The Star Whorl (The Totality Cycles Book 1) Page 7

  “I think they bring up some valid points,” he said. He did not want to say too much, lest he start sounding like his Spheres persona. “Tell me what you think.”

  “I think there is more going on than our leaders are telling us,” she said, seriously. “I think the autonomy of the Solidarim, which is chosen based on Nil’Gu’ua ability rather than on merit or popular consensus, is counter to the interests of the Totality at large and Gu’Anin, in particular.”

  “The Gu’Anin Magistrate Council is chosen by consensus,” he pointed out.

  “But they can be overruled by the Solidarim, and there is no accountability,” she countered. “And I don’t think Tertius is an adequate filter for morals, just ability. Who is to say that because they have Sitan’Nil’Gu, sixth-level ability and above, that they will use that ability responsibly? I think that there needs to be accountability, oversight, and most of all, disclosure of policy-making decisions and actions.”

  Kreceno’Tiv gestured assent appreciatively, unsurprised. Polista Zyledi’Kil was one of the brightest of his lecture-mates, generally having some of the highest marks on examinations and evaluations. “You’re right. Have you posted your views to the Spheres?”

  She looked reticent. “No. My parents don’t let me have that kind of access to the dataSphere interlinks.”

  That threw him. He had heard of such sheltering, such introversion. But if her parents were that strict, why the sudden willingness to let her join him at the Bustani?

  They neared her domicive, by then, bringing a close to their time alone together.

  “I had such fun,” she said, turning to him and leaning against him.

  “I did, too,” he said, smiling. She tilted her face up to him, and he read the invitation clearly. He cupped her heart-shaped face with his free hand, and her vuu’erio tennae brushed the back of his hand, making him shiver. She did not protest when he slipped both arms around her and drew her up to him. She seemed to melt against him, in fact, her arms flowing up about his neck as he lowered his head and brushed his lips over hers. She responded, her wing-nets humming in her elytra-pace. He kissed her more deeply. Her lips were soft, full, and her mouth hot and sweet as he gently tasted her. He savored her, softly tracing her form with his hands. The intricacies of her glyph whispered to him, urging him to know her better. But he only lightly touched it, just the barest caress, and she shuddered under it. Then she reluctantly pulled away.

  “I have to go,” she said, almost apologetically.

  “Can you come to the line again next turn?” he asked quietly.

  She bit her lip, looked regretful. “I don’t think my parents will allow that. But I’ll see you at Secondus.”

  He smiled and touched her cheek. “At Secondus.”

  She returned a hopeful smile, then disengaged her transport from his. He waited, watching as her transport went up to the domicive, then dissolved, and she went inside. Then he turned his own toward home, musing on all that had happened.

  Whorl Twenty Six

  Still feeling warm and a little heady from his kisses with Polista Zyledi’Kil, and wearing the faint colors of her induction, he hailed his parents, accepted the platter of food his father glyph-conjured for him, and went up to his suite.

  He sat at his study-station, and saw that his new post had responses. Again, with no small amount of trepidation, Kreceno’Tiv opened his dataSphere and checked his discussion thread.

  There were many more positive responses this time, people asking the questions he had hoped they would ask, and some even defending his position as a dabbler rather than a Burrower.

  Then a response came to the fore that somehow caught his attention. The glyphs of it were subtle with meaning and power. He felt a jangle along all his nerves as he navigated to it and opened it. Someone with power and influence had posted this response, someone highly placed somewhere, for the identity and alias of the responder was completely shrouded, without even a trail to an individual’s dataSphere.

  :High Dabbler

  :Alighter, you pose interesting questions, and raise quite valid points – at heart, we are still entrenched in the old ways, the powerful taking ascendency and the not-so-powerful grouping together in huddled-mass cliques, trying to garner power through numbers.

  :Most relevant is your question: where could vanished voices be in the Totality that they are unable to raise a voice in the Spheres. But you are only able to see so much – you see the voices of the lower who have vanished. But as below, so above – what of voices who have never been heard, so high that they are perhaps above the hearing of all, who never got the chance to make a presence on the Spheres to vanish?

