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

  The Proctors are almost making a case for bringing back the inequalities of the Malkia-dominated era, he thought, the sourness forming a knot in his belly. He kept taking notes, wondering about the motives behind promoting such regressive ideas. Other lectures had tried to insinuate and advocate similarly deleterious notions about the events that had liberated the population from the Malkia dominion, and later, the reliance on labor-reward and industrial manufacture for sustenance. Were the Solidarim and the Gu’Anin Magistrate Council trying to prime the upwardly mobile generations for such a return to social stratification?

  Trying to force the current populace back into a mfanya-consumer framework will be unsuccessful, he took comfort in knowing. How many, once they leave Secondus and have no prospects of moving on to Tertius will want to work for things that they can simply glyph-conjure? I wouldn’t, though I do expect to go to Tertius. The thought of not going, he did not permit himself. That would only lead to paths that gave in to the over-blanketing despair.

  Whorl Eight

  Kreceno’Tiv sat in the new lecture near the front of the hall, eager and excited. He had been looking forward to this, the physics of Long-Travel. Short-travel around the world of Gu’Anin without the use of designated terminuses had been prohibited in an effort to bolster the ailing travel industries, and thus was no longer taught as a lecture in Secondus. But Long-Travel was still necessary, and he was particularly intrigued by it, though he could not say why. And this lecture he had all to himself, in the sense that neither Ro-Becilo’Ran nor Gotra Pelani’Dun were in it.

  The Proctor, after introducing herself, turned on a view-glyphographic surface on the lectern before her, and made it project a glyph more complex than any he had ever seen. Was it a true representation of the Long-Travel glyph? He connected his vuu’erio to his secondary retinas, letting his eyes go semi-compound, and saw, with a slight slash of disappointment, that there were holes in the glyph.

  Still, understanding the parts that she can show will help me begin to understand the entire thing when I do get to study it, he thought, turning his attention to what she was saying.

  “...if you have not guessed already, this is, of course, not the Long-Travel glyph in its entirety – that is sensitive and close-held. But we can see enough of it to understand the theory of Long-Travel.” She manipulated the image, sending duplicates to all of them.

  He accepted the duplicate of the image that came to him, laid his view-glyphographic down and projected it up before him. He set part of the screen to project, and the other part to scribe.

  “What is Long-Travel?” Proctor Diamma Jes raised her arms, as if she would embrace the entire class. “I’ll tell you. It is, in essence, an idea, the idea that two distant points can be made to align, to be close in some dimension of the All. This idea was first conceived of by Vespa Ytoni’Dal, sixty millen orbises ago. When it was shown to be credible, and sustainable, the Expansion began. We will touch on the Expansion and how it gave us administration over the two Star Whorls and all the Nil’Gu’vua worlds contained within. But that will be discussed more in depth in your herstories lectures.

  “So, the idea that two distant points can be brought close was radical, in its first iteration, and the notion of aligning these two points and traveling between them – many were skeptical that it could be done, even though Vespa Ytoni’Dal had actually managed to conceive of the glyph for it, a somewhat more complex glyph than what we are looking at now. Her detractors argued that, even though she had created the glyph to completely describe what she wished, that no one had the Nil’Gu’ua ability to apply enough Nil’Gu’vua to it to make it vibrant, Nil-ize. She proved them wrong.”

  Kreceno’Tiv wondered what level was required to activate the glyph, if he were to have it in its entirety.

  “It turns out that it is not just the level of Nil’Gu’ua that determines whether the glyph can be made potent, but the disparity of the states of the distant points. Nil’Gu’ua level comes into play when very disparate points need to be aligned.”

  Kreceno’Tiv was about to project a glyph to ask a question, when she chuckled and raised her hands in forestalling. “I know, it sounds as if I made two completely contradictory statements. What I mean is this – for two points that align almost perfectly, anyone capable of level Sabol’Nil’Gu can activate the Long-Travel glyph. That’s the seventh level, that a significant portion of the population is capable of. It was surprisingly easy to activate, given similar conditions. Nil’Gu’ua does play a factor when two points’ state-functions become more and more dissimilar. For example, to align a Nil’Gu’vua world with a Nil’Gu’dae world, one bereft of Nil’Gu’vua, would require the as yet undiscovered Lifi’Nil’Gu – an eleventh level ability, the ability to bring Nil’Gu’vua to places where it does not exist.

