109: The Rockhewn Planetarium

Leah followed closely behind Afnen.  evening was falling on Caulmen, and the museum district was crowded.  Afnen moved quickly and expertly through the mass of people, and it took a great effort for Leah to remain close.  he glanced back at her occasionally and laid smiles to guide her path.

she had been to Caulmen’s museum district several times in her life, and had seen, or so she thought, everything there was to see in the district.   it was not a densely populated or heavily traveled area: there was among most Dulvernians, and indeed, most citizens of most of the galaxy’s modernized worlds, a certain apathy towards the past.  and the more ancient a given bit of historical data was, the less attention was paid to it.  Leah was herself not a historical expert in any true sense: she had not studied historical texts extensively, and did not consider herself well versed with the currents and trends of galactic history.  simply, she was rather fond of historical relics, of outdated devices and obsolete habits.

“just a little further,” Afnen said with a grin, his straight, white teeth glistening in the evening sun.

he was leading her to the Rockhewn Planetarium, which was either new or very obscure: Leah had never even heard of it, despite her repeat appearances in the museum district.  the Rockhewn Planetarium, or simply “the Rockhewn,” as Afnen referred to it, was, according to him, not a planetarium in the true sense, but rather a museum dedicated to the histories of other worlds.  the name was also, as he had explained, a reference to the fact that when one looks up into the sky and sees the various stars and planets visible in their sky they are seeing the universe as it was at various points in the past.

still, that this place should be unknown to her was startling.

“can’t you tell me what we’re doing?” she asked playfully.

“you’ll find out soon enough!”

against her better judgment, she had agreed to join Afnen in his evening’s activities.  after only an hour of conversation, and a few more Skytinsles, she had felt a connection with this quirky young man growing, though she still knew little about him.  having nothing to occupy her that evening, and needing something to keep her mind busy, she found herself following a boy she barely knew to a place she had never been.  and yet, she felt surprisingly comfortable with Afnen, as if she had known him for a very long time.

after they had crossed perhaps two hundred more yards, the crowd began to thin.  the monument district was a man-made peninsula that jutted out into Caulmen’s largest lake, and they were nearing its end.  the smell of water and aquatic life was strong now, and the breeze was gaining in intensity.  it was cool, but not uncomfortably so, and Leah had an excellent view of the sunset, which painted the lake in shades of orange and pink that faded into dark blues and purples.

“i still don’t see where this place is,” she said, catching up to Afnen more easily now that she did not have to dodge passersby to do so.

“it’s there,” he said, pointing to what appeared to be nothing more than small and unadorned storage shed.  she stopped suddenly.  Afnen took a few more steps before noticing her pause.  “what’s the matter?” he asked.

“that’s not a museum,” she said indignantly.

she bristled.  had she made some kind of terrible mistake?  after all she didn’t really know Afnen.  she didn’t know anything about him, other than what he’d said at Elttaes.

his smile was unruffled.  “i know it doesn’t look like much,” he said, “but what’s on the outside is not always indicative of what’s on the inside.”

“true enough,” she said, “but it is also the only information i have to go on without actually seeing the inside.”

“not so,” he said.  “you have my word.”

“but for you, just like the Rockhewn, i have only the outside upon which to make my judgments.  i have known you for all of two hours.”

“you don’t trust me?” he asked, meeting her eyes stolidly.

she paused for a minute.  she wanted to trust him, and her curiosity was piqued.  she had never been one to leave a mystery unsolved.  “i suppose so,” she said cautiously.

“then please,” he said, extending his hand.  “only a moment more, and you won’t regret what you find.”

she considered his extended palm for a moment, then slowly raised hers to grasp it.  he grinned expansively, and she smiled sheepishly in return.  “come on,” he said.  “we’re almost there.”

a moment later, they were at the door of the small building at the tip of the pier.  Afnen swung it open, and gestured for Leah to enter first.  she did so.

the small room was brightly but carefully lit in orange hues, and had the air of a sanctum.  photographs covered the walls like the scales of a raw world’s prehistoric fish. the images showed what appeared to be ancient ruins: large, dilapidated stone structures, each with a plaque beneath it bearing the photograph’s title and vital details, including its homeworld, estimated age, and suspected function.

