The Heavens Are Mine: (The Chronicles of Kronide Soter)

By C.M. Houck

In a world molded into a veritable Utopia, life seems incapable of mismanagement. World interest in space activity has withered back into seeming indifference. But for Kronide Soter, whose family has played such prominent roles in the conquest of space, the lure of the heavens is inborn.

Kronide's recounting of personal events move from near-drowsy tranquility of computer-managed life into his discovery of a secret that could destroy the world. His chronicles present a family saga that draws from the lives of his great grandfather, grandfather, grandmother, father, himself and his children. His records are made poignant through his accounts of trying to balance the everyday problems of his immediate family with the possibility of world calamity.

In a computer-dominated world presided over by Computer Custodians, Kronide is viewed as a trouble maker, and his innocent seeking for answers thrusts Kronide from a quiet scientist into the role of a condemned "outlaw." Even college students begin to refer to him as a zeus, a slang term meaning an enigma that the world computer cannot solve. Amid ominous overtones of a Greek tragedy, Kronide emerges from being an outlaw to become the one person that the world looks to for salvation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Dec 23, 2002
• ISBN: 9781469774008

C.M. Houck

The author has been a freelance writer since he was sixteen, ranging from nonfiction, romatic fiction, and science fiction to TV documentary and comedy. His primary interests have been in ancient cuyltures, history, mythologies of various cultures and astronomy. His nonfiction books include The Shiny Herd and The Celestial Scriptures.

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All Rights Reserved © 2002 by Charles M. Houck

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Contents

PROLOGUE

C H A P T E R 1

C H A P T E R 2

C H A P T E R 3

C H A P T E R 4

C H A P T E R 5

C H A P T E R 6

C H A P T E R 7

C H A P T E R 8

C H A P T E R 9

C H A P T E R 10

C H A P T E R 11

C H A P T E R 12

C H A P T E R 13

C H A P T E R 14

C H A P T E R 15

C H A P T E R 16

C H A P T E R 17

C H A P T E R 18

C H A P T E R 19

C H A P T E R 20

C H A P T E R 21

C H A P T E R 22

C H A P T E R 23

PROLOGUE

From his vantage point among the limestone rocks Kronide Soter watched the small group of equestrians ride into the arid, dusty valley below. The mounted figures, four in all, wore thermal cloaks with hoods in place to protect themselves from the strong Kronian sun, so Kronide could not see if he knew any of these interlopers. He noted that the lead figure moved with a purposeful manner of one who knew that someone had been using one of the nearby concealed caves as a refuge. The small band slowed its pace as it approached the entrance of the larger cave, and it was then that the leader drew his mount to a halt and threw back his protective hood. Kronide’s immediate reaction was to press his naked body closer into the shadowy crevice in which he had hidden himself. Then, with a sigh of gratitude, he recognized the face of the interloper was that of a friend.

Cheiron! Kronide muttered to himself. Kronide was both relieved and a bit mystified that this prominent man would have ridden so far outside the weather controlled zones. He watched his cloaked friend dismount and give a broad gesture for his companions to ride out of the immediate area. As the other men urged their shaggy mounts away along a random trail, Cheiron was untying some pack items from his own animal.

Kronide had learned through recent events to move with some caution. Cheiron had always seemed to sympathize with Kronide’s cause, but with all the political implications that had come about had Cheiron still come as an ally? It was certain, Kronide reasoned, that Cheiron could have learned of this particular spot only from one of Kronide’s closest confidants. But could the reason for this visit be to urge Kronide to return to face trial in Othrys? The manner in which Cheiron shouldered what could only be provisional packs, and the purposeful stride of his friend indicated strong approval. It was then that Kronide stepped out onto the narrow rock ledge and called down. Cheiron stopped abruptly, glanced up, and then waved a greeting. Kronide scrambled down over the boulders.

Your retreat seems to have worked wonders for you, Cheiron remarked as Kronide neared him. You have lost your researcher’s pallor, your muscles have defined, you leap about the rocks like some wild gryne, and—what have we here? Cheiron motioned toward Kronide’s face and the short, curly, newly grown beard. If you had horns and walked on all fours you could easily be mistaken for some overgrown gryne.

And are you personally delivering an edict from the tribunal? Kronide countered with a grin.

Ah, my renegade friend, because of you I sat so long in that closed conference that my students forgot who I was. Cheiron looked carefully into Kronide’s dark eyes as if searching there for signs of pain and torment that were locked within. How have you been? Cheiron asked softly.

