Ascent of the Aliomenti (21 page)

The village settled into an easy routine. Villagers would produce goods within the bunkers using the tools enabled by the gears until they developed a surplus, and then set off for a short-term trip in which they’d trade, make money, and enjoy a brief spell of recreational downtime. On most trips, a handful of those not needing to travel for trading purposes – including those who made food and hunted in the nearby forests – would join in as well.

Will served as something of a journeyman, either overseeing new construction projects or helping train others in Energy skills. Teleportation tended to frighten those who’d never experienced the process before, and so Will would teleport new residents once or twice to get them accustomed to the sensations involved. Will remembered his own first experience with teleportation, a situation in which he’d performed the act involuntarily, and suspected that was far less frightening than performing with intent. Often, the best way to make progress was to act, rather than to think.

He also sought to familiarize himself with the various trades, spending time each day with the different craft workers, and learning the tools and terminology of each trade. Will wanted to be certain he could step up and fill in when trips to other villages and cities left a particular craft short of the people necessary to do critical work.

The talk of moving, or of expanding to a new location, became more animated as the bunker project finished. Others instead argued that the Aliomenti should instead cease head count growth, and should add members only when existing residents were no longer part of the group. Given the prosperity they enjoyed, and the new abilities they all developed in the form of Energy skills, there was little to suggest that any would leave voluntarily. They’d only add new people when existing residents died.

Few doubted that Arthur, the man who had recruited all of them, the man who worked them through their initial consumption of morange and zirple, the man who had enabled all of them to experience all the Aliomenti had to offer, would be their first casualty.

His health continued to deteriorate, and his opinions on the issues the community faced were heavily influenced by the short-term impacts those decisions would have on him, an attitude Will considered the norm for Arthur. He had no interest in expansion, for his health wouldn’t permit him to travel. A second site meant others would recruit new members; having personally selected each resident for inclusion in the community, save for Will and Adam, Arthur had no interest in others taking over that responsibility. Arthur also argued that they’d made such immense progress because they were able to bring all of the resources and skills of the community into common projects like the original Wheel, the setup of the bunkers, the gears, and the cultivation of Energy and growth of Energy skills.

None of that, he said, would be possible if they continued to grow without restraint, and certainly not if they developed a second community. A second community, Arthur argued, would do nothing but diminish what they could accomplish. If the new community was close to the current one, they’d be trading in the same cities and towns, perhaps at the same time, and diffuse their efforts through competition. If they were to relocate a portion of their population to a new location far away, they’d cease to be able to share new ideas and grow as a group.

Most of all, Arthur pleaded for restraint on such a monumental decision. “It is always possible to change our decision and elect to expand. It is far more difficult to rush to expand, realize it was a mistake, and then attempt to contract.”

Will, who had seen Arthur deliver such speeches before, suspected that Arthur’s reasons for opposing moving or expanding weren’t guided by such high-minded ideals. Arthur’s mortality was becoming more evident by the week, and with his impending death, Arthur was faced with the loss of control of the most important thing for any mortal. He faced losing his life, and with that knowledge, the success of the Aliomenti, their ability to dominate in the world at large, no longer mattered. Arthur didn’t fear poor results from expanding or moving to a different location. Rather, he feared that they
would
succeed, and would do so with no reason to credit him for their success. In dying, Arthur was looking to plant the seeds of death in the group he’d helped start. In Arthur’s mind, the group would not and should not succeed, should not continue, without him.

“I agree with you, Will,” Adam said, when Will shared his concerns. The two men were walking, by choice, toward the largest of the underground bunkers, the first ever built, where they’d train a group of less-experienced Energy users advanced techniques for telekinesis. “But it’s hardly something you could prove, even in a group of telepaths like this. Arthur’s crafty enough to make them think what he wants them to think. He may have even convinced
himself
that those are his true beliefs.”

“His reasoning is sound and may well be true,” Will admitted. “Yet I don’t think it appropriate that a man who expects to die soon is arguing so forcefully in favor of an approach that limits our potential for growth after he expects to be dead and gone.”

Adam arched an eyebrow as they continued their leisurely stroll. “You know something, don’t you?” he asked, speaking slowly. “Everyone expects him to be dead within months, perhaps weeks. Yet your words suggest you don’t believe that to be the case.”

Will glanced at Adam, and then stopped walking. “Let me ask you this, Adam. You know Arthur, you know who he is, his motivations and weaknesses. He’s knocking on death’s door. If you knew how to prevent that... would you?”

“No,” Adam said. “I wouldn’t. I spared him many years ago not because he deserved life, but because death was a kindness he hadn’t earned. His crimes were too great to exact justice in one moment. Yet I knew this phase of his life would arrive, when his body and mind would begin to fail, when his dreams of domination hadn’t been achieved, when others who hadn’t waited for answers so long developed Energy skills far superior to his own. His survival allowed him to experience the greatest punishment possible for a man like him: irrelevance. Would I change the path he’s on, this slow, painful path to death? Absolutely not.” He looked at Will. “But
you
would.”

Will looked away, then started walking again. “I don’t know what I want to do, but I suspect I know what I
must
do.”

Adam stared after him. “So you
do
know how to save him? What’s the answer? How?”

“I can help him,” Will said. “But he has to decide if he
wants
that help.”

Adam opened his mouth to say something, then reconsidered. They continued their journey in silence.

The training sessions were spirited, but Will’s mood was heavy. He knew that the time had come to bestow the greatest of gifts upon the man he most despised in all of history. It was time to give Arthur Lowell the gift of life, the gift of immortality.

