Chapter 5
Grand glistening halls spanned every floor of this tower, and red carpets with golden-stitched seams lined each and every hall. Then opulent windows, three men tall, let the amber light flow over these carpets, lording over every blood-fibre and golden-thread of their being. I was in the midst of something palatial – yet its lords were dressed in the plainest of garbs.
In between the busy foot traffic of XA masters and their apprentices, ran drones – also known as dregs. They were small mechanical creatures that lived to serve. They were a particular echelon of droid-kind; I had not seen many on Goldenfel, but here they were innumerable. I watched as they shouted at each other in computerised gibberish – in constant terror of a collision with each other – or worse – with an organic!
We came to a fantastic chamber; it was a diamond in shape, stretching from wall to wall. The carpets bled into this room, spilling into a vast circular pool of red, which had patterns of orange and blue. The room barely had a ceiling; the thick walls simply carved ever upwards into the sky, never once meeting – not until the tallest part of the tower which was capped with a glass ceiling – a pin prick of light, burning with all the intensity of the sun. In the vertical space, there were precarious looking bridges that cut across the gap. There were so many of these bridges rising and crisscrossing, each silhouetted by the light from above.
I saw a gathering of new initiates; they were dressed in unattractive straw-coloured robes.
“Will we have to wear those?” Law asked, quite comfortable with the prospect.
Grassus looked down to him and brought his hand to the boy’s back, almost steering him and his thoughts away from the great crowd. “No,” he said calmly. “You and Orpheus will not be trained like the others; we belong to the Order of the Undying Faith!”
So, we were ushered away to the other end of this hall, where we met another – a smaller square room with a decorative arch; it had steps that led below. It took four flights before we came to another communal space. It was far more relaxed and it had a lift in the middle and gardens surrounding. There was even a water fountain, and the air was humid but fresh, and mirrored tunnels from above let the outside light penetrate into even this subterrane.
To my surprise, we took the lift – to go even further down. It only went down, in fact. Dante turned the dial, and fifty delicate clicks rang out. He gripped onto the rail. “Hold on!” He let out his wry smile once again, and I took heed to his words.
With such ferocity, the lift fell, and fall it did indeed; for there was no cable; it existed only inside a tight glass tube. I watched as the different floors flashed before my eyes, seeing all but knowing and remembering absolutely nothing. I heard a terrifying hiss below us as if some great beast was waiting in the darkness below – wherever this lift happened to end. Yet I felt the floor grow firmer in its fall and then it began to slow. Then like clockwork, we came to a perfect stop. Floor minus fifty.
Dante stepped out of the lift; he put his hand to a circular door and with a certain dark cadence in his voice, he said, “The will surrenders the soul!”
The door sliced open.
The order of the Undying Faith lay before me. Law and I cautiously made our way inside. We saw a plainer hall of concrete and stone – an older construction than the architecture above. Many XA walked in here, some alone, some in pairs. I saw a table in the middle, and from its electric guts splayed a hologram. I had never seen one before; it was whiteish and pale – ethereal and ghostly. It had the image of a ship – a type of ship that I had never seen before… Then on a wall, a map was stretched out – a star chart of the galaxy, but it was covered in strange markings. Then I realised that it described the locations of fixtures within interspace. It was the interspace network!
We were shown further into this refuge, and I heard dark whisperings of the raptids and the divided – the ‘divided’ is what I came to know certain humans to be called – the humans who were not in the Communion. I sensed that the distrust for both raptids and these others was equal.
Both Dante and Grassus were on the receiving end of many flattering remarks and envious glares; they were well known and well respected. Then they turned to us – to give us an induction before we were allowed to rest.
The hall of the Undying Faith consisted of the entire minus fiftieth floor – it was chosen for this particular order because of its prime connection to the archaic sewer network and now undercity. The undercity was the expanse beneath the current age of construction; many buildings had their roots down here. It was only upon the Third Communion that the current surface was built, condemning the old to eternal darkness. It was an incredible realisation when I first learned of this – that the shiny ‘surface’ of Centarion was in fact held half a kilometre in the sky!
