The Sennaca War Memorial is a huge construction. It had been composed entirely out of a rhone-metal, a material designed to shine like the scales of a fish. As a result its surface was an intricate collision of colours arranged about its surface like rainbows over a lake of mercury. Its shape was one of elongated arrowheads stacked one upon the another. Each of its many floors spanned kilometres. Surrounding it were thorns smaller than the arrowheads spanning perhaps five hundred meters. They were not laid out in any particular pattern, but scattered around, as though a deity had discarded some broken ornament from the heavens and they had been left exactly as they had fallen.
The result was a building that took on the personality of a chimera, always in between two forms. On the one hand it was the most horrific construction that mankind had ever endeavoured to create. On the other, it was a beautiful testament to the genius of human architecture. I supposed it was a work of art and sometimes art can be both applauded and condemned.
My Compass® flashed some trivia onto my HUD. The building was commissioned by the then head of the Eternis Systems in commemoration of the conclusion of the Resource Wars. The critical companion to the system suggested further information to the Resource Wars, but I didn’t have the energy. It was a stupid name for an even more stupid war.
The reality was that the building was far more of a corporate temple than it was a memorial. Its promotional material boasted more office space than any other building in Bagata. In fact the memorial offered the second most office space in the whole of the former DRC. The monument, of course, belonged to West in all but name and so it was only natural that the Eternis System’s owned every square foot of it. Inscribed across the building were the words, ‘in the memory of what was, what is, and what will be again’.
Parking the car and listening to the local terror report I opened the door and descended into the boiling fume filled landscape of Central District, Bagata. The terror report had promised a low level of activity, despite recent increases in violence across the Waste. I hadn’t worried about the reports before and didn’t see any reason to now. The media was basically controlled by the Presidium Party, so whatever the warning, it was usually political.
I walked away from the car park and towards the entrance of the memorial slowly.
Whoever had designed the entrance had seemed to be desperate to convince its visitors that it was an entirely natural composition. There were fountains dancing over every square foot of the thing. There were white marble floors with black circular sculptures dotted everywhere, the genesis and intention of which, was unknown to anyone but their designer. There were broad-leafed trees and rows of sculptured grass gardens separating the sovereignty of the memorial from the rest of Bataga.
As I walked through the opulence I imagined that perhaps, in another place, serving another purpose, the entrance could seem almost heavenly. It seemed almost as though the architect had made a mistake in choosing the location of his sculpture, because the surrounding memorial arching its laser straight angles into the sky caused a sickening sense of contrast with the city. A vision of what might have been.
Standing there in front of the doors that led into the structure I caught sight of my target. He saw me at the very same moment that I saw him. I drew my breath and marched towards him.
‘Mr Sephra,’ I demanded.
‘Mr Engeltine. So good of you to come. Let’s take a walk.’
We entered the building together ,our paces matching one another. I tried to keep my awe contained but the Sennaca Memorial was truly something to behold when seen from the inside. The huge entrance gallery, which rose for hundreds of unclearly defined floors, featured huge crystal overhangs and tall obsidian obelisks that rose for hundreds of feet and seemed to split into a thousand fragments about half way up. Each fragment was suspended in the air, in the act of falling.
We crossed an eternity of gallery and entered an elevator. Chiming with sincerity the Eternis System’s vocal representative informed us of all the tourist attractions within the structure as the elevator soared upwards on it mag-lev rails.
We disembarked at some bizarrely high number. My shoulder brushed the door apologetically, as I struggled to keep pace with Sephra. We traversed yet more crowded passageways until we made it to a room of immense proportions. I noticed that despite its size the only thing present in the room was a huge desk surrounded by chairs. Sephra sat on one side and I the other.
‘What have you done to me?’ I asked after a few moments of silence.
‘We have given you a gift, Mr Engeltine. We have made you see,’ Sephra answered equally calmly.
‘All I’ve seen are things you can get from a little too much indulgence at the pleasure domes. You haven’t made me see anything. How exactly would you describe that as a gift?’
‘Like all great gifts Mr Engeltine, you may not always understand its gravity straight away.’
