The Star Whorl (The Totality Cycles Book 1) (27 page)

     Trying not to think of his
last pre-mate, he let his vision sharpen to semi-compound and looked at the
glyph of An’Siija, the capital Mji’Hive outside and around the institution of
learning – and it was sorely missing something, something vital, a pulsing,
writhing beat of vivacity, of people wandering its boulevards, giving the whole
a life of its own. His vuu’erio waved in slight agitation, before he tucked
them into his hair. Then he suddenly untucked them and connected them to his
tertiary retinas, letting his eyes go fully compound, and he saw something that
made him sit up with an indrawn breath.
Nil’Gu’vua
...
!

     “...And so, who can tell me
the importance of the Occupation and Service Initiative? Kreceno’Tiv?” the
Proctor asked, her voice bright, almost too bright, pitched to hold her former
pupils’ interest, or, at least, keep them from falling asleep.

    
Or pitched to sound as if
she were supportive of the OSI,
he thought sourly. By rights he and his
lecture-mates should no longer be coming to Secondus, but the OSI had forced them
to keep returning to the Secondus sub-Hives until all of the lower level
Nil’Gu’ua youngsters had been placed, he had found out on the Sphere interlinks.
He noticed, dourly, that Gotra Pelani’Dun was not in the lecture room. Had she
been swept up in the enforced recruitments? Or had her parents found something
gainful for her to do? That was also an option, though there were not many
opportunities for employment outside of the Council, the Ministries and the
Solidarim. He tried to feel bad for her, but somehow the emotion just would not
come.

     “Kreceno’Tiv?” the Proctor
called again.

     Kreceno’Tiv looked up, then
tried to ignore the heat in his face that extended all the way up his vuu’erio
as heads turned to him. He despised the OSI, but to say so, to give anything
other than the accepted answer – who knew what the consequences would be? There
had been whispers, rumors in the Spheres that those who had spoken out against
the Initiative had been exiled to Nil’Gu’dae worlds, never to be retrieved.
Like
the Alighter,
he wanted to laugh bitterly.

     “The Initiative is... is
designed to revitalize the populace of Gu’Anin with new purpose,” he said,
reading from information that the Proctor had sent to them at the beginning of
the lecture-time. The words, referring to those self-same missing citizens
whose absence seemed to suck the glyph of the An’Siija dry of anima, were slimy
and foul in his mouth. But it was not just An’Siija, it was happening
everywhere in the world, Gu’Anin being denuded of her native population. The
thought made him feel sick. The words made him feel sick. The sense of
wrongness about the whole thing made him itch, but he forced himself to go on.
“Because of the ease of procurement of all the necessities of life by most of
the people, the lower Nil’Gu’ua citizens of Gu’Anin have become... dilettantes,
and in some cases, vagrants, without drive or ambition to pursue professions or
careers or even the arts. So the Solidarim and the Gu’Anin Magistrate Council
have instituted an initiative to give them purpose by relocating them to
under-developed Nil’Gu’vua worlds and putting them in administrative positions
based on Nil’Gu’ua ability.”

     “Excellent!” she enthused. “Exactly
correct! And who can tell me...?”

    
Of course it’s right,
it’s what you gave us to read, not a deci-mark ago,
Kreceno’Tiv thought
derisively, and turned back to the window, whose glyph had changed slightly –
the window was now translucent, cutting off the view to outside. No doubt the
Proctor had done it while he answered, ostensibly to keep his attention from
wondering. But he had passed all his examinations. With the exception of being
held in the Secondus complex over the end of the lecture-turn, the Proctors had
no more power over him, could not threaten him with failing a lecture or being
set back a term or expulsion. But he decided not to draw undo attention to
himself – the Magistrars’ interest was already unnerving as it was.

     He forcibly un-transluced
the window, though, as he looked to the Proctor, and tuned her words out, doing
his best to hide his irritation and disgust. This was just a time-wasting activity
until the final chime and the ignominious rounding up of the last, low ability
Nil’Gu’ua youngsters. She glanced at it, and him, but did not comment, or re-transluce
it.

    
Now what had I been
thinking about?

     He could not remember. But
he was sure that it had been important.

