Lifespanners

By M. P. Rogers

A story of greatness through severe trial and hope;
of betrayal when hope is fulfilled - the interaction
of twin planets , and the power of destiny prevailing
still in the unknowable depths of the human psyche
after fourteen hundred years from Earth.


The story deals with twin planets. First Planet is toxic. A million people are housed there, comfortably, under a technologically perfect hemispheric Dome. They are quite brilliant but their lives are short. Immortals, living on Sister World, a paradise, provide for and reward them for their creativity in art and scientific inventions, treating them as a brain farm.
After four hundred years two men escape from the Dome. They discover their origins by use of a marvelous instrument, a Vade Mecum, which belongs to Immortals and is illegal in their possession. The planet kills the men, but the Vade Mecum, by the numinous quality of its sensors, returns to the Dome with its recorded information.
The daughter of one of the men writes a history from its revelation which challenges the Immortals to a crisis of decision they would do anything to avoid.
The catalyst of all this is the Immortal Seneschal, lone mediator of the peoples. He lives alone on First Planet in a beautiful Glass City, and oversees all providence for the Dome, which is carried out by robots. His senses are omnipresent, and he is aware of all vicissitudes of the Vade Mecum, but reveals nothing to his people on Sister World. He has a purpose of his own, unsuspected by either peoples, and reveals his abilities to no one - not even the woman he loves, the great Lifespanner musician, Felice, who leaves him because he will not grant her the prime award of immortality she so well deserves; nor does he explain himself. But their love is great and has its own effect.
The result of this is irruption on both planets.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 14, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462877805

M. P. Rogers

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Book preview

Copyright © 2011 by M. P. Rogers.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2011908463

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4628-7779-9

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4628-7778-2

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4628-7780-5

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Titles in the Starship Selene I Series:

Oona ParaSelene

Lifespanners

Contents

First Planet

The Dome

The Montage Rooftop

Manta

The Trounce

Sister World

The Decree

Morning Glory

Jon

The Glass City

Opposing Facts

Sip Of Guilt

The Hearing

Marianne

The Donna Mara

Variables

The Mystica

The Philosophian

A Touch Of Myth

Immutable Love

Evening Recalled

The Addendum

Perspective

Early Start

Felice

The Dawn

Julian

The Skylark

Golden Reflections

Farewell

1

FIRST PLANET

Date: Mid-8-393

The two men had lain dead for several hours. From his private retreat in the Glass City, the Seneschal applied his omniscient vision. Aware of the men’s plight for days, he made no attempt to rescue them, his reasons having dual interest and far-reaching considerations. The bodies lay at the roadside on open ground a short distance from home—victims of a hostile planet and the human need of discovery and freedom.

They were Lifespanners of the hemispheric dome. After four hundred years, they were the first to escape from its huge confines, though its actual requirement was doubted in the millions of hearts of its populace. No way had been found to breach the air locks of the exterior dome till these two men, Auguste Scherer and Peter Bruce.

While still teenagers, they had discovered a tunnel at a trash-and-salvage site and found there a gold disc known as a Vade Mecum. Though strictly forbidden to Lifespanners, the finding was not reported to the Glass City but privately retained—a situation not lost to the Seneschal who kept trace of the missing disc by means of his extraordinary senses. He, in accord, had not reported the matter to his Immortal compatriots on the twin planet, Sister World.

What the men had done was a great and critical achievement though it cost them their lives. Yet whether they died in vain or their discoveries would become known to their people depended upon an element that neither of them would have imagined.

This element was of prime interest to the Seneschal.

Caught beneath the hunched body of Auguste Scherer was the Vade Mecum. The men had known nothing of its capabilities or the requirements for its use. In wonder and innocence, they had examined and caressed the gold surface until its sensory perimeter became stimulated by their gentle and focused inquiry.

The Seneschal watched this approach with a measure of admiration as the disc separated slightly to exude the yellow light of its recording facility. The fascinated men, murmuring to each other, were then startled to hear their own voices sounding back to them. It was a revelation. Realizing the instrument’s capacity, they set about recording the heart-stirring discovery they had made during their few days of glorious freedom. It was a high moment, and brief.

