current on efforts by the Solidarim and the Gu’Anin Magistrate Council that attempted to re-engage the population in industrial, trade, or managerial employment. The Sweeper had posted a new discussion thread, and he brought it up on his view-glyphographic.

  :The Sweeper

  :The Employment Resolve is in full effect, everyone! Hurry, go to your new rewards offering recruitment site, and get what most of us can obtain with a flick of our Nil’Gu’ua! Unless you are one of the absolute lowest of the low, of course, still living barely above the tops of the Ground Trees, here with the rest of us mfanya! Go ahead, it’s fun, something to do besides sit around all turn watching our elytra-paces silver over! Will it give you a sense of purpose? Will it fill your empty little lives? No, only a position in the Solidarim could do that, or so I’m told! Imagine, being in control of whole Worlds, with the native populations under your vuu’erio tennae! I can only imagine such usefulness! You can, too, with the new Employment Resolve. Or, like the rest of us, you can just accept the despair, the quiet, choking, despair, and revel in it!:

  Am I giving in to the despair? he wondered, scowling and clacking his elytra-pace as his short-travel translation ended with him still far above the boulevard that led home. Why should I? I have Secondus in a turn to worry about, and then hopefully Tertius. That should be enough to mitigate it, shouldn’t it? But the truth was that he was not worried about his lectures in the coming term of Secondus – he had already voraciously consumed all the information in his new texts, and most of the information he understood. It had been thrilling, learning new things, but once learned, the thrill had gone, sunk back into the greyish-blue fog of listlessness. And Tertius was only a possibility, not a certainty.

  Is the need to strive so important? He looked out at the stars between the double horizon, a brilliant slash across the dark-time sky, brightest at the Whorl-hub. Having come from a pre-sentient race that had had to fight and contend and strive to flourish, was aimlessness as deadly to the spirit as poison was to the body?

  :Criers

  :We cry out. What about?

  :About the industries that consume our children, about the unbridled authoritarianism, that saps our souls and sucks the marrow from our bones.

  :But these industries are dead, you say. These shackles lie broken at our feet. We freed ourselves, with the Unification and the Great Unveiling, we broke the chains of exploitation and now we are truly free, free to do nothing all dark-turn and light, if we so choose. But are we? Are we truly free?

  :We cry that we are not. For if even one of us is bound, then we are all bound. If even one of us is exploited, even for what those above us feel is the good of all, then we are living a lie, and we despair in vain. Must we cry it again? That to which we aspire is just another mill of blood and souls, and no one questions, no one believes. When will we awaken to the falsehoods of our suzerains? When will we no longer cry?:

  The Criers, as usual, were vague in their ominous warning. They always spoke in such a vein, implying that there were people being exploited, and that the masses were being deceived.

  But if they won’t be more specific, what are we to do about it? He wanted to believe, but where was the proof, the evidence? How to free those bound when they were not to be seen or even known about? Give us something more, and then we can act.

  :The Happy Hedonist

  :I am happy. Of course I am.

  :I have everything I could ever want, I can make anything I would ever need. I have the largest domicive I can dream up. I have jewels, pretty things, time and resources to do anything. So I’m happy. Right?

  :I have all the things around me to do everything I’ve ever wanted to do. I have all the time to become everything I want to become.

  :So why am I – stagnated? Why do I just sit here with all my useless treasures around me, as if I’m waiting for something?

  :Am I happy?

  The morose tone of the forums did nothing to lighten Kreceno’Tiv’s disposition, and there was only more of the same once he got back to the domicive.

  Perhaps I should go back. She’s surely lost interest for the dark-turn, thinking that I left, he rationalized. And why should I have to leave because of her? She doesn’t own the Mji’Hives! But standing around with his friends was only a palliative, and did not really alleviate the ennui, just spread it a little thinner. But he did not turn back – once set on a course of action, it was difficult for him to change, and especially to backtrack. He looked out as he descended, but this time he did not see the strip of stars left by the double horizon made by Algna Suprum above and Segela Miridum below. Nor did he see the false constellations made by glyph-lights on the underside of the Algna landform. All he saw was his own morose thoughts and the despair that was almost a concrete glyph that he could apply Nil’Gu’vua to.

