To be on Novan without a link to the cast-net was to be among the most vulnerable of creatures. Without it, Novan became a dark, sprawling place, with little visible markers about place, or direction. Without it, the only noises one heard was the machinery—grinding of gears in transports, the click of the meta as they patrolled, and cleaned under the feet of the passersby. Without the cast-net, one turn could lead a young child into death, or a woman into the enemies she forgot existed.
Dobrin realized this, shortly after his release from the club. No one even cleaned him up, or hosed off his own excrement. He has to scrounge around in the trash for his old clothes, and he only found half of those. When he asked for help, speaking in his pathetic, sad voice, people looked down at him and laughed. One he got his clothes on, he headed out into a world he didn’t know, and soon learned to keep his mouth shut.
He traveled for many roas, keeping in the shadows, moving slowly, crouching and hiding. The faces of the women who abducted him were vivid in his mind, and they kept reappearing on anyone who passed by. He knew he was lucky to be alive, that the woman in the club should have killed him, but something in her eyes, at that last moment, reminded him of a look his mother would give him, something akin to compassion.
The club he left was in the middle of one of the worst pleasure-districts in that province. Several times he needed to defend himself with a knife he had found in his travels, once even drawing blood from a man who wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. In those districts the TELREC had no need to venture within, as most of the people there were assigned there by Mal. They were the people on the lowest rungs of the genetic scale, of below-average intelligence, prone to addiction, short-sighted and most with a compromised sense of morality. After nine millennia the TELREC had become quite adept at shifting the makeup of a society. If a group of neighbors started to bond, to cast of larger issues, several of them would be reassigned in their jobs, and be forced to move away. And some of this low rung would be reassigned, and move in.
After several roas of wandering in a safer section of the city a hard rain came down, soaking everything, a blanket of water cold and wide. Dobrin searched for a droa after it started for shelter, testing doors, listening through windows. He saw and heard things he never could have imagined during his time wandering—cursing, crying, beating, the sound of breaking bone, the drip of blood, sex—so much he couldn’t believe. And once in a while, he even heard the sound of a person dying, the low moan, the final breath. And after one of those deaths, he heard laughter that shook him, laughter that soaked through like the rain, digging rivers through his clothes, working its way into his pores, to become a part of himself.
Finally he found an open door into a room seemingly deserted. He couldn’t tell what building it was in—it was too dark, and he needed to keep hidden. He curled up in a corner and relaxed for a mroa, peering through the crack he left in the doorway to the rain that pounded relentlessly into the ground. Thunder came, in great, wide claps, with lightning high overhead. It gave him glimpses around the room—he saw several overturned chairs with the first strike, some icons under wraps with another. He recognized them from the times he went to Iggaraout with his father.
My father.
He had pushed the image of his father, and mother, out of his mind soon after he was abducted. It was the only way he could be strong. He crawled over to the idols, pulling off the wraps. He could see the icon of Inhuf, with his faithful sword at his side. His father always pointed out Inhuf as a symbol of strength, and defiance. His father had said that no matter what, one must be true to themselves, and never, no matter what the cost, never sacrifice those beliefs. He saw his father in that small statue, standing tall, a man of unimaginable strength to him. Dobrin lay back against a wall, and wished very dearly his father was with him.
Another lightning strike, bigger than before, illuminated a back part of the room, and Dobrin saw what seemed to be a leg sticking out. Fear rushed through him, fear of that laughter of death, of someone who could kill for pleasure. The thunder stopped, and Dobrin could hear a low moan from that area.
They must still be alive.
His father, though a rich and powerful man, was one of the few who helped the less fortunate. He felt education was most important—not the education of facts and figures, for they were too easily gotten from the cast-net, but education of potential, of things besides drugs, liquor, sex and violence. The potential of the future, of what could be. Dobrin knew his father, and his father always helped those in need. He looked over at the idol, and slowly moved over to the moaning figure.
It seemed to take an eternity, climbing over the space between himself and the figure. The lightning didn’t come as much, but the thunder still bellowed, blotting out the sound even of the rain. Finally he came close, and could see the figure was under a blanket, moaning. He pulled away some of the blanket, and saw it was a woman, and apparently nude. She looked very bad with bruises covering most of her skin, dried blood sticking in black patches over her skin. Dobrin found her face and cradled her, so he could see it. Hair stuck to her face, and he heard her moan more. Dobrin debated with himself, a part of him sure that it would be best to move on, to leave this broken body to whatever may come, but the better part of him won, and he decided to speak.
“Are . . . are you alright, lady?”