“look,” Afnen said, pointing to a large photograph hung on the left wall — and it was only then that Leah realized consciously that the portraits were indeed photographs and not one of the ubiquitous holographic projections.  “this one’s on Dulvern.  have you ever seen it?”

“no,” she said, instantly fascinated by the photograph.  unlike some of the other pictures, the indicated image displayed a crumbling structure comprised of rusting metal and concrete.  it was large, perhaps six hundred yards long and three hundred wide.  it was domed, or at least had been, before the roof had disintegrated with the passing of years.  “where is it?”

“it used to be in Merfican,” he said.  “it’s gone now.  leveled for a residential complex.”

“what was it?” she asked.

“no one’s quite sure.  they think it was some sort of athletic arena.  it must have been constructed shortly after Dulvern was settled, so somewhere between five- and six-thousand, probably.  one report suggested that the original settlers used frozen water as the playing surface, but that was never substantiated.”

“they played a game on ice?” she asked incredulously.

he laughed.  “it was a long time ago.  i guess we’ll never know for sure.”  he gestured to a door at the end of the small room.  “let’s go downstairs.”

“it’s underground?” she asked.

“sort of.  follow me.”

he stepped to the door and pressed a button next to it.  they waited for a moment, and a quiet but high-pitched “ding” sounded.  the door slid open.  “they used to call this an elevator,” he said.

“is it like a gravlift?” she asked.

“same idea,” he said, stepping into the small compartment.  “except these old contraptions use a mechanical system of pulleys and counterweights to raise and lower the compartment.  they were apparently in use for millennia before small-scale anti-gravity generators were used.”

“is it safe?” she asked, aware of the naivety she must be exhibiting.

he smiled.  “of course. not as efficient, to be sure, but it has its own charm.”  the door slid closed with appreciable variance in speed and smoothness.  it lacked the fluidity of normal automatic doors.

the air was still in the elevator.  Leah felt a slight but startling drop in her stomach as the lift began to descend.  she shot Afnen an inadvertently startled look.  he grinned his reassurance, and she forced a smile.  their eyes held for a moment longer in the still of the elevator.  she felt her tongue moisten, and it parted her lips, without her consent, and swept across them subtly.

the “ding” sounded again, and Leah felt — with a mild dose of discomfort — the elevator slow to a halt.  the door slid open, and a cool blue light bathed the interior of the elevator.  Afnen turned his head towards the door, and Leah followed his gaze.

in great contrast to the, amber room the couple had left behind, Leah now beheld an expansive hall, dotted with people and washed in a fluctuating and aquatic azure haze.

“this,” Afnen said grandly, “is the Rockhewn Planetarium.”

he gestured her out of the elevator.  her eyes canvassed the room slowly.  there were people, yes, all elegantly dressed and refined in appearance.  the women were tall and thin, but with barely any substance.  like mystical obelisks of a forgotten religion, they floated between conversations in long-trained dresses and sipped on tall, curvaceous glasses of bubbling wine.  the men laughed jovially, clad in dark dress costumes, and smoked fat, anciently papered cigars.

Leah instantly became self-conscious of her garb, ordinary clothes washed in Rockhewn’s pulsing blue light.

“is this okay?” she blurted out without thinking, staring down at her clothes.

Afnen smiled in a way that was already becoming familiar and reassuring to Leah.  “of course,” he said.  “they just like dressing up.  here, i want to show you something.”

he guided her through a long curve to the left of the elevator.  she noticed several glass cases containing dioramas of fighting men.  they used weapons she had never seen, and wore uniforms that were highly alien in appearance.  there were maps, lit by dull yellow lights, maps of worlds she had never heard of.  she heard music played on instruments the like of which she had never heard.