When the baneful effect of the planet struck, it did so far from home without warning. They looked at each other in dismay at the sudden reversal. A climate of sunshine and beauty, producing succulent tubers and fruit, had led them to think the land was beneficent, and the immortals lied in order to keep them confined in the dome. It was a bitter discovery in both cases.

They turned back instantly, taking with them only the recorder. But they had traveled too far and their steps began to falter. Filled with anguish, they labored against defeat until final resignation. Auguste Scherer attached his name to the gold disc containing the news of their discovery and tucked it in his breast pocket, closing the jacket tightly about him while continuing to struggle toward home.

They fell not far from each other, neither aware that the sensitive disc in Scherer’s pocket was exuding pulsating red, signaling the need for release in order to carry out its life-saving capability. The signal would continue for a long time. Then, if not released, it would stop and exude a deep violet hue indicating restraint.

Auguste Scherer and Peter Bruce died less than two kilometers from the safety of home. Yet still would they be served if the disc could escape from the clothing and weight of Scherer’s body. The Vade Mecum, though highly resistant to ignorance and curiosity, had responded to the Lifespanners because of their emotional state and gentleness, its sensory complex being reactive to the human brain by thought or tactile stimuli. Originally purposed for life-saving communication such as this, the instrument was once part of an Immortal’s equipment at all times, its homing ordinance set to the Glass City.

It was this uncertain and crucial outcome that held the Seneschal’s vigil.

He retained his vigilance for a long time. Darkness fell, and planetary sounds were quiet when the Vade Mecum broke free, and with legs extended arachnid fashion, it lay inactive briefly in order to find its bearings. Then turning in spasmodic jerks like the spider it now resembled, the little disc ran quickly from the roadway into the grass on the west side—in disregard of the Glass City. Beset by the emotions of the dying men, the Vade Mecum’s course was directed to connect them to their kind in the hemispheric dome of the Lifespanners.

The Seneschal assessed that it would reach the boundaries of the dome within a few hours. There, however, its sensors would find no corresponding receptor at an air lock. The surrounding areas were margins of common ground, patrolled and cleared only occasionally by trash-and-salvage squads, which were mere robot arms and trolleys. The Vade Mecum could lie bleeping in the margins for several days, even weeks.

Still the Seneschal made no attempt to intervene, and neither would he record the events in his log. Although results of the Vade Mecum’s disregard of its homing ordinance could bring disruption to the twin planets, his own perspective on the matter held precedence. Keeping track of the Vade Mecum would remain his prime concern.

At times, watching the Lifespanners’ fatal venture, he shared their joy on first seeing the beauty of nature, the excitement of their discoveries, and their success in using the recorder. Now that they were dead and the course of the Vade Mecum established, the Seneschal withdrew from his ubiquitous state. He descended the steps of his retreat and crossed the plaza to walk along the convex frontage of the Glass City to the medical laboratory. His presence there was unnecessary as contact with the robotic staff was possible at all times. But living in a highly advanced city alone, except for robots, he sometimes preferred the physical impulse.

Through iron gates at the end of the plaza, he entered the medical laboratory. Lights came on as a handsome stylized Manikin came forward immediately. All robots of the Glass City were purposely limited in speech, using hardly more than a few syllables. The Seneschal spoke briefly, then left with no doubt that his instructions would be followed perfectly.

Returning to the plaza front, he summoned a robot of totally different cast from the idealized manikins. Though it was very large and of obsolete design, a bond existed between it and the Seneschal, a strange understanding that required few words. Shortly the robot bowed its metal-banded head. Everything would be carried out to the letter, plus an element of something more.

The Seneschal was satisfied.

At dawn, he arose and climbed the steps of his retreat to watch the glory of the sunrise through the transparent dome of the Glass City. Almost a kilometer to the southwest, two freshly marked graves were clearly visible from the roadside where the two men fell. They shared one headstone assigned by the Seneschal, a small monument of moonglass, a substance unknown to Lifespanners. Yet was it precious, having been flown through space for hundreds of years from a small planet in the solar planetary system called Earth? Its design was that of a cathedral arch and crescent moon. Engraved thereon were the names of the two transgressors and the date of their death. Beneath the cathedral arch, two words were carved in the moonglass:

Selene Dawn.