He saw her face turn up, in his direction, and then she tensed, and scurried fast over into a corner. She drew herself into a ball of muscle, whining and crying.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said gently, as he crawled, slowly, over to her. “I can’t hurt anybody. Please, it’ll be alright.”
Dobrin made it over to her, and put his arm on her shoulders. She leaned in, and grabbed him tightly, sobbing into his small chest. He sung to her softly, to calm her down.
“Give me a little time, and I’ll turn teardrops into wine
sad times into bounteous joy
Look into my heart and see hope made from despair
grace born from misery . . .”
She quieted her tears, gazing absently off into the small world around them. The woman then looked at the youth’s face, shocked to see someone talking to her without hitting her, or yelling, or raping. She was in a state of severe shock, but some things learned are never forgotten, and she was able to speak to Dobrin.
“What was that?” she asked tentatively.
“A song my mother always sung to me, when I was sad.”
“What is the rest of it?”
Dobrin thought for a moment.
“Give me your little hand, give me all your heart
I’ll keep them in a soulbox clear
I promise you my child, my love will keep them warm
Safe as your soul would be with me.”
She sighed at hearing the words, and he could feel her body relax a little.
“What happened to you?” asked Dobrin. “Who are you?”
The lightning illuminated her face as she brushed aside her hair, revealing a face of muscle and discipline, devoid of intelligence.
“I . . . know you.” Dobrin thought back, to the many faces imprinted with indelible ink onto his mind. “You . . . you . . .”
It was the woman in the club who spared his life, the woman, who for a moment, reminded him of his mother. It was the woman known as Listras. Dobrin didn’t know what to do—he wanted to run, to yell, to beat and kick her. He saw in her the reason for his isolation, for his wandering through the streets. He pulled away, tension building in his chest.
“What’s wrong?” she muttered, backing into a corner.
Dobrin backed away himself, drawing forth the knife he kept with him. Listras screamed, and drew the blanket around her again, pleading to herself as she rocked back and forth. Dobrin sat in a corner, next to an idol, looking at the woman who caused him so much pain.
What should I do? Should I kill her now, while she is like this? If I let her live, and she gets back to normal, what would she do to me?
/>
He looked down at the knife that glittered in the night light, its handle still caked with a little blood from when he used it before.
I only cut him, though it was deep. Could I really kill someone?
He relaxed against the wall, feeling fatigue take command of his body. Listras also moaned softer as her eyes began to close. Dobrin fell into a light sleep, as the thunder abated for a while. He woke a short time later, his mind seemingly made up. He put his knife away, and came over to Listras, who started at his approach.
“I won’t hurt you.”
She looked him all around, searching for the knife.
“Don’t worry. You’ll be safe.” He put his arm around her, and she nestled against him.
“Where am I?” she asked with fear in her voice.
Dobrin relaxed a little, and smiled.
“I don’t know. I think we’re in an Iggaraout—that’s why it’s so deserted.”
Listras’ mind struggled to form the associations, to find out what an ‘Iggaraout’ was, but was unable.
“Can you stand up?” he asked.
Dobrin helped Listras to her feet, and remembered how tall she was. Her muscles, though covered with excrement, sperm and filth, were boldly there, testament to the many cas she spent as a TELREC.
“We need to get you cleaned up. And some clothes. Come outside with me.”
Dobrin looked back and forth, making sure there was no one around. Then, he led Listras out into the thick rain, and used rags from inside to wipe the filth off of her. She lifted her arms, reaching into the sky, feeling the thick droplets caress her face. Dobrin cleaned slowly, working his way down from her shoulders, the highest he could reach. As he cleaned her back, he felt the bruises, the scratches, the scars from a lifetime of torture compressed to within a few roas. Light from a hundred buildings cast a thousand spotlights on the droplets falling on her body, making her shimmer as if covered in jewels. Dobrin finally worked his way to her feet, then stood up, and looked at her reaching into the sky. For a few moments, the rain that scared and chilled Dobrin was at once soothing and gentle, for it brought a smile to Listras’ face, something which Dobrin thought was the most beautiful thing he had seen.
“Quickly, we must get back inside.”
Dobrin dried her, and then wrapped her in cloth that covered the discarded idols. She fell asleep again quickly, but not after looking into his youthful eyes and thanking him. He pulled her close, putting her head on his lap.
Morning came slowly, thankfully to both Listras and Dobrin, as it was the first good night’s sleep either of them had in a while. Dobrin looked down at her as she woke, and wondered what happened to her mind, to make her so . . . simple. He looked at her, physically with a child’s eyes, yet they belied a complexity of emotion seldom found in one so young. It was a look of malice and hatred, yet concern and compassion. In an older man, one whose life would be stained with the bitterness of defeat and remorse, the hatred would have won, but in this simple youth, innocence still prevailed, and a forgiving heart. The instinct for compassion towards the less-fortunate his father had ingrained in him stayed a hand that would have killed, and as the roa matured it faded slightly, giving way to realism, and contemplation. He decided to speak with her again.