‘So then tell me. What have you done to me? I want to know. I want to understand what all this crazy shit is I’m seeing. If you can’t then you fix it, you undo, or I will stay in this office until one of us expires.’ Sephra furrowed his brows so I softened my tone a little and continued, ‘I want you to make me understand. You can’t just do this to a person and not offer them an explanation.’
‘If it is any consolation George, you’ve got the job.’ Sephra said before standing briefly to reach his box of cigarettes. He offered me a one, which I took gratefully, snapping off the ignition stub and inhaling deeply. Sephra did the same. We stared at each other for a while. Each of us searching the other for some sort of sign that was wholly indescribable and yet completely visible. Sephra must have found what he was looking for as he grunted and began to talk.
‘In order for you to understand what is happening, you must first know the beginning. The story is historically long, but it can be told easily enough, if you have enough patience. Most importantly you must suspend your disbeliefs and accept everything I tell you as fact, even if it seems fiction.’
He looked at me sternly. His face told me that he was preparing to unload a burden that had long been on his shoulders. It also told me that he was in no mood to be delayed. There was a sense of urgency in the way he returned to his seat and met my eyes with his.
‘Do you know what this building was built for?’ I nodded and he smiled a smile which seemed too say like hell you do.
‘The Resource Wars couldn’t have come at a worse time Mr Engeltine. Humanity was on the brink of permanently securing its future. We had just achieved our defining moment. We had spread our wings and left this troubled planet behind in search of worlds that could sustain us in a way this planet no longer could. Against all the odds we found exactly what we were looking for, as you will find anything if you look hard enough.’ He looked knowingly at me and sighed.
‘But like all things, George, what we found was not exactly as it seemed. The colonists set down on worlds that were cruel and harsh. Nation-making is never an easy task and many thousands died in the process of terraforming them. For years they had depended on our support, on our commitment to the pursuit of a common future, but the war took all that away. We left the colonies alone in space, to find their own way, in many cases to wither and die. There are only six colonies left out of twenty.’
Interjecting I exclaimed bitterly: ‘I know all of this. I mean even school children know this. What does this have to do with me?’
‘It has everything to do with you. This information will sets out a chain of events that will lead me to a discovery and inevitably to you. If you will not listen, then what is the point in the telling?’ He folded his arms
‘Fine I’ll listen, but if you offer me nothing then please appreciate that my patience will wear thin,’ I replied angrily. Sighing again Sephra seemed to be weighing up a decision but continued once a few moments had passed.
‘After the Resource Wars so little was left habitable. The cradle of civilisation had become a dying
oak, gnarled and beyond repair. The most powerful nations in the world left their holy cities and took the lands of those less powerful. The West took Africa, the East took anything that was left.
‘This monument was built, not to commemorate the war, but to commemorate the West’s ideology, something that has now long passed. To put it simply, the war had utterly destroyed both enemy and ally. It was useless to build a monument to a war that had put an end to everything. So we built a monument to an ideology. An ideology that we can no longer pretend exists.’ He sighed again and paused.
I wanted to point out the window and say, ‘look at all of this, can’t you see, the West is thriving, it might be a little broken but it’s being rebuilt!’ Instead I was silent.
Sephra continued, ‘I know exactly what you are thinking. I know that if you look out and onto this city it would seem as though we were emerging from those troubled year, coming back to the time of the United World. But the truth, the truth is never that simple. In reality the West was only ever a visitor. We were always supposed to go back to cities we had fled. It seems to me that nature always had a sense of irony. You see the things that were so carelessly destroyed during the war were also impossible for us to put back together. Once you destroy that much of something it can never be re-engineered. We didn’t have any idea how complicated an ecosystem we really had.
‘In the cold light of day Mr Engeltine its obviously that we lost the war. Now all that we can look forward to is a future elsewhere. A future, perhaps, in the stars. There is nothing left for us here. The world has already died and we can no longer cling to her surface. In two years even Africa will no longer be capable of supporting life. In just a few days Africa won’t even be able to support a civilisation. We have done so much to Mother Gaia and she no longer has the energy to sustain us.’
