“The most important Carnival celebration, held on the last Thursday before Lent.”
The three enter a labyrinth of alleys and after a quarter of an hour, come out in a wide paved area, surrounded on three sides by Renaissance palaces and opposite by a Gothic-Byzantine basilica, with five entrances and with the same number of domes.
“San Marco square, the largest in the city,” announces the Venetian proudly. “An immense hall in the open air, that everybody envies us. The only space in the city which is called ‘square’. The others are named ‘fields’.”
A peal of bells interrupts him. “Noon! The show is starting.”
They run through an arcade, where taverns and shops alternate, among masked people. At the end, they cut across the square, along the façade of the church adorned with mosaics. A flock of pearl gray pigeons alights a few meters from them. Meanwhile the bell ringing continues. Victoria turns back. On the terrace of the building behind, two automatons are sounding a big bell with their clubs.
“The Moors,” explains the guide. “Part of a mechanical clock, together with the astronomical quadrant you see below, and a procession of the Magi.”
They enter another square. On the right, a bell tower with a spire soars into the sky. In front, the placid waters of the lagoon spread out. On the left, next to the basilica, is a marble structure with an arcade dominated by a loggia. The façade is a succession of stone carvings like lace, giving harmony and lightness to the imposing building.
The guide opens his arms with a theatrical gesture. “The Doge’s Palace: residence of the first authority, seat of the government and Court House!”
Now the two squares are overflowing with people. They are all turned towards a tightrope walker with false wings, who is going gently along a rope between the bell tower and the balcony of the Doge’s palace, where important people are waiting for him.
“The Doge is the one with the horn-shaped hat,” explains the guide. “Members of the government and nobles are gathered around him. The guests with exotic clothes are foreign ambassadors.”
When the acrobat arrives, he bows before the Doge who welcomes him with a bunch of daisies. The crowd bursts into a flood of applause.
Adam turns towards Victoria. “Dinner time!” He leads his mother by the hand, pushing his way through the crowd, up to the Doge’s Palace. At the entrance, the three pass by two rows of armed guards standing to attention. Sparkling armor, long halberds.
“I'll be waiting the end of the dinner in the yard, together with my colleagues,” says the guide.
In the huge reception room, Victoria stops spellbound in front of the frescos.
“Tintoretto’s work,” explains Adam turning towards a black man discussing with the Doge. “Martin has arrived!”
Victoria looks around. “Eve must be somewhere.”
An Arab wrapped in precious fabrics and with a mushroom-like turban, tries to draw a young lady’s attention. The woman seems uninterested in him, looking insistently around, nervously waving her fan. Her glance stops on Victoria; she takes the mask off, and winks at her. Eve!
The three meet. They chat animatedly.
When the bell rings, the guests go to the tables. Wing and Eve sit by the Doge, Adam and Victoria among the guests of honor. The Doge, after a short speech, opens the dinner. Swarms of servants pour into the hall with gold trays. The place becomes incredibly noisy.
A bang. Some throw themselves down, others take flight. The armed guards crowd round the Doge, Wing is bent over the table with his head in the soup. A dark figure is running towards the exit. Eve dashes in the pursuit, Victoria pulls her skirt up and rushes forward. When they are a few meters behind, the fugitive turns. He aims, then fires.
MURDER
@ Net tunnel.
A shooting pain in her head. Thin fingers touch her temple lightly. “Don’t move. You have been shot.”
Victoria opens her eyes. She is lying on the ground, her head on a soft cloth scented with violet: Eve’s cloak. Her friend is nearby with a loving look. She is dressing her wound with delicate and careful movements.
“It will clear up in a few days,” announces Eve. “Now you can stand up.”
Victoria gets to her feet. They are in the tunnel she walked along a few days before with Eve, to reach a small beach hidden among the lake ravines.
“After answering the fire, I transported all of us here,” explains Eve. “If I had been a single instant later, the armed guards would have caught us.”
Five meters away, is a dark figure lying. Adam is nearby.
“How is Martin?”
Her son answers with a sad look: “Dead. The Council entrusted him with tracing Nihil. He was going to report the results tomorrow.”
They gather around the corpse. In the center of his forehead, a tiny purple hole. His face is serene, he didn’t have time to realize.
Eve kneels down and caresses his hair. She takes a small box out of her pocket and starts sliding it back and forth on the man’s head.
Victoria and Adam are standing by her in silence.
“Some brain areas are still in good condition,” murmurs Eve. “Perhaps I can extract his memories…”
She continues for half a minute. When Eve stands up, she looks anguished. “Now I know where Nihil is.”
They turn towards the man in dark clothes, lying on his back along a boulder, his arms wide. The dark velvet jacket, with a badge of Lion of St.Mark, hangs loosely on each side. His shirt has a large rent in the middle, from the stomach to the breastbone. His organs are reduced to slush. A brown liquid is dripping from the wound.
“It’s him…” whispers Adam.
“Who?” asks Eve.
“The guide.”
“The guide?”
“Yes. Or rather, the one who replaced him.”
Eve kneels down and lifts the Venetian’s mask with the tips of her fingers. Then she stops.