Lonely, Kronide replied.

They moved through the rock overhang of the cave’s narrow entrance and into the cool shadows of the main cavern. Once inside, Cheiron opened the packs to reveal a number of items that he had brought for Kronide’s use. Besides much needed staples Cheiron had also included some blank ledgers, and audio-viewer and a crystal modulator for the recording and reading of crystal transcripts. Although Kronide was grateful for these items, he could not disguise his anxious need for news.

Have—have you heard anything of Hera? he asked. Cheiron gave his friend a reassuring smile.

Your wife is bearing this very well, Cheiron answered. She and you children are apparently under some moderate surveillance, but there have been no restrictions placed on their movements. Things seem to continue in a fairly normal manner.

Kronide expelled a heavy, tormented sigh. This whole thing must be humiliating for them, Kronide said. He deliberately avoided looking into Cheiron’s penetrating eyes. I wish I could have spared them all of this.

My friend, if Hera has experienced any humiliation because of your sudden notoriety she gives no outward show of it, Cheiron said. He could see Kronide’s inner distress by the nervous manner in which Kronide was tying the light weight chiton he had put on. The longer you avoid the summons from Othrys, Cheiron added, the more likely it is that your family will meet with mounting restrictions. They believe in you. Even if your theories should prove to be incorrect, you still had every right to question governmental policy as you did. Kronide turned to meet Cheiron’s gaze and found there a reflection of quiet assurance.

And what of world problems? Kronide asked.

They simmer, Cheiron said simply. Let us sit down and I will tell you what I know. I will have to leave in a short while if my friends and I are to return to Pelion before nightfall.

Cheiron spoke quietly for a long while, patiently answering any questions that Kronide might ask. He delayed his departure longer than he had planned, but he could sense in his friend the aching need for companionship. Eventually, however, Cheiron had to begin his journey back to the distant city. As he was preparing to mount his shaggy animal, Cheiron turned back to Kronide.

I brought the modulator to you for a purpose, Cheiron announced. You are a man accustomed to keeping records and journals. He paused, obviously uncertain how to continue. I can imagine how empty the time must be for you in this situation. I—uh, well, the fact is that our world is not quite the same anymore because of you. And it will not be quite the same ever again. For better of worse, Kronide Soter, you have claimed a line or two in our history just as surely as your grandparents and your father. Cheiron smiled again, a warm encouraging smile. Put down the details of your life, Kronide. You know how distorted a tale can become if others tell it for you.

Cheiron swung up into the saddle. He looked up the mountain trail and noted his three companions waited there for him. He turned back to Kronide and fixed his eyes to those of the bearded man.

Make a daily journal as well. Your story is far from being over yet, if I may judge. He leaned down and clasped Kronide by the shoulder. Goodbye, my friend. I will keep in touch. With that he set his shaggy animal to trot up the mountain path. Kronide watched the bobbing figures until they disappeared over the crest. Then it seemed to him that the world had suddenly become incredibly empty.

Write, he muttered to himself. A hint of scorn escaped with the word. Huh! he added as if to give emphasis to the absurdity of the idea, then turned to reenter the cavern. Almost like a programmed robot he set about checking the new supplies, examining his security systems panel, and then prepared something to eat.

As evening approached, however, and time again threatened him with its merciless emptiness, he picked up the transcriber. Well, he thought, maybe he would try it. It would be something to occupy his mind. And he was, after all, accustomed to keeping records and ledgers of his work, so why not begin still another journal? This time, however, there would be no research facilities at his disposal, no reference files, nor any duties to direct his attention. There was only time and loneliness—and that inner silent dread for his world. Yes, maybe it could help him make some sense out everything that had happened.

He took the transcriber to the entrance of the cave and sat down where he could look out into the small, dusty valley. He could watch the gradual close of another day, welcome the cool light of the stars and the twin moons, and try to compose his thoughts. How should he begin a work such as this? With a brief biographical sketch? Maybe a review of their world’s history? It all seemed to be pressed and twisted into one tightly knotted ball that had no beginning, but which threatened to unravel in a frayed and frightening ending. Memories began crowding in upon him, childhood memories. That seemed as good a place to begin as any other.

He cleared his throat and the transcribing mechanism pulsed with a sudden recording of meaningless light runes. It prompted a faint sardonic smile from him. Well, that, he thought, was to be the opening line of his influence on history!