  Shaking himself, he turned back to his skimming of the Spheres. But none of his other discussion forums had anything new, high or low. He shut down his connection to the interlinks, leaned back and closed his eyes, but it was almost painful to not have something to think about, something to stimulate his mind.

  Sighing heavily, he called up an old glyph-puzzle game that had amused him when he was younger. It was no longer amusing, but it would pass the time until he arrived home.

  Once I’m there, I’ll worry about finding something else to do, he thought. It was just a delay in the inevitable, but any delay was better than none.

  Whorl Five

  Kreceno’Tiv brooded as he took a seat and dug into his carry-pack. This was the first turn of his last term in Secondus, his and Ro-Becilo’Ran’s and all those in who had come to Secondus in the same term-level as they. And this was the third to last lecture before the end of the Secondus attendance time. The previous turn had been whiled away with only semi-interesting pursuits at Ro-Becilo’Ran’s domicive, and then they had begun discussing their return to Secondus. Fortunately, the despair of the Mji’Hive seemed to not quite invade the graceful building-complex that encompassed the Secondus sub-Hives, where he had spent five previous orbises. During that time he had learned rudimentary and intermediate glyphs and other, associated subjects, mathematics and sciences, herstory and lost arts, sociology and the study of xenthropology. The despair was held at bay, for there was purpose and the need to strive in the academic institute, the goal being to reach Tertius. He watched as those around him took out their view-glyphographics and readied themselves to learn. The Proctor came in, and the pupils about him quieted, turning their attention forward.

  “This is Intermediate Physiology,” the Proctor said, a Pavtalar-marked male with silvering on his wing-nets that did not quite fit into his elytra-pace anymore, as happened with age. “I am Proctor Pavtalar Gib’Zal. We will focus first on the female Genii and the neutral male, then the physiological changes males undergo for each feminine Genus.”

  Kreceno’Tiv took glyph-notes on his view-glyphographic, watching his scrawl turn into neat columns of glyphs.

  “At the beginning of
our recorded herstory, there were forty-one distinctly identifiable Genii in existence. Presently, we have seventeen known Genii. Five are the descendants of the Malkia. The twelve others are here on Gu’Anin and Gu’Ushad, our first colony. Can anyone tell us what these twelve non-Malkia Genii are?”

  Many indicator glyphs appeared, and he chose one pupil. “The present Genii are the Polista, the Vespa, the Ropali, the Gotra, the Lisso, the Xantho, the Abispa, the Pavtala, the Scelipo, the Diamma, the Tiphi and the Thynnu,” the male pupil, unknown to him, answered.

  Proctor Gib’Zal indicated assent. “Yes, that is correct. There are others, of course, as we all know. But the remnants of the Malkia Genii, which includes the five Genii who subscribed to their ranks, do not count themselves among the rest of us, and live in isolation.”

  This was all common knowledge, and many did not take glyph-notes on this, but Kreceno’Tiv did, just for completeness. It would be easier to cross-reference later. He always felt a little sad knowing that entire Genii had been wiped out throughout their herstory, that unknown potentials of his people were lost forever. Then he began to wonder. Though he knew of all the current non-Malkia Genii, there were certain ones he had never seen. The Tiphi, the Diamma, the Xantho, the Abispa, the Scelipo. Why had he never seen anyone of those Genii anywhere? Were those omissions just in An’Siija, or on all of Gu’Anin? Were they all on Gu’Ushad? And why had he never noticed before?

  “There are many families within each Genus,” Proctor Gib’Zal continued. “Girl children, as you know, are born with the Genus of their mothers, though variations can give rise to new families, and if the differences are great and breed true, new Genii.”