Security General Headquarters.
“I have just received the report from Venice,” announces C573Y’s assistant stepping into the room. “Wing’s murderer is the Wonderful Islands killer! The real guide was found shot dead in an alley.”
C573Y takes the text and leafs through. “According to the Secret Service Wing belonged to the Elects too.”
“More than a suspicion. Eve Dirac was there. She tried to stop Nihil's killer.”
The images of the murder flow in their mind.
C573Y stretches back in his seat and crosses his fingers on the nape. “Eve Dirac sided against Nihil.”
“Internal struggles, clearly.”
“This could come in useful.”
“Unfortunately we don’t know their purpose.”
“Wing is not a criminal anyway!”
Puzzled, they look each other in the eyes.
PLOT
@ Council room, 7 AM.
The ten councilors dressed in white are sitting in a ring.
“Nihil knows well Martin’s killer,” begins Eve.
Everyone holds his breath.
“Are you sure?”
“The two were friends.”
“How possible?” asks a councilor.
“Perhaps we have seen the killer...” says another.
“I will show you.”
In the middle, appears the hologram of a man with a dark complexion.
“He was here!” shouts out a councilor.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if Nihil killed Linh and Widman, too,” adds another.
“Didn’t you suspect anything?” asks Victoria.
“We don’t know him enough,” explains the senior councilor. “He said the dehumanization was not for him. He was the boss, we did not insist.”
“Where has he got to?”
“I have scanned Martin’s brain.” Eve can hardly speak. The memory of her killed companion is burning like an opened wound. “Nihil lives with a new community, in this villa.”
The shadowy figure disappears. In his place,
a low altitude shot appears. The building is at the center of a lawn bordered with willows. In a pond, there are pink flowered water lilies with bulrushes on the right. Three little children are whirling around, another is riding a tricycle.
The councilors are dumbfounded.
“A new community?”
“I remember Nihil’s face when Wing proposed the creation of the Council. He flared up and threatened to leave. But, when the assembly approved the proposal, he remained silent.”
A murmur spreads.
“The truth is he hates us. Otherwise he wouldn’t go to this point.”
“Without his plan, we will not be able to embark.”
The councilors exchange fearful glances. But they keep silent.
Adam is puzzled. Then he stands up, and inspecting the nine members, starts: “I remind you that the best way not to achieve a result, is doing nothing. Tell me, do you really want to give up this project? Our objective is still achievable. It will not only in a few weeks, when the Caravels are sailing.” He addresses Eve: “Why don’t you contact Defense?”
She folds her arms. “I don’t trust them.”
“Do you really believe they can inform Security?” asks Adam. “You see, the recollections you transferred to me made me think. After your suicide, Defense set up an inquiry into the scandal. When investigations were closed, General Marcus Rand made sure to tell you it was all a plot against you. Did you ever wonder why?”
While Adam is speaking, Eve’s memories follow one another in the councilors’ minds, like flashbacks.
“I was highly thought of in the Army. When I resigned, Defense asked me to stay.”
“Did they care because you were a good soldier or rather for some other reason?”
“When Rand contacted me, he seemed to know everything about me and the Elects. I suspected he knew our hideout.” She stops a moment. “All this attention appeared excessive to me.”
“They never passed any information to Security. They always protected us, because you are among us, mummy. It doesn’t matter if we don’t know the reason. Now we are running the risk of having our mission canceled. We must ask their help to size Nihil.”
Eve is pensive. “I’m going to speak with Rand.”
“How can we recognize Nihil?” asks a councilor.
“He must occupy an android’s body. We will identify him by his programs,” answers Eve, adding a few technical details. She has a resolute tone, nothing can stop her.
Adam smiles. “Now you are the women you were, mummy.”
The senior officer has a satisfied look.
Meanwhile she continues: “Let’s pass to the plan. The villa is inhabited by about one hundred people. We don’t know what weapons they have, but we must be ready for all eventualities. We need the right equipment.”
“What type?” inquiries Adam.
“War androids. The most advanced ones. I know how to get them.”
FUNERAL RITES
@
Adam walks fast through a tunnel, holding in his hand a torch. He emerges in a cave, then turns to his right, towards a distant glimmer. He reaches an enormous cavity. The vault is hidden by the shadows. In the middle, a catafalque rises, on which lies a corpse wrapped in a purple shroud. He stops in front, gazes at the waxen complexion, then bends forward and kisses him on his forehead. Finally he withdraws into a corner and stands still with bowed head.
One after the other the followers come in, each holding a large lighted candle. They place their lights in front of the body and arrange themselves in a circle. Two women wrapped in white veils, one blonde and the other dark, enter. They move so gracefully, that they seem to skim the floor. They kiss their dead friend on his cheeks. Then they stand still by his side, staring at him.
The fair-haired woman raises her head. “Today Martin takes his leave of us.” Eve’s limpid voice sooths the participants’ pain: “A man of sound principles, who dedicated his existence to a noble cause, an example for all of us. When I met him, he involved me in a passionate discussion. That’s how I discovered the many ideals we had in common. He took my case to heart and in the following days introduced his friends to me. Thanks to him, now I belong to the Elects.”