  :Here is the beginning of the answer to your questions – when cajoling fails, coercion might have effect. Where dissipation destroys some ways of learning of the doings of a few, therein grows the opportunity to take and make decisions that might not be to the best interests of all. And where solidarity fails, the unscrupulous flourish, taking actions that cannot be known or contravened until it is too late to act.

  :You have acted, perhaps precipitating those counter-conducive actions. My question to you is: have you acted in time?

  Kreceno’Tiv felt his vuu’erio tennae roll tight and all the vital fluids seemed to leave his face and throat. His elytra-pace clamped tight to his back, as if frightened on its own and clinging to him for reassurance.

  Someone in the Solidarim wrote this, he knew with every particle of his being. There were subtle hints and deeper meanings that he knew he would have to dig out, more sinister motivations behind the disappeared voices on the Spheres than ever he had suspected. He read the response again, committing it to memory, then carefully deleted it, though others had seen it and were questioning the responder to make themselves clear.

  As below, so above? The responder is implying – that – that... he was afraid to even speculate, though he knew he would have to face the answer that would rise in his mind at some time. He focused on the more obvious points of the post – the actions of a few, coercive actions, were behind the disappearances? And a little deeper, more subtle – those in high places had let the Spheres remain striated for a reason, so that the one medium that could meld the populace together, in essence, kept them fractious and fractured, so that the lack of solidarity hindered group action to defend themselves? It sounded almost like the pleadings of the Criers, but with more substance, and more implicit yet concrete threat to feed his thoughts and worries.

  He found his fingers trembling as he considered his next post. Someone highly placed knew the answer, and was using him to try to rectify the situation, unwilling, or perhaps unable, to act themselves. Posing the question, had he acted in time, meant that he had, but just in time, and that he would have to do more than pose questions to fight back against an enemy action that he had only suspected, had only stumbled upon, but which was large and sweeping and well underway.

  So I have gotten the attention of some of those highly placed, and some support me, and others, who are behind this, will be working against me. He wondered if he should go to his parents, ask them what to do next. But the post had implied that he needed to continue as he had been, one small voice acting alone, trying to unite all the other contentious voices in the Spheres.

  Then he saw a response that froze his soul, for it was full of tears, and made his effort and the coming effort he decided to expend all the more poignant and relevant.

  :Tears In The Dark

  :Thank you for raising your voice, Alighter. I feared to do so, feared words of derision and dismissal, and worse yet, dehortation and punitive action. My brother is one of those silenced, one of those vanished. In the real world, he is gone, and no one can tell me where or why. They only cite a new initiative, the name of which they would not even tell me, the glyph of it Veiled. Does it matter that we live in a small place, low on the least of the World-Trees, farthest from the crowds and influence of the Capital of An’Siija? I think so. And I was – told n
ot to raise a hue and cry, that he was serving the greater Totality by his absence. How could that be so?

  :You spoke where I could not. You questioned while I was silenced in a different way. You cared, and I thank you for caring. If others had cared, as you had, then perhaps my brother’s vanishing would have been remarked upon sooner, and more than questions, actions would and could have been taken.

  What have I stepped into? he wanted to moan, holding his head in his hands. His head suddenly throbbed, the weight of what had been placed upon him suddenly like having to support the World-Trees alone. Then he looked up. Was this a test, of sorts? Were there those watching, to see if he would hedge, balk, draw back from the path he had chosen to tread?

  Fingers trembling, he considered again what to say, then began to type, his glyphs not nearly so tremulous as he.

  :Alighter In Action

  :A voice from the dark cries out to me. Actions, veiled, have been taken, actions that run counter to our mores and laws. A veil has been drawn, where there should be none. My sistren and brethren Sphere-treaders, one cries out to us in fear from the dark, speaking for one who can no longer speak for himself. Will we let our differences stand? Will we remain divided in the Spheres, and dissipate in the real world? I say this – those who are on high are only high because there are those below to whom they are compared. And those below are only low because they have not united to act as one. No action, high or low, should be veiled, no sibling of the Spheres should go silent, but that we all cry out together, “Where has he gone?” And in the real world, no citizen should stand alone, in fear, because of the intimidation of others. I see many, every turn, without purpose, without direction, frittering away the time-marks, looking for something of interest to spark their minds and lend purpose to their lives. I have been one of those dissipants. I have wallowed in the killing despair, though I am not completely without drive or purpose. But that single cry in the dark – that should be a rallying cry to all of us, strata be damned.