“Do you know what your name is?”
As she woke, Listras hurriedly curled into a ball, backing into a corner, her muscles tense with anticipation. She saw what lay behind his eyes, for she had seem so much of it over the past roas. So many men, with varying proportions of good and evil in their eyes, yet all of them hurting her, beating her, violating her. She saw that good thing, that essence that was the soul crushed and squeezed out of their faces, till only the evil remained.
“No,” she answered curtly. “Do you? You seem to know me.”
Dobrin looked at her, this woman who tortured him for some unknown reason, then let him live. His mind still replayed his capture, and imprisonment, a vivid dream he powerlessly watched over and over again, every time the simplest thing reminded him of what Listras, and those others, did to him. He hesitated to tell her what he knew of her. He remembered her strength, her power, and he never wanted those to come back. His stomach felt sick.
“If I told you, you might not like it.”
She looked down for a moment, thinking of his words, and the effect they could have on her.
“Why? What did I do?”
Dobrin sighed, wishing he had something to drink, something to soothe his nerves. He looked on her pleading face, still covered a little with dirt and grime, and felt she was even more powerless than he.
“Well, this is what I know.”
He spent the next droa telling her his experiences—how he was abducted, then given to the club, and the night when she fought the ulthangs and raped him. She never flinched, never took her eyes from his. He felt awkward telling the story; some part of him felt vengeance at last, in confronting his abductor, while another part felt he was sharing some deep part of himself, something that he knew would be buried as he grew up, never to surface again except in tortured sleep. He didn’t cry, he couldn’t—all his tears were spent long ago. When he was done, she ran outside, and vomited. Slowly, she came back in.
“I did . . . all that?”
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” she asked, incredulously.
“Because you’re . . . not the same person you once were. And you saved my life that night.”
Listras sighed, her mind slowly assimilating his, and hers experiences.
“They have done to me, what I did to you.”
Dobrin sighed, his heart heavy with grief. “I would never have wished that on you.”
“I . . . believe you, and that makes me even more sad.”
She dropped to the ground, her head between her knees, and began to cry. Dobrin couldn’t resist her. He crawled over, putting his arm around her, and cried with her. He felt the hatred he had for her slipping away, replaced with compassion, and concern. He didn’t know what happened to her, but somehow, she was now his responsibility. Listras lifted her head up, brushing aside her hair, wiping the tears from her face, looking into his eyes.
“Where can we go from here?”
Dobrin collected himself, sitting back against a wall.
“I don’t know. Do you have access to the cast-net?”
“What is that?” asked Listras.
Dobrin smiled. “It is how all the adults communicate. It is an implant that works with your mind to see things in your mind. I don’t have one, ‘cause I’m not old enough. Concentrate, and see if you can gain access.”
“Concentrate on what?”
Dobrin thought for a moment. “Well, start with that building over there that reads ‘Waste Reclamation RD-10.’ Maybe it will tell you where that is.”
Listras concentrated, thinking on the words ‘Waste Reclamation RD-10.’ And sure enough, just as she had remembered how to talk, the ability to cast came flooding back to her, along with the thousands of images projected every til of every roa, overwhelming her. She put her hands to her head, her face a contortion of pain.
“Make it stop! No! It’s too much!”
Dobrin had heard of the first link-up to the cast-net. He was getting prepared for it, before his abduction.
“Just calm down. Concentrate on ‘Waste Reclamation RD-ten.’ Don’t pay attention to anything else but those words. Relax, and think only of those words.”
Slowly, the other images receded in intensity, and the facility they were looking at came up in her mind, as well as its spatial address.
“I know where we are!”
“Wow. That’s great. Now, see if you can find my address. It’s Silver Spire construct, number four-fifty-seven.”
Listras said it out loud ‘Silver Spire construct . . . number four-fifty-seven.’ Within moments, she had a mental image of the structure, and its spatial address—about a droas travel time on the trans.
/> “We can be there in a droa, oh—you never told me your name.”
“I’m Dobrin.”
“And I don’t know who I am. Wait, let me see if this cast-net can tell me.”
Dobrin got worried. “Are you sure?” He still remembered the woman who raped him, the woman who could use this finely muscled body in front of him as a very lethal weapon.
“I—wait! My name . . . is Listras! I am . . . a TELREC? What is that?”