“here,” Afnen said, clutching her arm lightly and pulling her around a final exhibit, a large metal sculpture of a barely-clad man, full of rage and long of beard, grasping what appeared to be lightning bolt.

what was on the other side was a vast glass window, perhaps fifteen feet high and stretching in an arc around a full half of the room’s border.  it was the source of the room’s blue illumination: it was a porthole into Caulmen’s great lake.  dim light filtered through, and the shapes of fish and sharks were apparent through the glass.

“it’s beautiful,” Leah gasped, mouth agape.

“there isn’t much else like it,” Afnen agreed.

a moment of silence passed between them.  Leah drank in the expanse of water with slow, even breaths.  she saw herself floating among the gilled animals that swam before her as if they were staging the galaxy’s greatest drama for Leah Nevert alone.  she floated with them for leagues, felt the gentle brush of a fish’s dorsal fin play across her back.  the water was warm, gave reverberations of a home she had never known.  the whales were her companions, chanting their ancient wisdom in infinitely deep, endlessly long melodious drones that nestled into her bones.  an enormous, bioluminescent creature floated towards her from the inky depths of the lake.  it spoke to her without need for words.  dozens of little orbs, attached to the ends of long, curling tenticles, waved about in meaningful patterns.  she asked it why she had never seen it before.  he answered that he was thousands of years old, that he had swam Dulvern’s lakes, rivers and oceans long before humankind had settled his world’s shores.  that’s not much of an answer. of course it is.  just because you’re old doesn’t mean you can never be seen. i can be seen.  then why haven’t i seen you? because you have never looked, child.  how could i have looked if i didn’t know what i was looking for. there is always more to be discovered.  what exists is, by several orders of magnitude, greater than what is known.  it has always been thus, and it will always be thus.  if you did not find me is was not from ignorance of my existence.  it was because you no longer searched for things unknown.

the luminescent orbs winked out, and the creature plummeted into depths, gone before Leah could say another word.

“where are you?”  this voice was different than the creature’s.  it used words, used a voice.

she opened her eyes and regarded Afnen.  she gazed at him for a long moment, and he returned her look.  she sighed, blinked.  “out there,” she said, turning back to the window.

“come back.  there’s one more thing i want to show you before it starts.”

“before what starts?” she asked.

“you’ll see.  one final surprise.  but first, i think you’ll appreciate this.”  he guided her across the room to a small cluster of framed photographs and miniature representations.  “this is the Earth exhibit,” he said.  “it’s very small, only a beginning.”

“i don’t understand,” she said.  “isn’t Earth a myth?”

*

Afnen guided Leah to a seat in the large theater adjacent to the museum’s main room.  they had not spent long at the Earth exhibit, and though Afnen assured Leah it was not just another of the thousands of ordinary inhabited worlds in the galaxy, she had little idea what it actually was.

the auditorium was nearly full now.  dim blue light bathed the museum goers coolly, and the low hum of quiet dialogue wafted through the air like bubbles in a tall glass of skytinsle.  Afnen and Leah sat in the lower level, and a small balcony recessed into the wall above the doors through which they had entered.  the lights dimmed and the sound of voices died out.  a bright spotlight illuminated an empty circle on the stage.  after a delay of a perhaps three seconds, a tall figure made his way onto the stage.  he had long, brown hair that fell over his dark, flowing robe.  he carried a wooden cane that thumped on the floor of the stage as he walked.  the audience gasped.  Leah brought her hand to her mouth.  “Mellor!” she whispered in astonishment.

“please, ladies and gentlemen, remain seated,” the man said, his voice filling the air.  Leah looked at Afnen with a question.  her brow furrowed, but he gazed intently at the speaker, and a faint smile traced itself from one cheek to the other.

“i know i am not who you expected to see, and by your reactions, i judge that most of you know who i am.  Doctor Sannibar fell ill, regrettably, and i will take his place.  as you know, he was set to discuss recent findings about Dulvern’s settlement.  unfortunately i know little about this subject.  however, there is something else, something essential, that i wish to speak with you about tonight.”

the audience, almost unanimously, shifted in their chairs, but each attendee remained seated.  Leah jabbed Afnen on the leg to draw his attention.  “what is going on?” she whispered.  “you knew about this?”