It would not be discovered by anyone. Immortals on the twin planet, Sister World, had no interest in First Planet other than Lifespanner creativity and invention. In the past, they had feared breakthrough of the hemispheric dome. Insurgent groups were known to arise, but as no harm came of them, complacency set in. The Seneschal, monitoring all things of interest, never conveyed alarm to Sister World, and consensus there held that Lifespanners could do whatever they liked among themselves so long as they kept submitting their genius to the immortals for which submissions they were generously rewarded.

The Seneschal’s own agenda still lay in abeyance. His prescience held that another breakthrough of the dome would not occur, though repercussions would arise from the loss of the two men. Education of Lifespanners was directed to the future, the past merely regarded as dead time. Their lives were short, and they lived either to enjoy themselves or to study and strive for life extension, which the immortals bestowed upon genius that suited their requirements. Some bright mind would put his thoughts to work on the Vade Mecum and eventually make discoveries that still eluded the immortals. It might take years or not, but it was the reason the Seneschal had to keep close watch on the vicissitudes of the wonderful little instrument.

Five days elapsed before the machines garnered it from the margins and cast it to the Salvage Depot with other items retrieved from city refuse. There the sorter, unaware of it being Immortal property, observed a small label stuck on the flat of the gold and thereby placed all liability on the claimant. He delivered it personally to the domicile of Auguste Scherer, into the hands of a gray-haired woman with dark eyes full of tears. Then, leaving promptly, he gave the matter no further thought. Juanita hid the Vade Mecum, and the Seneschal withdrew his monitoring.

Sometime later, he renewed his vigilance. A routine check revealed to him the Vade Mecum being used by the daughter of Auguste Scherer. She was listening to the recordings made by her father and Peter Bruce and working at her writer.

It was then that great relief and heavy sadness came upon the Seneschal.

2

THE DOME

First Planet date: 4-3-399

To the Immortal Seneschal Governor

The Glass City

From Helene Demar

Of the Margins Montage, crown residence,

The Metropolis

I am reporting the deposition of a Vade Mecum in my possession for some time. From its usage, I have written a speculative history of Lifespanners proven, I believe, by contents of the recordings. This work I submit for the general knowledge of Lifespanners. In view of the illegal aspect involved, I appeal for clemency and understanding.

Respectfully,

HD

The writer clicked to a stop. Helene reached then refrained from pressing the Send key in a final moment of doubt in the possibility of failure and dire reaction. Manta’s position as councilman could be jeopardized, and hard rulings could be laid against all Lifespanners. It was a daunting act for someone naturally inoffensive. She needed a word with Felice.

Peering through the vine-decked window of her study, she tried to see if Felice was on her divan. When not composing, the musician slept a great deal, eventually waking and lighting her presence lamp, thus flooding the bower in its warm-hued glow. Set almost central on the Montage rooftop, her bower was a lure, a focus of flowers, wine and cuisine, and the magnetic person of Felice herself. Just now, however, all was in darkness except for the tiny lights that marked the foliage and furniture of the bower and the rampart’s corner lamp, where steps led down to the roadway air lock or to the garages of inner city.

Despite the charm of the rooftop, which was, as crown residence, considered classy, it offered neither scenic benefit nor glimpse of sky through the semi-opaque substance of the hemispheric dome. Its vantage lay in space. Three domiciles, situated at corners, imposed upon the crown only by their attic storeys with a porch door giving access to the rooftop, the design of each storey being different and picturesque. Diagonal to Helene and Manta’s domicile was that of Jon and Sylvia. Jon was an astronaut, and Sylvia, alone and seldom home, left her domicile in darkness. On the left angle was the domicile of Felice, which could not be seen from Helene’s office. She could just see the garden boundary of glass chains and pillar knobs, but not enough to challenge the darkness of the Montage roof. Daylight was one thing. At night, Felice and her bower was everything.