And for the next five mroas, Listras went on a mental journey, finding out about herself, researching names or terms she didn’t know. She found she was quite adept at it, apparently those learned skills were still there, but none of the information she saw jogged her memory.
“Who were you?” he asked, tentatively.
Listras looked down at Dobrin, who stood beneath her with a growing expression of fear.
“I know who I was, but I don’t know who I am now,” she said, running her hand through his hair to soothe him. “I apparently was some warrior, some fighter, but . . . all that is gone. I’m sure the skills still remain, but I don’t know what to use them for.”
Dobrin sighed with relief. “I’m sorry, Listras, but I’m glad you don’t fully remember.”
Listras smiled, with a feeling of peace and relief the old Listras would not have believed.
“So am I. Let’s get started to your home.”
They started on the journey, with Listras mentally purchasing tickets with lottment from her account. She was quite honest when she said she didn’t remember this person she discovered she was, but she didn’t tell Dobrin about the nagging feeling inside her, about the clamor from the TELREC, trying to reach her, and about her driving need to see the Cuhli-pra. Her mind became a battlefield, where multiple forces fought for dominion. The TELREC summons was quite strong, a constant pressure on her mind that took great strength to nullify. They wanted her back, wanted her to cast to an agent, to Malhrer, anything to identify her position. The same bombardment that Kolob was unable to control also bothered Listras, as her mind was still not up to the complexity the cast-net demanded. She saw too many images and associations that she did not understand. Even the simplest thought conjured up a thousand images, each one more obnoxious than the last.
Most powerful was her need to see Kolob, to be near the Cuhli-pra. At first his image confused her, then it gave her comfort, until she reached a point where she knew she could not exist without him. Once she repaid her debt to Dobrin, atoned for her sins, she knew she must seek Kolob out, and be with him. She couldn’t understand why, but it was something utterly irresistible.
Dobrin was also distracted on the trans. There were many people on them, and all he could think about was the crowd at the club watching him, enjoying his torment. They were faceless to him, without identity, and that made it all the worse. Any one of the people on this trans could have been there, could have watched him naked, violated in front of strangers, no one helping him. A part of his innocence was murdered that roa. He always thought good of people, had no reason to think them capable of great evil. But to have been left crying, alone like he was, with no one helping him, weighed heavily on his soul. He knew some of those people probably had children, led lives of great consequence, yet they were willing to stand and watch as he was being murdered. He knew he’d never trust anyone again, never be able to give of himself to anyone, without great reservation. He looked at them, their minds occupied on the cast-net, watching any of a thousand depraved broadcasts, uncaring to who suffered or died for their enjoyment. The hatred he thought buried resurfaced, this time with justification, and sowed seeds that would bloom into great stifling weeds as he grew older.
After two trans they came to stand in front of the building that he called home for most of his life. He felt his eyes mist to finally see a familiar place.
“I didn’t think I’d get back here.” He looked up at Listras, who bore a face of concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Something I sense. Something about the TELREC,” she cast, thinking harder, reviewing the casts in her mind. Complicated and intense, they gave her great pain, as she tried to decipher their meaning, sort through what was and was not necessary. Finally, she understood. “The TELREC want your mother. It is not safe here.”
It had been a long while since Dobrin felt as crushed as he did then. He grabbed her hand harder, holding onto her physically for support.
“I thought it was finally over,” he said looking back up at the building that gleamed in the mitterlight.
“We should run.”
They bolted through the streets, Dobrin leading the way. They went through several old buildings, until at last they settled in the bowels of an old office building.
“What should we do?” meekly asked Dobrin, feeling the child that he still was reassert itself, making him once again small and powerless.
“I . . . I don’t know,” groaned Listras as she settled to the ground, her head throbbing. “I can’t think anymore.”
I wonder what happened to her, thought Dobrin. “Where else could we go?”
“Would . . . your mother, does your mother have any other place she would go?”
“I don’t know that much.”
Listras felt the pain recede in her head.
“Would she have thought you could be dead?” asked Listras.
Dobrin thought long and hard about his mother and father, the hope with which they seemed to face all aspects of life.
“No, they would have believed I might still be alive.”
“Then they must have left some way for you to contact them.”
“But no one communicates other than with an implant, on the cast-net. Anything they would have left for me, any sign, would be on that.”
“And I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to access it,” said Listras. Then she perked up, with an idea. “We need to get you an implant.”
“How can I?” asked Dobrin, becoming agitated. “Even if we found a place that would do it, I don’t have any lottment.”
“I do. Or rather, the old Listras did. I can sense it, on the cast-net.”
