THIRTY-TWO – Rose House

Arous wasted no time racing to her mother’s last known place of residence: Rose’s House.  Tennant-12 couldn’t tell her where her mother was now, that, he said, was classified.  Within the past year she had lived at Rose House.  He tried to show her interviews with her mother and appearances but she was uninterested.

Tennant-12 wrote directions to Rose House on a dot and the ID3-Wall spit the dot out.

“Okay,” she said to Arcadia. “I’ll take you.  You’re the only friend I have right now.  Don’t try any funny stuff.”

She stuffed Arcadia into a shoulder bag and took off on foot.  Arcadia nuzzled her head just over the rim of the bag. Arous cupped the dot to her ear every other block to check her directions.

Arous walked unto unfamiliar streets. These streets looked and smelled similar to the streets below her loft. The smells of animals and cars mixed. However, in addition, this street had a faint mixture of fresh baked bread and herbs.  The sidewalk got wider. More people walked through the fresh markets.  She crossed the street and turned another corner.  As her breath got more labored and so did her thinking.

The next cross street was Broad Avenue. She froze.

She thought that she would be happy. She thought this would feel right. It didn’t. She turned down Broad Avenue. After four eternal blocks she was there.

 “607 Broad Avenue,” she read aloud.  She looked up at the imposing building, boasting four roman columns atop a mountainous set of steps.

“One, two, three,” she laughed, “twelve, thirteen … “All the way to 52 she counted each step.  “Now that is something to write home about.”

Arous looked up at balconies of wrought iron above the columns.  The heavy, black ironwork contrasted the stark whiteness of the stone building.  At the top of the steps was a great marble landing and two large doors less than half of the height of the roman columns.  The doors were made of a cold brown metal that seemed to neither be copper nor bronze.  Rivets framed the doors’ edges.  Arous put her hand on top of one of the large handles but a stray glance to her right stopped her.

A button.

She pushed it.

“Please stand clear of the doors as they swing to the outside.  Thank you.” The automated voice rang.  As Arous stepped back the doors swung open and out making not one creak or moan.

She walked inside.  The marble landing extended inside as the floor of the foyer.  She faced a large winding stairway in front of her and a double doorway to her right, there was a single door to her left.  Looking up, she noticed a glass ceiling.  The marble staircase rose all the way to the top where a glass roof welcomed in all the sunshine available.  Roses wound and climbed around the staircase all the way to the ceiling. Their perfume enchanted Arous.

“Hello, Miss.  The first Lady is waiting for you,” she said and disappeared through a door.

Arous heard her voice on the other side of the door. She came back through the door in an instant. A dry forced smile spread across the receptionist’s face that did not quite match her light voice.

“This way please.  She will see you now.”

She led Arous to the right into what looked like a sitting room.  Sundry types of rustic wooden chairs lined the walls. An unused fireplace decorated the far wall.  The next room was a kitchen of stark whiteness that put the pale facade of the building to shame, a competition of white.  Black and silver pots and pans hung overhead too far for a normal person to reach.  It was quiet but for the smooth rhythm of a couple men dicing vegetables in a far corner. They were tall, among the tallest men Arous had ever seen. Once muscular, their strength had faded, traded in for another life.

           

            “Those are Nephilims in Rose House. What are they doing there?” asked Edlawit.

            “They are often found in pairs but I have never heard of them in the City,” I said.  “It’s strange.”

THIRTY-ONE: Mandrakes

It’s one thing to ask for something and accept it when it is given to you.

It’s quite a different thing to ask, take it and then run away.

Arous had asked for the Diofe’s blessing to go to the City.  She had asked for financial support.  He had it ready to give to her. Her dis-trust of him walked into his Willing Room, took the debdot from the arm of his chair and ran away.

That’s not the way it was supposed to happen.

It stood like a chasm between Arous and the Diofe.

It financed her apartment in the City and it installed the latest ID3-Wall to aid her search. It allowed her to store her hoveh in a safe place.  It built in her apartment a large bathroom with a sauna and a large shower.

I wonder if I can use this to port. Don’t even think about it, Miguel. I know you’re trying to watch me through Arcadia, I can feel you. You’re not invited here. Neither is Edwi.