She gets her breath. “A few days ago, he asked me to participate in the reproductive rite. He insisted and convinced me. Thanks to him I came to life again.”
A surreal atmosphere shrouds Victoria.
In a few weeks the Elects have given her friendship, love, a son. And now they introduce her to one of the most painful and intimate experiences: death. And to the most devastating one: war.
She takes a step forward and, without even realizing, she speaks: “I have always admired Martin for his social commitment in favor of weak people and minorities. Thanks to you, I have known him personally. From him, I have had a son. I liked his enthusiasm and generosity. Frankly, I liked everything about him. With you, I grieve over our dearest friend.”
She closes her eyes.
It’s Adam’s turn. “I spent only a few days with my father, but I have the honor of knowing him profoundly. Martin was unique. The ideals he fought for, the experiences he gained in many struggles, are all inside me, as well as his memories and emotions.” The impetuosity of his speech carries the audience away: “In this very moment, I am experiencing them and I can assure, it is a shocking experience. While speaking, he transmits his father’s experiences to those present. “I want to share this treasure with you.”
The followers strike up a sad melody, while the light in the cave increases. An immense cavity crossed by a forest of stalactites and stalagmites, appears. The tinkling of the drops from the vault mixes with the singing.
Silence falls.
A vortex of light bursts out of the corpse, then vanishes. One after the other, each participant undergoes the same metamorphosis. Finally the cave is swallowed by the darkness.
ALLIANCE
General Marcus Rand goes out of the headquarters at the end of the interforces meeting between the Defense Secret Service and the federal agencies. The morning had begun with a survey of the situation. The afternoon was dedicated to the analysis of the problems and to the definition of the objectives. These meetings, held systematically, strengthen the coordination, and above all give results.
The virtual secretary reminds him of the meeting with the President of the Confederation, fixed for the following day, during which he will present a report on the new technologies. But for today that’s enough. He gets into the ovoid waiting in front of the entrance. “To the 7th Tower.”
The aircraft gains height, threading its way through thousands of vehicles crowding the aerial motorways. It shoots into a corridor between two rows of skyscrapers, whose wavy forms are reflected on glass surfaces of others, and passes by a spiral-shaped building, that reveals its carbon core from the shining black of its load bearing structures. Below, wide streets and squares adorned with arches and architectural barriers. From time to time, multicolored walls and green spots hiding the entrances to the underground town. The ovoid flies over a park, where evergreen gardens and sheets of water alternate, then heads for a group of buildings silhouetted against the blazing red sky.
It lands on a terrace projecting from a tower. The officer enters the restaurant. The head waiter takes him to table 514, from which can be enjoyed the magnificent sight of the setting sun gilding over the snow capped mountains. A melody spreads from a corner. The artist, a man in his early thirties, his deft fingers gliding over the keyboard of a piano: an instrument as ancient as the Chopin nocturne he is playing.
A young woman with red hair comes up to him. “May I sit at your table?”
He stares at her green eyes. “Have we met before?”
“Long ago. You can verify it from my identification code.”
A black miniskirt and a silk blouse emphasize her sinewy build. Her hair adorned with light threads is gathered into a ponytail behind her thin neck. She smiles, while transmitting the file t
o the man’s neural chip.
“Eve, what a pleasure to see you again! I wondered many times where you got to. Congratulations, your gynoid is charming.”
He stands up, draws a chair to him and invites her to sit.
“Gallant, as ever.” While sitting down, Eve observes the man. With his imposing height and the eyes shining like sapphires on his tanned face, he is splendid.
They start with some jokes. Then they go hand in hand to the dance floor. She puts her arms round his neck, while the man seizes her by the waist. They begin a slow dance.
“Marcus, I am grateful to you for having identified the real culprits.” Eve rests her head on his shoulder.
“I have never doubted your innocence.” He looks her straight in the face. “But you have come here not only to see me… What can I do for you?”
“A few members of our community are preparing a terrorist attack.”
The officer stops dancing, while the woman straightens herself, grabbing him tightly.
“I need a team of combat androids.”
The two stand still in the middle of the floor.
“This kind of work is no concern of yours. Tell me all details, instead.”
“You don’t understand. I want to solve the problem by myself. If you accept, I will keep you informed; otherwise I will not reveal anything else.” The woman gives him a piercing look. “What’s your decision?”
“I am sure you are the most qualified person for this kind of work...”
“So what?”
He draws back. “But you cannot dictate your terms. You are in trouble up to your neck. Security is hunting you. They are convinced you and your boss are the instigators of a series of homicides. They suspect you are preparing an outrage against the Caravels. A few days ago they asked after you.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I have known you for a long time. You can’t be mixed up in terrorism. But you are a suspect. They are searching for you everywhere. Your days are numbered, I fear.” The officer stops. “I must speak to the General Staff.”
He remains absorbed. She gazes at him, trying to read the trend of the discussion from the expression on his face.
A minute later, the man starts: “I offer you our protection in exchange for your engagement to work for us till the whole matter is settled.”