Dobrin reflected on all he had seen since the club, all the perversions he stumbled across, or overheard.
“What’s wrong, Dobrin?”
“I have seen so much!” he cried. “So much of the pain, so much of the death. And yet, even after all that, I know it pales in comparison to what is on the cast-net. I’ve also heard of the temptation, the way it consumes a person, with such unlimited pleasure. I would never want to become what I have seen.”
Listras knelt in front of him, holding his hands.
“I have no doubt you will never become like them. Anyone who could forgive what I have done, and help me, has strength within them to overcome the toughest of obstacles, withstand the most tempting of sins. I will be with you, and by my life, I will help you through this.”
Dobrin held her, and for a moment, all that existed was the two of them.
They were careful as they passed by several implant centers, Listras scanning her mind to see if there were many TELREC around. Some centers left a bad impression in her mind, a reminder of reports issued against them by CRODAM, or TELREC. Finally they walked into one—a dark, cramped hole two levels beneath a meta construction facility. Listras learned it was a place that catered to those in Foundation born away from chronicling, outside of the Leviathan, more than likely budding Iganinagi. An old man with leering eyes and lascivious thoughts cast to Listras, and finally performed the operation, Listras holding onto Dobrin’s knife tightly, lest he make a mistake.
^It’s done,^ cast the old man, smiling at Listras, looking at her body.
“Good. Dobrin, are you alright?”
Dobrin woke slowly, his head swimming. “I . . . I think so, I just—I don’t feel anything.”
“Just give me a mroa, little boy,” said the old man sarcastically. “If I had that thing on while you were wakin’, you’d be lost for sure.
Now, here goes.”
The man mentally activated the implant. Dobrin clenched his hands on the chair, as he felt the content race into his mind.
^It’s . . . it’s too much!^
^You gotta get used to it boy,^ cast the man, laughing at him. Listras knelt down beside Dobrin, and held his hand.
^I’m here, Dobrin. Try to focus on something, something you know!^
He tried, but felt his thoughts swimming along the current of content, drowning in its waters. As a new mind, thousands of ads sought him out and blared incessantly. He saw young girls walk seductively past him, their sheer leggings dissolving as he watched, their nakedness coming into view as they giggled and ran off into the distance, begging him to follow. He saw young boys tease and taunt him, coming a little too close, pressing into him, the firmness between their legs rubbing against him. Men with guns rushed past, firing primitive projectiles against an unseen opponent. A towering behemoth of a monster routed them, pulling apart their limbs, devouring their heads in perfect graphic detail. He watched as a boy his age pulled the legs off a crying small animal, as a group of girls ambushed an older man, pulling off his clothes, forcing him to do things before they smothered him and laughed as he died before them. He saw a hundred different ads for broadcasts cascade around him, each one laced with the temptation of sex, and violence. After a while, programs within the cast-net identified how to best sell to him. Images of calm and peace beckoned to him, an oasis of blue skies and open fields of green. He longed to lie in that sunlight, away from the filth of Novan, to finally feel at peace. He saw ads for a place called Ouitiano, with an older woman beckoning with open arms. He could sense Listras was somewhere, yelling something, squeezing some part of him. He wanted to focus on her, and yet felt the pull of the green field to be too strong.
It is, so beautiful, so peaceful. Why would I want to go back there?
Listras watched as his eyes glazed over, his body at first going rigid, then dissolving into jelly in the chair. The man laughed behind her.
^They all go like that woman! He’ll be like that for roas, gettin’ to feel everything, see everything. That’s why their parents—at least the ones that care – come here with them, to help ‘em through it all.^ He came closer to her. ^You related to him?^
^No. I’m just . . . a friend.^ She cast firmly to Dobrin. ^Come on, Dobrin, you don’t have time for this! You’re stronger than that!^
You’re stronger than that.
Who said that? he thought, as he lay under the sun. A few young girls came over to him, sitting beside him under a tree that spread its branches far over him. They brought fruit, and laughed softly.
This is what my childhood should have been like, he thought, as they fed him some fruit. This is how it should have been.
^Dobrin . . .^
It was a woman’s voice, that seemed to float on the clouds, almost as a birdsong.
^Dobrin . . .^
Another voice, echoing through the trees, as some wild animal foraging for food.
^Dobrin!^
He started, for the images of his mother and father appeared before him.
^We are here, Dobrin, in case we couldn’t be with you, for this moment.^
^How?^ asked Dobrin, feeling some hope at last.
^We implanted this memory, this algorithm in your mind. We are here to bring balance, to steer you through this time.^
One of the girls pulled at Dobrin to sit back.
