A blast of cool air rushed in as the sensesuit peeled open along Markman’s chest. He reached up and lifted the helmet off. A dozen staff members from positions around the room stared in silent awe. For a moment, even Cassiopia and John Paul seemed speechless. John Paul rose from his seat and hurried to the suit area, followed closely by Cassiopia.
“Are you alright?” he asked, his expression still one of amazement.
“Are you alright?” asked Cassiopia, almost in unison. She pushed passed and grabbed Markman by one arm. She looked up with concern, then placed one hand gently on his cheek.
“Fine. No problemo,” answered Markman. He had a strong urge to kiss Cassiopia, but stares from around the room dissuaded him.
Cassiopia scoffed at his comical insolence and placed her hands on her hips. Slowly, the staffers around the room began to resume their duties though a few continued to stare.
“It looked like you were hit by lightning. Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.
“Oh yeah. That. It got my attention, but no big deal.”
“And the creature… What happened? It looked like the thing was after you, then it just disappeared,” said Cassiopia.
“Long story,” replied Markman. “Let me get out of this suit and I’ll tell you.”
“Scott, we need to do a medical scan on you in our bio-center. It’s the next lab over. It’ll only take a few minutes. No discomfort involved,” said John Paul.
Markman gave Cassiopia an affectionate smile and handed John Paul his helmet, a moment later the word scan sunk in, and he became alarmed. “An X-ray? You want an X-ray?”
John Paul stifled a laugh. “No, Scott. Not a primitive X-ray. Far beyond that. Completely harmless. Remember, you were exposed to some alien technology in there. We need to be sure there are no after effects. It’s for your safety.”
After dressing, Markman and Cassiopia followed John Paul through the outer office area to a door that led to a narrow, stainless steel hallway. They turned in at the third door. It was a medical facility, but unlike any they had ever seen. A doctor or technician sat at a control console. He seemed to be powering the system up and was too busy to pay them any attention. The room was small, with a low ceiling. It was pristine, glaring white. There was not one shelf, cabinet, or table anywhere, nor were there any medical devices other than the computer console station which seemed to be made up mostly of light rather than solid objects. In the center of the room was a small, round pedestal, six inches high. It also looked as if it was made purely of soft blue, semi transparent light. The technician finally looked up. He was a short man, wearing the standard white lab coat. He was bald and had no eyebrows. His eyes were deep amber. He motioned to Markman to step up onto the platform. John Paul stood alongside.
Markman shrugged and went to it. He tested it with one foot, found it solid and stepped up. No sooner had he turned to face them than the technician called out, “Test complete. That’s all we need. Thank you.”
Markman came down and returned to Cassiopia as the technician called out the test results. “Nothing at all except there is some recent alignments at the DNA level. These adjustments occurred just in the past hour. I do not see anything beyond the DNA level and nothing proliferating, but the system is still running. Overall, just an extremely healthy scan. Much of the realignment is neurological, mainly within the brain stem and central nervous system. There is nothing aberrant or out of the ordinary. An ill person might have benefitted from these changes, but in the case of this patient, he was already so healthy he will not notice any effects.”
“Thank-you, Devo. Would you send me the completed analysis when it comes in, along with the summary?”
“Yes, JP. I do not expect anything additional, however.”
John Paul turned to his guests. “Let’s visit the commissary. We can get something to eat and talk a bit.”
The commissary was as peculiar as everything else. It was even more luxurious than the outer offices, a huge, densely decorated area with plants and trees that bore real fruit, and enough floating tables for fifty people. Some tables had video screens within their surface, running different images. Larger screens took up most of the visible space on the walls, showing newscasts and documentary types of video. The ceiling was soft, white grow light, the floors a smooth tan surface that looked like tile but felt like carpet. Embedded in the left and right walls there were two wide, deep, lighted shelves. John Paul led them to one and stopped and smiled.
“Coffee, cream and sugar,” he said. Instantly, a cup of steaming hot coffee materialized on the shelf in front of him. “Your turn,” he said as he tested his coffee. “It will make a record of your voice and remember how you like things.”
“Minestrone soup,” said Cassiopia, and to her surprise a bowl of hot minestrone soup appeared.
Cassiopia looked at Markman and shrugged. John Paul smiled.
“Coffee, black. Grilled cheese sandwich,” said Markman, and the two items appeared simultaneously.
