DEEP ECHOES
Sean P. Wallace
Copyright 2013 by Sean P. Wallace.
'On the day of the Cleansing, the First Servant left the Cathedral and greeted a hundred thousand people: people with no memories, no past, only fear and doubt. She alone held the knowledge of what had happened. She, chosen by Sol to lead us all into a new era. So young, she held not only their gazes and the first Sol Lexic, but our destinies. Just imagine how terrible that was.'
Lord Real in her 'Treatise on the First Servant,' written 60 years AC (After the Cleansing).
1
Deep into a spring night, moonlight painting her room a dull grey, Maya went over her plan to escape.
The halls of the Academy and their perimeter were patrolled every quarter hour, and these patrols are staggered to cover more ground. This gave her ten minutes to get to her hidden travel pack, near the kitchens and past the... the disciplinary chambers.
Maya would sneak out through the herb garden, the weakest spot in the Academy's tall brick walls. She knew this because she'd tested the whole perimeter during her duties. She had a one minute margin for a brief conversation if a patrolling Contegon saw her, but anything more would mean waiting another quarter hour, would allow dawn to edge closer. The garden could actually be the hardest part: one slip and she'd announce her escape with a peel of the herb bells designed to ward off scavengers. But, again, she'd learned the layout of these traps, so they shouldn't be a problem.
Once there, she had two minutes to vault the Academy's walls. They were high, sheer cliffs of brick. No real challenge, but she'd have to be careful that she wasn't seen ascending or descending them.
If all went to plan, she would be outside the Academy twelve minutes after setting off, giving her two minutes to escape into the city and beyond any further patrols. Then she would be free.
Free. A prospect both terrifying and exhilarating. The rest of her plan was... hazy, depended on how quickly she could find one of her–
Footsteps interrupted her thoughts. She assumed they belonged to a patrolling Contegon. That was her signal. With practised ease, she left her bed silently. Dressed in plain robes, her long hair hidden beneath them, she was armed, she was ready.
Maya looked across at Chain: her best friend was asleep. Good. Matching her footsteps to the Contegon's fading clomps, Maya crossed the room and opened the door.
There was a snap, tiny and brittle, before she'd opened it even an inch. Chain sat up almost instantly.
“Where are you going?” Chain asked.
Maya stood still, hand on the door handle, reviewing the situation: a small twig, barely noticeable, had been inserted into the door's frame so it would snap if the door were opened. Chain had woken instantly at its breaking. It seemed Maya wasn't as subtle as she thought.
“Maya, where are you going?” Chain repeated.
Maya rested her hand on the door frame, still staring at the door. “I'm leaving, Chain. I'm leaving the Academy.”
Two loud leaps and Chain was at her side. Tears already covered Chain's face like dew. She must have waited up too, only she'd clearly been worrying, trying to understand. At seeing this, Maya's heart tried to wrench itself loose from her chest.
“Get back into bed,” she said. “It'll be better, much better, if you pretend you knew nothing about this.”
Chain stamped her foot. “How? How the hell do you expect me to do that, Maya? Tell me, come on: I'd love to know. I've been wanting to scrub away these memories ever since you ordered more armour.”
“That's what gave me away?” She shook her head: only Chain could pick up on something so small.
Chain nodded, a little proud. “That and you emptying our room of your possessions. But I wouldn't have noticed that if I'd not seen your order.”
Maya turned to her friend. Chain's fists were balled, her eyes tiny holes in her tear-soaked face. It looked like she didn't know whether to grab Maya or punch her. “I'm sorry you found out.”
“By Lun!” Chain hissed. “Maya, you were going to walk out of here without even saying goodbye. And what about tomorrow, what about becoming a Contegon? A Contegon, Maya, something we've trained for years for! Why are you turning... Why are you...” Her hands dropped loose, and she looked down at the floor.
“And what about me?” she whispered.
Maya crossed her arms. “This is why I was going to leave without saying anything, Chain.”
“Because it's better to just leave me worrying, make me think I'd done something wrong?” she told the floor, unable to face Maya. “Was it better to have me face the shame of graduating alone without even knowing where my best, my best, where you had gone? Was it?”
“Yes. Better you think me a coward than know the truth. You won't understand. No one will, that I can promise you.”
Chain punched Maya. Thankfully, she pulled the attack. A bruise would bloom on her chin but Chain could easily have broken her jaw. “Eight years, Maya. Eight years! I've seen you bleed; I've watched you cry. And you have the stupidity... No, not even that, the audacity, to think that I wouldn't understand you wanting to leave?” She stood, prowled around the room. “What is it? Are you scared about going to a Front, about fighting? I could understand that, Maya. Or is it the responsibility, having Sol's expectations upon you? Again, I could understand that.”
Maya waited, quiet.
“You know what, fine. Go. I don't care any more. I thought we were friends, I thought we would fight together... but I'd rather not have anything to do with you if you can genuinely think like this.”
Perversely, Maya wanted to defend herself now. Maybe it was Chain's tone, or being dismissed, but she broke her promise to herself. “All right, I'll tell you why I won't become a Contegon. But remember that I tried to protect you from this. Will you remember that?”
“Yes, of course,” Chain said. She'd done so too quickly for Maya's liking, but she'd said it.
“Okay! Okay.” Maya took a deep breath. “I'm leaving because I don't believe in Sol; I don't believe the sun is a god that watches over and judges us, and I don't believe that the moon is an evil monster called Lun which sews evil during the day. There's...”
Chain's face – white, horrified – made Maya stop: she'd known her friend wouldn't understand. Few in Geos would.
“No wonder you hid it, Maya.” Chain curled her lip. “You must be ashamed of your, your heresy. This is because of the accident, isn't it? We all go through a near-death...”
“No, Chain! No. I don't believe because I researched our history, because of deep self-examination, and because it's all so... silly! You worship a ball of fire and fear a lump of rock! This is why I'm going. I can't live a lie: I can't offer myself to something that doesn't exist.”
Chain's face hardened. Two words escaped through air-tight lips, “Get out.”
“What?” She'd never heard Chain so angry before. This wasn't the reaction she'd expected.
“You should go face a Hereticum. One day you will. But for now? Get. Out.” As though her tone wasn't threatening enough, Chain glanced purposefully at her twin axes, hanging from the end of her bed.
Maya left. She decided to let Chain rage, to let her friend think so badly of her.
The room opposite was unoccupied, had been for some time. Maya decided to wait there for the next Contegon to pass her corridor. It wasn't ideal but trying to escape, after that... that confrontation would be worse. Closing the door quietly, Maya slumped to her knees and couldn't, for all she tried, stop herself from crying.