^Don’t listen to them. They always want to spoil our fun.^ She ran her hand over his chest. ^You’re having fun, aren’t you?^
His father stepped forward. ^Son. You are more than this. You know that.^
Dobrin hesitated a moment longer, then stood in front of the image of his father.
^Yes I am.^
His father came, and put a hand on his shoulder. ^Life will be full of temptation, son. It is a cruelty of our society to tempt those least able to withstand it. We faced that temptation, and eventually overcame it. We promised ourselves, promised you, that you would never face such temptation alone.^
Dobrin’s eyes welled with tears. ^I love you, father.^
^And I you, my son. I know not what prevented me from being here, at this time. Your mother and I love you, cherish you above all else. We have great faith in you, and know you will never let us down.^
Dobrin felt hope, for the first time in a long time. His mind felt clearer and stronger, his soul filled with a joy he had forgotten existed. ^I never will, father.^
^Good. We have held the full effect of the cast-net at bay, while we cesct. As we fade, so it will return. You need to focus on your center, on your very soul, to withstand its effects. It is not wrong to indulge yourself, for a time. You just must always do what’s right, even in this imaginary world, where it seems as if all is allowed. There is much to learn, many things to become skilled at. Use the cast-net for your education, and you will become stronger than ever before, better able to capitalize on the opportunities life has to offer.^
^Thank you, father.^
They faded, and the cast-net surged in his mind. He felt the strength to repulse it, to negate its siren call. He opened his eyes, to see Listras looking down on him.
^Dobrin?^
^Yes, I’m back.^ He stood slowly, to the amazement of the old man.
^You’re stronger than most, little man.^
Dobrin held onto Listras’ hand. ^I have good friends.^
Listras smiled back, unable to hold back the tears.
^Come on.^
She led him out back onto the streets, Dobrin stumbling a little, as he still struggled to steel himself against the cast-net.
^How do you think I should try to find my mother?^
Listras thought for a moment.
^She would have to figure you would try, soon after getting an implant. Try to think of her name, of her image.^
^What about my father?^
Something about that suggestion bothered Listras.
^No, try to focus on your mother, for now.^
He did. He thought of her name, and gradually a location came into his mind.
^I think I know.^
^Are you sure? If the TELREC are involved with your mother, something bad, this could be a trap.^
^It felt like her, almost as if she were speaking to me.^ Dobrin paused for a moment. ^You have helped me so much Listras, if this is a trap, I don’t want you to be caught as well. I can find my way – I even have access now to a small sum of lottment. I feel like if the TELREC get you again, you will be changed back into what you once were.^
She stopped, and knelt before him. ^I am with you Dobrin. I promised you that, and I meant it.^
Dobrin pulled away. ^This is hard to cast, Listras.^ He gritted his teeth, and swallowed the emotion welling inside him. ^Maybe you want to go back, to who you were. You were obviously someone strong, and powerful, someone who had a purpose in life. Living like this, you have none of that, and—^
^Dobrin.^ She pulled him close, tightly holding him. ^You are some special child to cast that. I never want to go back to who I was—never! I don’t know why I did the things I did, I’m not sure I want to know. All that I do know is that I feel joy in seeing you smile, in helping you to find your way. I know whoever I was would not have taken joy in that. And that’s why I will never be her again.^
Dobrin embraced her, overcome with sentiment. ^Then let’s go.^
It was after a few more trans, and a slow descent into the upper levels of Foundation, before they arrived at the location Dobrin felt in his mind. They stood outside a door in a decrepit structure, dark and foul smelling.
^Are you sure?^ asked Listras, scanning the area with her mind.
^As sure as I can be.^
Listras smiled. ^Then what are you waiting for?^
He knocked, and in a moment, the door opened, slowly. A cautious looking woman, his mother, looked down on him with watering eyes.
“Dobrin?”
^Mo
m!^
They embraced, with Dobrin letting loose all the emotion he had kept bundled in him for so long. He cried an endless stream of tears, and Ellore did the same, finally feeling a chance at a future, now that she had some part of her past alive and well in her arms. She grappled onto him with hands of iron, and no matter how much it hurt, Dobrin never felt safer. Listras waited patiently behind Dobrin, feeling like her fate might be in Ellore’s hands.
^Mother, this is a woman I found, and helped,^ cast Dobrin, as he finally broke from her embrace. ^And she helped me to find you. Her name is—^
^Listras,^ cast Ellore with malice. Dobrin and Listras looked on her with shocked eyes, while his mother looked on Listras with eyes of burning hatred.
