Unison (The Spheral) (38 page)

“Avery was elected to Overseer?” I asked.

“Yes, and with my help. After I left Unity, many of the Chosen sympathized with me. Avery knew that with my help he could succeed Kai. Simon was his only opposition, but Avery was the biggest sleeve-worshipper of all the Chosen…and also the most callous. He was destined to win.” Tyrus laughed. “I knew all this, but I was angrier with Kai for going against me when the Overseer wanted to transmit the signal to the fetuses. Kai was as horrified as I was at first, but he acquiesced. He thought it could be stopped after I became the next Overseer, which of course never happened because I left. I knew that once such a practice got started, it would be impossible to stop. That was proven after Torrin attempted to shut off the curative signal. And it was proven again after Kai was inducted. He continued transmitting Harmony. I tried to persuade him to—” Tyrus’s eyes widened. I didn’t kill him.” Tyrus yelled at the sky again. “You thought I’d die believing I’m a murderer, but I remember!”

“What happened?”

“It had to be Avery. He came in while Kai and I were in a heated discussion over cutting off Harmony’s signal. I was close to changing his mind when Avery stormed in with his proteges. Tyrus’s eyes filled with tears. “This is what happens when you resist. Kai said that to me before they stunned us.”

“They probably killed Kai while you were unconscious and then accused you of his murder,” I said.

“I denied doing it,” Tyrus smacked the fence with his hand, “up until I was dragged into reintegration.” He dropped to his knees and fell forward, mashing his hands and forehead to the ground. “They won with my help.” He cried.

“I’m coming for you,” I said as I kneeled next to him.

“I’m already a dead man.”

“We still have three days to work with. When I get within transmission range, I can contact my appointer and—”

“Don’t bother. I want death to come save me from myself. Maybe I’ll be smart enough to stay far away from Unity the next time I leave.”

I viewed Tyrus as the strongest amongst the Chosen and watching him give up angered me. “Should I even bother with Freedomline?” I got up after Tyrus wouldn’t respond. “I could always go back to New Athenia and live out the rest of my life playing music and taking evening strolls around the labyrinth with Shisa.” I snapped my fingers. “Can’t forget the ducks. I love to feed the ducks…especially Gadfly. He’s got the strongest will I’ve ever witnessed.”

Tyrus got on to his knees and gawked at me.

“Then I’ll marry a fine woman.” I thrust my finger in Tyrus’s face. “But she must love ducks because I like to spend time with them at the park.” I thought about my life with Holly and smiled at the memory. “We’ll eventually have children, who will grow up and have children of their own. Life will be…nice. Unity will be buried deep within my decrepit brain, and I’ll die a happy old man.”

“Sounds like the plan I should’ve followed…except for the ducks. I prefer pigeons.”

I helped Tyrus up.

“Follow your plan, and forget about Unity,” he said. “You can’t stop what’s happening here.”

“I know. But I can try to stop myself. Harmony is too dangerous, and I won’t rest until it’s erased from this timeline. Until then, I’m going to free as many Unitians as I can. I may not die a happy old man, but I’d rather be aware and scared than ignorant and happy.”

Tyrus peered at me smiling. “Your conviction is still inspiring.” Tyrus placed his hand on my shoulder. “It’s been an honor knowing you, Damon.” He brushed some grass off his shirt. “Since you have this all figured out, there’s no point in continuing our discussion.” He looked towards the horses grazing nearby. “I’m in the mood for one last ride.”

Tyrus unhooked the gate latch, and we entered the horse field.

“I can still come for you,” I said.

“Leave here understanding the risk was mine to take, and I must die under the circumstance I’ve chosen for myself.”

I turned away, fearing Tyrus would see through my despair at not being able to save him.

“You’ve grown into a fine man, Damon. Move forward with your life. What’s done here is done.”

I looked at Tyrus. “You once told me you saw through me, but not in the way I thought. What did you mean?”

“I don’t remember saying it, but I know why I would.” He smiled. “Thirty-two reprimands.”

“And proud of them all,” I said.

“When you spoke in front of the Chosen, you reminded me of Torrin. I haven’t heard such passion on display since he left Unity. After you finished your plea for entrance to the University, I couldn’t get my mind off what happened to him. I knew the Corporate Hierarchy would eventually destroy you as they destroyed Torrin. That’s why I declined your request for entry into University.”

Tyrus walked over to one of the horses. “Shooting Star.”

“She’s beautiful,” I said.

“And nonjudgmental.” Tyrus stroked her mane. “It’s easy to confess your sins when you stare into her eyes.” He gently stroked her face.

“My invention is being used to enslave a whole population. Can you beat that one?” I asked.

“I delivered the charge against Torrin. He had enough support to challenge the Overseer, but I was a spineless sleeve-worshipper more interested in my position than...no, I won’t look back now.” Tyrus climbed on to Shooting Star. “I prefer to leave with the little dignity I have left.” He grabbed hold of the reins. “And doing the thing I love most.”

“You’re more honorable than any purple sleeve I’ve met…Master Tyrus.” I bowed.

“Your sincerity almost makes me believe it. Stay strong and live long, Damon.”

I clutched the echoer, closed my eyes, and tried to break off our connection, but nothing happened.

“Guess it didn’t come with a manual.” Tyrus smiled and rode off.

It took a while, but I eventually found myself back in the old tunnel when I thought about the mundane tasks waiting for me back at the cabin.