  :So I presume to give a purpose to myself and any who would join me: let us suss-out this action that leads to tears in the dark. Let us find the vanished ones, and bring their voices back to the Spheres. Where one voice cries alone, now many should shout, and in the real world, where one brother is vanished, we must seek out all who have been taken, and find the reason why, and who is responsible. And where veils shroud places where we have not even eyes or vuu’erio tennae to see or sense, we must tear and claw away, for no glyph may be Veiled, that is law. And if such cannot be enforced on high, then it must be put through by brute force by all of the rest of us.

  :Join me.

  He shut down his study-station, his stomach in knots, and sleep eluded him far into the dark-turn.

  Whorl Twenty Seven

  “Krece,” a soft voice called to him. He groaned and rolled over, opened his eyes to see Vespa Karaci’Tiv standing in the entrance to his suite.

  “Kara?” he squinted, his head pounding. He had had troubled dreams all dark-turn, and his wing-nets had hummed all throughout, giving him a headache. His vuu’erio tennae had been extended and waving, also, leaving his eyes hurting and light-sensitive.

  “Father is calling us to eat together,” she said, and her slightly flat voice made him sit up fast. He only needed to pull on a deshik, having fallen asleep in his kwats from the dark-turn before, and he stood and followed her down to the meal room, wrestling the quasi-living garment on.

  Both Vespa Kareni’Tiv and Vespar-Drelano’Sev’Tiv were waiting for them, already seated, and the table was heaped with food. But Kreceno’Tiv found that he had no appetite.

  “Certain developments in the dataSpheres interlinks have – forced certain things to come to light,” Vespar-Drelano’Sev’Tiv said, looking somber. “There is a new initiative that has been given preliminary approval, though final approval has yet to come from the Solidarim or the Gu’Anin Magistrate Council. It is called the Occupation and Service Initiative.”

  Kreceno’Tiv felt the fluids drain from his face. Many things were coming together, unpleasant things, hints that his parents had let drop, combined with the veiled clues in the response to his discussion thread, adding up to a very ugly whole.

  “Does this have to do with the new Long-Travel terminuses?” Vespa Karaci’Tiv asked, her voice subdued.

  “It does,” Vespar-Drelano’Sev’Tiv said, giving her a look of approval. “The full details are on your view-glyphographics. This will be voted into law, soon, so I suggest that you study it carefully.”

  Kreceno’Tiv swallowed. Was it a coincidence that the turn after he had posted his call for action that his father was telling them about this referendum?

  His mother looked at him significantly, and he reached for the nearest platter, taking a small portion and nibbling at it. His stomach took over, and though he felt almost nauseous, he began to eat, reaching for other platters and passing the ones he had already taken food from. They all ate in silence, and then his parents smiled at them and excused themselves. Vespa Karaci’Tiv gave him a look, then stood and left.

  Taking a last bite without really knowing how much he had eaten, he got up and went back to his suite, and linked to his dataSphere. His alias thread was gone, and there in the relative middle of the interlinked dataSpheres was a post from the Solidarim and the Gu’Anin Magistrate Council, announcing a new reform that would be made completely public when a definite unanimity had been reached. But the post did not say exactly what the reform was.

  His stomach turned sour, and he lay back down, covering his eyes. His Nil’Gu’ua itself felt strained, as if he had been trying to glyph-conjure in his dreams, to no avail. So he did not even have the volition to glyph-conjure an analgesic for his headache. He closed his eyes, intending only to rest his head for a moment...

  His view-glyphographic chimed, and Ro-Becilo’Ran’s voice came through, wondering loudly if he planned to sleep the light-turn away.