  “Now, we will first be studying what is called the state-spaces that define translatable locations that can be connected by the Long-Travel glyph.”

  Kreceno’Tiv leaned forward eagerly as she began scrawling equations around the projection of the glyph, and he copied them faithfully.

  Whorl Nine

  “How was Secondus?” his mother asked as he came into the food preparation area, once he had put his things in his suite.

  He projected a glyph to her, one entangling elation and frustration, boredom and annoyance, interest and fatigue. Overlaid was hunger.

  Vespa Kareni’Tiv laughed as she projected a glyph and applied Nil’Gu’vua to it, making a feast appear for him. “You were always so eloquent, my hungry boy. Here, go feed that bottomless chasm you have called a stomach, ever since you sprang up like Anin’Ma World-Tree.”

  “Thanks, Ma!” he said, grabbing up the platter and carrying it up to his suite. Her warm laugh followed him.

  Setting the platter down, he pulled out his view-glyphographic and began skimming the interlinked dataSpheres.

  :The Sweeper

  :Oh ha! All praise those who know what’s best for us! But, alas, their last, best intention for us has gone the way of all things, has, once again, failed. Only two turns old, and already the Reform is dead! No one wanted to participate in their Employment Reform, no one wanted to go back to the drudgery and reward system that we have heard tell about, spending precious life in pursuit of others’ gain, and gratefully gobbling up the scraps of rewarded time they so graciously allow us, giving us tender to spend in return for the use of our talents, toil, and time. We gave it all up, because, in truth, we have learned that life and the time one has is precious, and should not be squandered making someone else wealthy – for how, if we wanted or needed it, would we get that time back? Once spent, it is gone forever.

  :So, we gave it all up, to spend our life time-currency in fulfillment, in pursuit of all that we wished and dreamed, doing all the things that we all ever wanted to do. We have taken that lesson, and made use of our most precious commodity, made the most of ourselves, because we are free to do so.

  :Right?

  Huh – so the latest Reform to motivate the populace back into some semblance of a labor-reward model has failed, he mused, flicking his vuu’erio tennae. The rest of the Sweeper’s words were like thorns in his mind. Here was the question – with life and time being so precious, why was the populace squandering it? Did people really need to have something to give their lives meaning, direction?

  Is the populace meant to be used by others, and without that exploitation, can their lives have meaning?

  Having no answers, he continued sifting through the various accounts of the Gu’Anin Magistrate Council’s Employment Reform. But the rewards had held no lasting fascination for the jaded public, and while a small fraction of the population had given the Reform a try, they had quickly become tired of the structured activities and the remunerative compensations that they could obtain for themselves, once the glyphs were known and could be reproduced. Since the Unveiling Event, no glyph of something non-living could be kept veiled, or completely secret. Maybe that is
why they are making such a transparent attempt to convince us that the Unification has had negative consequences. He ate as he trolled, searching for other items of interest. The personal recounts of those who had tried the Reform work-rewards system were amusing, but he was still vaguely disturbed. Several such attempts to revitalize the world’s dead industries had been instituted, but each one had failed.

  :The Flutterer

  :I have read many of your stories, your personal accounts of despondency. I cannot advise, nor would I presume to try – I can only tell you what I have done with my freedom to do nothing.

  :I have given myself purpose. It may be frivolous, or silly, or even idiotic, but it drives me, gives me something to do. I spend every waking time-mark in its pursuit. I want to create beauty, something so beautiful that it will last the ages. I tried the Employment Reform, but it interfered with my purpose, so I left, went back to my pursuits. They tried very hard to convince me to stay, but beauty and its creation is what I live for, and no reward they offered could replace it.

  Then there were somewhat more disturbing tellings.

