The Change

By Darq Stainz

The Change is an engrossing adventure saga whose central character, Orchid, has the unenviable task to somehow assure that a small diverse segment of the human race survives an upcoming catastrophe, thus assuring the continuation of the Homo sapiens line.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 10, 2020
• ISBN: 9781645448648

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The Change

Darq Stainz

Copyright © 2019 Darq Stainz

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2019

ISBN 978-1-64544-863-1 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-64544-864-8 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

MEETINGS AND GREETINGS

LESSONS IN UTOPIA

THE NORTH AMERI–DOMED CITY

PRESIDENTIAL REVELATIONS

CROACHES

A CITY DESTROYED

THE SIZAN UNDERGROUND

ATTACK AFTERMATH

THE LAVARIANS

A FIGHT BETWEEN SISTERS

THE VAULT

THE JUST LAWS

ATHLETICS

THE NAZI CONNECTION

A TRAITOR REVEALED

A MEETING OF MINDS

REVELATIONS

THE ESCAPE

THE JIG’S UP

THE SCREEN GODDESS

SAN FRANCISCO

VAMPIRES

CONVERGENCE

Isn’t it time we move on to another, better state of being? Centuries old arguments and ways of acting must be put to rest; for they have no place here. The past…is simply whispers of smoke.

—King Hammurabi

Until all philosophers are kings, or the kings and princes of this world have the spirit and power of philosophy, and political greatness and wisdom meet in one, and those commoner natures who pursue either to the exclusion of the other are compelled to stand aside, cities(states)will never have rest from the evils-no, nor the human race.

—Plato’s Republic, quote of Socrates

Can’t we all get along…can’t we all just get along?

—Rodney King

Heaven on Earth can be had. Let us not forget, there is but one human race on this planet.

—Alitus Arjeus

PROLOGUE

On a world thousands of light-years from Earth, ten years of intense preparation had come to an end. Opposition forces, believing that the money and effort spent on the proposed undertaking would have been better served by bestowing those things on the citizenry, had been heard and silenced, and nearly the entire planet logged in and eagerly waited for the Tolivi Project to commence.

Docked in a spaceport high above Lavar, seven experienced astronauts and one neophyte bade their time inside a seasoned spacecraft that had been refitted for the coming venture. The endeavor was not to be the typical scientific or pillage operation that had so often marked most other long-distance treks. Indeed, acquisition through cosmic exploration had made the planet the richest member of the Clover Galaxy Collective, and technical means had been exploited to the maximum. The Tolivi Project, however, was to be a journey of recovery.

Ten thousand years ago, during their early days of universal investigations, Lavar sent countless flying machines into the blackness of space. The prime concern of those first explorers largely had to do with acquiring materials; new learnings and pure discovery were distant second considerations. Still, every effort was made to be inconspicuous, to remain unseen by whoever or whatever inhabited whatever planet they happened to be on. Somewhere along the line, a few higher-ups hit upon the idea of enhancing, of mentally elevating many of the beings encountered on some of those faraway worlds. With the discovery of other humanoids like themselves, this tampering went into high gear and became an imperative order: any humans found on any planets were to be biologically, chemically, or surgically altered to become collectively dominant over other beings of those worlds. The hope was that those lesser humans would become civilized then allies. Countless planets became living, ongoing Lavarian human experiments.

At first, there were scheduled, systematic checkups on the many unsuspecting recipients of the Lavarians’ expertise. Charts were drawn, predictions made, and the reality of actually helping less advanced people to progress brought unique feelings of achievement and satisfaction. However, once the torch was passed to a newer generation of scientists and researchers, other priorities became the focus, and the experiments concerning the mental elevations of other humanoids became secondary and slipped into obscurity. And all of that would have remained so if not for the curiosity and efforts of a young archaeologist doing research at the Placidian Archives.

Placidia was the nearer of the four moons that orbited Lavar. It was also the place where old, out-of-date records were stored. The archaeologist had gone there with hopes of learning about earlier histories of his world but instead uncovered records of the long forgotten experiments. He was intrigued by what he found and worked in obscurity for years with no particular outcome in mind. At some point, however, his work became public knowledge, and from that sprung the interest to explore that discovery. Mals Tolivi was that archaeologist.

Captain Voy.

Yes, Tim…uh, Officer Orion. The Captain had been caught off guard. Most of the crew had served with him aboard the Novella for over twelve years and seldom addressed him as Captain Voy. It was usually simply Falondo. Being on worldwide hookup made things a little different.