With servings in hand, they went to the nearest table. John Paul eyed them as he drank his coffee. He placed his cup down on the table and sat back. “Did Scott’s episode in the desert affect either of you too badly?” he finally asked.
Cassiopia and Markman exchanged glances. Markman paused in the middle of a bite, looked at them both, and resumed chewing.
“It seems not to have affected Scott’s appetite,” said John Paul.
“Do we know just how dangerous that really was?” asked Cassiopia.
“I suspect it was very, very dangerous, probably life-threatening,” replied John Paul.
Markman paused from his sandwich. “You sure don’t mince words, John Paul.”
“I promised to be straightforward and honest with you both. I will not deviate from that. The slightest coloring of the truth could harm the trust the three of us have developed.”
“What do you think?” Cassiopia asked Markman.
Markman paused from his sandwich and did his best to explain the creature from the movie. “It was a psychological challenge. Most of the other challenges were physical. This was meant to catch a person off-guard. I think it was the best possible scheme for preventing someone from completing the game. I think it looked into my mind and found my deepest fear from a movie I saw as a child and brought that to life against me.”
“If we are someday able to find our way into the computer’s archives, that is, if archives actually exist, we may learn just how many players did not make it through that test,” said John Paul.
“But, hey! I’m now an Overlord! Whatever that is. Now I can visit the Aurora City at my pleasure, without all the danger. How cool is that?” said Markman.
“Are we sure?” asked Cassiopia.
“As sure as we can be,” commented John Paul.
“And what about this suggestion that you now have some kind of special power?” asked Cassiopia.
“Yes. This could be more than we hoped for,” said John Paul. “It may be that you have unlimited access within the system. If there is some form of library within the city, we may have access to unimaginable information.”
“Personally, I’d like to visit my castle,” said Markman, and he nearly choked from laughing with his mouth full. The other two stared back somberly.
“It sounds like none of us are opposed to another attempt. Am I reading you both correctly?” asked John Paul.
Cassiopia spooned her soup and wrinkled her brow.
“When would you want to do that?” asked Markman.
“We could be ready this afternoon. Is that too soon?”
Markman turned to Cassiopia. “Have you reached your father yet?”
“No, and that’s it. We need to head to Knoxville.”
“John Paul, we could check out Aurora City this afternoon, and take off tomorrow morning to check on the Professor. Would that work?”
“It would. And Cassiopia, we have received no alerts from our monitoring systems, and there have bee
n no new reports from our operatives who are keeping an eye on him. We have no reason to believe there are any problems with your father.”
“It’s probably just that he’s in one of his moods. But I need to check on him in person.”
“I believe we have a plan then,” said John Paul. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you and begin preparations for this afternoon. We’re doing quite well, but I remain concerned about the Salantian threat. Enjoy your lunch. Try the desserts.” John Paul stood, nodded appreciatively, and left.
Cassiopia and Markman sat in silence, occasionally glancing at each other, wondering what the other was thinking. Finally, Markman could stand it no longer. “You want to see Aurora City as much as I do, don’t you?”
Cassiopia did not look up from her soup. “Please… don’t make me admit that.”
“I’ve got to check out my castle.”
“I only hope it does not come complete with wives or concubines.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be wearing a skin tight suit that does not come off,” joked Markman
“They may not be wearing anything at all.”
When lunch was complete and all discontentments put aside, they returned to the sensesuit lab to find changes had been made to the sensesuit test area. There were new items installed. A chair against the left wall. A stool and counter against the right. A couch-bed against a section of the far wall. John Paul was leaning over a control console by the orb. They went to him and stood behind. He looked up and smiled.
“I don’t understand,” said Markman.
“It’s something I haven’t told you about, something we learned only a few days ago,” John Paul straightened up and faced them. “You know how the program uses the walls in its simulation? We learned that any objects placed in the suit area are automatically mapped by the computer and used by it during the simulations. The simple items we have placed in the test area will allow you to at least sit and rest if you need to. They should make whatever environments you find more conducive.”
“Wow,” replied Markman.
“We’ll be ready for you in thirty minutes. Is that acceptable?” asked John Paul.
“As good a time as any,” answered Markman.
Cassiopia watched as Markman headed for the suit. Once again, she began to have second thoughts but was distracted by a hand on her shoulder from Shandra. When the system engineers were ready, and Markman in-suit with helmet under one arm, John Paul gave the signal and the computer orb brightened to colorful life, sealing Markman’s suit-front to indicate it was online. With a last nod to Cassiopia, he lifted the helmet and lowered it in place, listening to the snapping and hissing that locked him in.