^Wait, mother. She has been . . . hurt somehow. She remembers nothing of her past. When I found her—^
^This is a trick!^ spat Ellore, pulling Dobrin closer to her. ^They took your father, and now they play tricks with me! Damn them!^
She dragged Dobrin in through the door, despite his attempts to stop her. She almost closed the door, when he finally managed break free and stand in the doorway.
^Wait Mom! She’s okay!^
It may have been her son’s frantic emotions, or the look of utter despair on Listras’ face, but she calmed for a moment. Listras came forward, her head lowered.
^You don’t know who you are?^ asked Ellore.
^No. And you’re not the first to notice.^
^What do you mean?^ demanded Ellore. Then she looked down and saw the bruises, the scratches and cuts on Listras’ body.
^Some men, a lot of men, found me, and . . .^ cast Listras, looking absently into the space before her. Ellore had to turn away, so great was her empathy for Listras. She stifled a cry.
^You say she helped you?^ asked Ellore, turning to Dobrin.
^Yes.^
^You have an implant?^
^Yes. Thanks to her.^
^Dobrin, I trust you, but I need to make sure about her. I’m going to download your experiences from your mind. It won’t hurt.^
^Go ahead.^
Ellore connected with her son’s mind, and felt all he went through from when he first found Listras. She held him close and cried, looking intermittently at Listras, who stood uncomfortably nearby.
^I hate, or hated you, young woman,^ cast Ellore, ^but not even I would wish this on you. If my husband were here, he would have had pity on you, as my son has shown you.^ She took a deep sigh, as she resigned herself to a difficult decision. ^My name is Ellore. Come into my home, and be refreshed. Be careful though, I know who you are, or were. You have a lot more enemies besides those men who attacked you, and I dare say, a lot more people who would like to try to do worse to you.^
They walked in and Dobrin was amazed to see how much was taken from their old suite, Listras absorbed the small pieces of sentiment, reminders of Dobrin’s childhood and Ellore’s joining with Ksilte.
^I’m glad to see you, but what happened to you?^ asked Ellore, as she hugged him one more time. ^Do you know how long we searched for you?^
^I know mother. You won’t like this, but a lot has happened.^ He glanced back at Listras. ^There is more, from before when you downloaded.^
^Then let me see in your mind—^
^No. I . . . don’t feel comfortable sharing that with you, in that detail. Let me cast to you what happened.^
Dobrin proceeded to relate his long adventure, from his abduction, his rape, to his wanderings before encountering Listras. When he was finished, Ellore slapped Listras with all her might, drawing blood. Hatred burned in her eyes.
^Curse you TELREC!^ she slammed, with all the mental strength she could muster, as she spat in Listras’ face. ^Damn you all! How much can you hurt us, how much will you take from us? We have given you our future, the most precious part of us, and still it isn’t enough. You have robbed me of my love, my husband, you robbed me of my son’s innocence and hope! And now you expect pity, from me?^
^Mom,^ cast Dobrin slowly, ^what do you mean about Dad?^
Ellore backed away, a sudden expression of pain sweeping over her face, as she had forgotten Dobrin knew nothing of his father’s fate.
^Your father was taken by the TELREC. That is why I am here, why I had to leave our old home. I . . . I have . . . oh Dobrin. Your father died at the hands of the TELREC!^
^Why?^ Dobrin started crying, and Ellore drew him close as he sobbed.
^This is what happens to people who stand apart, those who dare to question TELREC plans, TELREC ideas, TELREC dominion. Your father was part of the Novan resistance. He was a great man! He tracked their every move, even knew about the Cuhli-pra!^
Listras jolted, part of her mind on fire at nesting those words.
^Your father was a hero of the people,^ ranted Ellore, the anger surfacing in her mind, ^a man who sacrificed easy wealth, power, and fame, to ensure we all would have a future.^ She scornfully flashed a hateful stare at Listras. ^Not just the chosen few. He believed we all had a purpose, that we all should use knowledge to advance ourselves. Some called him a Rell sympathizer, but he came to understand and appreciate the strength in their system—a system built on faith, discipline, and order. And now, to nest that you, a TELREC agent, abducted my son . . .^ She couldn’t go on, images of what may have happened to her son playing in her mind, the closeness he came to death. Listras calmly sat on the floor, leaning against a wall, her head in her hands.
^What would Essile do at a time like this?^ asked Listras, her mind swimming in a sea of turmoil.
^What did you cast?^ asked Ellore, looking in amazement at her.
^Essile—she was a character the old Listras new. It’s like I am one of those people that has knowledge, but cannot put it to use. I have knowledge about myself, who I was, but am unable to integrate it. Ellore, if you want me to leave, I will. I have done so much wrong.^
Ellore sat down, holding her son, who sat beside her. ^Who are you now?^
Listras looked up at her, a woman she didn’t know, a woman who was probably her only hope, but who hated her in a way she had to accept.