Her mind having wandered, Helen stood up suddenly and crossed the small office to a niche where a wall plant concealed a nailed pouch. Reaching into the greenery, she took out the pouch, and from it she carefully withdrew the Vade Mecum, the source of her history and a highly illegal possession. She held it gently, remembering her mother. Juanita Scherer had been fearful in accepting the salvaged item, regarding it as something ominous and tragic. She had kept it for months hidden in her closet till unaccountably she brought it out one day for Helene to hear the recorded voices of her father and Peter Bruce.

This granted Helene a sad and wonderful revelation. The grief she felt for the loss of her father was sensitized by his dying outside the dome. Just how he suffered and why he did such a thing was beyond her imagining. Yet hearing the wonders and joy in his voice with that of Peter Bruce, her sorrowing raised to some relief and admiration for their courage. Grief and fear prevailed in Juanita, however. She had given the Vade Mecum to her daughter and shown her how to find the recordings—no doubt an intuitive decision as Juanita did not survive the age of forty-seven.

This double bereavement gave Helene a different slant. The timidity of her mother became the temerity of wanted justice for the sacrifice made by her father, and this intention Manta was unable to subdue despite his dominance and disapproval. She recalled his anger, accusing her of threatening his career as councilman—and he could be right; she did have qualms. Yet having worked hard with the recordings and sought other forms of data in word-of-mouth beliefs, dreams, and experiences, she could not abandon her father and Peter Bruce’s history in which she fervently believed no matter how Manta contemned it. He would be angry with her for contacting the Glass City—furious in fact. Still the work was done. She could not lose courage now.

In reverence, she held the Vade Mecum to her breast. Though it was still a mystery, no curiosity remained for her. All value lay in its recordings. What she did not know about it must not be allowed to stop her. Soon Manta would be home, and his mere presence would dissipate her purpose. She had to remember it was extraordinary good fortune that placed the recordings in her hands. That same good fortune should now be trusted to fulfill her father’s courage. There was no choice really.

One touch of the Send key and the die would be cast. Yet she had mentioned the Vade Mecum. Had she not done so, there would be nothing to fear—her history would be harmless. It would also be robbed of substance and, therefore, easily dismissed by the immortals as fantasy. They would undoubtedly choose to do this, having withheld from Lifespanners the very stuff of her history. In which case, her father’s and his friend’s life would have been given in vain and made subject to Manta’s venomous ridicule. She could not allow that. She just couldn’t. The time was now.

In one quick move, she struck the Send key and the letter was gone.

For a moment, she stood pondering her decision after the fact—feeling nothing. Fear had left her, agony of doubt whisked away. It was amazing. It was done and she was relieved. Nothing could change it now. At least she could face Felice with the dignity of having made her own decision.

Languishing in the bath, enjoying the knowledge of completion and freedom, she felt cradled in peace. Confident there would be no reply for months, she need say nothing to Manta. Except for the Seneschal, all immortals were on Sister World. A few returned to First Planet toward the end of the year to deal with certain events and fiscal policies and Lifespanner candidacy awards. These were mostly in the fields of science, music, and architecture, but all creativity was acknowledged financially according to the requirement and degree of merit. While all categories were open to the highest award of immortality, no one had achieved that coveted award. It was held now as the goal myth or dream prize. Life extension was rarely achieved, only for extraordinary greatness that accompanied transfer to Sister World.

Helene was not thinking in these eminent terms even remotely. Her purpose lay in the publication of the history for schools in the Metropolis. In view of her illegal possession of the Vade Mecum, her hope was that she would not be prosecuted. In any event, Manta would be angry, but he didn’t have to know about it till near the time of the Immortal’s annual visit, which was months away. She began humming a little tune.

It was then the buzzer of her writer sounded. Instantly rigid, heart pounding, she got out of the bath with a quickly grabbed towel and ran to her writer. On the tablet were the insignia of the Glass City and the name of the sender thereof—in this case plural:

First Planet date: 4-3-399

The Glass City Selector Computers

To Lifespanner Helene Demar

Your application is accepted without preliminary. Submit manuscript of history immediately. Await further notice, approximately three days.