It was the thought of history that jogged a warm old memory for him, and so he began his transcript…

C H A P T E R 1

I remember as a youth sitting entranced in the chronicle simulator: the intricacies of history fascinated me. Perhaps my interest was first influenced by the fact that my own grandmother and grandfather had played such prominent roles in world advancement. Our world had, in fact, restructured all calendar dating from my grandfather Ouranos’ time, for that was claimed to be when the doors of the universe were opened and we took our first tentative venturings into space.

But I also became intrigued by history prior to our own era. Probably in this case because it was so impossible for me, as a child, to believe that our ancestors could not even travel about by sonic or light litters, and were so primitive that they could not communicate by common three dimensional audioviewers. The most mystifying thing to me of this Prior Era was the legend of cessation: that is, the people simply ceased to live after various lengths of time. The Prior Era was a dark, troubled, frightening age, and my child’s mind could not fully comprehend the recorded data that spoke of instruments and devices that were willfully developed to encourage cessation. Even atomic energy, according to the ancient records, had been used on occasion for projects that were willfully aimed at mass cessation. The ancient records also related the curious tale that some people actually lived and functioned with various physical imperfections. Of course it may be that all technological societies have their inconsistencies—as our own has tended to prove.

The chronicle simulator held such a fascination for me that for a long while Rhea, my mother, thought that I would possibly choose to make history my major field of work. In fact, even the early computer directives were largely in favor of such a course instead of the research and astro-sciences which I stubbornly requested. But I get ahead of chronological order here.

The dimensional effects of the antique records from the Prior Era were not of the highest quality since all events had to be reconstructed from the inadequate visual recording techniques that were used in their age. Even into my grandfather Ouranos’ time the quality was not into our three dimensional simulator standards. But it was, perhaps, this very lack of clear and rounded picturings that quickened my imagination.

My grandfather Ouranos was a handsome man. I never knew him personally—he discontinued life before my birth—but I learned to know him well from the many chronicle review crystals run from the computer reference section. His face, like the faces of all others of that era and earlier cycles, held a strange quality that I have never been able to fully decipher. It was my cousin Metis, a little girlfriend of mine with whom I shared this passion for the past, who said that he looked hard. And when I would debate this with her, she would say, O, Kronide, of course he was hard: why he was still almost a primitive. I would, of course, protest this good-humored slur. Still I knew he had been compelled and driven by some inner power that probably even he had not understood. Because of it he had pushed the nation of Urania into the limitless reaches of space. At that time the nations of our world, the planet Kronia, were not yet united and there was, for some strange reason, a great deal of alarm over Urania’s emerging space power.

In that age persons like my grandfather Ouranos and my great-grandfather Hypsistos actually headed and directed governments.

They were quite unlike the personalities who were appointed heads of state in later times. Ouranos felt it was right to thrust further and further into space, and so he led the nation of Urania in that pursuit. Even though I always had a sense of awe and admiration for Ouranos, never did I fully appreciate the magnitude of his accomplishments until I at last entered the regions of space myself. My grandfather’s method of space exploration, I had always thought, was well planned and logical, but without question it was often brutally pursued. The first rocket-type experiments had been carried out under the sanctions of my great grandfather, Hypsistos, and their flights were naturally limited to breaking free of our little planet’s gravitational field. This preliminary work had been only half-heartedly pioneered under Hypsistos. Very soon after Ouranos stepped into power, he had a series of unmanned probes on the two satellites of Kronia which brought back samples and a wealth of information. Ouranos pushed every aspect of space pioneering as quickly as he considered to be reasonably safe. In remarkably short time the other three planets of our solar system were soon being explored by early photon powered automated landers. This peculiar sense of urgency that drove Ouranos was perhaps due, as some have suggested, to some minor psychological flaw in his character. Certainly his lust for space was to lead to his discontinuance of life.

There was, eventually, a small explorational colony based on Cretos, the fourth and outermost planet of our system, but which was also our closest and smallest planetary neighbor, since Kronia is the third planet from the solar hub. Hydrogen and photon energy sources were perfected and a grand plan of deep space exploration was drawn up. Cosmic research and interstellar journey was a attractive possibility for all the Kronian nations by this time. Ouranos was then advocating the establishment of satellite colonies to be placed between Kronia and Cretos to relieve the mounting population and pollution problems that were beginning to affect the quality of life. He found the idea of artificial worlds to be more attractive and feasible than the attempted subduing of distant and alien planets.