  The Proctor began detailing the characteristics and colors of each Genus, and Kreceno’Tiv found himself absorbed, though the lingering sadness was not forgotten. Nor the nagging question of Genii.

  Whorl Six

  Kreceno’Tiv was dismayed to find that Gotra Pelani’Dun was somehow in most of his lectures, while Ro-Becilo’Ran was in less than half. Turning his mind resolutely from her annoying presence, he became aware of the feeling of eyes on him as he and Ro-Becilo’Ran left the lecture hall. Many eyes, along with the faint, sweet allure of feminine chemi-scents, making his vuu’erio twitch. He ignored them – it had been that way since he had emerged from his seclusion during his growth-spurt, but he assumed that all the attention on him was because he had been passed on by Gotra Pelani’Dun – very publicly. And now she was doing her best to entice him back, thus piquing their curiosity. He was determined not to be a source of amusement and public spectacle for those around him, so he ignored the stares and glyphs of interest, keeping his vuu’erio tennae tucked away. And the chemi-scents that seemed to be directed at him – he assumed that the girls around him were going through their second stage of maturity, as he was, forming pre-mating attachments and gaining stronger Genus-colors, and that releasing the chemi-scents was just a part of that. So he remained a little removed from most of those around him, keeping his vuu’erio tucked away and his face stolid, and he went about his studies without letting on that he knew he was being observed. Ro-Becilo’Ran walked beside him, glancing around in bemusement.

  “What did you do?” his friend finally asked, an irritably affable chuckle in his voice. They went in the direction of their respective store-cubbies. “Did you come up with a new glyph for a pheromone that I can’t detect? Besides growing two deci-parts, and putting on a ten-weight of muscle, that is.”

  “What are you going on about?” he said, nonchalant, glancing down at his friend. It was ironic that, having been shorter than Ro-Becilo’Ran for most of the time that he had known him, he now towered a bit over his best friend, and had to look down at him.

  “What am I ‘on about’? You mean you don’t see the pools of pheromones all the girls are putting out whenever you go by?” Ro-Becilo’Ran said, incredulous. “If I weren’t pre-mated to Galici’Bel, I’d be going half-mad with all the physique responses every two steps!”

  Kreceno’Tiv raised a vuu-brow and glanced around. Several girls quickly looked away as his gaze moved toward them, but Ro-Becilo’Ran was right – many of them were putting out deliberate pheromone clouds, and surprisingly, they seemed to be directed at him – and not in just a random way.

  I thought they were just – gloming because they were going through second development. He had felt the slight reaction to the puffs of chemi-scent, but had shrugged them off. I thought that was just – part of being girls, he mused, wanting to gesture annoyance at his own thick-headedness. Like my getting taller and deepening voice. I thought they were putting them out for the other males around them, too.

  “I – really hadn’t noticed,” he half-lied, gesturing abstrusely again. Apparently, learning to ignore Gotra Pelani’Dun’s advances had made him ignore all advances being made toward him. He un-tucked his vuu’erio a little, and the glut of chemi-scents and the associated glyphs directed at him almost made him reel. He tucked them away again, quickly.

  “I’m sure,” Ro-Becilo’Ran said drolly, moving his Ro-shoulders. “They’re all in awe of you now – taller, more developed, and too aloof to notice any of them... you could have any girl in Secondus right now, if you wanted.”

  Kreceno’Tiv snorted and moved his carry-pack to the other shoulder as he sorted through his texts. That was not how pre-mating really worked – girls chose boys, putting out their chemi-scents for the male that they wanted, and the male, if he were amenable, responded. But after Gotra Pelani’Dun’s callous treatment, he did not want to be chosen by just anyone, he wanted a special girl, one with – depth, and a certain quality that he did not have a glyph for, yet. They closed their cubbies and headed to their next lecture.