Sir, all systems are online, Orion informed him. Her complete name was Timba Orion, and she was the Science Officer and his First Officer.

Thank you, Officer Orion, the Captain said. Rotamay! Oops, he thought. That officer thing was proving difficult to remember, and he made yet another mental note to do so.

Course has been implanted. We will be utilizing the Malogga Trench in the first segment of travel. We retrench at juncture point. Isa Rotamay was the navigator and the youngest crew member.

‘Juncture point’? the Captain perplexedly said.

Sir, we leave the Malogga Trench and enter the Ageena Trench there.

Thank you, Officer Rotamay, the Captain said and grinned. Engineer Stibo.

Yes, Captain Voy, she answered and somehow suppressed what could have been a healthy laugh.

How’s propulsion?

Engines are at 99.99 percent efficiency, Sir. We can depart whenever you choose to do so. Okra Stibo had known the Captain the longest, since childhood. They were each other’s first love and had remained so. The rest of the crew were aware of that fact and wholeheartedly approved.

Weapons are charged. We are ready, Captain, Sir! came a fervent, unsolicited report from Taos Epsom. He was the tactical weapons officer.

Thank you, Officer Epsom, the Captain said and smiled approvingly. Your enthusiasm is noted and appreciated.

The young gunner was also the unofficial morale officer, Officer Good Feel when they were away from the prying eyes and ears of superiors.

Com.

Sir, communications are open, and distortions are minimal. The Communications Officer was a direct, nothing-but-the-facts type person. She surprised them by flashing a smile.

Great Cirus has risen! Taos Epsom cracked.

Cirus was Lavar’s largest moon.

Thank you, Officer Supox Odina, the Captain said. Now, that leaves one other.

There were a few snickers from the crew as they glanced among themselves. A seemingly perfect, proportioned man entered the control deck as if on cue.

Ah, Mr. Pense, the Captain good-naturedly said. Let me guess. Our esteemed Medical Officer was in another part of the ship, no doubt doing some secret, very important research.

Actually, I was involved in ‘some secret, very important research.’

Mensa Pense was a synthetic life-form, a computer adjunct in human form, and walked very fast. A mop-topped man was a few steps behind.

I present to all of you the eminent archaeologist Dr. Mals Tolivi, Mensa Pense rendered with flair.

"On behalf of my crew and me, welcome aboard the Novella."

Thank you, Captain Voy. And I extend that to the rest of you, Mals Tolivi responded.

There was a chorus of You’re welcome.

Your thanks is well taken, the Captain said. Now, please take your seat because we’re about to begin our historic journey. Officer Rotamay. He was pleased that he didn’t flub that officer thing.

Yes, Captain, the Navigator said.

Let, uh…, the Captain said but stopped talking. He’d wanted to say something grand but drew a blank.

Captain, Isa Rotamay said with a question in his tone.

Take us forward. He felt so lame.

Ever so slowly, the navigator carefully maneuvered the Novella from the docking slip and away from spaceport. The ship reached light speed within minutes and was gone. The Malogga Trench was hours away.

In earlier times, for extended space travel, crews would be put into special compartments, replete with atmospheres that made them inert and not age. This was great for them but caused cultural shock and a myriad of other problems when, depending upon how far they had traveled, they returned home and found that the population had aged considerably, sometimes hundreds of years. Loved ones, friends, and in some instances, entire families died before the explorers returned.

Lavarian technical expertise eventually discovered the secrets of the side folds of the space-time continuum. Those oblique, powerful energy transferal points were commonly called trenches. This discovery made it possible to travel great distances in amazingly short times and with little passage of normal time. Depending upon the desired destination, a spacecraft could enter a trench, travel a portion of it or its entire length, then return to regular time and space. And while in a trench, crews could carry on in a normal manner.

Several hours after leaving Lavar, the Novella and crew reached and then entered the Malogga Trench. Mals Tolivi prepped the others on how to research the long buried legacy of their progenitors. They were all very excited about the numerous planets that they were slated to examine. Expectations were high, and they could barely wait for the first contact, for the chance to retrace the footprints of those daring long ago Lavarians who sought to mentally elevate those faraway humans upon those long forgotten worlds.