GC Governance

Gone was her equilibrium. She looked again through the leaf-decked window and saw that Felice’s lamp was now lit. By its warm radiance, she could also see the fair head of Jon’s wife, Sylvia, who was seated at the convivial table. Then also into view came Manta from the rooftop steps. He always used the crown entrance to stop at the bower, make obeisance to Felice with his Flower of the Montage greeting, and if Sylvia were present, cast a disparaging remark in her direction. On entering the domicile, he would call Helene and, without greeting, cast a diatribe of aspersions at some idiot member of the club. Helene was expected to be in full accord and to offer no response other than her listening attention. How well she knew his mental mechanism. But he was her husband. She loved him despite the fact that he brought out the timid side of her nature, so like her mother. She fought against it but lacked resolution. Now she had invoked the attention of the Glass City, realizing too late that she lacked courage. How would she measure up to a meeting with the Seneschal? The idea appalled her.

She stood dripping under her towel, unable to think any further.

But in the Glass City, the Seneschal was thinking deeply in her behalf.

Having dutifully recorded his log, a mere text of nothingness beautifully worded, he wandered through the vale of night flowers considering the moves he had already taken in regard to the history submitted by the Lifespannner Helene Demar. Speculative she stated it to be, and close to the truth it was. Sister World was about to be traumatized and every move undertaken now must be fool proof. Now he would make his move.

The Seneschal had never revealed his psychical gifts; it would contravene his way to do so. His compatriots on Sister World found him disparate and alienating, a fact that suited his purpose. So he had not reported what he knew, nor had he saved the lives of the two men, not for lack of compassion, but by reason of a complex design he could reveal to no one. Nothing would deter him from the course he had undertaken. Now it was to have consequence that the two transgressors could not have guessed. The Seneschal was well aware of the havoc he was about to cause. Prior to this, he had sent a coded message to the officer in charge of flight schedules on Sister World, an authority of command necessary to his position, which he had never before availed himself. He could be sure of immediate response.

Choosing the recipient of his hard news with precision, he sent a telepathic message to Supreme Judge the Donna Mara, which was brief, even terse:

Donna Mara. Emergency. Julian.

The judge would be immersed in preparations for an important conference and, therefore, incensed by an unexplained imperative. That did not concern the Seneschal. Total command of his intention did, and of this he was assured due to the responsibility of his state.

The message sent, he waited to feel the mood of the recipient. Then, fully aware of what he had done, he dismissed all thought of Sister World and looked about him from the vantage of his retreat.

Situated above stone steps, in a chair ergonomically proportioned for him, he commanded a view of constant satisfaction. Compact structures to his right were the heart of the Glass City complex. Domes and spires reposed like a tiara on multileveled terrain of glass and marble, reflecting changing hues of the night. Robots were quiet residents, and no bleeps or bells sounded from the computers to announce arrivals or messages from the Way Stations or Sister World. Beyond cascading gardens stretched the farmlands and orchards. To the northwest, just a few kilometers away, loomed the hemispheric dome of the Lifespanner Metropolis—semiopaque in order to dissuade skyward interest and balk a lust for freedom. The dome of the Glass City, being transparent, allowed complete panoramic beauty for his appreciative gaze. It was not fair of course. Fairness had no place in the matter. There were only decisions, necessity, and the status quo.

Time meant little, and he gave his mind to something more personal. Casting his gaze to the south of the dome, which almost bordered the margins, he marked a certain area of mottled space unlike the central blurb of lights. There on the crown of the Margins Montage lived Felice. She was visible to him by the will and power of meditation, though he would not have her know this. Seeing her as she lay on her divan in the rich glow of the presence lamp, she was sleeping, her face strewn by a stray wave of her dark hair. Once, that beloved form had lain beside him during a period of great happiness till her final trial nine years ago as candidate for immortality. It was the unavoidable end to their union—a severance unbearable to him, and also to her. This he knew and even understood the necessity of her pride that stubbornly refused his passionate appeal for her to come back to him. He understood and suffered nonetheless. It was nine years since she stood in the Great Hall of Justice for the last time, being lavished with praise and gratitude for her incomparable work.

The Seneschal had known he was about to lose her and unable to prevent it because of the law unto himself. The judge was offering Felice anything she desired, with residence on Sister World, while denying the great musician the award of immortality.

So in scathing grace, spurning all their consolations, Felice stepped down from the stand of honor