The initialization seemed quicker this time. Rising suns and passcode boxes appeared immediately. Once cleared, Markman gazed across the Aurora City landscape, glimmering under its twin orange suns. The city suddenly looked different. It was now an accessible place, a place where he was welcome. This was the first visit that did not carry the promise of danger and violence. The Crillian world suddenly had a warmer feel to it.
A voice behind Markman called out. “My lord, you have returned. It is an honor to greet you on this first day of a new era.”
Markman turned to find Trill standing close behind.
“My Lord, it is the first of the Overlord era. What are your commands? I seek only to fulfill them.”
Markman stifled a laugh. “I’m here to visit the city. I’d like to see the castle. What do you recommend?”
“Sir, you must use a tube rider. It is considered gauche to materialize in a public place. A tube rider will also afford you a great deal of visibility.”
“That sounds good. Where would be the best place to visit first?”
“Sir, I would suggest the city’s Main Square. The city is much too large to tour quickly. The Main Square might afford you an idea of its diversity.”
“Is my appearance correct for that?”
“Sir, your appearance will change automatically and become appropriate depending on where you are at any given moment. However, you must understand, you will be recognized and will not be treated as an average citizen would.”
“How will I be treated?”
“Many will be in awe of you, some will fear you.”
“Really?”
“Sir, it will be difficult for you to be inconspicuous.”
“How will they recognize me?”
“Sir, by the golden triangle on your suit.”
“What if there’s trouble?”
“Sir, your golden triangle will return you here instantly with a single touch. You may use it as many times as you need, without fear. However, it is considered impolite to transport in that manner publicly, so you should find privacy before doing so.”
“How do I control the tube riders?”
“Sir, you speak aloud where you would like to go.”
“It’s that simple?”
“Sir, yes.”
“Well, I think I’m ready. How do we call for a tube rider?”
Markman had barely uttered the words when the sound of rushing air brought a clear, oval tube sliding into view on the far side of the room. A transparent, rectangular door on its side swished upward.
“Sir, please forgive me for mentioning something further, but it is my duty to be sure you are fully prepared.”
“What is it, Trill?”
“Sir, you probably already are aware of this. I am embarrassed to mention it. I do so only as your loyal servant and friend.”
“Trill, what?”
“Sir, remember not to speak orally in public.”
“What?”
“Sir, do not vocalize your communications.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Sir, you must not speak aloud in public.”
“What? Why?”
“Sir, on Crillia it is acceptable and normal to use guttural expressions of audible speech when in the home or office, but in public that is considered a terrible discourtesy. It is the epitome of rudeness to do that.”
“Are you saying no one on Crillia talks out loud in public?”
“Sir, that has been the custom for many centuries. Oral communication is thought to be primitive and barbaric. Imagine how noisy public places would be, or how deafening public meetings would become.”
“But how do people talk to each other then?”
“Sir, by thought transfer, of course.”
“Telepathy? You're saying everyone on Crillia is telepathic?”
“Sir, that is an ancient term seldom used now. It dates from pre-age times when thought transfer was a specialized skill possessed by only a few individuals. Thought transfer has been a normal part of this culture for many years.”
“How do I do it?”
“Sir, there is no methodology. You simply speak with your mind instead of your physical voice.”
“Oh, boy.”
“Sir, I am now glad I cautioned you about this.”
“Me too. Thank you. I think I will try to avoid speaking to anybody.”
“Sir, that is often a wise discretion.”
Markman eyed the tube rider. He went to it, bent down to look inside, found transparent benches on both sides, and straps hanging from the overhead. He stepped in, turned to thank Trill once more, but the door swished closed. Trill looked on with some consternation. Markman grabbed one of the handles and remained standing. He took a deep breath and in a questioning tone said, “Main Square?”
The tube rider shot out of the chamber, but for Markman there was no sense of acceleration at all. The walls and interior of the pyramid passed quickly by as he burst into sunlight and sky. The tube rider nosed down and followed its guide gently downward toward the city. Colorful, strangely-shaped architecture passed by in a blur. Anti-gravity vehicles sped by above and below. The two Crillian suns were still ablaze in the afternoon sky, yet the lights of the city below seemed as bright as if it were evening. A crescent of white moon was ri
sing in the east against a faded aqua backdrop. A few stars had become visible apart from it.