On Earth, civilization zoomed along at a seemingly planned destruction rate: tear down to build up, tear down to build up. New ideas, new things were being rolled out at an alarming rate. Under the self-serving guise of progress, humans long ago cemented the idea that they alone were of ultimate importance, infinitely more so than the other animals on the planet. Many of them managed to survive the unrelenting human onslaughts by leaving the surface and going underground. Still, due to human undertakings, a large number of them were grotesquely, creatively mutated.

In a dim past, there had been innumerable jobs that only humans could do. But with the improvements of cloned creations without volition and with advanced robotic servitude mechanisms, people were relieved of countless jobs and occupations. A significant number of them still worked, but for many, life was a computer package: self-designed compartmental prisons.

Talk concerning colonies in space was a great diversion, exciting many in the population. But few of them would willingly live life in the void. A self-defeating madness had long been a condition of humanity, and the malady had long been completed. So few in the Domed Empire thought outside what they were supposed to think. One bright spot was that largescale wars had ceased to be waged on the surface of the globe. The consolidation of countries and governments into a world nation translated into people being subtly, forcibly transformed into uniform, controlled groupings. However, some vicious wars were played out beneath the surfaces of calm control.

Medical authorities—who along with the leaders of religion and law formed the triumvirate which seemingly have held the reins over the fate of people since the first human gatherings—attempted many solutions in trying to solve an embarrassing and troublesome problem, a problem dubbed File 8888-9—or as it was phrased by some of those involved, What to do with Meltissa?

At the outset, when a civic, spirited citizen dutifully turned her in for the privilege merits awarded those exposing nonalikes, the examiners and programmers handled Meltissa as they did in all cases dealing with those charged with being socially unadjusted. (The brainwash just wasn’t good enough! an aide once joked.) But as time went by and more and more turn-ins were rung up, she became an enigma to medicos and scientists throughout the Domed Empire, many of whom held her in high esteem in their rarified minds.

When placed in the isolation and observation wards, equipped with computer controlled indoctrination programs, Meltissa complied with all requests. But while her body sat composed in a rigid, trancelike state, The real her vacates, a chief examiner complained to a colleague.

In time, the feeling of new discovery felt by most of those involved with Meltissa slowly, inexplicably metamorphosed into a kind of abhorrance. Maybe this was due to the cultivated resistance to and rejection of that which is uncommonly, uncomfortably different, or because she demonstrated abilities beyond the collective human knowledge of the world. The reasons for the change in their feelings about her could be debated endlessly, but one thing was clear: their fear of her became greater than their intrigue, and it was obvious something had to be done.

A novel solution was reached when Meltissa expressed a desire to live in the only heavily forested area remaining on what had been called the North American continent. It was a small portion of a conservation sector at the northern end of what was the North Cascades Mountain Range. Its preservation was assured when a high-energy, force field inspired protective bubble was positioned over a fifty square mile area. It was christened the Cascades Dome.

Meltissa’s part of the agreement was to never make any public revelations about her treatment by authorities and to never return to civilization. Enforcement of that agreement was practically guaranteed by the miles and miles of hostile terrain between where they were and the small northern ecodome. It was territory that no rational, I-want-a-future person would ever attempt crossing.

Construction of the Cascades Dome was also hailed as a novel solution. However, the reason for creating it was not as advertised: to leave a forested wonderland for the people of the region and to prosperity. The real issue was what to do with the poor, underprivileged of the area—environmentalists who loved the land and resisted the full thrust of civilization—although their numbers dwindled daily due to deception and deprivation. The decision was reached to give them what they wanted as a humanitarian gesture on a grand scale. Secretly, though, the decision makers planned the great undertaking as a mass euthanasian affair, a severing of an unwanted past. Most of those permitted to go and live in the dome were older, frailer than the general population. And since no children or few young adults were allowed to accompany them, there was little chance of offspring. Once relocated, they were never again contacted or heard from. Most of them perished in a very short time. (That is how Alitus tells it, and he’s a very reliable source.)

Eight months after her banishment to the Cascades Dome, Meltissa lay on her back amid colorful flowers and curious animals. A monarch flittered about then ever so gently landed upon a brown dome-like target: an overripe belly about to give birth. The movements and heavings of inner life caused the butterfly to take flight, but it quickly came to rest in the palm of an outstretched hand. Bowing and prancing, it seemed to offer homage.

And I appreciate you too, my winged friend, as well as all that is in this wonderful place. Now, you must go. I have to do this alone. The beautiful flyer was launched by the raise of an arm.