     The chime rang, sounding the
end of the lecture-turn, and for him and his lecture-mates, the end of
Secondus. They all stood, even as the Proctor was in mid-sentence, and made a
concerted rush for the exit.

Whorl Eighty Five

     “Kreceno’Tiv!” Ro-Becilo’Ran
called, as he stepped off of the transport. His friend had not come into
Secondus with him, his parents having received some special dispensation for
him, since he had finished all of his examinations, and he was qualified to go
to Tertius. “Wanna go to the
Bustani
to celebrate?” his friend
continued, coming up to him. “We might even get in, with the OSI transporting
everyone else off-world!”

     “Can’t,” he replied, smiling
thinly, as his friend fell in step with him. Ro-Becilo’Ran did not know what a sore-point
the OSI was with him, and the joke was not funny and in poor taste. But he did
not say anything. “We’re going up to the Solidaris Orm, almost as I walk
through the entrance to my famiya’s domicive. But we have ten turns off before
the start of Tertius, so we’ll get to go.”

     At least, he was assuming
that he and Ro-Becilo’Ran were going to Tertius – it was up to their parents,
whether they continued on the path to the Counsellorship in the Ministries of
the Solidarim or not. Some did not get a choice – they were too low Nil’Gu’ua
skill, or at least their parents were, and they had to get a special
dispensation to be tested for higher skill levels. But his parents were of
sufficient Nil’Gu’ua, and he presumed that Ro-Becilo’Ran’s were also, so they would
hopefully be enrolled in Tertius and begin learning governance.

     “All right, well, contact me
when you return!” Ro-Becilo’Ran said cheerfully, veering off to his own home.

     “Oh ha, don’t celebrate too
much without me!” he said, and Ro-Becilo’Ran waved again, throwing him a
bright, innocent smile that said he would be celebrating quite a bit, whether
Kreceno’Tiv was there or not.

    
But we’re going to see
the Totality from the Observis in the Solidaris Orm,
he thought, excitedly,
going up the long path to his famiya’s domicive.
I’ll get to see the Long-Travel
glyph, and all the marvels of the Star Whorls. And at least I won’t have to see
how empty and dead the sub-Hives of An’Siija are, because of the OSI for a few
turns!

     He entered the domicive, the
echoing emptiness of An’Siija, for the moment, forgotten.

Whorl Eighty Six

     Kreceno’Tiv could hardly
keep still in his seat as they rode in their transport to the old Long-Travel
Center near the edge of An’Siija, on one of the outer-Limb boulevards. Even the
gutted city glyph could not oppress his anticipation. He did not want to see
the new Long-Travel terminuses, meant to work to support the OSI. But the
smaller, older Long-Travel terminus – that he could hardly wait to see. For a
moment, however, he felt a touch of deep, abiding sadness – the journey to
someplace new, and exciting, reminded him of Pavtala Ralili’Bax, for a moment,
and he still missed her, terribly. But she would not want him to repine, she
would have wanted him to be excited about seeing the Long-Travel glyph, for she
knew how it fascinated him. He held on the excitement, and imagined that she
were here, with him, to share the experience.

     Vespa Kareni’Tiv glanced at
him and smiled, a look that reminded him that he had been to the Center, and
incidentally, off-world before, though it had been when he was very young. A
glyph of amusement glimmered for a moment, flavored with the reminiscence.

    
That’s true, but I barely
remember, and I could not understand half of the glyphs I was seeing, last
time,
he thought, trying to be still despite his excitement. He might be
able to figure out at least
some
of the workings of the Long-Travel
glyph now, now that he had studied rudimentary physics and the concept-glyphs
they encompassed. The Long-Travel glyph in the new terminuses was surely more
impressive, as it breached the galactic gulf between the first Star Whorl and
the second, but that was not enough to take away the sour bite of the OSI.

     “An’Siija is quiet,” Vespa
Kareni’Tiv commented, in an offhand way, and Kreceno’Tiv wrenched his thoughts
away from the Long-Travel glyph. What was she trying to convey with the
statement?

     “The OSI has all but emptied
An’Siija,” Vespar-Drelano’Sev’Tiv, his father, replied. Kreceno’Tiv looked from
one to the other of his parents. Did they disapprove of the Initiative?