The complexity and density of the city was mesmerizing. Were it not for the many colors, Markman’s mind would have had trouble separating the collage of superstructures. In the distance, an inverted funnel-shaped structure with a very tall stem rose up from the surface. It looked like it was made of a spider web of light fibers. Nearby, a huge dish-shaped facility seemed to float above a garden. The thing was as large as a football field and within its bowl colors and designs shifted and glowed like the largest kaleidoscope Markman had ever seen.
It was all too much. Oval buildings of glass and light were scattered everywhere. Walkways of glass hundreds of feet above the ground connected them. Canals of colored water curved everywhere through the city. Transport and passenger craft were using them. Waterfalls flowed from the tops of the highest buildings, dropping thousands of feet into splash pools that somehow contained the spray.
Markman stretched to look directly below as the tube rider curved sideways around a structure. He could make out streets below, but they were odd. Rectangles of color beneath each vehicle matched their speed. The speed of a vehicle seemed to alter the color. There were people everywhere, a lot of them.
Ground level began to rise up. The tube rider leveled off and slowed, then cornered around a building that resembled the planet Saturn, complete with rings. Ahead, were three lighted structures that looked like upside down ice cream cones with spheres atop them. Across from them, was an oddly out of place, old-fashioned conventional home inside a glass bubble, and alongside it, a series of silver platforms that rose thirty stories high.
The tube rider continued to slow. It passed beneath a maze of walkways and glided in next to glass partitions with maps engraved on them. A tone signaled the stop. The tube rider door popped upward and open. Markman stepped out and watched the vehicle close up and take off, disappearing down the endless tube guide.
The place had the brilliance of Time Square on New Year’s Eve. Markman stood by the glass partitions and tried to get his bearings. There was so much to see it was difficult to take in. Much of it was hard to understand. He was standing on a very wide sidewalk. An egg-shaped vehicle with a wraparound windshield floated slowly by with two passengers in it. On the opposite side of the street, two people were entering some sort of establishment that had a glass front. Through it, empty tables, chairs, and a serving counter could be seen. Looking both ways along the street, banners and symbols were flashing everywhere. Holographic images of merchants were appearing in front of shops, trying to stop passersby to sell them something. A vehicle of some sort passed overhead between the rails of walkways.
Markman took a step forward and stopped. Beneath his feet, a faint yellow rectangle appeared on the sidewalk. As he wondered at it, a lighted pedestal suddenly rose up in front of him. It was waist high and was capped with a green light. He touched it with one hand and the rectangle of sidewalk beneath him turned slightly green and began moving slowly to the right, carrying him along with it. Instinctively he clutched the post tighter, fearing he would lose his balance, but the pressure caused the moving section of sidewalk to speed up. Easing his grip brought it back to slow. Releasing it, he stopped altogether and once again it turned from green to yellow. He looked back in the direction he had come and placed his hand lightly on the pedestal again. The section of sidewalk started up only this time in that direction. When he was back at his starting point, Markman released his grip and stared in amazement at the yellow tile of sidewalk ready to carry him in any direction he chose.
As he stood dumbfounded, another floating vehicle approached from the right. It was egg-shaped and yellow with an open top. Four people were laughing and celebrating within. They paid him no attention at first until one occupant happened to notice the gold triangle. It was an attractive woman with an absurdly tall brown dunce cap hat. She stopped abruptly and stared. She tapped the person next to her, and both began to stare with expressions of amazement. As the egg car passed, all four occupants had become silently entranced at the sight of Markman. They continued to look as their vehicle slowly drifted off into the distance.
Markman shrugged it off. He decided a visit inside the glass building across the street might be a good place to start. He stepped off the green rectangle and headed across the golden brick roadway. The pedestal disappeared behind him. As he walked, a pathway of green appeared in front of him as if to show the way.
On the opposite side of the street, he paused and looked back. The glass barriers of the tube rider station were displaying advertisements and promotions of some sort. Overhead, people were passing by on the tangled maze of walkways. Markman turned and looked at the glass building. Through the glass, there were still only empty tables and chairs and a counter with a man in uniform wiping it. Markman pushed through the doors and entered.
To his astonishment, the place was packed. The tables and chairs were still there just as they had been, but nearly all were filled with people. A wide-open area in the room’s center was also filled with standees, exchanging items, participating in activities of some sort, or just drinking and eating. Soft music came from all around, but other than that the room was quiet. There was an air of excitement, the kind any busy meeting place might offer except the loud choir of conversations was missing.