Rushing to my feet I shouted, ‘this is nonsense! Everything is getting better.’ Sephra shook his head. ‘Well what about the colonies’, I implored, ‘they weren’t even involved in the wars, why aren’t we starting an evacuation?’ But Sephra just shook his head again and smiled, that same tired smile.
‘There’s no time to save this world. But the good news is that this is where we arrive at your part in the story.’ He smiled once more as though to signal a shift in the narrative and continued.
‘Almost a century after the war’s conclusion we finally regained our ship-building capacity. Imagine our surprise, arriving from hyperspace, to find a barren landscape. We searched one planet after another and it was the same again and again. Total wreckage, total destruction. Of course some things had managed to survive, the odd superstructure here and there, the odd artificial intelligence or drone, but nothing so in tact that we could piece together a clear picture.
‘In desperation we began to search for the farthest colonies. It was here to our relief we found that they had survived unharmed and unaware of the fate that had befallen their sisters. It was a miracle, if such things are to be believed.
‘Over the days and weeks that followed we began our investigation. We steadily began to put together a picture. It was the portrait of a nightmare.
‘At first we believed that this might have been an inevitable result of the loss of the United World. The colonies were in the processes of being terraformed. Without the metallurgical supplies that Earth could offer, we believed that the colonies may well have found it nearly impossible to survive. Perhaps, we mused, that with a failing environment, with no possibility of resupply, they had endeavoured to take the easier way out. It would have been kinder, more humane and infinitely quicker than waiting for the last of the lights to finally flicker out, the rooms to grow colder and the food to run out.
‘Certainly the blast patterns and radiation signature indicated self-suicide, consistent as they were with high yield anti-matter charges.
‘With this knowledge we began to mourn for that loss. But mourning does not rebuild nations. And so with little other recourse, we prepared ourselves for the second exodus from Earth. Where once we had failed there was a chance that this time we might succeed.
‘But just as our investigations were nearing their completion we discovered something that shook our conclusions down to their very foundations. Topographic and environmental analysis indicated that far from starving the colonies had been thriving. They had not been strangled by a lack of resources during the Resource Wars; they had innovated and succeeded. And yet they had certainly decided upon self-genocide. It made no sense.
‘Three weeks into wrap-up a deep space reconnaissance team discovered an artefact. Something that was present on the surface of each of those barren planets but not on a single surviving one. We arranged to have it shipped back, but in transit two of the vessels were lost. An analysis of the detonation zone revealed radiation consistent with the vessels’ on board nuclear reactor. It seemed apparent that their destruction was intentional. We did not know why. Our working theory was that for some reason the crew had chosen to murder themselves, or even each other, and we believed that this was the effect of those Artefacts. They were the only unknown factor in the equation.
‘Obviously we abandoned recovery. It was too dangerous to allow the artefacts back to Earth. Instead they were moved to a deep-space facility, abandoned during the war, and left for remote study. The station is a relic from the time of the United World, an installation so perfectly engineered that it will continue to exist for thousands of years after we perish.
‘It was there that we discovered our salvation. After many hours of tests on organic matter it seemed a certain genetic expression was unaffected by the artefact and that this expression would allow a person close enough to the object without causing them harm.’ Sephra paused to light another cigarette and continued his story in between drags.
‘The adaption was of course quickly tested on a selection of patients. But this in itself threw open more question than it answered. The adaptation expressed itself in the patients in the form of visions and seemed to enable them to see things that others could not see. It immunised them and made them able to come within a close proximity of the artefact without it causing unintended side effects for short periods, visions and unnatural presences notwithstanding.
‘During their studies they transmitted a report. I will play it to you now.’
Leaning on the edge of my seat with interest I watched as Sephra moved his hands through the air as if in some kind of ritual. Bursting to life before my eyes an image resolved itself into existence. In front of me a middle aged man stared out of the screen. He was very pale and sweating heavily. Another wave from Sephra and sound exploded throughout the room and the middle aged man was given animation.
‘This is High Researcher Clarence O’Donald of the Eternis System’s Deep-Space Station Ascension.