The person equally responsible for the pregnancy had no idea that his brutal actions would so culminate. As a learned but morally weak scientist, he had paid little real attention to what he was doing. Inebriated by illegal, self-made alcohol, he had not thought of it as rape because Meltissa did not put up a fight. But there was no chance of discovery or recrimination, experimental subjects were routinely turned over to him for study. And at first, he treated her as he did all other patients. However, working closely with her meant that he got to know her, and he liked what he found.

He was secretly infatuated, but she demonstrated no such feeling for him. The man became desperate, angry, and when she continued to upset his probability charts, he fed and nurtured a simmering dislike of the misfit that was later used as force for his carnal acts. With his passion, an alcoholic high, deservedness, and righteous indignation, the man was armed to point oblivion.

Still, both seemed to have been in the grips of an outside force, and there was nothing in his memory about when, why, or how he had driven home his point.

The pains began and mushroomed into a mounting, unavoidable madness. Meltissa once again plunged herself into another place, another medium. Putting all in a power that she intimately knew, the advent of childbirth became the most painful, scariest, and yet somehow most pleasurable experience of her life. With no hint of self-aggrandizement, she knew with every fiber in her body that the great pains and joys were heralds of something very special.

It’s a…She’s, er, a girl! Meltissa said. She laughed softly in a mood of absentminded surprise because she had thought it was going to be a boy.

Orchid, so named to honor the plant that was the first thing to catch Meltissa’s gaze after the birth, was not unusual as far as newborns went. Marked by a ready smile and a fondness for laughter, she was an avid, quick learner. Her mother taught her things early on that would make and keep her body lean and hard and her mind clear and unbiased.

As the years flashed by, Meltissa slowly began to comprehend the true nature of her surprising offspring. And by the time Orchid reached her teen years, she also knew that she was not her child alone. She felt that Orchid belonged to the world and was akin to all living things, not just humanity. With that realization came another, equally mysterious in origin yet one that she was certain was true: Orchid had to be absolutely convinced that walking was the key to her becoming one with the environment and that doing so would facilitate her growth. And as she was in all her teachings, Meltissa was relentless in making sure her daughter thoroughly understood and practiced that premise.

Time, that measure of things relative, flowed onward. Descriptions and situations changed as life went about the task of ever renewing itself. The people-world situation continued to deteriorate, and there seemed little chance of a reversal. Three decades passed since the unrecorded birth. Meltissa reached ninety before being reabsorbed into the cosmic fiber and was hardly a memory to anybody save one: the child, the daughter, the one destined to usher in a change of ways.

Chapter One

MEETINGS AND GREETINGS

Ted, a tall bald-headed man shouted. He shaved his head, and the stubble could be seen. Sweat dripped from his brown-skinned face, and his arms trembled from exertion.

Yeah, Walker. What is it? another man responded. He was white, shorter, and spoke softly.

Comere an’ help me, Walker barked.

Ted compliantly stepped into place to help dislodge the shiny long pole. Made from a material discovered in anticipation of World War III, it appeared as new as it did when broken from its mold.

Dees ar purfick, Walker. Hope dairs mo.

Dairs friggin’ thousuns of dem. It shouldn’t take too many of um to bill da frame fuh da dang thang. Bettah to be papared din not be, Walker gushed with conviction born out of a life of certain uncertainty.

I bleave dat, Ted agreed.

’Sides, Walker said, dair ar certan advantagees to a undaground house, ’speshly da way dat we gonna do it.

They continued removing more of the poles from metal and wood entanglements.

Dat’s great, Walker…, Ted said but appeared to want to say more.

What is it? Walker slowly asked.

Well, it’s jus’ da weeze takin’ a big chance, bein’ so fuh fom da dome. And, er, well, it is dark. And it against da law, ya know, Ted said nervously.

The reality of where they were registered with both men, and they became very still.

And don’t fergit, Ted resumed through slightly clattering teeth, ’bout da mutated munstas dat View-O-Form sez ar on da outside. We could be malled or ate by sumthin’ dat people sez ain’t even alive. Sum kinda zumbee, I guess. He snickered at the deadly scenario.

We both knowed dat foe we decided ta do dis, so cut it out! Walker admonished.

The men continued pulling the ten to twelve-foot special poles from the entangled debris, but twisted metal and such, as well as other reminders of the force of thermonuclear bombs, made removal difficult and time consuming. The moon loomed bright, and as they quickened their pace, their shadows moved eerily across the devastated landscape. At given moments, each man paused to scan the area with eyes and ears.