Packed within the crowd was the oddest assemblage of attire Markman had ever seen. Physical appearance and body style was equally varied and unusual. There were exotic gowns, and skin-tight body suits. Men wore fluffy medieval-styled suits with long coats; others Nehru-styled jackets, a few flight suit coveralls along with athletic-type body suits. All patrons seemed to be of humanoid form, but not all were human. Some faces were very long, others extremely fat. A number of feminine figures had no hair; some male figures had hair to the waist. Facial features were often difficult to understand. There were markings and other features that were foreign. Markman stood by the door wondering if he should quietly back out the way he had come in. Before he could decide, a couple sitting nearby noticed him.
The pair seemed to freeze in their seats. It was a man and a woman. The woman wore a pinned on hat with too many flowers. She twisted in place to look and sat mesmerized. The man had on a white silk shirt and a modern dark dinner jacket left open. His stare suggested even more surprise than his partner’s.
Before Markman could react, the attention began to spread. The staring became uncomfortable. It mushroomed through the crowd like a wave. People standing in room center also ceased their interaction and turned to look at the man by the door with the golden triangle.
The discomfort of it became too much. It was either make an untimely exit or do something. Markman stepped forward intending to find a place at the counter where he might be less obvious. As he approached the standees, they parted leaving a wide, empty path. He walked awkwardly though, noticing a few whispered gasps and exclamations. As he neared the serving counter, the parting of the crowd closed up behind him and became more excited than it had been. At the far corner of the counter, he leaned in, not daring to look back. A server behind the bar was holding a strangely shaped glass and white cloth but was frozen like a statue.
Markman glanced at him and remembered not to speak. He nodded in hopes it would be considered a friendly gesture. The bartender came to life and took a step toward him. He paused in doubt, then took another. When he felt close enough, he bowed his head and Markman heard the unspoken words as clearly as if they were said out loud. “What might I bring you, Sir?”
Markman took his best shot. As carefully as possible, he answered with a thought. “Your favorite?”
The bartender looked worried, as though he feared it might not please this particular customer. “Very well,” the man thought back, and he turned and began hurriedly mixing something.
Feeling relief at his first telepathic communication, Markman dared a quick glance behind. The crowd had resumed some of its celebratory posture
, though most were still stealing stares too frequently. A few people were leaving. A woman in a long, sparkling red gown had dared to take a position at the other end of the bar. Her hair was flowing with multicolor, her skin sparkled as much as her dress. She had bright red lipstick and narrow dark eyes, a perky little nose, and a diamond choker collar. She chanced an occasional look at Markman to see if he had noticed. Markman pretended not to.
The bartender returned and nervously kept back by reaching too far to place the drink. He wrinkled his brow in fear the serving might not be accepted. It was a tall glass. The liquid within it was orange and blue and was swirling in a constant eddy. The bartender stood by as though his presence was required until approval had been acknowledged. Markman raised the glass, wondering what he would do with it through the sensesuit helmet. To his surprise, he felt the liquid rush down his mouth and throat. He placed the glass quickly back on the counter. The sensation stopped. It was disturbing. The sensesuit was telling his mind that he was drinking even though he was not. He smiled and nodded to the bartender, who let out a sigh of relief and went to the lady in red.
Behind him, the place had resumed a little more of its normality, though too many still could not resist the sight of Markman. Those not so entranced seemed to be conversing telepathically with friends. The silence in the room, back dropped by soft alien music, seemed eerie. Markman focused for a second on the two nearest patrons and consciously tried to hear. Immediately their voices faintly appeared in his mind. They were speaking in a subdued tone. “We don’t know anything at all about him.”
“Only that in all these centuries no one else had ever made it.”
“How can that be a justification for trusting someone? What if he’s diabolical or something?”
“The legend says that he is spiritual.”
“Yes, but….” Suddenly the pair stopped talking and looked over at Markman. They realized he was listening. Markman quickly looked back at his drink. It was still swirling in the glass. The couple rose from their seats and wove their way toward the exit.
Markman decided it was time to leave. Did he need to pay for the drink? At the least, he needed to tip the bartender. He wondered how to do that. No sooner had the thought entered his mind than a gold coin materialized on the bar in front of him. The bartender was staring from his position by the lady in red. His eyebrows were raised in surprise at the sight of a coin appearing out of nowhere. Markman pushed away from the bar and turned to leave. A wide channel through the crowd immediately formed once again. He held up one hand to the bartender who responded by coming quickly and stopping a distance away, then thinking to him, “Sir, please visit us again soon.”
