NINETY-FIVE: What’s name

“Arous. I’m so glad I could find you, it’s like a pit in here. I’m taking you to lunch today so we can talk a little more about working together. I have to run out a bit, take care of some minor . . . things. It will last about an hour. You finish up here and then meet me up in my office.”

“Hey, can you get the stool to take off the classified information about you? I mean, I can’t find anything about my mother that doesn’t pertain to you.”

He looked at her and smiled.

“Of course.”

There was something he wasn’t telling her.  The look on his face seemed to say he was pleased she was about to find out.

“Security controls, please take off the classification about me for Ladioselle Arous for the next hour.”

“Security controls recognize Ephor Ricci is authorized to remove classification. Classification is removed for the next hour. During that time all blacked out articles and sections will be available for search and capture.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re wish is my command, Revered Ricci.” The stool bobbed up and down with delight as if it knew the Ephor.

“I love it when they say that.  It makes me giggle,” he said. “Arous?”

“Yes?”

“I’d start at the top.  What you want to know is up there.”

Ricci left and Arous continued her search, looking exactly where he’d pointed.

She found an article: Ricci appointed as next Ephor of Pangaea Canadí.  The first line of the article read. “Ricci is the first Ephor that is not from the City but is from Alippiana.”

She thought about what Siobhan had said.

“Ephor Sextus.”

“Ephor Sextus Ricci,” said the stool and started taking Arous up.

“No . . . before Ricci.”

The stool stopped. “That’s easy. He’s dead.”

“Okay?”

The stool didn’t move.

“Can you take me to an article about his death, please?”

“Are you sure?”

Arous didn’t respond and the stool started moving slowly and stopped in front of another box. She pulled out a paper.

In big letters the headline read: SCANDAL! The first line read: “Ricci, the next candidate for Ephor, and good friend of Ephor Sextus Mullingaard, was witness to the murder of his colleague. Ricci claims that Mullingaard killed him in a mad fit.  His descent into madness was feared by high standing members of MOTA but not to the general public.”

“So Ricci was there. That’s what you wanted me to know Siobhan?”

“And really, who needs to know more?” the stool said and dimmed the lights.

“I can’t read.”

The stool went down a couple of stops.

“Here,” it said. “This box. First paper. Page 6.”

Arous did as the stool directed. Flipping to page 6.

The small heading on page 6 read: “Quetzecoatyl SEEN by Cleaning Crew in Archives. Quetzecoatyl is a mythological creature from the Incan empire thousands of years ago.  He was also thought to be one mean god. When the witness were sought for questioning, they couldn’t be found. Ephor Sextus Mullingaard back-ups the claims of the cleaning crew saying that he had personal contact with Quetzecoatyl, though this information remains classified. Ricci held a press conference -”

“What’s name,” Arous whispered.

The stool jerked down and Arous dropped the paper before she finished reading.

“Hey!”

“That information was classified,” the stool defend itself.

“How come it was in a public paper?”

“All papers had DNA readers.  Only members of the MOTA were read that line,” the stool paused. “And you, only because Ricci gave you full access.”

“Turn the lights back on, I want to finish reading,” she said.

“You know, after Mullingaard died,” said the stool. “Ricci took all the words out of the paper and just had pictures.  I mean, most things were pictures by that point, but Ricci took out all the rest of the words.  He doesn’t like the Word.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Shhh. Someone’s coming,” the stool whispered.

Arous froze.

Footsteps.

Arous remained still. The footsteps got closer and closer. She peered into the darkness at the end of the aisle. Even the stool quit bobbing.

She could make out a figure at the end of the row.  A dark figure stood staring at her.  He glowed so that she could just make out the crisp outline of his frame but not any details, not his face.

“Ricci?”  The figure moved toward her.

The figure stopped.

“No.  You’re not the Ricci.”

All Arous could invision in her mind were those grey pin-striped suits and moist skin.

The stool plummeted until Arous could jump off.

She began to run.  She could hear the footsteps getting louder but not faster.  They seemed to mimic her heartbeat. She got to the end of the aisle and began to run back toward the entrance.

She stopped.  The floor shook. A loud crash.  She twisted around.  Another loud crash.  The bookshelves began toppling.  She could hear them but couldn’t see them. She turned around.  The thick bright fog rolled ahead of her; behind hulked the pitch with the echoing footsteps and toppling shelves.

A heavy hand landed on her shoulder.  The hand pushed her toward the fog.  She struggled.   Arous turned to face the stranger.  He still had the same massive hulk and perfect posture but no face. Arous dropped to the floor to try to escape the man’s enormous grasp. She began to crawl.

Arous could sense debris falling around her. Under her hands and knees, the floor began to buckle and crack. Arous could make out a speck of light in front of her. She scrambled across the floor as the dot grew into a beam. The light pierced the dark above her: an uncovered manhole.  Fifty feet remained between Arous and the outside. Arous felt the wall for an escape ladder and began to climb up it.  A hand touched her foot. The ladder collapsed. A force pushed her to the edge of the opening. One last shove and Arous burst through the hole.

Once on the outside Arous caught her breath. The City Building lurched to one side like a cruise ship struck by an iceberg. The dust wafted thick. Arous blinked and coughed, pulling a silk scarf over her nose and mouth. A few minutes later and Arous saw the rubble that surrounded her, the ruins of the City.

            She could save herself and she didn’t save her mother.

NINETY-FOUR: He’s gone

Jude was gone.

            Simon was considered missing in action and presumed among the dead at the HaleSpa. There was a terrorist attack by the underlings of the City. Simon would be honored as a hero. Ricci could spin anything.