The only solace in the decision was the knowledge that Arthur would never again father a child he could abuse as he had Elizabeth. Arthur
could
refuse the ambrosia on the grounds that he wanted more children, though there was scant evidence in his past to suggest he’d do so. It was also possible that he’d so accepted his imminent demise that he’d refuse the cure, but that seemed less likely. No, he feared, Arthur would welcome the effects of the ambrosia, and Will would have chosen to indefinitely extend the life of the man who would cause him so much grief in the future.

Will walked in stony silence back to the village after the training session alone, opting to walk rather than teleport. He knew his duty, knew what he must do, yet it didn’t mean he needed to like it or accelerate the process.

He stopped at one of the gardens inside the walls, the plots of earth kept perpetually warm even in the deepest winter by the furnace beneath. He smelled the fragrance of the ambrosia, its scent as intoxicating as its promise. The pungent aroma of the morange and the dull scent of the zirple were a stark contrast to the aromatic sensory feast of the ambrosia. Nature might endow such characteristics in a plant of a predatory or poisonous nature as a form of population control, as she had done with the ambrosia. In this case, though, the poison would affect those never to be born, rather than the living.

He plucked a piece of the simple fruit, took a deep breath, and entered the concrete residence hall.

Arthur lived on the upper floor, his room in the center of the building, with a window opening to the north. It was a location that gave Arthur an unrivaled view down upon the entirety of the village, a view that, in Arthur’s mind, was likely that of a monarch gazing down upon his lands and subjects.

Will tapped on the wooden door. “Arthur? Are you in there? It’s Will.”

The silence was lengthy. As Will prepared to knock again, he heard Arthur’s faint voice through the door. “Come in.”

Will pushed the door open and stepped inside. Arthur’s room was spartan and bare, with little decoration, a far cry from the gaudy ostentation in his virtual throne room of the future. Arthur’s wealth had grown slowly in this iteration of the Aliomenti, as he’d not developed any marketable skills, limiting his income potential. He worked as a baker, a craft which provided value to the village but only modest income to the practitioners. Arthur’s skill lay in manipulating others to give him money in exchange for questionable value. In a village comprised of telepaths and empaths, such machinations were impossible. And so Arthur, the would-be king, lived in simplicity and relative poverty in a village of plenty.

As Adam had noted, it was the most intense, most powerful punishment possible for the man.

“How are you feeling, Arthur?”

Arthur turned his head slowly, as if the effort required every bit of energy he could summon. His hair had turned color, moving from the dirty blond Will had always known him to possess to a faded color tending to gray. Wrinkles surrounded his eyes, eyes sunken in with fatigue and resignation. “How am I
feeling
, Will?” Arthur snapped. “How do I
look
like I’m feeling?”

Will appraised him. “You’ve looked better.”

Arthur slowly turned his head away.

“Let me ask you something, Arthur. If you lived another twenty years, what would you do with your life?”

Arthur didn’t bother to turn and face him. “What kind of question is that supposed to be?” His tone was bitter. “What difference does it make, anyway? Look at me, Will. I’m not making it another twenty years.”

“Humor me, Arthur. What would you do?”

Arthur sighed. “I’d love to travel again, Will. I’ve not traveled since... well, since I returned here in time to become a father.” He snorted. “You know how well
that
turned out. No, Will, I think I’d travel. I know all of you are going to set up a new location once I’m gone, so I think I’d travel there and see how it’s going, what kind of progress they’re making. I think I’d travel far to the south, where I’m told it’s warmer all year long, perhaps spend time near the Great Sea. I’d try to make a lot of money so that I could enjoy that trip.” He coughed. “Why do you want to know?”

“If you were as healthy as you were twenty years ago, thirty years ago... would that change your answer?”

“Not really, no,” Arthur replied, and Will could hear the frown in his voice. “Will, I’m tired. What purpose do these questions serve? Are you gloating? Are you mocking me with your perfect health as I lay here, dying a slow death?”

“If you could live another twenty or thirty years, Arthur, if you could do it feeling like you did when you were thirty... would you want to be a father again?”

“No,” Arthur said. There was no delay in his answer, no time for consideration. Though the answer was no surprise, the speed certainly was. It was a question which required no contemplation. “I don’t want to screw up that badly again. Children and me... we simply don’t mix.”

Will nodded. He pulled the fruit from his pocket. “Recognize this?”

Arthur’s head turned, and Will could feel the agony in the man’s arthritic joints. His eyes fell upon the fruit. “That’s the fruit you planted in here, next to the zirple and morange. What of it?”

“I came across this during my time away, all those years ago, Arthur. The people I encountered, the ones who told me about this fruit... they told me amazing stories about it.”

“You’ve led us to believe that it could be quite fatal. I doubt anyone has tested it on themselves. Except you, right?” Arthur’s eyes narrowed, a shrewd look forming upon his tired face. “You ate it because you knew it wouldn’t hurt you, didn’t you?”

Will nodded. “I know what they told me happens to someone who eats this fruit. You wouldn’t have noticed because... well, because I got tricked into eating it before I knew the alleged effects.”

“And what are those alleged effects?”

“It renders the consumer incapable of reproducing.”

Arthur’s eyes widened. Then he laughed. “This mystery fruit will make me incapable of having more children, just as it’s done with you?” He coughed. “I really don’t think that’s going to be a concern for me.”

“That’s not the only thing it’s supposed to do, Arthur.”

“Do tell.”

Will took a deep breath. “It prevents you from aging.”