Markman shook his head and tried to smile. He hurried through the silent crowd and out the door. Outside, he breathed a sigh of relief, but in turning to look back realized the door was being held open and people were now staring out. Markman looked both ways and crossed the street back to the tube rider station. He went to the loading area, wondered how to call for a tube rider, and within seconds one sped into the station. The door popped open. He climbed in and said aloud, “Terra Nova Castle.” A map showing a path through the city immediately formed on the glass door. It faded away as the tube rider pulled out of the station.
Markman took a seat on a transparent bench and quickly realized he had to be sitting on one of the items placed in the sensesuit test area by John Paul. The sensesuit program had somehow guided him to that spot like a magician doing a card trick. The lights of the Aurora City raced by. Crillia’s suns were getting low in the sky. Its big white moon continued rising. Racing through the tangle of city lights, the tube rider passed through several buildings, revealing huge auditoriums and busy thoroughfares. A few structures looked like giant shopping malls. In the distance, there seemed to be a large, barren clearing of city. As he approached, he realized it was an expanse of lake with dark water. What looked like a lighted island lay ahead in the blackness. The tube rider was traveling above and along a very long suspension bridge that led to the island. Soon the outline of a well-lighted, massive castle complex came into view.
Snow white five-story buildings linked by high towered buttresses made up the outer perimeter walls. The long suspension bridge ended at the castle’s main gate, where a drawbridge guarded entry. On either side of the massive entrance doors, two white, square towers rose up seven or eight stories, topped by smaller rounded towers with red tiled cone-shaped roofs. Beyond the walls, a well-lit courtyard heavy in décor surrounded the castle complex. Colored stone walkways criss-crossed through lawns and gardens decorated with elaborate fountains and statues. Its beauty made Markman murmur, “Wow,” as his tube rider sailed over. Staff members were working at various points around the complex. A long, white, three-story structure on one side of the courtyard looked to be a stable. Beyond that, the main residence stood in all its splendor. A peaked central roof surrounded by numerous towers, some wide, some narrow. The main entrance was a portion of wall covered in gold.
The tube rider dipped down and curved around to a loading station that ran alongside the main courtyard. It slid to a stop, and the door popped open. Markman wondered whether or not he should get out. Reluctantly, he stepped down and looked around. White stone structures were everywhere, decorated by green grass and gardens. He looked in the direction of the castle, and to his dismay noticed a small crowd of people had emerged from the castle’s main entrance and were hurriedly walking toward him. Other staff people working around the area had stopped and were staring.
As the entourage approached, the lead man held up one hand signaling his followers to go no further. He slowed and approached with caution. “Sir, we are honored by your presence.” The man stared at the ground nervously with his head bowed. To Markman’s relief, he had spoken aloud. He was dressed very properly in something similar to an Englishman’s tuxedo, but with gold admonishments to it. The others wore equally formal service wear. At the greeting, they all bowed.
“Mr. Baker sir, Trill advised us of your arrival only a short while ago. I am DuMont, Chief of Household Staff. Would you like to begin your tour now?”
“Is there somewhere private I could look out at the grounds and learn more about Crillian customs?” asked Markman.
“Sir, your diplomatic suite would be the perfect place. Please follow me, if you will.”
Dumont waved the rest of his staff away and led Markman along one of the colorful paths toward the castle’s main entrance. He began pointing out buildings and decorations and describing their purpose. “The stable has no issues currently. The horses are well groomed and available to you whenever you please.”
“How many horses are there?”
“One hundred, sir. Not counting the new foals in the back pasture.”
“Where exactly are you taking me?”
“Sir, your suite is on the fifth level. The Overlook Chamber.”
“Thank you, DuMont. Everything here is so beautiful.”
“Sir, this morning’s report from the Skyway Terrace indicated that all Terra Nova vehicles are in complete order and available to you with the exception of the star cruiser Oryon. It is undergoing annual certification and will not be ready for a day or two. The maintenance supervisor has said he can procure alternate transportation immediately if you require travel outside the solar system.”
“Travel outside the solar system?”
“Yes, sir. The cruiser Palifious is ready and available for intersystem travel, but anything beyond that would require an hour or two of notice to the dispatch supervisor.”
“Intersystem travel? You mean I could take a ship and fly to the moon if I wanted to?”
