The Transdyne Awakening (17 page)

The journey back was long and strange. He was returning to somewhere he no longer belonged. He was not the same man who had last spoken with Ahab. The world had turned. He remembered Ahab’s words about significant moments in life. He was moving towards one of those crucial places in time. He rehearsed what he wanted to say, playing an imaginary conversation with Ahab over and over in his head. The more he ran through it, the crazier it sounded.

As the voxres bid him inside, everything that he had wanted to say went clean out of his head. He wanted to offer excuses and explanations. He started to speak and it was as if someone was jamming the frequency.

Ahab fixed him with that stare. His face, devoid of expression, gave no clue as to what he was thinking. His gaze was the gaze of a camera, dispassionately recording the moment. He sat with his gleaming boots resting up on the table in front of him. At length he swung his legs down and stood up. He stretched his arms and beckoned.

“I want to show you something”, he said.

Ahab walked across the lounge area to stand in front of a shallow cabinet mounted on the wall. Through the transparent case, Clay could see more butterflies, like the one he remembered from the paperweight. He looked carefully at the display, noting the vivid colours on their tiny, outstretched wings. He was taken by the beauty of the exhibition, but it was sad to see these exotic creatures pinned in rows, their beauty perfectly preserved in death.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” Ahab was standing alongside him now.

“Yes, their colours are amazing.” Clay continued to stare into the cabinet. “Collectors used to catch and kill them just so that they could make displays like this,” Ahab told him. “There are those who treat people in just the same way. They look at ordinary men and women and they don’t see them as having any entitlement to independent lives. They see them only as objects to be used in achieving their own purposes. In many ways, they’re like those butterfly collectors.”

Ahab paused before he said deliberately, “I want you to understand that I’m not a butterfly collector, Clay. People grow and change.

Any good Agri-technician knows that certain plants only thrive in a specific kind of soil. I think people are the same. Some of us need different circumstances in order to grow… to develop. The Agritech knows when a plant needs different soil. Right now, I think you need to be in a new kind of soil, soil where you can grow.

Clay turned away from the cabinet. Again he found himself locked in Ahab’s intense, knowing stare. He felt like a small animal caught in the glare of a terraglide’s lights. It was as if Ahab was looking straight through him. He wondered how long he must have been watching the desire for another life grow in him. He thought Ahab had probably known about it before he had realized it for himself.

Ahab started back across the lounge chamber to the large couch. “Change is part of life. A wise man doesn’t fight the weather,” he said. Clay watched him move away and the gravity of what had just passed between them began to sink in. He was standing at the dividing of ways. This was one of those ‘Kairos’ moments that Ahab had told him about. A decision taken now would alter the course of his whole life.

Ahab was studying the painting of the armoured man on horseback. He turned to look over his shoulder for a moment.

“Via con Dios,” he said quietly. He knew that Clay hadn’t understood. With a slight smile, he turned back to the painting. “It means ‘go with God’.”

Clay stood there for a moment. He had spent the time since he had left the Tenacamp in Ahab’s employment. He couldn’t help wondering whether he would ever see him again. Then he nodded at the nearest of Ahab’s bodyguards and walked, very slowly to the door.

In the parking bay, he threw his small pack into the cockpit of the terraglide he had used so often. He sat quietly for a while before he powered up. He recalled one of John’s studylearn sessions on the Ten Commandments. The eighth one he remembered was;
‘You must not steal’
.

He knew the men on guard duty wouldn’t challenge him, unless Ahab had sent a message to the contrary. He’d been coming in and out of here for too long. Pulling the comp from the pack on the seat, he ran his eye over some figures. There were less credits than he would have liked in his black account but, ‘right is right’ he thought to himself. He started to punch in some numbers. Ahab hadn’t even raised the question of his transport out of here. He smiled to himself as he ran in a figure that would cover the cost of this well used glide and hit ‘enter’. He could almost see the amusement on Ahab’s face at this little parting act of honesty.

There was a heat haze shimmering on the deserted throughway. It looked like white fire, obliterating the horizon line.

The aircon was flat out, but he was still sweating.

It ran down his back as he steered toward the Outlands once more. He could have switched to autonav, but he liked to control the craft manually. Not many people did that routinely any more, but he liked the feeling that this was his journey. It was in his hands to make the decisions, the small adjustments that would eventually take him to where he wanted to be.

The skyline of the megacity started to recede behind him in the big mirrors, but he wasn’t looking back.

“Via con Dios,” Ahab had told him.

Yes, “Via con Dios.”

He would go with God.

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Copyright © Chris Betts, 2014

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ISBN 978-1-78148-422-7 in electronic format

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