            Arous had just finished Siobhan’s cremation ceremony two days ago.  Her ashes were planted in a new potted rose in the garden at Rose House

            Ricci kept asking the question. Smiling. Being so proud of Arous.

“Arous, is the Diofe really your Source? After all, you are my daughter. I can be your Prince Charming for a Thousand Years.”

She was in the City building where all the City business was done. She was on the way to the archives.  Ricci had encouraged her to go there.

“Go ahead.  I like to go down there when I need a quiet moment to think. Or to read about myself,” he laughed at himself.  “But you, go, read about Lady Grey, your mother.”

She stepped on to the elevator.

“Down, please.”

The elevator began to sing.

“I know what you’d like to hear and it’s perfect for the moment . . . ‘swing low, sweet chariot, coming for to carry me home, swing lo sweet chariot, coming for to take me home’ . . . here we are: the basement archives. You are authorized to get off on this floor. Have a nice day and happy hunting.”

Arous walked out of the elevator and through the grey door. It slammed behind her. The stairs were dark, the whole massive room, dark. At the bottom of the stairs she could see something bobbing and emanating light.

“A stool.”

She reached the bottom of the stairs and the stool moved on ahead of her. A fog like dry ice covered the floor. Lights began to come up to her right and left. She could see rows and rows of massive grey shelves. The other light came from the bobbing and weaving stool. Cold.

“Where would you like to start?” asked the stool.

“Rose’s House and Ephor Ricci.”

She didn’t care about her mother, anymore.  She was dead.  What she wanted to know was what Ricci had to do with Rose House, really.  What did Ricci and Ephor Sextus have to do with Queztecoatyl.

“Information about Ephor Ricci is classified.”

“I’m Ephor Ricci’s guest. I’m his daughter.”

“Does not compute. Searching for Rose’s House. Beginning with the most recent entries.”

The stool disappeared around a corner; Arous followed. She walked through the dense gray fog.  A looming object appeared at a distance. Rows of gray metal shelves towered before her, the same color as the fog. She continued her relaxed pace. She stopped and turned to look behind her.  She couldn’t see either end of the shelves.  They seemed to disappear into the fog. No walls. Grey floors. A dim light seemed to glow around the immense shelves. She walked and walked.  Rows and rows, stacks and stacks of boxes and files lined up along the wall and down each row.  It became more and more cluttered the further she walked.  The ceiling began to drop yet still no sign of the end wall.

“Well, this is absolutely futile.”  Arous called out again.

“Mr. Stool?  I can’t find you.”

She began to walk faster and faster.  She started to run. She noticed a pink dot up ahead.  She slowed her pace. She began to walk toward what she thought was the exit resuming her steady pace. As she passed a corner, out of her periphery she caught movement and turned around.

“Stool?  Is that you?”

No answer, not even her own echo.

From behind her she heard a rustling. Arous spun around. It was the stool.

“Rose’s House beginning one decade ago. I will wait for the next search.”

She began to pull boxes and files from the shelves. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye.  She whipped her head around to the far end of the aisle. 

Did someone just round that corner?

She started pouring through more files and boxes. She talked to the files, “Mother, where is it? What is it I need to know?”

She wasn’t quite in the right place and she knew it. She looked up and began reading the labels just above her reach. As she walked in front of one shelf it lit up, glowed.

Something moved again.  She swung to face the movement. The stool was gone.

“Stool, is that you?”  Silence. “Well come here and help me.” 

Another movement caught her attention.  Arous turned.  Nothing.

Another movement.  This time above her.  She looked up.  Pitch black. She could make out a ceiling.  Greasy oily pitch. 

Footsteps.  Arous looked up.  Nothing but silence and black.

Footsteps again.  Closer this time.  Movement again to her left.  She spun around.  It was the Ephor.

NINETY-THREE: He’s coming

Edlawit was just out of bed and I had just finished my meditation. It was early and Edlawit and I sat on the front porch sipping a little tea.  Light was just beginning to bounce off everything.

“I thought it was almost over,” said Edlawit. “We have to get her away from Ricci.”

I was silent.

“But, she’ll make it, won’t she.  I mean, we’ve seen her at Burton’s. We know Jude is there.  But can we trust him after what he did to Mijin and James?”

“I don’t know, Edlawit,” I said. “I’m not sure Jude’s concerned if Arous comes back here.  He doesn’t even know where here is.”

“I thought he was a good guy.  I still believe he is deep down. He is, right?”

“He’s in Ricci’s grip, now” I said. “It’s hard to say.”

My mind wandered through the labyrinth of hope, letting it sink down into my soul. I grieved for Arous. I looked out the oak lined road that led up to the house. Those tall, old oaks, most of them thousands of years old, dwarfed the house, the house that had an endless number of rooms. Most of the time I could look out and see those old trees, most of which were just a little older than me, and I could settle my spirit and reconnect with their Creator, since I was like them, created. However, this day, as it turned out, was a little different.

As I looked out the drive, I could just make out the image of a large, brown tabby cat with white feet, a white beard and remarkable green eyes. Let me rephrase: he wasn’t a house cat; he was the size of a small lion. He was running toward the house.

            Edlawit jumped up.

            “That’s what I saw coming. All that time ago, this is what I felt was coming!” she squealed.

            “What do you see?” I asked.

            “I see a lion, a brown lion running up the drive with little Arcadia in his mouth,” Edlawit was elated and for a moment forgot her worries about Arous. She was jumping up and dow,n and waving down the lane, yelling, “Octavius, good boy! Octavius, come here, boy! Come on, come on.  You can do it.”

            “Look, again, Edlawit,” I said.  “Tell me exactly what you see.  Not what Octavius imagines it to be like.”