  Then a familiar scent made him cringe inside. Gotra Pelani’Dun was standing by the entrance to the lecture room, her pheromone cloud almost cloying. He consciously suppressed any reaction to it, keeping the cloud’s glyph from interacting with his own, and he did not even get the very faint Gotrar-induction markings or physique that would normally happen with a scent that thick. Ro-Becilo’Ran, even, had a Go-reaction, going momentarily from Ropalir-induction to faint Gotrar-induction as he checked for an instant, then went on by her.

  Her eyes widened as Kreceno’Tiv came within range of her chemi-scent and nothing happened to him. She did not say anything as he bypassed her without stopping – Ro-Becilo’Ran had paused, almost perforce, the normal consequence of the powerful pheromone pre-mating marker. If she had been interested, she would have extended her vuu’erio tennae to him in that pause, letting him know unequivocally that the glome-trail was for him. Kreceno’Tiv did not pause, but parted the cloud without actually letting it touch him.

  “Frosty,” Ro-Becilo’Ran said admiringly, as Kreceno’Tiv took his accustomed seat next to him. “How did you do that?”

  “Do what?” he replied ingenuously, as the Proctor came in, and Gotra Pelani’Dun hastily took her seat, her elytra-pace clacking slightly in confusion and annoyance.

  Whorl Seven

  “This first turn of this term we will be discussing the Industrial Collapse of thirty orbises ago,” the Proctor, a Lisso-Genus woman said, pacing at the front of the lecture room. “What is this phenomenon generally attributed to?” She looked out over the lecture-group, waiting for someone to voluntarily answer her question.

  A pupil on the other end of the room indicated with the requisite projected glyph that she would answer, then spoke up. “This is attributed to the long-term effects of the Unification,” she said.

  Proctor Lisso Pel indicated assent, waving her vuu’erio. “That is correct. The intermingling of the castes seemed to have produced an evening out of the Nil’Gu’ua ability levels, so that more and more of the populace had Nil’Gu’ua in the median-range, and could manipulate Nil’Gu’vua to produce corporeal objects. Once that ability had become widespread, citizens began producing their own life-necessities, rather than using currency to obtain them. Coupled wi
th the Unveiling Event and subsequent Unveiling Laws, some authorities surmise that the Industrial Collapse was inevitable. And it turns out that the Nil’Gu’ua levels were not just evening out – they were increasing, throughout the population as a whole. In fact, the generation before ours has had the highest ever incidence of level Nnen’Nil’Gu, fourth level ability, and above, with ninety-eight percent of the population of Gu’Anin showing these ability levels.” She looked over them. “Those levels were unprecedented, and defied every model of population adaptation put forth by researchers.”

  Kreceno’Tiv took notes, though he had heard this information before. But it bothered him. There was something there, something that did not feel correct about the postulate.

  “And because of this, as I said, industries that manufactured goods collapsed here on Gu’Anin.” The Proctor went on to describe the devaluation of currency on their home world, though legal tenders among the worlds of the Totality still held value.

  As always, when the Industrial Collapse was discussed, Kreceno’Tiv was faintly disturbed. The tenor of the discussion always seemed to point to the Unification as a bad thing, with the Industrial Collapse being the ultimate result.

  Would they rather have had the Castes remain as they were forever? he wondered sourly. And they only think that the Unification is responsible for the homogenization of Nil’Gu’ua. What if it isn’t? What if that is just a coincidence? Or even more reasonable, what if that homogenization happened first, and is the reason the Unification was able to come about? Suppose the median Nil’Gu’ua levels had begun to rise before-vuu, and enabled the lower Castes to overthrow the Malkia-mothers’ reign?

  He would not voice these ideas in lecture, however. Not after having made the same argument to his parents, once. While they had praised his ingenuity and insight, there had been a warning in their words to have a care to whom he said such things. They had not discouraged his thoughts, just cautioned him not to speak about it, a subtle but distinct difference.