To be discovered by a robotic patrol or be detected by government spying devices would bring nonlethal disciplinary action. The real horror would be to encounter the fierce, many times mutated creatures that roamed there in search of food. To cross their paths would mean certain agonizing death.

What are you doing? someone asked.

The men froze in their efforts: some element of the voice momentarily stopped their thoughts. They didn’t respond.

Can you hear me? the same person asked.

Both men appeared to simultaneously regain normal control and together turned in the direction of the captivating voice.

You, er, you. Ar you a…, Walker stammered, unable to complete his query. He was afraid.

Mutated munsta? Ted finished Walker’s question amid escalating fear. The voice had come from a dark area, too dark for them to see into. Anxiety tore through them as they waited for an answer.

I am neither mutated nor a monster, although many will probably portray me as one or the other, or both, or some other abomination, the mysterious stranger said.

You talk diffront, Walker appraised. You fom anutder dome? he asked in a voice on instatrac. He felt stupefied, not quite himself, and his words were like handrails that kept him from falling flat on his face.

My speech, if it is different, is because of my origin. I am from a dome but not a city. The speaker stepped from the dark place and became visible. The person facing Ted and Walker exuded something that made them feel relevant, reverent, and trusting.

You ar a girl! Ted gushed.

Yes, I am a girl. And my name is Orchid.

What ar you doing heer? Ted asked. Both men started to feel at ease.

The human history, Orchid began, not knowing exactly what was being asked nor exactly what she was going to say, is one of diversity—that is, many large and small groups have formed throughout our history. However, since the creation of the written word, diversity of groups has diminished. Many times in the past, as it is now, people have uncovered technology and have come to believe that human advancement is measured by inventiveness. And as it has been before, technology, which should be a true boon for living things, suffers from a lack of proper understanding and common sense usage.

Befuddled, Ted and Walker shot what-you-talking-about looks to Orchid. What she said was far from what either of them expected or would have predicted.

As has been practiced in our time, Orchid continued after seeing that the men weren’t going to say anything, the mostly electrical and mechanical applications known collectively as ‘technology’ eliminates smaller groups, thus a wider range of interpretations of the nature of the world, and encourages conformity to its rigid doctrines and renderings. Technology dazzles people to the point that all involved gladly do its bidding. And so reality becomes a drawn-out, inaccurately planned, self-serving, predictable affair that is poisonous to us and everything else that lives. She thought to stop talking but felt compelled to go on.

In this situation, when a certain stage is reached, there is no real chance of resisting the allure of technical living. And without a well thought out strategy and the means to implement those plans, the darker side of discovery begins to show itself. Energy shifts occur, and disconnected points are matched up. When certain other points are reached and aligned, forces not yet understood by we humans are pushed into action. I believe those ‘forces’ are of an antithetical nature and that when these times come about, human beings face extinction. Human survival means my survival, so I cannot fail in the unknown task that lies ahead.

Orchid slumped forward onto the ground in a fashion indicating a great expenditure of energy. She was surprised by it all: speaking as she had and the words that she used. Ted and Walker appeared dumbfounded but said nothing when she stood to face them.

I won’t make sense as you know it, but all is in accord. I learn as I speak of unknown things, Orchid offered as an explanation. But before Ted or Walker could regain their composure, she was gone.

Three hundred miles away, in the North Ameri–Domed City, an important meeting was in full swing.

At that time, approximately thirty years ago, the activity inside the Cascades Dome was chaotic, and that is putting it lightly. The computer complex there went awry due to unknown factors. The data extracted from those machines was not corrupted, nor had the machines malfunctioned, a very tall, lanky man rendered. He paused, ran the fingers of his right hand through the deep-red hair that cascaded unconformingly to his shoulders, then stepped to a learning board. He moved a palm across its sensors, and images of all kind appeared on its screen.

As you can see, the beliefs in and the legends of supposed saviors are strewn throughout recorded history. These ideas have found their way into the lexicons of nearly every culture on the planet. To quote Milquad, ‘It would appear that when man’s creations go against the rules of nature, some outside force or order comes into play. And since most human attempts at civilization devolve to be no more than operations that enslave and control people, it is not unreasonable to deduce that a savior would finally arrive to ween people away from enslavers.’ This is not to say that I believe that. I injected the words of the noted psychiatrist for perspective and to open our minds a wee bit.

The listeners exhibited little emotion but did appear quite attentive.