  :Sleeping in the Outer Limbs

  :The recruiters for the new Employment Reform hassled me this turn. They wanted me to work, to spend my time doing something ‘meaningful’. And I asked them, ‘Why should I?’ It is my life, to do with as I wish, even if it means doing nothing at all. They told me I could be ‘part of something greater’, and I asked them what was so great about what they were a part of? They did not like that. They told me that I was a drain on society, a parasite, that I was wasting my life away, and I said that I do nothing but use Nil’Gu’vua, that is open to all citizens, and how could that be a drain? Nil’Gu’vua is forever, it is all around, it is there, for everyone, like air. Was I a drain on the air? They asked me one more time, but not as nice, and I asked them why should I be the bottom of their power structure, just so they could be the top? And why should I slave away for them, like a mfanya, when I didn’t need their rewards, or the remuneration of leisure time from doing their work, when I already had all the leisure time I wanted, to waste or whatever I wanted to do? It is my life, to waste. And the work they offered benefitted no one but them, to once again set up a competitive system that chewed through lives and supported an authoritarian power structure much like those of the Malkia. I told them to go away, I was busy sleeping.

  :They didn’t like that. But they went away.

  There were many such personal accounts, and they made Kreceno’Tiv more than a little uneasy.

  Why the persistence? he wondered, clacking his elytra-pace as he stuffed another roti-wrap into his mouth. He could not seem to eat them fast enough to quiet the gnawing at his middle. Why not just leave people to their own non-pursuits? Is it so devastating that no one wants to work because they don’t have to?

  Sighing, he looked at the platter, and saw that it was empty. Vuu-blitz, he thought, repeating the glyph that his mother had used and filling the platter again. He took out his assignments and began with the hardest, while his mind was relatively fresh. And it was not long before Ro-Becilo’Ran contacted him over an assignment in one of the lectures that they shared.

  Whorl Ten

  Kreceno’Tiv sighed. He was irritated with himself, and things in general. It was the end of the five-turn, and Ro-Becilo’Ran had convinced him to come back to the line for the Bustani, for another fruitless dark-turn of standing and waiting to get in with little hope of actually doing so. His friend had waved away his protest of not wanting to cross paths with Gotra Pelani’Dun.

  “You can’t avoid her forever, especially not when she’s in most of your lectures,” his friend had laughed. “You might as well get used to her being around. Just take reassurance in the knowledge that in Tertius, you can change any lecture that she happens to be in, so that you won’t have to interact with her at all.”

  “That doesn’t help me now,” he had groused, but had given in when Ro-Becilo’Ran became insistent. Unless there was another tracking glyph set on one of his other friends, hopefully the chances of seeing her would remain vanishingly small.

  His hopes had been in vain. Somehow, she and her group of friends were directly ahead of his group in the line, and he saw why immediately – many of the girls that associated closely with Gotra Pelani’Dun had formed attachments with males from his group of friends. He did not comment on any of it, only moved to the opposite end of the merging groups, trying to stay as far away from her as possible without making it too apparent that he was doing so.

  Gotra Pelani’Dun, however, seemed as determined to get near him as he was to keep his distance. It was like a slow, ridiculous dance, and he did not relish doing it all the dark-time that they were wasting in the line.

  Ro-Becilo’Ran edged nearer to him, detaching himself from Ropali Galici’Bel long enough to spare him a word.

  “She’s here, as you feared,” he said, casting an eye and vuu’erio at Gotra Pelani’Dun, who had somehow moved closer, seemingly by chance.

  “I noticed,” Kreceno’Tiv replied sourly, scowling. “I don’t find this particularly fun, Becil, though it might be high amusement for the rest of you.”

  “Oh ha, it’s no fun for me,” Ro-Becilo’Ran acquitted himself, though the laugh in his voice gave lie to the words. “So you’ll be leaving, I take it?”

  Kreceno’Tiv moved his shoulders, irritated. “Why do we come here, Becil? We never even get close to the entrance, much less into the Bustani itself. Why do we even bother with this?”