Let us create our own worlds, he is recorded on one review crystal, instead of attempting to inject life into alien and inhospitable ones.

But then there appeared suddenly and unexpectedly a plague that spread with alarming speed across our planet. Cessation occurred in unbelievable numbers. The source of this epidemic was quickly traced to space explorational samples that had been brought back to Kronia in the earliest unmanned probes. Although utmost care had been used with all samples, and despite long periods of quarantine, isolation and sterilization procedures, a technician contacted the first case. Apparently the period of incubation had been far longer than anyone had thought likely, for by then over twenty cycles had passed. At any rate, the pathogen-host relationship was not fully understood and back-contamination had resulted in lethiferous disease.

My grandmother, Gaea, wife of Ouranos, had long been assisting the space projects. Indeed, if it had not been for her earlier accomplishments in the development of life-modifying techniques, space adventuring would have taken many cycles longer. As the plague spread into a worldwide agony, Gaea’s concern was tempered by curiosity, for she had been as much exposed to the samples as had the technician who had first discontinued life. Gaea and her closest assistants, for some reason, were immune to the alien virus. It occurred to her then that she, herself, had never experienced any period of illness dating from the time she had administered to herself an experimental serum labeled I.C.R., which stood for Internal Control of Radiation. She had developed it for space pioneers as a protective agent against the deadly effects of space radiation. Something in this serum also protected against the alien virus. She and her staff urgently set out to isolate the factor involved and to make serum with which to inoculate all the people of Kronia. She did succeed but not quickly enough, for Ouranos himself was stricken and in spite of all efforts to save him, he discontinued life. Not long afterwards mass inoculations were begun and the plague was slowly brought under control, but by then over eighty percent of the world’s population had perished.

A number of our world’s traditions date from the time of the Cosmic Plague. One is the custom of accepting responsibility for children who are, perhaps, totally unrelated to each other. After the plague this had been necessary, but it became a customary procedure largely because the plague had also heavily affected the reproductive factors in our species for a long time. The survivors of this truly black period were thankful to discover that they had practically no illnesses from that time on. The plague serum led directly to the development of the antioxidant Ichor serum which through all cycles since that period had flowed in the veins of every Kronian. It was the first step to limitless life, and my grandmother, Gaea, became the most revered and honored person in the chronicles of Kronia.

Not surprisingly, Gaea found herself holding the reins of power which had been Ouranos’. The gratitude that the world felt made her influence more worldwide than had ever been known until that time. She encouraged the continuation of space exploration in memory of Ouranos, and although it met with many hard feelings at first—since the plague had resulted from such space adventuring—the challenge was eventually accepted. It grew then to be almost a world obsession. The sciences, research and technologies all geared toward a common aim. It was this wholesale pooling of the sciences that gradually brought the five nations of Kronia into a unified system, and the jealously guarded national frontiers became relics of an idiosyncratic past.

The surge of accomplishments achieved then has never been matched, not even after our world came under the directives of Othrys, the world computer system. Break-throughs and discoveries flooded in from every source. The Ichor serum was refined and perfected, which resulted in the virtual termination of the aging process. It was more than an immunization that gave high resistance to disease: it acted as an insulating factor to the body cell’s code of life. Closely allied to this came a process from the country of Phlegros which could program the chromosomes so that when any bodily cell was damaged, it would replace itself by a healthy one, even in the brain, muscle or nerve. Then limitless life became a complete reality with the discovery of the concoction called ambrosia. It was found to affect the Ichor serum by replacing the minute elements needed to encourage the continuing development of young fibroblast. In the same era the regenerator was invented, an electric-magnetic device employing a limited action, closed circuit teleporting principle that would act upon the cells of a wounded, broken or imperfect area of the body by disassembling the cellular connections and reconstructing them into healthy, healed or perfected tissue. This process was eventually extended until those who had met life cessation by accident could be reconstructed if used before natural decomposition began.

The boundless joy of crossing the threshold of immortality carried space adventuring to its apex at this time, and Gaea authorized the first publicly known limited colonizing parties to the nearest galaxy. Vast space cruiser powered by combined nitrogen-photon energy sailed forth toward the neighboring planetary system seeking other life forms and high adventure. It was a brief age of jubilant optimism. But there was already a differently oriented lifestyle in the making.