Well, let’s see, the man continued. Compounding the issue is that while other proposed saviors have been male, the legends of this one adds a mythological twist by reputedly being female. Still, all other particulars are in keeping with traditional savior attributes.

Zeltarr was his name, but few knew much about his private life. He was of mixed parentage—an Earth father and an alien transplant, exceedingly intelligent, and a valued member of the Domed Empire government. His few distractors proclaimed him a mutant, but to those in power and to most of the people they represented, he symbolized the best.

The seven men seated in a semicircle facing Zeltarr listened intently as he outlined what could be a threat to their collective power. Rumor was they were products of the outlawed genetic experiments of the mid twenty-second century. They ruled because of their superior intellect and longevity. The Council they formed was forged by strict obedience and a single-minded effort to serve by dominating (For the betterment of mankind).

News of the prophesied eminent happening of the ages had, over time, circulated through the masses, but because the Council had given no outward attention to it, most people thought it fanciful entertainment at best. But the leaders were very concerned. After all, at an earlier time in human history, their existence would have been termed science fiction. On the contrary, earnest concern had prompted the assemblage, and all were sworn to secrecy.

Zeltarr.

Yes, Mr. President.

What exactly is our position, and what course of action should we take?

Our position is that of the hunted: if this person does exist, she will be compelled to find us. A savior needs people! As to what we should do, well, again, if she does exist, we must wait but keep our agents on the alert. If we do locate her or vice versa, we will be able to put forth questions about the nature of her existence. In other words, we could ask her what her being here means to her, Zeltarr explained.

The President nodded.

It seems logical.

Who is this woman? the second in rank asked. All could have a say; however, in initial questioning, no one could speak out of order. The speaker was the leader of the North Ameri–Domed City, the number one metropolis in the Domed Empire.

I don’t have a name for you, but anecdotal evidence suggest that this supposed savior is from inside or nearby the Cascades Dome, Zeltarr answered.

Why have I never heard of this dome? the President asked. And where is it located?

Up until several hours ago, I too had never heard of the Cascades Dome. And the reason for that was because I didn’t have a need to know. I suspect that is also the reason you’ve never heard of it, Zeltarr replied. It is a marvel in its own right.

But where is it? the second in rank asked.

The Cascades Dome is a relatively small environment protecting energy construct hundreds of miles north of here, Zeltarr answered. Our sources claim this savior was born to one Meltissa Montana, a most puzzling, enigmatic woman for our medical authorities some years ago. A few of those same reliable sources believe Montana was the last in a line of mystics or such and that she was banned to that place as a last alternative.

However, Zeltarr continued after a polite pause for questions, recently discovered written records appear to indicate that the choice to live in the Cascades Dome was hers. Some of the data clearly showed that some sort of scandal took place and that granting Montana permission to live in the place was actually a cover-up, a face saving action taken by some of those involved.

The Council members digested the information that Zeltarr had given them. All seven possessed paranormal abilities, and six could relate as a single mind. The President—seated in the middle—was like a central control unit and could tune in on all the thoughts of the other six but retained a screen against any snooping by them. His numeric designation—his name—was 000. The other six men governed the six domed cities that comprised the Domed Empire. To the right of the President, in ranking order, were Zero Zero One, Zero Zero Two, and Zero Zero Three. To his left, and also in ranking order, were Zero Zero Four, Zero Zero Five, and Zero Zero Six. Whereas the President was six feet tall, had a full head of hair, and looked about thirty, the others were quite different. They appeared forty to fifty years old and looked identical: short in stature but anatomically good, bland, unemotional faces, very pale skin, and no hair on heads or faces. The North Ameri–Domed City was ruled by Zero Zero One, Zero Zero Two headed the South Ameri–Domed City, Zero Zero Three oversaw the Euro–Domed City, Zero Zero Four presided over the Asi–Domed City, Zero Zero Five commanded the Sovi–Domed City, and Zero Zero Six held the reins to the Afri–Domed City.

Get whomever or whatever is needed, and get to the bottom of this, the President said, breaking a long silence. This goes for everyone here. And, Zeltarr, please keep me informed.

I will, Sir.

The rest of you are to return to your commands and employ all means to uncover more about what, at present, is more akin to myth than fact. This concludes this meeting, the President said. He stood and then led the other Council members from the briefing room.