‘We have done it Commander. We have done it. We have isolated the genes required for safe interaction with article 77-x. Unfortunately, as we predicted, the discovery has come a little too late for us. Repeated exposure to the artefact is causing increasing mutations in all of us. The infection is reaching its final stage. Dr Raddock and I have decided to avert the final stages of the process by exposing ourselves to a nerve agent. This will leave all physical assets unharmed whilst ensuring we do not pose a threat to the operation, as required by Eternis Systems protocol. This will be our last transmission. We send you all our love. Please don’t forget what we have done for you.’
The message ended. I breathed out a breath I did not even realise I was carrying. Sephra turned and slashed his hand through the image, cutting it in half and dissolving it. The room darkened a little as the ambient lighting system restored itself to full brightness. I had not even noticed that it had dimmed. Sephra gave me a look and continued.
‘This is the adaptation that we have given you. Your DNA proved the most likely match out of all of our candidates. The interview were a distraction. To put this a little more clearly, you are our only suitable candidate.’ Sephra
poured himself a glass of whiskey from the highball in the corner. His fingers negotiated the glass with an incredible dexterity.
‘The worst news is yet to come. Recent reports suggest that the artefacts have begun to surface on the remaining colonies. Only one so far remains clear of infection. Six days ago the Ascension station’s automated platforms informed us that recent data analysis had led to a potential solution to the problem. Before broadcasting could continue the communication stream went dead. We have heard nothing since, and we have not been able to verify the report.
‘The reason that we have given you this adaption is simple, we would like you to recover the information and remove all of the artefacts from the colonies before any real harm can come to them. Do you understand?’
Breathlessly I replied ‘Yes. Actually no, I wouldn’t even know how to begin. I’m not the one you want. I’m no scientist, I’ve never even been into space, what the hell could you possibly want with me?’
Sephra turned to me and looked straight into my eyes.
‘Believe me George’ he said ‘if there was anyone else, anyone on the entire planet, I would have picked them over you.’ He stood up with a sigh. ‘The final six colonies do not have long.’ His stilted movements led me to believe that he had some difficulty in walking. Nevertheless he managed to move, with a grace fitting of his position, to the huge window that looked out and onto the city.
‘We are giving you the very last ship this planet will ever produce. It is not quite to the standard that we produced before the war, but it’s as close as we are ever going to get. You have one week to prepare.’
I stared at this strange man and replied ‘won’t I want a little more training than a week?’
‘Of course you will,’ Sephra replied mirthfully, ‘but in a week it is doubtful that the Presidium Party will have any control over the planet.’
‘What do you mean?’ I stared at him incredulously.
‘Because in one week the power goes out and it will never come on again. All of our nuclear reactors are already beyond repair and what remains of our hydrogen stores in nearly gone. When generation stops we will no longer have the ability to prevent the barbarians from outside the walls entering the city. Even if we somehow survive their assault, and they will assault us - all remaining resources: food, water, breathable atmosphere, will have been consumed within a month. And that is all there is to it really.’
My whole body began to sink. ‘My God, what about all the people, can’t we get them out? Can’t we save them?’ I urged him.
‘Nobody else can survive exposure to the artefacts. Even the people of your ship will only have a temporary immunity. They will inevitably succumb to its effects. It would be wise to complete your operation before this occurs.
‘You should also be aware that if we do not use the ship to get rid of those artefacts and find a cure for our colonies, our species faces extinction. As for me, as for the rest of the world - it doesn’t make a difference compared with that.’
Then he smiled the way a parent does to a frightened child. It was comforting and I began to feel safer, like this was all of this would somehow sort itself out.
‘Mr Engeltine, go home and get some rest. Get to the ship and prepare for takeoff. It was a pleasure to meet you, but I have something else to be getting on with. Good luck, and for the love of God don’t crash my bloody ship.’
I laughed. Perhaps I shouldn’t have, but I did nonetheless. I smiled and he smiled. It was a bitter smile forced out of an utter depression. Sephra rose slowly and steadily. He walked back towards the huge window and stared out of it in a wise pensiveness. The red sky bathed him as he breathed in the pure filtered air of the office.
He took a last deep drag of his cigarette and put it out. Speaking but never letting his eyes leave the view from the window he said, ‘We’re all going to have to leave this world, one way or another.’
With a subtle motion he touched a small thing to his head, closed his eyes and never opened them again.
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