Computer science was certainly nothing new to our technology: computing machines had been in use even long before Ouranos’ time. There are ancient sayings that both praise and curse these mechanisms. Still the country of Titos, which had been the major contributor to the computer technology that was built into all spacecraft, brought a revolutionary proposal before the Council of Nations. They suggested the construction of an advanced computer complex system within the centralized Commons Area of the Council of Nations. This complex was envisioned by them as being the receptacle of all knowledge, data, and records of all the peoples of Kronia and equally open and accessible to all. On the whole it was a simple enough and worthy proposal. The delegates from my country land, Olympia, raised a number of questions, however, that contributed to some adverse and serious philosophical problems. This ruffled the delicate feelings of the Titos delegates and the proposal wound up in a deadlock. When Gaea was interviewed for her opinion of the issue, she was in Olympia to see me, for I had just been born. For the proposed computer complex she had some favorable comments, but then with a researcher’s caution she voiced what was probably in the minds of many people. Her remarks were one of the review crystals that I played many times when I was a boy.

To have access to such a treasure of knowledge would set us near the wisdom of universal consciousness, Gaea remarked. It could be likened to power in its purest form. The proper use of such power would necessitate a character of benevolence that would also be near that of highest consciousness. To preclude that all persons are so nobly advanced is a pleasant dream, but unrealistic. Until people learn to embrace all the qualities of honor, compassion and love, they should not be tempted by accessibility to such complete and unqualified power.

Gaea did not mean this as an out and out veto of the proposal, but it had such an effect. The Council of Nations shelved the proposal, but the Titos government set out independently to construct the most advanced computer network ever known. It was quite large at that time, involving a complex of several large buildings situated near the Commons. The center was referred to then simply as the Othrys complex, borrowing its identity from a nearby little town of that name.

I was just beginning to learn to walk when my father, Cronos, returned home from a brief mission of charting asteroid fields within our solar system. I don’t personally remember him too clearly. He was a vitally dominant man who enjoyed directing everything. For example, he had named me prior to my birth just before he departed on the asteroid-charting mission. The people of our world knew my father as Cronos, but his true name was Ilos. He had renamed himself Cronos, which is a Uranian word that loosely translated as the time of Kronia: a reference, I then presumed, that referred to his imagined role in presenting Kronia’s dominance in the universe. That was actually my cousin Metis’ interpretation, and frankly I never found much reason to dispute it with her. At any rate, he had decreed that I be named Kronide. This name could be interpreted as either the son of Cronos or as a child of Kronia. It displayed his caliber of humor and shamelessly hinted at his vanity. It was not, I might add, an easy name to live with as a child.

During my infancy space activity had become rather ordinary. Space barges moved from one Kronian moon to the other for the mining of ores and fissionable materials. Cretos, the outermost planet, was not only the main smelting region but also the last lift off base into deep space. The first approved import of primitive life forms was cleared at this time, having come from a planet designated as N-2 in the nearest neighboring planetary system. In fact, my father had managed to obtain some of these life forms and I grew up accustomed to watching them in their transparent cage that had been placed in father’s study. They were strange little squishy things that could move about only sluggishly and could exist only in their sealed environment with a high amount of methane and ammonia. They were ugly little creatures, but I remember them fondly. I believe that it was the thrill of watching these alien life forms as a toddler that set me on the first steps to research science. History and science are not, after all, that far apart.

Father left again amid mighty cheers of glory. He was the darling of the universe, and when he was at home my brothers and sisters all felt to be literally swallowed up by his presence. I was still much too young to feel insignificant by all the attention he received. But he was looked upon as the most exemplary heir of Ouranos and Gaea. He was dashing, colorful, brave and dedicated. He was the embodiment of physical action that followed the mental action that his parents symbolized. I don’t personally remember his last departure either, although I have seen his departure countless times on the many review crystals of the chronicle simulator. He left—and it would be the last our world would ever see him.

That departure, in a sense, marked the beginning of a new era. Not long after-wards another exploration party crashed on a lifeless planetoid in the same general region that contained the planet N-2. An automated rescue craft was hurled into the area but nothing was ever heard of either craft again. The peoples of Kronia were stunned. Being still so new upon the immortality scene it was a rude kick to discover that life could still be terminated.