“Mr. Baker sir, why would you wish to travel to Terra? It has been thoroughly mapped and explored. The ruins there are mostly dust. Little is left after all these centuries. The body continues in contraction, as well. In a few more millennia it will break apart and fragment.”
“Ruins? There are ruins on that moon?”
“Sir, yes. You can consult any archeologist for a detailed analysis if you wish.” Dumont paused as they approached the main entrance. He saluted the guards standing on either side. One pulled on a cord hanging alongside the entrance and the huge double doors swung open to reveal a massive hall.
“We have one hundred and seventy of the rooms sealed off, though they can be opened and made ready very quickly if required for affairs of state.”
“One hundred and seventy rooms?”
“Yes, sir. It is so we may give more diligence to the maintenance of the others.”
Markman, followed by more staff, entered the grand hall. The ceilings were domed and fifty feet tall. Intricate carvings were everywhere. Statues lined the walls. Strange armor stood beside each. The tiled floor was polished and white. At the opposite end of the room a short span of wide stairs led to three thrones covered in red and gold.
Markman turned to his host. “DuMont, there’s an awful lot of armor and weaponry around here.”
“Sir, they stand as tributes to Crillia’s dark age when government was determined solely by sanctioned combat to the death. Fortunately, that is a seldom used tradition these days.”
“It is still done?”
“Quest Haven allows most grievances to be settled without mortal combat. It offers many alternative methods of engagement to resolve disputes. A grievance would need to be in the extreme for participants to elect a death challenge.”
Markman stared at DuMont trying to see if the man was completely serious. It appeared he was.
“Sir, the elevator is this way,” DuMont motioned to their right. Before leading, he made a hand gesture to the staff following closely behind and they happily dispersed.
Waiting at the elevator, DuMont glanced at Markman but said nothing. The heavily engraved doors parted open and they entered. The interior of the elevator was as plush as everything else. It seemed to be covered entirely in cushioned red velvet. The ride up was brief. The doors opened to a lavish sitting area. Wonderful artwork adorned the walls. A huge fireplace of fitted stonework nearly filled one completely. Three large arched doors opened to a grand balcony. The view through the doors was breathtaking. Markman went to the balcony and looked out at the courtyard and castle walls below. People were working and coming and going. There was an air of peace about the place.
“I see why it's called the Overlook Chamber,” said Markman.
“Sir, no one will bother you here. The kitchen is, of course open and ready to serve you. May I recommend the King’s seat right here.” DuMont held his hand out to a large, deep brown, heavily padded recliner near the room’s center. A host of controls sat alongside it. “You may summon me simply by placing your hand on the ruby,” he said. “Or, the kitchen will respond to the opal beside it. I should like to recommend you allow me to have wine brought up, sir. It is from our own vineyard. I think you will be pleased. Also, you may wish to view the broadcasts of the day. The smaller controls next to mine operate the large viewer on the wall there.”
Markman turned and looked. Suspended on the chamber wall’s dark engraved wood, was the outline of a darkened screen.
“DuMont, is there a central library in Aurora City?”
“Sir, of course. Most of what is contained in the library can be accessed and displayed here or in your office. When you first turn the monitor on, there will be a library option available to you. There are a few inquiries that require you visit the library in person, but most can be accommodated in the comfort of your home. If you do not find what you seek, please summon me.”
“Thank you, DuMont.”
“Sir, I shall take my leave of you. I am supremely honored that you have joined us. I will eagerly await the opportunity to serve you further.” DuMont went to the elevator and turned to face Markman as the doors closed. With his departure, the room suddenly became strangely quiet but very comfortable. Markman strolled around the chamber picking up pieces from the tables, touching the engravings, and running his hand along the mantel of the massive fireplace. He tried the King’s seat so highly recommended by DuMont. It was surprisingly comfortable. On the control console beside it, he found the key for the view screen and turned it on. The viewer lit up with choices. The first was labeled ‘discussion.' The third ‘resource library.' Markman tried for the third choice, but fumbled and selected ‘discussion.'
The image on the viewer was an impressively deep 3D presentation. Four individuals dressed in dark, precisely cut suits sat around a low oak table. The floor, walls, and ceiling surrounding the two men and two women were covered by hundreds of display monitors. It was as though every camera view on the planet was being represented. The conversation sounded somewhat aloof and caught Markman’s attention immediately.