“yes,” he whispered back.  “please, just listen.”  he turned back to the Aurorist cleric with finality.

Mellor Devers continued, leaning more heavily on his cane now, “your presence here shows that you and i are not so different.  if you hadn’t any interest in the ancients, in the ways of old, you would not be here in the first place.  your presence here shows that you see the beauty and wisdom in the old way.  if you hadn’t the insight to see the truth that humanity’s homeworld was a place of purity, you would not come to the Rockhewn Planetarium.  your presence here shows that you sense the destructive potential of relentless and narrow-minded technological progress.  if you hadn’t a sense of uneasiness toward the diminishing distinction between man and machine, human and computer, nature and ‘development,’ you would not have stayed for a moment of my speech.  because we are not so different, because i believe you to be people in whom i might place my trust and faith, i have chosen you to be the first recipients of a crucially important message.

“as you may have heard, the global government of Dulvern has officially banned the Aurorist party.  they believe, incorrectly, that we are a threat to the stability of Dulvern itself.  their argument goes, as you know, that possessing simultaneously a positive belief in a galactic — indeed, universal — deity, and a negative belief in the place of technology in modern society, might cause a diversion from the path that has brought us to what they call prosperity.

“for you see, my friends, my fellow Dulvernians, they follow a deity of their own.  if they accuse us of following a non-physical being, they follow one as well.  if they allege that we follow our god unquestioningly, they follow theirs all the more dogmatically.  if they claim that we refuse to listen to reason, to a view outside of our own, they deny all opinions aside from their own all the more vehemently.  their deity is progress; their god is technology.  they worship the advancement and expansion of humanity.  they praise the physical and reject the supernatural.  in truth, my friends, they abhor that which makes us human and embrace that which strives to make us ever more machine-like.

“at first, we believed that we could allow humanity to follow its own course, and that we merely needed to do for ourselves what we knew to be right.  we believed that we should tell the galaxy of Wainright’s text, of the foretold doom, of the downfall, and that they could do with that knowledge what they chose.  we believed that the quest for Earth, which some still claim to be myth, but which has been revealed to us as truth, that such a quest need be undertaken by only a few.  we believed that life without technology was a personal decision that would improve our lives but need not be dictated to the whole galaxy.

“there is a war coming.  and, in fact, the war has already begun.  but we do not desire a war of arms against arms, of violence against violence, of hate against hate, of death against death.  it is the contradiction of violence that we bring to the galaxy: we offer existence as it should be.  a woman, her husband, and their land.  labor.  work.  productivity, honesty, and love.

“i hoped and prayed that the leaders of Dulvern would see the truth and justice in this view.  i hoped that they would see the value in technological abolition.”

Mellor stamped his cane on the stage.  the audience, which had been listening in grossly fascinated silence, stirred at the sudden sound.  he continued, his voice rising, “unfortunately, my friends, we were wrong.  however, our error will not equate to failure.  our deity has taken this attempt at abolition, which they meant for evil, and has used it for good.  he has shown us that technology must be eradicated throughout the galaxy, once Earth has been found.  he has shown us that the quest for Earth must be undertaken by all, that no man, no woman, and no child must rest until the secrets are revealed to us.” a wild edge crept into his voice, and Leah stiffened.  “he has revealed to us that Wainright’s text must be brought to every world in the galaxy, and that every government and every family must follow its teachings!  he has revealed to us that we cannot allow humanity to follow this path of destruction!  he has revealed that we must spread his name and his message to the furthest reaches of space and time!” he was shouting now, and the audience began to hum in discontent.  Leah looked furtively at Afnen.  he did not seem to notice the rising volume of the crowd nor Leah herself: his eyes remained fixedly on the cleric.

“do you ban us?” he shrieked, lifting his cane high into the air.  “do you attempt to destroy that which will save you?  do you bring death to the only source of life?” people were standing now, and some shuffled for the exits.

“Afnen,” Leah said, her voice harsh.  fear filled her eyes as he turned his head towards her.

his face was calm and passive, and a terrifying smile transfixed his face.  “please, just listen,” he said with chilling placidity.