Then came a communication from our nearest neighboring planetary system, located within the general boundaries of the constellation we know as Ourno—so named in honor of my grandfather Ouranos. Long cycles before, Ouranos had dared to send an exploration party into that region with the instructions to measure energy-plasma fields from which he believed all universal forms became manifest. The ships of that little fleet grossly miscalculated their positions resulting in their propellant systems exceeding their fail-safe limits. Their only hope of survival was to seek out a planet in the outskirts of that galaxy where they might find refuge. There was a planet there known as S-3, the third planet from their star that is known to us as Samas. Spectrographic analysis of the planet had shown that it had an atmosphere very similar to Kronia’s. Broken communications with that fleet spoke of cutting power and setting course to drift into the range of that little planet. Long after all communications had ceased, and the ships were presumed lost, signals were received from S-3 that indicated that the crews of the ships had formed a colony on the planet. They had named the planet Geonos in honor of Gaea. Their power source was so critical that only two transmissions were ever attempted, but they established a weak beacon signal that could direct any rescue ships to their location in the distant future. All hopes for eventual rescue of those brave explorers ended when a brief emergency signal was relayed followed by silence. Instruments had been trained upon this little planet after the first message had been received from there, and the automatic tracking device locked to their beacon signal had recorded a violent upheaval in that planet’s crust. It was certain that the colony there had perished long before the last signal had ever reached our sector of the universe. It was that disaster, I believe, that first set me dreaming of finding some means of instantaneous transference that later so annoyed the College of Computer Custodians.

There were soon more than quiet debates on the wisdom of extended space exploration projects. Cries grew louder and louder to pull back, and suggestions arose for computer regulations. Doubtlessly, all this took longer than I recall. The final crushing blow to space research came when my father, Cronos, vanished without a trace in a micrometeorite storm. All precautions had been taken before the storm was even upon them: it was neither unexpected nor considered particularly dangerous. All monitoring equipment had shown that the ship’s force shields were up and everything in proper operating order. Yet for some reason never discovered, Cronos and his crew vanished forever. There were theories that father’s ship had entered some field of elementary particles of anti-matter, but no one would ever know.

The shocks of these three misfortunes, coming as they did in relatively short time of each other, brought a renewal of the computer issued into the Council of Nations. Gaea, sorrowing for her son, more or less repeated her famous statement, but her popularity was, at this point, fully eclipsed by the three tragedies. Not long afterwards the computer program was approved by the Council. Since the Titan government had already set up a vast computer facility near the Commons Area it was decided to leave the complex of Othrys where it was and to annex it to the Commons Area which, like a hub, touched upon the boundaries of all five nations. This annexed area jutted like a spur into the nation of Titos and also straddled the common border that marked Phlegros from Titos. Thus Othrys came to be the City-in-Common. It was agreed by the Council of Nations that the computer system of Othrys was to be enlarged and set under the control of a College of Computer Custodians. Since the Titan named Crius was already head of the Othrys program, he was elected to continue the post. There were no objections.

Gaea’s influence remained low during this period and the shift of world directional power slid, not surprisingly, to the Titos government, centering more and more to the few scientist-custodians of the Othrys complex. The principle heads under Crius were his sons, Astraeos, Pallas, and Perses. Another Titan named Koeos, was second in command assisted by his wife, who was my Aunt Phoebe. There was, of course, a whole lower echelon staff as well.

By the time I was of age, the network of terminals from Othrys had grown to cover an immense area, and the life style on the planet came increasingly under its influence. By that time all schooling, health and welfare had come under direct computer control through its terminal facilities. Affairs gradually reached the point where all the problems of government and organization were solved by this electronic mechanism. Administration of governments disintegrated into a kind of figurehead arrangement where officials were chosen through the computer, usually on the basis of popularity rather than any genuine functional duties. The real power lay with the College of Computer Custodians. And by that time I had managed to have two confrontations with this established system. One was relatively minor, but the other was to catapult me into public attention.

C H A P T E R 2

My first confrontation with the Othrys complex I have already given brief mention, and it concerned the life directive analysis: I was being strongly urged in the direction of becoming a chronicler specialist. But as young as I was, I was just as strongly determined to go into research science with the ambition to specialize in astro-science. Because my grandmother Gaea still wielded a great deal of influence I managed to get my way. It was a choice for which I shall always feel some higher guidance. The second confrontation occurred in my late adolescence. It was considerably more touchy because it involved more than impersonal pronouncements of the computer directive. It spilled over into the personal lives of Koeos and Phoebe, seconds in command at Othrys, and it involved their lovely daughter, Leto.

Leto and I, by all cold computer reasoning, should have