Further, I was informed that there was a priority transport to the highest floors of the tower. That was where the Committee sat, but it was also the location of the flight deck. Emergency fighters, I was told. “And yes, you will be required to start your training in them as soon as possible!” Grassus added. It seemed it was a necessity for those in this order to have such skills—
“Adaptability to any and every possible situation is what sets us apart from the rest. The ever-changing nature of our work demands it,” Dante said, “and should the worst come, you will be the Capitol’s first line of defence.”
“What about the Military?” Law asked.
“The Undying Faith outranks them. Should the worst come, the military will be asking you what to do!”
We were shown our official regiment of study – a prerequisite for our apprenticeships. We would learn the art of fighting and the means to gain victory in battle. We would learn how to follow the will of the universe to resolve adversity and reach our goals. Before flight training, we would also learn how to reach a diplomatic solution. The thought now made my very soul writhe up like a snake inside; for I would soon come to know that this was not a place of diplomacy – not at all. Diplomacy was dead – diplomacy was away in the stars… and it had not been present in these halls for millennia!
I remember the dreadful feeling of waking up in a strange place, not quite knowing where I was. I was confused. It felt as if the last few days had been a dream, and I almost believed that they were; yet here I was. Where was I? White bedsheets – Law slept on the other side of the room. I remember seeing his face and immediately feeling green in my stomach, because he was part of this world – this new life – and it was jarring. It was terrifying. I remember, we had half an hour to wake up, and I was awake… but I could not face it. I felt like an outsider; I felt like I didn’t belong. I felt it deep within, and yet to this day, I am torn between whether it wasn’t just my homesickness talking, or if there were certain truths in my fears. Regardless, I clung to my bed till the very last second. I was savouring every single moment of not having to be present and accounted for. Then the alarm went off, and Law awoke with a sleepy grin already etched into his face.
On the first day, we only saw our masters in passing; they were busy, and we were not ready to join them yet. There were a few other initiates – four. Both in pairs, of course. We met by a classroom – a room that felt completely incongruous to this concrete hall beneath the surface. We swarmed into the room like flies, still in our vestments from the trials. I looked to the others, and all I remember thinking was that the one pair looked friendly… and the other did not.
That day began my long study into the philosophy of the XA – their faith, their diplomacy, history. I remember the hawk-eyed teacher – Miss Athelon was her name – making very clear to us that her teachings were the best amongst the XA. She told us that the sub-order in which we would serve was the height of the XA’s power – an ultimate weapon, a remedy to cure all ills; we were the most trusted; we were the most respected; gifted; capable… and so it went on. Her sharp words slaved about the room; we each heard; each day we heard; understanding little; digesting little; and then suddenly all at once… understanding. It was a true moment of wonder when one of us understood her; our reward was the faint flicker of a smile.
Miss Athelon reminded me of Dante when I had first seen him in the trials, yet it became very clear to see that she was further apart from him than I was from my tier three Goldenfel home. Dante was soft and kind, and so was Grassus. In their own ways, they were so. Yet this lady – this was her… This was all there was… One unyielding dogmatic wall of a woman!
In all her teachings, over the weeks, there was not one point that did not have its connection to the will of the universe. The first being that, “The will formed the Communion; only as a whole, are we are a body of perfection in the eyes of the universe. Alone, we are corrupt; we are sinful; we are born that way. The Communion was a blessing to cleanse us of our misdoings; only as a collective can we defeat our innate horrors.”
We each questioned her… at first. I believe that the process was in fact designed for us to question it. That was because Miss Athelon had an answer – for all of our questions!
I can still hear her cries; their echoes remained even after her death. Those sharp scathing remarks, counters, verbal parries; she was there to beat us down – in the mind. She was skilful; she got to the others, but she got to me differently.
“Orpheus,” she snapped. “Do not be absurd, the schisms were the result of our capacity for sin. You say freedom – that freedom caused the schisms. Preposterous. For we are only free when we have defeated the evils that plague us and the only way to do that is through the body of the Communion.” I remember watching the others nod along, their heads bobbing up and down like mindless gulls upon a lake.