Leah’s mind spun.  all at once, she regretted everything:  she regretted going to that bar in the first place; she regretted letting Afnen speak to her; she regretted leaving with him; she regretted coming into this damned place; she regretted not leaving as soon as she saw Mellor.

she stood suddenly, and made to join the throng of people that streamed towards the exits.  Afnen snatched her wrist and pulled her back into her chair violently.  Leah screamed in pain and fear, but his grip was irresistible and he restrained her with ease.

“please, just listen,” he repeated, that same queer look still imprinted on his visage.

Mellor continued with what was now a screaming rant.  his voice was barely audible over the sound of the newborn and rapidly-growing mob.  “do you ban us?  do you kill us?  we ban you!”  he punctuated each shouted word of the last sentence with a thump of his cane on the stage.  Leah pulled against Afnen again, but she could not get free.  Mellor screamed, spittle flying from his mouth, his face twisted sickly, “we claim this museum as our own!  it will be the Aurorist stronghold from which the greatest revolution in human history will begin!”

just at that moment, the first wave of fleeing people reached the exits.  they would not open.  people beat their fists against the doors, but they did not budge.  women screamed, and men trampled each other.  the din was deafening.

simultaneously, a group of armed men, clad in black suits emblazoned on the shoulder with a red sun, appeared from the wings of the stage.  they flowed into the audience in formation striking at anyone who got in their way.

“ladies and gentlemen!” Mellor’s frothing scream was nearly inaudible over the cries of terror.  “submit and no harm will come to you!  each one of you is an important part of the plan!”

more troops filled the hall.  Afnen and Leah were the only two people still seated.  Leah had ceased her struggle, though Afnen had not released his grip on her.  she sat in stunned silence, watching the chaos around her, unbelieving.

after a moment, Afnen pulled at her arm.  “come with me,” he said firmly.  she considered resisting for a fraction of a second before she realized the futility of such an action.  he tightened his grip on her wrist and lead her through the tumult.

one of the black-clad guards had released Afnen and Leah from the auditorium, and he had taken her through a minor wing of the museum to an area that protruded into the lake, into which they were now walking. the room was cavernous, and glass on all sides.  dim, blue light washed over them.  a single yellow bulb illuminated an area in the corner of the furthest protrusion.

“this way,” Afnen said as he led her to the end of the yellow light.  as they drew nearer, Leah could see that beneath the light, a man sat in a large, blood red, high backed chair — a man with long brown hair and a wooden cane.

when they approached, Mellor said, “welcome, Leah.”  his voice was low now, and raspy from exertion.  “please sit.”  he gestured to a second chair that was identical to his own.

she did not move for a moment.  her face was a picture of shock and she stared at Mellor blankly.  Afnen, who still had a grip on her wrist, prodded her in the direction of the chair.  she sat awkwardly, her eyes locked on the Aurorist cleric.

“thank you, Afnen.  i’ll be with you soon.”

Afnen released Leah’s wrist and tipped his head down toward Mellor.  “yes, cleric.  thank you, cleric.”  to Leah, he said, “goodbye.  it was my great privilege to meet you.”  he turned swiftly and walked back across the glass floor.  Leah watched his retreat with utter confusion.  it was as if some other being had entered his body once he was in the presence of Mellor Devers; the boy she had met at Elttaes was gone.

“it is a pleasure to see you again,” Mellor said, drawing Leah’s attention back to himself.  “i imagine you’re quite confused, and probably a little afraid.”

she nodded uncertainly in response.

he smiled sympathetically.  “i understand.  you can’t understand everything now, but you will, eventually.  all you need to know at the moment is that you’ll be staying with us now.  and, if everything goes to plan, you and my son can still marry.”  she did not move or speak.  he gazed at her for a moment, then said, “it is my hope that your wedding will coincide with the great celebration.”

Leah rubbed her sore wrist unconsciously, and after Mellor did not speak, she managed to ask weakly, “what celebration?”

he smiled.  “the celebration of the discovery and resettlement of Earth, of course.”

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