    
I hate it, myself,
he
thought, and the elusive thought that had come to him before in Secondus teased
the edge of his mind, then shied away again.
People forced to go into
service, whether they willed or no? There is something fundamentally wrong with
that! And I aim to fight it!

     “It makes An’Siija –
hollow,” he ventured, trying to convey the empty, desolate feeling that the
dearth of people gave the Mji’Hive, the warm aftertaste of life slowly cooling
to barren echoes.

     Vespa Kareni’Tiv pressed her
lips together in appreciative admiration of the idea glyph he had projected
along with his spoken words.

     “That it does,” his father
agreed, overtly. Kreceno’Tiv wanted to flick his vuu’erio as he contemplated
the exchange. His parents excelled at subtlety, and they were doing their best
to begin teaching him subtlety’s complexities.

    
I’ll need it if I make it
to Tertius, though Karaci’Tiv will probably be the one going to the Solidarim,
and I’ll be in one of the Ministries,
he thought, examining the words and
glyphs that his parents had communicated. His father disapproved of the
Initiative, the stripping away of rights of the people by the Solidarim and the
Gu’Anin Magistrate Council. But there was understanding, too – he saw the aimlessness
of the citizenry, as Kreceno’Tiv had, and wished for a solution, just not that
one. His mother would have had the Service be voluntary, with alternatives,
choices.

    
And I just want it
abolished, gone,
he thought grimly, but tried not to convey that in
movement, gesture, or glyph.
Find some other way to motivate the populace,
but not using the coercive means of the Malkia!
By the slightly amused
glimmers of glyphs from his parents, he understood that he was not entirely successful.

Whorl Eighty Seven

     Kreceno’Tiv’s eyes went wide
when he saw the rows of Long-Travel translation chambers. The Long-Travel
construct glyph was one of the most complex and intricate that he had ever
seen, an eminently elegant amalgamation of concrete and abstract glyphs,
blended together for a singular purpose: to transport people and things to
distant places, distant worlds. Worlds across the entire Totality, if
necessary. It tangled elegantly around an immaterial sphere, taking up less
than a sixteenth of it in uneven slices of slowly undulating glowing lines.

     He stood with his mouth
agape, his vuu’erio waving forward and fully engaged to his semi-compounded
vision, trying to memorize and decipher its intricacies all at once, but there
was just too much information, too much to untwine and decompose in a few
moments of contemplation. Nothing in the lecture he had taken had prepared him
for the reality of it. For, despite his own experimentation with glyph
translation, something about it unnerved him. And despite having made the
fullest study that he could of the truncated glyph for Long-Travel, there was a
vital part that he had not seen before, a part that disturbingly resembled
consuming. For the glyph and construct took the subject-person in as part of
itself and submerged that person’s glyph, as it reached out to its conversant
self on the other side of the travel translation, transmitting the person along
with it.

    
I’ve always exerted
influence on glyphs,
he thought, hesitating for just the barest instant on
the threshold.
I’m not sure I like the idea of one exerting influence on me!

     “Think of it like the
transport that took you to Secondus just this turn,” his mother said quietly,
waiting in queue behind him. Apparently he had projected his thoughts quite clearly.
“It exerted much the same influence on you – it moved you, you did not move it.
This is just a bit farther, and a bit more – immediate.”

     He gestured assent, remembering
his report on just that comparison, but still staring at it, and it seemed to
turn some quasi-living attention to him and stare back. He caught himself just
before he let his elytra-pace clack in agitation – and fascination.

     “Kreceno’Tiv,” Vespar-Drelano’Sev’Tiv
said gently, smiling. Tearing himself away reluctantly, Kreceno’Tiv turned away
from the siren-lure of the construct glyph and moved to follow his parents, who
were able to go to the front of the line, due to his father being a Solidarim
Counselor.

     “Remember, you won’t be able
to enter until I’ve fully translated,” Vespar-Drelano’Sev’Tiv said, not in the
least making any insinuation about Kreceno’Tiv’s ill-conceived modification of
the Long-Travel glyph and translation to retrieve the Heretian girl, Okon. But
the memory rose in his mind regardless, though he kept his face impassive. All
the things that had followed from that he would just as soon forget, except all
the time he had shared with Pavtala Ralili’Bax.