She immediately bought a few mandrakes and installed a sky light so that they would survive in the interior bathroom. From the Bowl we could port from one body to another anywhere in the Bowl or outside, as long as we had been there before or had a picture of it or even a stone from the bottom of the lake or stream.  However, we couldn’t port into an area within about three meters of a living mandrake.

She picked a hologram for her ID3-Wall called Tennant-12.  He was a skinny, fast-talking chap.  He had a Northern accent.

“All planets have a north,” he responded when she remarked on his accent.

“Forget it,” she said.

“What’s with the stuffed animal?” he asked.

“She’s not a stuffed animal, she’s my horse.”

“Right,” he said. “How can I help?”

“I’m need to find someone.  She was a Idelle.”

“Do you know her name?” he asked.

“No.”

“That’s not very helpful.”

“She was a Lunese.”

“Aaaah.”

THIRTY: the City

Arous could make out the City on the horizon.

It was late in the afternoon.  She had been driving all day but felt as if she’d been driving for years.  Scattered and tattered houses began to get closer together as she neared The City.  She slowed down so that she could drive with the top down on her hoveh. Now that she was close to the City, she could let the auto-nav take control. The electromagnetic pull of the City would keep her moving in the right direction. She let off the gas, let go of the wheel, and pushed the button.  The hoveh clicked and hummed and the ceiling retreated.

It was dusty.  The sun was warm; she felt its heat as the cover retreated.

As she passed houses she noticed people in their front yards.  Dogs. Children. A bush or two.  No trees.  Once she took the hoveh drop off Plateau’s Edge she hadn’t seen a tree. The last one was a weeping willow on the bluff before she took the drop to the dessert.  She was pretty sure the willow wasn’t even real.

The City was known for the splendid gateposts that framed its entrance.  Decades ago the gateposts had to be moved further apart and the swinging gates had to be renovated to make the way wider.  The gates now retracted into the walls instead of swinging out.  The City was almost never closed now.  It never slept.

The road into the City served twenty lanes of traffic. Six lanes were intended for pre-millennial wheeled automobiles and hover mobiles whereas the remaining fourteen were for coaches and horses. A sronf (senseless repaving over natural footpaths – the “f” is silent) is raised about ½ foot off the ground and paved with a hard sand mixture. It is for pedestrians and on the outer edges of both sides of the highway.

Through the twenty-first century and into the twenty-second, technology advanced at an astounding rate.  Soon nation merged with nation, city with city.  Then some states became independent countries, cities becoming independent states or provinces.  It was all very confusing.  Men could not stop plotting and fighting for who would be the first to make a breakthrough on this gadget or that. It became more about things and less about land and peoples and even less about right and wrong.  The merging trade-markets set the social world on its ear.  Enemies became colleagues willing and able to share their knowledge of bits and bytes, widgets and wares. 

The Arous thought back to the story that her and Edlawit had written detailing how everything had changed.

            She had embraced that story.  All those creatures who were released from the chains of fear.  She had believed it was wonderful and that everyone else thought so too.

            Last night was eye-opening.  The Diofe had told her that the world outside the Bowl was different.

            Why? she asked herself.  What will happen to me?

            “I don’t know, Arous,” I said back to her.  “Be careful.  Remember that everyone is not your friend.  Find your mother and come right back.”

            “Please,” said Edlawit.

            Then Arous shut us out. We’d have to wait until her guard was down to hold her to the light again.  She was strong willed. It was going to be a challenge.

            “What do we do? Just wait until she gets back?” asked Edlawit.

            “No,” I said.  “We’ll have to use Arcadia and that cat that reached out to you.  We’ll have to make sure he finds her. It’s a good thing she dropped the dot.  We can see through Simon and through Lady Grey. They’ve both touched it.”

            “Miguel,” she said. “It just doesn’t feel right, spying on her.”

            “Edwi,” I said. “You don’t have to spy on her.  Just try to get through to her, hold her to the light, walk to her in the light. We’ve seen part of her future, a possibility.  We’re the only ones you can guide her through this safely.”