The Seekers: The Children of Darkness (Dystopian Sci-Fi - Book 1) (18 page)

Orah slipped through a narrow passageway into a small room
more cramped than her Temple City cell. She took a deep breath to calm her
heartbeat. This place was far from Temple City—no teachings here. Like
everything else in the keep, the builders had designed these chambers for
utility more than luxury. The keepmasters had thrived in such quarters for
fifty years. Surely she could survive a summer.

A friendly helper had assigned them each a warm and well-lit
bedchamber. A straight-backed chair stood in its center, and to provide more space,
the desk and cot folded into the wall. She asked the helper to lower the cot.
Tiny gears hummed, so much quieter than those of the golden doors, and the cot
stopped level with her waist. The meager mattress appeared as hard as the
floor, but when she settled upon it, its strange material molded to her body.

She lay there, staring at the white ceiling and letting the
tension drain from her muscles. For the past several weeks, she’d run a race
filled with danger and doubt, and now that she’d reached her goal, she longed
to stay on the soft surface.

One task left to do.

She rose and asked the helper to lower the desk as well, and
then removed the long abandoned log from her pack.
Time to record the start
of a new kind of quest—an adventure of the mind.
She turned to the first
blank page and began her entry.

The keep at last.

Such a strange journey, so different from what I expected
when I foolishly left Little Pond with my friends. Somehow, thank the light, we’ve
reached our goal, but now what to make of the keep?

Though I’ve yet to explore, I’ve seen a sampling of its
wonders. Treasures lie here beyond counting, greater than I ever imagined, but
not easily obtained. The keep offers more than any person could learn in a
lifetime. In these scant few weeks of summer, my challenge will be to focus on
one or two subjects. I pray to choose wisely.

We’ve agreed to a simple plan: set our decision aside and
ignore our impending fate, then pick an area of study and gather at dinner each
evening to share our findings. Like Nathaniel, I’m eager to begin. Thomas
professes disinterest, but I believe the keep will eventually pique his
curiosity. It offers so much, the promise of a world reborn.

My eyes grow heavy now. My hand lacks strength to write.
Time to get some rest, for tomorrow my new adventure begins—a journey to
discover my potential for greatness.

***

Nathaniel yearned to set an example, to arrive at dinner
with revelations so profound his friends would feel compelled to act, yet by
the end of the first week, he had little to say. The keep offered an array of
topics more daunting than he’d expected, and at his current rate of progress,
he’d bring nothing to their meals but silence.

He decided to focus on history since all his knowledge of
the past came from the vicars. They preached peace and perfection during the
reign of the Temple of Light, but the brutal practice of teachings gave lie to
what he’d learned. They claimed chaos and death had preceded its founding, but
he’d seen enough of the keepmasters’ world to know there had been more—bold
undertakings and impressive accomplishments.

Orah admired accomplishments, the
effort and cleverness that went into them. The more he found, the more likely
she’d take up his cause.

The anteroom for history had the same appearance as the
others, round with a recessed ceiling and lighting that bounced off the walls.
Of the topics spiraling from its center, two sparked his curiosity: politics
and religion.

He stepped up to the politics screen first. “Help.”

A helper appeared, this time a young man with hair so short
the white on the sides of his scalp showed. “How may I help you?”

“What is politics?”

The helper described politics as the ability to govern
people, involving the creation of a system of rules to administer and control
their affairs. Politics sounded like what the vicars spent most of their time
doing.

“Then is it about how the Temple guides its children?”

A pause followed as some mechanism adjusted. The helper
returned momentarily.

“Though the Temple of Light is the only system you’ve known,
many others have come and gone throughout history. Please follow this corridor to
learn more about them.”

The very subject he’d been searching for. What made the
Temple different from other systems? What weaknesses might cause its collapse?

But he had one last question before entering the corridor. “What
is religion?”

The young man asked him to please stand by. Apparently, he
wasn’t the expert on religion.

The screen cleared and a woman in her middle years appeared.
She had a strong chin and spoke with a high-pitched voice, making her words clipped
and precise. “Religion is a set of beliefs concerning the nature and purpose of
the universe, held in common by anywhere from a few individuals to entire
populations. The larger congregations usually gather to practice some form of
ritual observance.

“They also preach a preset moral code, which may be broad,
declaring what’s right and wrong in human affairs, or more detailed, dictating
minutiae such as dress, diet and hairstyle. Often, compliance is left to the individual—a
decision between each person and their god. In more extreme cases, the code
becomes law and is enforced by authoritarian theocracies.”

Nathaniel struggled to focus. The woman’s statement would
have earned her a significant teaching from the vicars. He chose to pursue the
word she used last. “What is the-o-cra-cy?”

“Please stand by.”

The helper on politics returned. His patience seemed
endless. “A theocracy is government combined with religion. Using the force of
moral certitude, theocracies tend to be more rigid and less tolerant.
Generally, the civil and religious codes are one and enforced by a clerical
class.”

Finally, something tied to his world.

“Is the Temple of Light a theocracy?”

“Yes. One example. Please proceed to the politics section if
you wish to learn more.”

The time had come to accept the advice. He peered into the
corridor next to the screen and proceeded down it as requested.

***

Orah was struggling. The library back home contained fewer
than a hundred books, all of which she’d read years before. Now, as she
wandered the keep, she found more areas of knowledge than books in Little Pond.

She searched for something familiar. The term “pharmaceutics”
caught her eye, reminiscent of the village pharmacy. She located the viewing
area and waited for the screen to light up. A man appeared who looked like an
elder, with gray hair and a face creased with lines of wisdom, but in place of
a black tunic, he wore a short white coat.