The jaws of the trap are leery of the mouse, Zeltarr mused. He’d witnessed the concerns of the Council members but found it difficult to take them seriously. He felt that no single individual could usurp or even affect the powers that had come to rule the world. Still, he wistfully thought, maybe, just maybe, the rumor would stir people enough to make them want to throw off the yoke of oppression that had saddled them for over thirty decades.

When the student is ready, Zeltarr muttered as he strolled to a relocator cubicle, the teacher will appear. The words were from some ancient literature he discovered while doing research on antiquity.

Will appear, he repeated and chuckled some. He stepped inside the relocator cubicle, punched in his home coordinates, and was whisked away.

Chapter Two

LESSONS IN UTOPIA

Since her departure from the Cascades Dome, Orchid sensed that there was a particular destination to be reached, a place that she must venture to and there deposit a certain something of which she was not sure. The answers lay ahead, in the veiled future that was destined to drape itself around her. Meltissa’s teachings would become clearer and act as catalysts to catapult her forward. But until that time came, she did as her mother had strongly advised: she walked and walked and walked.

Following the encounter with Ted and Walker, Orchid went days then weeks without further human contact. Away from the covered places, out in the open, the lives of animals were dismal. She saw thousands of them, and most were in severely weakened, debilitated states. Many were dying slow, agonizing deaths from lack of suitable food and water. The mutated ones, of which there were staggering numbers, were more energetic than the normal ones but totally unpredictable and dangerous. She had once sought to get a better understanding of birds by observing a flock of eight or nine crows that had been altered by radiation. They were feeding on a carcass. One of them spied her and attacked. In seconds, the others joined in and attempted to peck the life from her with beaks that rivaled those of toucans. If not for some unknown inner resources, she definitely would have been a meal for the colossal birds. An oscillating heat emanating from her body literally cooked them between their attempted pecks! She ran away confused but thankful for the unexpected power display that had probably saved her life. The place and the experience became distant memories as she continued moving. A few days later and she was in a changing terrain.

Someone’s coming, a muscular female sentry whispered to an equally endowed woman by her side. A very large bush had provided cover as they watched and waited.

Halt! the woman who had spoken ordered. Facing the direction of the speaker, Orchid found herself looking at two tall women who were armed with wooden stone-tipped spears and very thin metal swords that hung from waist holsters. Meltissa had forewarned her about giants, but she had not imagined that there were people so much bigger than her.

Are you system? the woman repeated. She thrust a hand to Orchid’s chest, forcing her to take a few backward steps.

I don’t understand ‘system,’ Orchid said. Nor do I want confrontation, she added as a response to the powerful shove.

The woman appeared ready to shove her again but stopped when another woman walked up.

What goes on here? the other woman boomed.

The two sentries came to immediate attention.

We have captured an outsider, one of the women crisply replied to a woman who looked awesome. Power and strength, however, went beyond the fitting muscles that sculptured her body: she exuded a vitality unopened to challenge.

Who and what are you? the woman in charge asked in a tone softened to a request.

My name is Orchid, and I am a human being.

Yes, I can see that you are human, but there are other questions that I have for you, the woman said. For example, are you a spy sent by one of the evil ones of the dome? Do you seek to destroy us?

Orchid didn’t immediately reply.

Don’t you hear me?

Yes, I do hear you. I am sorry and apologize. I was involved in reverie, Orchid said. To answer your question, I am not a spy, nor do I want to destroy you or anyone else. I am enemy to no one, and yet many will find cause to treat me as such.

The woman peered hard at Orchid, unsure about what to do next. She had been struck by a sense of timelessness; for a fleeting moment, time seemed to have stood still. She shook her head to dispel the sensation.

We will go to my village and there sort out the truth. If what you have said is true, then we will no longer hinder you, and you can be on your way. But if time proves you a spy or something worse, you will have to pay a price, the woman said then turned and walked toward a trail. Sandwiched by the two sentries, Orchid was forced to follow behind their superior. She was afraid and thought about trying to escape but then reasoned that her main task was to learn. The trail was very steep for a few hundred yards then slanted down into a valley. From there, it rose sharply to a plateau before again descending into another valley that was highlighted by flowers, small animals and insects and the sights, sounds, and smells of life in full bloom.

Orchid was surprised, ecstatic. After miles upon miles of desolation and the unexpected, the village felt right; it reminded her of home. She visualized the Cascades Dome, and a warm feeling spread over her.

The four stopped in the center of the circularly arranged huts, and the villagers rushed up and surrounded them. Tall people edged closer, peering down at Orchid; even some of the children matched or surpassed her height.