^I don’t know.^
Ellore sighed, looking hard at Listras.
^If you had cast anything else, I would have thrown you out. Maybe together we can find out who you are now.^ She wiped her son’s tears, and lifted his head up. ^If you have forgiven her, then I must as well.^ She held her son close, feeling at once like she wanted to punish him for his forgiveness, yet knowing how precious a gift it was. ^You have a lot of your father in you, Dobrin.^
^I wish I could’ve seen him one more time,^ cast Dobrin. Ellore pitied her child, forced to deal with so much, so many things not meant for the innocent.
^I’m just glad to know you are alive, and with me at last.^ She breathed deeply. ^I feel as if I can begin to live again. I know he left you a remembrance. When you have rested, you should access it.^
^What will you do, Ellore?^ asked Listras.
^I will fight. My husband sacrificed his life to counter TELREC dominion, to try to forge a better world for all children to grow up in. I cannot rest while his dream goes unfulfilled. So long as we live in a world where the state sends its agents to kill and molest families of those who disagree with it, so long as the state does everything in its power to mollify its citizens, to drain them of all spirit and conscience, then those who have the power to affect change must do everything to bring about change, no matter the cost. I will not let those who believed in Ksilte down. I’m sure the TELREC got his associates, but they will not stop our movement. We segmented our organization, using only code names. The TELREC might be able to get some of them but not all.^ She paced around the room, finally picking up a small holo-image of Ksilte. ^We will wage a war on the TELREC, the likes of which even Mal could not imagine. I don’t know how, or when, but we shall overthrow them. The Cuhli-pra is the key.^
The word ‘Cuhli-pra’ kept echoing through Listras’ mind, weighing on her thoughts with a pressure almos
t unbearable.
^If we can either gain control of him,^ continued Ellore, ignorant of Listras’ mental plight, ^or destroy him, then the TELREC will lose all support. People are tired of their enforced passivity. Dobrin, I will need you to grow up much quicker than I would have liked, but you can help avenge your father’s death.^
Dobrin stood tall, and for a moment, Ellore could see the man she hoped he would become.
^I will do whatever is necessary.^ Dobrin glanced over at Listras, and could see the inner conflict written on her face. Her gaze was fixed, sweat pouring down her cheeks. ^Are you with us, Listras?^
Listras lost all pretenses at composure. She fell to the floor, clutching her head, a mental earthquake rocking her psyche.
^Listras!^
Dobrin rushed down to her side, cradled her head, and began to rock her back and forth as she sobbed and cried. Ellore was appalled for a moment, and almost yelled at her son for giving comfort to one who caused them both so much pain. Then she understood, and softened, her heart expanding and adapting to a level of compassion not even she was capable of before. She knelt beside them, rubbing her hand along Dobrin’s back, as Listras’ moaning abated.
^I can feel she has been hurt badly.^ Ellore searched through her mind. ^There are no defenses, and very little order. She is so damaged. Oh my . . .^
As she was linked, Listras had a vision of the Cuhli-pra. The Cuhli-pra, a being known to the old Listras as Kolob, stood on a platform, addressing the whole of Novan existence. He seemed radiant, full of an energy that could not be believed. Ellore could see victory all about him, as well as thousands of people clad in brown and gold robes. Ellore was amazed at the clarity of the vision; it was so real, so present in her mind. Ellore became aware of many things about Kolob, things her husband never told her for fear it could be casually gleaned by another. She broke off and looked down at Listras, whose eyes were darting wildly.
^That is the Ascension?^
^I . . . must . . . find him!^ cried Listras, as she shoved Dobrin aside and bolted to her feet. ^I must—I can’t live otherwise!^
Listras ran out of the suite. Dobrin began to chase after her, but was caught by Ellore.
^She is confused, Dobrin!^ cried Ellore, as she struggled to restrain him. ^She is also quite strong, and we would be unable to contain her, to get her help. And I don’t know what the TELREC would do with her anyway. We must let her go, Dobrin, we must!^ He sagged in her arms, letting loose a few more tears. ^I know who the Cuhli-pra is, and soon, so will many other people. Unwittingly, the TELREC have provided us with the key to their undoing.^
Dobrin waited for a moment as Ellore went back in, casting a few words for the woman who brought him so much pain, who seemed to be condemned to pay a terrible price for it.
I don’t know what the future will bring you, Listras. I only hope, in some way, you find peace. If it means anything, I forgive you, and wish you well.
Chapter 3