“So this individual completes a seemingly impossible test of combat, automatically becomes an ambassador to the high council, and then just goes along his merry way without saying anything to anyone. Is that your idea of normal, Guhe?”
“I’m only saying that nothing bad has happened. No conflicting alliances have been established, no formal protests from the federation of planets have been issued. What more could you ask for, Belina?”
“What more? Are you serious? Why would anyone risk their life in such a sadistic contest? What is it this individual wants? Where does he come from? What are his plans? The questions are endless, Guhe. You agree with me, don’t you, Ruse?”
“I would like to know more about this person and his plans of course, but I do not see any reason for panic. No improprieties have occurred, so far.”
An attendant in a white suit interrupted the discussion group, handing each of them a tablet. The man at the end of the table received his and studied its contents intently. “Oh, my! This is new. It just came in. Let me see, it’s from just a short while ago. This Overlord person was seen at the Thought Exchange, a meeting room in the Main Square. According to this, he entered alone, ordered a single drink, and left without speaking directly to anyone except the server. We have the video. Can we run that?”
To Markman’s astonishment, the screen switched to an image of him entering the Thought Exchange, dressed in his formal black suit. His facial features matched his real face perfectly. The video played through his entire visit up to the point he left the building. The discussion group seemed speechless.
“Well, he looks normal enough.”
“Really, Guhe. Is that what you derived about a man who willingly risks his life in a game of death?”
“I believe we also have interviews made by our staff on the scene. Can we run those please?”
The screen switched again to a man in formal black dress with a logo on his jacket that read Crillian Convention. He was interviewing the bartender who had served Markman.
“Did he say anything to you, sir?”
“Only two words, ‘Your favorite.' He wanted my favorite drink. I brought it to him and he seemed to enjoy it.”
“Nothing else at all? Just that?”
“No, nothing else. He just looked around, tasted the drink, and then left, but there was one really strange thing.”
“What was that?”
“He didn’t need to pay, of course, but he left a substantial gold coin. I assumed it was for me.”
“Well that’s certainly generous, but nothing really out of the ordinary.”
“No, you don’t understand. The gold coin appeared out of thin air. I saw it myself.”
“Wait, you’re saying he materialized a gold coin right in front of you?”
“Yes. There’s no question about it. He never moved his hands at all. The thing just appeared out of nowhere.”
The interviewer turned back to the viewing audience. “Well, there you have it. Our new Overlord can apparently materialize certain objects out of thin air, either that or our server has a grand imagination. That’s all from the Thought Exchange here in Main Square.”
Markman had heard enough. He touched the crystals beside his
seat until the screen turned off. He remembered the ruby control and touched it, then went to the windows to gaze at the courtyard in the shadows of early evening. A few minutes passed and the double doors opened, DuMont entered.
“You called me, sir?”
“DuMont, I’m getting ready to transport back to my office. On my next visit I will need help with access to the library. I may require your assistance on that.”
“It would be my pleasure, sir.”
“You’ve been very helpful. Thank you.”
“It has been my honor, of course, sir. At the risk of being presumptuous, when you are ready to return, you may transport directly to this room from your office simply by commanding the transport unit, ‘Terra Nova Castle, Overlook Chamber.' I should also ask you, Sir, do you plan to address the Crillian population at some point?”
“Is that expected?”
“Sir, there has never been an Overlord before, so no there are no customs established. It is left to your wisdom to decide.”
“Are you recommending that?”
“Sir, I would never be that presumptuous.”
“I’ll think about it, DuMont. It’s time for me to leave. Would it be rude for me to do that while you are here?”
“Not at all, sir. All of our associations are expressly private.”
“Thank you again then, DuMont.” Markman looked down at his chest and tapped the gold triangle lightly with three fingers. A blinding white light came and passed, and he found himself back in his pyramid office. Trill was standing dutifully in the center of the room.
“Sir, was your journey one of success?”
“Yes, Trill. I’d like to disengage.”
“Will you return soon, sir?”
“Yes. I’ll need to access the library next time. I may need your help.”
“It would be my pleasure, sir.”
Markman went to the transport column and entered. He turned and nodded to Trill. Trill ran his hand across the crystal control column and once more a blinding white light flashed and faded. The sensesuit followed with its clicking and hissing and the helmet became loose as Markman’s suit fell open at the chest. He lifted off the helmet to find the lab staff staring. Applause broke out. Cassiopia stood from her position at the computer station and came to him.
“Wow!” she said.
Markman nodded. “Wow.”
Chapter 7