Sephroy stood in front of me and appeared concerned.

“Enjoy your peace,” I said. “The Six won’t be reuniting in this present timeline.”

He pushed his cart in the opposite direction without saying a word.

Sephroy’s refusal to speak about the echoer made me curious of its structural anatomy. After I returned to the cabin, I contacted Roth and requested a portable metallurgical scanner to conduct some tests, and he smuggled one out for me. The results revealed the metal as nonferrous, but no matching data existed in the metallurgical identification table. Three more scans yielded similar results. When I sliced through the metal, each blemish instantly self-repaired. I couldn’t allow Sephroy to remain silent over the echoer’s origin. I approached him on my next transport, and he retreated to his trainlet when I kept up with my questioning. No amount of door pounding and yelling coaxed him out of hiding. On my return trip, I knocked on his door again, and he answered with an ancient firearm aimed at me.

“This is called a gun, Chap, and it can do as much damage as your plazer. Our discussion about the Six is finished.”

“What material is the echoer made of? Are the walls of New Athenia made with the same?—”

Sephroy’s gun made a clicking sound, and I stepped back.

“Rap on my door over this again, and I might not be as patient with you.”

I gave up trying to get answers from Sephroy and returned to Old Jerusalem to search for Jall. After three weeks of fruitless pursuit, I stopped searching. The meaning of the Six had to remain an unanswered question…at least for now.

EMPTY VILLAGE

I
returned to Littlefield and spent most of my days teaching Michael how to speak Knosian. He didn’t seem interested in music lessons, and I got out my violin hoping to inspire him. I played through “Beneath the Lonely Stars to Nowhere.” Out of all my original pieces, this one roused the most emotions within me. Each passing phrase connected me to the night the bandits attacked me and left me for dead. The stroke of my bow carried with it the isolation I felt before I connected with the comforting fountain of light.

Wilfrid and Michael entered my bungalow, but I hadn’t noticed until I put down my bow.

“Music flows from out of your heart.” Wilfrid positioned his hand over the left side of his chest.

“I want to learn to play like you,” Michael said. “Can you teach me?”

“Looks like you found yourself a protege.” Wilfrid winked at me.

I handed Michael the violin. “It’s yours…as long as you keep it company every day for at least one hour.”

When I saw the passion in his eyes, I knew I was right to give it to him. I showed Michael a few scales and simple melodies to play. When I returned to the cabin, I wrote down some musical lessons and delivered them to him on my next transport.

The following summer, Michael progressed to where I could teach him some simple concertos and minuets. He was already proficient enough to study at the Athenian Conservatory.

Genevieve refused to acknowledge Michael’s talent because that would mean she’d have to accept his desire to leave Littlefield. This became apparent when Michael performed for Wilfrid and me. She kept busy with her cooking until I complimented Michael on his technique. Genevieve exposed her displeasure by aggressively chopping some defenseless vegetables. She hammered the sharp blade on the wood block with such force, I was concerned she’d chop off one or more of her fingers. Wilfrid pressed his own finger against his pursed lips to silence me.

While Genevieve escaped reality through her cooking, Michael played us a slow rhythmic melody he’d written. His body swayed with each stroke, and he squeezed his eyes shut, raising his eyebrows through each climactic passage. A few tears escaped me as I connected to the same place where Michael was now visiting: the place where creativity flows unrestricted, and where even the most sorrowful emotions are extinguished by the light of creation.

After he finished, Wilfrid and I clapped. Genevieve showed her enthusiasm by slamming the salad bowl on the table.

“I want to go to school in New Athenia,” Michael said to me. “My mother won’t let me.”

Genevieve ignored Michael and mixed the salad.

“He’ll be safe there,” I said.

“Even Grandfather thinks it’s a good idea,” Michael said.

“Then let
Grandfather
move there.” Genevieve glared at Wilfrid, daring him to challenge her.

Wilfrid again looked my way and shook his head for me to remain silent.

“It’s a good opportunity for him,” I said. “The conservatory is opened to anyone who can pass the entrance exam.”

Genevieve dropped the spoon in the dish. “He’s too young to live on his own.”

Michael shoved the bowl off the table and ran out.

Genevieve put her hands on her hips and seemed ready to scold me next. The bond between mother and child taught me something I never learned as a psychological engineer. A mother’s attachment can sometimes make her overlook her child’s need for independence, either from fear of something bad happening or not wanting to let go of the need to be needed. For Genevieve, it was a little of both. She understood the fragility of life after her husband died, and Michael was all she had left of him.

I found Michael sitting on a tree stump, drawing a figure-eight pattern on the dirt with a stick.

“Dinner is almost ready,” I said.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Mind if I eat your portion then?” I smiled.

Michael scribbled over the shape. “If I don’t leave here, I’ll die ordinary—like everyone else in Littlefield.”

“When I was your age, I wanted to be the Overseer of Unity.”

“Are you disappointed you’re not?”

“Not over that.”

Michael looked up at me. “What are you disappointed over?”

“I didn’t teach you well.”

“You’re the best teacher—the only teacher I ever had.”

“What did I tell you about your mother?”

“I’m lucky to know her.” He tossed the stick. “Sorry…I keep forgetting no one in your village knows their parents.”

“Remember what I told you by the river?”

“Wait until I’m sixteen.”

“Your mother gave me permission to take you to New Athenia for your birthday.”