Once more I argued, “But how is it that the Communion failed each time – that with each step outwards, humanity went their own way?”
Her face turned into a sour thing – like a dried fruit that had still managed to go rancid. Her voice was a knife in this small classroom, “Orpheus, you are treading on thin ice… The Communion did not fail – not even once – because it was the product of the universe’s will. Each schism was a necessary evil to purge the misdoings and sin from mankind – a collective rehabilitation to become suitable for the rapidly evolving nature of our society – planetary, interplanetary, interstellar. Do you understand that? The Communion is the only authority capable of representing and expressing the true spoken will of the universe. We as individuals must do our best to follow our own personal faith, trusting it, yes. For within each of us is the spark, and it will guide you, and it will guide you through all kinds of problems… But it will always – always – follow the guidance of the Communion. For the Communion is the embodiment of the will, and it knows what is best for us all. It shares the universe’s raw love for us – a love that will never deny us. When you feel your faith burn, you are feeling that love; and when you feel that love, know that we are the children, and the Communion is our cradle – and the parent – our universe… Orpheus, you would do well to heed this like the others. You have been increasingly churlish – incessantly so. Need I take this to your Master Dante; he would be most displeased. For a wise and faithful man, is he!”
I remember the heat in me. Love? I felt anger! My faith was screaming out in pain because I had the sense to see what was happening here. Faith was being destroyed. For the problem was not in the faith, but in its arrested practice and development. It was locked in a box, and that box was falsely labelled as the truth – faith as it always was. I knew one truth. If faith was bleached and blurred from the individual, then it could not exist in the collective. Yet I played along, and I learnt to do so well – just like my master. “No, please don’t tell him!” I whimpered. I tried to cry. My eyes were wet. The others took pride in my failure.
If only Miss Athelon knew just how deep me and my master’s faith truly ran…
“Repeat after me, Orpheus, and I will spare you the visit… In faith we trust the Communion to deliver us the will of the Universe…”
And there it was – the lie in its simplest form. That first we must put our faith into a construct of man, before trusting in the universe itself, upon which our faith was supposedly based.
As my years passed, I learnt that the harsh white light that I had once felt as the XA’s faith, could either be filled with the comfortable sight of Centarion’s metal spires reaching into the heavens – a perfect visage of the Communion and order – or it could be filled with the stars of worlds unknown, whose wonders were beyond reckoning – to go against every social grain, to trust in your own judgement that everyone is misguided, and that you alone must exist according to your own truth… None of that was easy. None of it! Especially when punishment was unspoken – handed out with tokens of guilt and shame. Not that we need be shamed, but that we were taught to be. For most people, questioning the Communion would be the only guilt they would ever know; it was a shame that no one told them that it was a constructed sensation – a catch to lull them back into the turning wheel, ever spinning on the same old and tired axel.
The faith of the XA – the faith of the Communion – was but a mechanism to keep people in the XA and the Communion. It essentially was the glue that held everything together. That was why they feared interspace; because it was the truth, and as of yet untranslated. If its secrets were ever known, then the faith would fall apart, and so too would the Communion. The engineers were never persecuted; that would have drawn suspicion. Mockery, however! To make the masses feel above, higher, and more worthy. To make fools out of the ones brave enough to undo their faith and science, in order to better bring clarity to both – now, that was enough to curb their progress – to strip them of any credibility.
None of this was to say that the XA’s faith did not hold weight. Many truly believed that they worked first for the universe, and it made them wise and better people. It was a true faith, just misplaced. It still brought them the same nerve, the same power, and fearlessness.
The problem was in the authority – with those above who understood what was happening and still chose to enforce it. The lies, the contradictions. That the Communion as a whole was pure, and just, and perfect, and that yet its very survival depended on deceiving each of its inhabitants. I could not justify that. Over the years it wore me down. But I still fought for the Communion; it was the only thing that I could do; it was the only thing there was.
And after all, once you join the XA, you can never leave.
So, I had once thought!