  Groaning again, he got up to answer the graphic, to see what misadventure his friend had for them to get into this turn.

  Whorl Twenty Eight

  Kreceno’Tiv did not get up the courage to look at the data-package that his father had sent to him until much later in the turn, after he had gone to see Ro-Becilo’Ran.

  Swallowing his misgivings, he opened the sealed glyph-record, and began to read.

  As the words unfolded on his consciousness, he felt all the food that he had recently eaten turn to stones in his stomach.

  The Occupation and Service Initiative was nothing less than authority-condoned segregation, dressed up as another beneficial and benign reform. Except this one was not optional – there would be no refusal, when it came right down to choices for the populace. People could voluntarily submit to the reform, but if they did not go willingly, then they would be taken, unwillingly, without the option to appeal. And when he finally got to the heart of the reform, his wing-nets buzzed fit to burst through his elytra-pace before their time.

  They are – planning to deport almost everyone! he wanted to scream, but just sat frozen, his fingers hovering over the graphic to advance the document. They are automatically sending all the people of Nil’Gu’ua lower than Nnen’Nil’Gu to the second Star Whorl, using the new Long-Travel terminals! And – and people with ability above Nnen’Nil’Gu will be exiled too, if they don’t get into Tertius! By the Ancient Hives, what gives them the right to mandate such a thing?

  It was like a dark-time terror being slowly realized, a return to the times of mfanya-slaves, who had no choice and no say in their own fates.

  After a while he could not read anymore, so sickened by the sugary words that he felt close to nausea again. He mechanically went through his exercise regimen, cleaned himself up, and lay on his rest-pad. But sleep again abandoned him, and he heard himself moaning involuntarily as he struggled to find repose in the dark. A simple discussion thread was not going to fix this.

  He did not contemplate what would fix it.

&nb
sp; He moaned again.

  Whorl Twenty Nine

  The crush and despair of the Mji’Hive wrapped around him with its familiar coils, making him tuck in his vuu’erio ‘tennae. He mused dourly about the problem of the Occupation and Service Initiative as the transport struggled to get through the sub-Hive crowding to take him and his term-mates to Secondus.

  How will the city change, when most of the citizens are gone? he wondered, looking at the sea of faces and waving vuu’erio tennae, most expressionless but not blank, just waiting for something interesting to happen. How can the Solidarim and the Gu’Anin Magistrate Council think the Initiative was a good idea? Do they think people will just go without a fight? He looked around at the super-congestion within the sub-Hive. There was no rallying cry from the populace for change, no riots or mass demonstrations, no marauding groups pressuring those in authority for anything. Because, with most of the people possessing some median skill of Nil’Gu’ua, they wanted for nothing. Since the Unification, ten thousand orbises ago, and the intermingling of the castes, the Nil’Gu’ua disparity between the castes had evened out, so that there were no high Malkia-mothers and no lower mfanya worker-drones – and most people had about the same level of Nil’Gu’ua.

  Most everyone is at least at Nil’Gu’ua levels between three and six. Level three was required to apply Nil’Gu’vua to a glyph to produce an object. Level five was required to produce objects that contained remnants of the Living-Glyph, such as food objects. So there was not an article of attire they could not produce for themselves, once the glyph of it was known. There was no dearth of shelter, however temporary, from the elements, for they could produce mini-hives themselves. Most ancient mfanya industries were dead, for the mass-production of any one product by a particular caste was no longer necessary. Food, clothing, shelter, luxuries – all could be had by application of Nil’Gu’vua to commonplace glyphs, so the need to strive for these necessities had died with the industries that had supplied them. That left only entertainment, but there, too, problems arose, for fictitious stories could hold the interest only so long, and other diversions also paled quickly, as they were no longer an escape from the drudgery of having to toil for survival. Even the need to kill and consume animals was gone, and the natural world had been left to revert to its former glory in many parts of Gu’Anin. So too, was the drive to procreate, in the older citizens – many did not, as the population swelled. Long-mated pairs were splitting, many older males slowly losing the Genii-induction colors that they had had for orbises.