  “What else is there to do that we haven’t done a thousand times?” Ro-Becilo’Ran countered. “All the old entertainments hold no savor, and there aren’t any new ones being made, anymore. We could make our own, but why bother? This is all that there really is, Krece. What alternative do we have to the Bustani?”

  Is this all that there is, though? Kreceno’Tiv wondered, hearing and feeling the familiar despair in his friend’s words. Was Ro-Becilo’Ran so far sunk into that despair that he would rather waste marks and marks standing in an endless line than face the prospect of having nothing unique to do?

  Am I? he asked himself, even as he held in a wince at a too-familiar chemi-scent, one that he never wanted to experience again. He unconsciously moved, distancing himself from the sphere of its influence. Ro-Becilo’Ran gave him a half-amused, half-sympathetic look as he resumed his place beside his pre-mate. He raised a hand in presumed farewell.

  Irritated beyond rationality, Kreceno’Tiv flicked a vuu’erio tennae at him and turned to move from the line. But he was brought up short by Gotra Pelani’Dun, who had placed herself right into his path.

  “Oh ha,” she said brightly, as if surprised to see him, as if she had not been subtly pursuing him all the time he had been there. “I didn’t expect to see you here!”

  “I was just leaving,” he said brusquely, angling his body to move past her. He felt the response to her Gotra-pheromones, and hated the feeling. He purposely resisted it, fending off the glyph of it from entangling with his. He was quick enough that there was no outward change to his physique.

  “So soon? The dark-time has just started!” she protested, moving subtly to intercept him. The glome of her chemi-scent strengthened. “Why come all the way here, just to leave almost immediately?”

  “I was wondering the same thing myself,” he near-growled, casting a dark look over his shoulder at Ro-Becilo’Ran, who was studiously ignoring the conversation.

  “So stay,” she said cajolingly. “We should talk, you and I.” Her large eyes became beseeching in the way that he used to find so enticing, but just made him feel irritated now.

  He sneered. “Nothing to talk about.” He turned and worked his way around to the edge of the boulevard, where he could glyph-conjure his transport. She did not follow, as near as he could sense, though he did not turn to look. The ride home was long, even for the single transport, and he vowed not to be talked into going back to the line.

  I won’t believe tha
t there is absolutely nothing else worth doing, he thought, leaning back and closing his eyes. But the despair, ever-present, whispered otherwise.

  Whorl Eleven

  Kreceno’Tiv got off the Secondus transport after Ro-Becilo’Ran. But this time he paid attention to how the artifact-glyph of it changed as he disembarked, denoting his interaction with it coming to an end, as his Long-Travel Proctor had made a parallel between the two. Capturing the change on his view-glyphographic to study later, he waved to his friend, went inside and immediately started on his assignments, including the comparison between the transport glyph and the incomplete Long-Travel glyph.

  After a late meal with his parents, he went back to his data-trolling once he had finished his assignments and had gone through his exercise regimen.

  The assignments took longer than usual, because of that report, he thought. I’ll have to go to sleep soon and I want to finish checking my forums before that. As he sifted, he noted something – not quite right in the Spheres. Parts of the data interlinks had gone – dark. Not many, and not very large, but there were definite absences, unexplained and unremarked. The Crier was gone, as was the Happy Hedonist. As were others, others who were not as verbose or profound, but just as prolific.

  And almost all in the lower ability strata, he thought, perusing the subSpheres. Very few others on the links were talking about it, and none in the higher strata – for though the Unification had destroyed the rigid separation between castes in the real world, in the dataSpheres interlink those divisions were very much alive, and in evidence by the way users of the Spheres tended to group and affiliate themselves. Anyone could visit any stratum they wished, but there were strong discouragements against that, cliques and groups tending to passively exclude those not like themselves by virtue of topics they chose to focus on, and the responses to comments contrary to their views. There were those, like himself, who dabbled in all the strata, treading lightly and saying little, merely observing and consuming views and experiences without sharing their own. They were called Alighters or Sifters, as opposed to those who immersed themselves fully in their strata or famiya or Genii interests, called Burrowers.