“Welcome to the subject of pharmaceutics. Here you’ll find
all you need for the assembling of medicines. Take a moment to look at the
following list and select one by speaking its name. Some may be hard to
pronounce, so you can also touch the word on the screen.”

A list of words replaced his image, most with too many
syllables and almost all unpronounceable. She tried to find one she recognized
and gave up. She had more pressing questions.

“Help.”

The elder reappeared.

“Where did these medicines come from? Are they a gift from
the light?”

The man’s image froze, waiting for her to finish before
replying.

“Those of us who record our knowledge tend to forget how you
were raised. I’d like to tell you these marvels were handed down as gifts from above,
but nothing could be further from the truth. In my age, groups of dedicated
researchers toiled for years to find cures for every ailment known. The Temple tried
to take credit, but these medicines came as the result of hard work and
individual brilliance.”

He went on to explain how hundreds had devoted their lives
to find a cure for a single disease. The vicars retained the knowledge to assemble
the medicines, but the freedom of thought needed for research clashed with their
beliefs, so the ability to discover new cures was lost.

Orah listened intently. What the helper said matched the vicar
of Bradford’s words, but she wanted to know more. “What would I have to learn
to discover a new medicine?”

The screen went blank. The elder returned with a more formal
demeanor.

“We’re pleased you’ve chosen to pursue medical research. You’ve
had a limited education as a child of light, but you will find all you need to
learn here in the keep. Subjects you must master include....”

He rattled off a number of strange words—biology, chemistry,
biochemistry, microbiology, genetics—until Orah stopped him abruptly. “I’m not
following.”

“If you’d prefer the course on paper, say print.”

“Print.”

A slot appeared next to the screen, and moments later a
piece of paper slid out, on it the helper’s list printed in the block lettering
she’d always associated with the Temple. Another miracle demystified.

She spent the next several days trying to grasp these
subjects, hoping to learn how to discover new medicines. The keepmasters understood
the innermost workings of the body, but she found the underlying science too complex
for a summer’s study.

Undaunted, she searched for a simpler topic, one she might
master in a matter of weeks, and stumbled upon mathematics. The word sounded
familiar, like the arithmetic she’d studied in school.

A different helper congratulated her on accepting the
challenge of mathematics, a daunting discipline mastered by only the brightest even
in his own day. Given her limited education as a child of light, she should
start with the basics, things called algebra and geometry, before undertaking
the differential calculus. She approached the first topic with confidence—she’d
always had a knack for numbers—but her experience here proved as inadequate as
with medicine, and just as frustrating.

She studied hard, natural stubbornness stiffening her
resolve. She’d show the helper—irrational though it may be—that given time, she
could master anything. But progress came slowly. After a week, she’d had enough.
She understood the need for medicine but had only a vague grasp of the goal of
mathematics.

She dragged her fingers through her hair and summoned the
helper. “What’s the purpose of mathematics?”

“In addition to its abstract elegance,” the helper said, “it
expresses form and relationship throughout nature.”

“Okay... if I master these subjects, you said I could
proceed to the differential calculus. What’s that for?”

“To measure rate of change as conditions vary.”

“Give an example.”

“Describing the laws of motion in physics.”

“A more specific example, please.”

“Predicting the path of celestial bodies.”

She straightened in her chair, frustration turning to
curiosity. “What do you mean by celestial bodies?”

“Objects in the heavens.”

“Such as?”

“The moon, the planets, the stars.”

She needed a moment to slow her breathing before asking the
next question. “Why would you need to know such a thing?”

“To allow ships to rendezvous with objects at high speeds
from great distances.”

Ships going to the heavens?
Her head spun.
What if
Nathaniel is right? What if the keep
is
worth risking our lives?

The question burst from her lips. “Are you saying you’ve
traveled to the stars?”

The screen went blank. A new helper appeared, older than the
former and, to her relief, less arrogant. He greeted her in the usual way. “Welcome
to the subject of astronomy. How may I help you?”

She spoke the words as if crafting each for the first time. “Have
you... traveled... to the stars?”

The image froze for a few seconds, an uncomfortable delay
before he graciously responded, “Yes. We’ve traveled to the stars. Do you have
another question?”

What more could she say? Her view of the world was changing
too fast, a blur flashing across her mind and threatening to tear that world apart.

***

Orah fidgeted with her food, poking at one container after another
but eating little. How could she tell her friends what she’d learned? She
hardly believed it herself.

While she nibbled on a gob of reconstituted carrot, she
grumbled between bites. “I feel so dumb in the keep.”

She snapped a glance at Thomas, expecting him to pounce on
her admission, but he merely grinned. “Just what I was afraid of. What chance
do I have if you can’t figure it out?”

She took advantage of the opening. “You never tell us
anything. What are you doing? Do you ever leave the dining hall?”

“I’m using my time as well as you, only I’m exerting myself less.”

“Really? What did you learn today?”

He leaned back and put his feet up on the table, carefully
avoiding the containers of half-eaten food. “Today I learned the difference between
light and darkness. It’s more subtle than you’d imagine.”

Orah glared at him, not sure whether to be interested or annoyed.
“Please enlighten me.”

“With the help of the keepmasters, I’ve discovered—” He
paused for effect. “—something called custard. Custard comes in vanilla and
chocolate, and is the perfect de-hy-drat-ed food. Vanilla is light and
delicious, but I prefer the darker chocolate.”

Orah slapped his feet off the table. “I’m so pleased you
chose to waste your time. Do you know what you’re missing?”

“No, and I haven’t heard anything from you. Please enlighten
me.”

She flopped back onto her chair and blew away a curl. “I’m
trying to learn but haven’t found anything I can master quickly. If we ever came
back, I’d choose one topic and stick with it for years. If the Temple fell
tomorrow, we’d need at least a generation to relearn all this.”