This is Utopia, our home. These are my people, and we are sixty-nine strong. I am Angora, their representative. It is they who will decide your fate. But before all that, we are bound by our code of conduct to treat you to our best. You are free to mingle but not to leave. Any attempt to leave before your fate is decided will result in forced imprisonment.

I understand and will do as you have laid out, Orchid said. Why is this place called Utopia?

That I do not know, Angora answered. It is an ancestral word.

Does ‘forced imprisonment’ mean that you will have me tied up if I try to leave without your consent?

Uh, yes. Exactly, Angora awkwardly answered.

I like this place and will abide by all your rules, Orchid promised.

Angora walked to her hut, but before folding back the heavy quilted material that served as an entryway, she stopped then turned back toward Orchid.

It is our time of celebration, Angora revealed. All ready themselves for the games that commemorate our humble beginnings. Competition is usually between the athletes of our village, but an outsider can compete if the people say so. All of us must agree. Few strangers have observed our games, and few of those have been allowed to compete. Of those who have witnessed the competition, only a small number have expressed a desire to participate. Those who asked and were given consent to compete did poorly and merit no mention. You are much too small to even consider going against my fierce athletes.

Perhaps, Orchid said.

The Utopian leader felt smug; the small woman was out of her league.

We will talk at another time, Angora said then went inside her home.

All around Orchid, preparations were being made for the coming celebratory games. Running events, events involving the accuracy of weapons, climbing competitions, and other exercises that tested strength and ingenuity were being practiced. But the elements of the competitions were much more than measures of athletic prowess. They were techniques of survival—practices that taught how to catch game, how to master methods of escape, and how to survive under any conditions.

Most villagers were absorbed in whatever they happened to be doing and took little notice of Orchid. Only the eyes of interior sentries kept account of her as she moved about the grounds, following her every step. And when she spied a large, four-foot high sandstone carving and neared it for further inspection, a sentry deftly slid smoothly in her path, preventing closer scrutiny.

Can you tell me what that is? Orchid asked the nonsmiling, stone-faced sentry. She was awed, fascinated. She had never seen a chinese person. The guard said nothing but did motion with her chin to another woman who was instructing a young girl how best to use a game piece. It was a round object with a flat top that measured approximately six inches across, looked six to seven inches long, and came to a sharp point opposite the flat top.

Can you tell me the nature of that object? Orchid asked the teacher. Her finger pointed to the brown and white carving.

Going to a one-kneed position, the teacher kept her eyes fixed on the student as the girl, employing both hands, let fly the wooden thing. With its pointed end down, the game piece shot into the air, spinning wildly, then plummeted to the ground. It came to rest with the pointed end embedded in the soil and the flat top perpendicular to it. Distance and proper landing seemed to determine the score. The girl turned quickly to the teacher, flashed a broad smile, and was acknowledged with a two-handed clasp of both shoulders.

Let’s hope you do well in the games, the teacher encouraged. The girl leaped high into the air then trotted off to retrieve the game piece. It landed about fifty feet away.

Smiling, the teacher turned and faced Orchid.

That was a perfect throw, a first for her. She rubbed her hands to rid them of dirt. It is an icon, an image…a reminder of sorts.

I sense that it means much to you and your people, especially you, Orchid said. I feel that it represents a plant.

And what do you know of plants? the woman casually asked. She knew of no other outsider who had connected the carving to plants.

Plants are my friends. Those of my start point taught me so much about them and the beneficial secrets that they contain. But there is still a lot that I have to learn, Orchid answered.

Plants do have much to offer, the woman said.

Thinking to put into words what she was perceiving, Orchid said: You are more than friend to plants. You are their confidant, particularly the one whose image stands there. And she again pointed to the compelling carving.

There is more to you than it appears, the woman appraised. She moved closer to Orchid.

That is true of all things, Orchid countered.

True, true, the woman said, slowly moving her head up and down. The image represents a teacher, a tool to be used by the informed. It is a marvelous constant available to all living things since the Earth first formed itself but one few living things choose to use.

Orchid looked bewildered.

I am called Candera, and I am the caretaker, the one destined to learn and interpret the lessons of… She dramatically paused. Panthemora. It is the exalted one! she concluded in awe evoking fashion.

Candera was the tallest Utopian. As village curer and seer, she held many great secrets about plants and knew many manners of healing. A Calatron of great intensity, she also dealt with things outside