Four weeks had gone by since I finally woke from my nightmarish coma. Since then, Claudius hadn’t been back, nor had any of the other ministers, for that matter. As a cruel joke, Claudius left Ancillae to tend to my room. I couldn’t bear her sight, nor she mine. Our glancing looks met like a knife striking against a stone. I picked up my routine where it left off—breakfast, now exclusively alone, and then off to the library for the remainder of the day. The book Augustus had left was dense and took a considerable amount of focus to read through. Every morning, when I entered the great room brimming with books, I hoped to see the elderly man sitting in my chair. Our short conversation had long weighed on my conscience, especially since the attack at the terminal. Did he know? He had to. But did he know of Claudius’s involvement?
At night, I sat awake, watching the door, until sleep finally took me. I knew it would always be locked, but I checked the door around midnight before I could drift off. I thought there had to be a way out from the constant surveillance - the lock and key. I grew desperate - not to escape necessarily, but to find answers.
Day after day, time dragged on without so much as a passing glance at anyone not wearing a Guard’s uniform. It wouldn’t be until another week that I found Augustus sitting in my chair. He looked up and smiled, showing his yellowed dentures between wrinkled, pursed lips.
About time.
“Master Jack. I’ve been looking forward to our next conversation. Please, come sit.”
I took a nearby chair and turned it toward him.
“I’ve been looking forward to speaking as well.”
“Tell me, were you able to parse through the text I left you?”
“I’ve been diligently reading through it, yes. It’s very long, and very detailed.”
“Yes, it is. It’s the most important book in this library. Four centuries of recorded knowledge and wisdom were distilled into a single volume. Quite remarkable.”
“Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to complete it.”
“Yes, I heard Claudius took you to the lower city. Such a mindless and barbaric attack.”
“I was actually hoping to speak with you about it.”
Augustus put up his palm and replied, “There’s no need. A thorough investigation was conducted. Claudius has been sent on assignment, part of a representative delegation.”
“There’s more —.”
“The investigation has concluded. He had no authorization to take you down there without a proper security detail. I’ve seen to it that this should never happen again. I’m not here to discuss that past. I’m here to discuss the past in your hands,” he said, gesturing toward the book in my lap.
“Like I mentioned, I haven’t been able to get all the way through it yet.”
“No matter. Judging by your place marker, you’ve read a considerable amount. I’d like to show you something. A visual history to complement the transcribed one in that book.”
“A museum?”
“Of sorts, yes. Please, if you would follow me.”
The elderly man led me through the central room and down a connecting hall I had not been in yet. Like the others, the corridor was lined with intricate art and structural homages to Roman architecture. He stopped at a door near the end of the hall. By placing his hand on the center knob, Augustus opened the entryway. It led to another grand corridor. Light fixtures hung over towering framed images. But they weren’t paintings, nor were they videos. They were something else entirely, moving smoothly like gentle waves lapping on a beach. Their colors were brilliant and shifting, ebbing in and out as the mural moved. The rest of the room was dim. Only the golden sconces illuminated the space. Even those who appeared a part of the act, their light dancing and refracting off the liquid surface.
“Like I said, a visual history.”
“They’re incredible.”
Augustus let out a gravel-lined laugh. “They’re expensive, is what they are.”
“And they depict the history? What was in the book?”
“In order, yes. For instance, let’s start with this one here. It should look familiar.”
“The resurrection. Certainly not within my time.”
“Of course not. But you recognized the scene right away. Most people now wouldn’t. In fact, I would be surprised if even one percent of the population could,” Augustus said, admiring the moving image. In a continuous fluid motion, the mural chronicled the crucifixion through the moving of the stone by Roman soldiers. “Let’s move further down,” Augustus said, leading me a few paces away.
“Ah, here’s another you should recognize.”
“The founding fathers. And the angels in the corner?”
“Their actions were guided by their beliefs. All men are created equal. Yes, I believe that was a driving ideology.”
“It certainly was. But why the angels?”
“In your time, it was assumed that the just ideologies of man were passed down from the heavens. But that assumption has long since died. The angels are there to show a modern observer what drove their decisions. Do you recognize this one?”
“The fall of Berlin in 1945.”
“Exactly. The storming of the Reichstag by the victorious Soviet Red Army. You’ll find no angels in this painting.”
“The Soviet soldiers have a— a glow surrounding them.”
“I hoped you would notice. They fought off the onslaught of fascists through sheer will of the human spirit. The communists did not believe in religion. They believed in the equality of power within the individual.”
“I suppose. That’s not the first thing that comes to mind when I think about the Soviet Union, though.”
“Let’s move a little further down,” Augustus insisted, quickening his pace through the hall. “Here is a more contemporary portrait.”
“The mass famines. The proxy wars. This is what Earth looked like when I left.”
“And the next one.”
I stepped around the Roman pillar arch housing the following image. Depicted was an array of plumes rising from the ground below what appeared to be enormous metallic spikes piercing the clouds.
“Bombs?” I asked, thinking the painting showed more war.
“No, not bombs. They were kinetic energy weapons. Designed in secret. You see, to stave off mass famine, the governments of the world united and decided to thin Earth’s population to a more manageable level. They couldn’t irradiate the planet, so they dropped kinetic spikes from low-orbit stations. It must’ve taken years to haul up the pieces needed to construct those monstrosities.”
“What about the signal? Didn’t the world come together eventually? Before this?”
“We never received a signal, Master Jack. Until you arrived, we didn’t believe a sustained fusion reaction was even possible.”
“You must’ve.”
“No. There’s nothing in our records about a signal. Believe me, if we had access to fusion technology, we would be using it. In fact, we believe your station is going to do a lot of good for humanity. Efficient energy generation has always been a bottleneck holding us back.”
Examining the painting closer, I said, “This never happened. These weapons were never used.”
“Maybe not in your past, but they were in ours.”
“Our pasts are the same.”
They have to be. A revision of history. That’s all this is. Their propaganda handed down from generation to generation.
“It would appear not. I’ve tasked our finest minds to figure out why that might be. But I didn’t bring you here to discuss that.”
This seems like a pretty big detail to just gloss over.
“You have more to show me?”
“Yes. You see, these weapons weren’t used in war. They were used on the poorest populations of Earth. To reduce the population. Barbaric, I know. We look back in horror, just as any advanced civilization looks back on the actions of its past with disdain. The carrying capacity of our world had been reached. There was only one solution. The leaders of the time determined it more humane to end their suffering quickly rather than let them die a slow death of starvation.”
“It sounds like you agree with their decision.”
“Leaders must make difficult decisions. And to ensure it never happened again, the nations of the world united, forming a single government. They were able to regulate the population and resources. Gradually, order and prosperity returned to the people.”
Augustus directed me further in, stopping at a collection of murals. The closest presented a scene I recognized: masses of people with their hands outstretched toward lofty towers, showering the crowd with bread.
“I’ve seen this somewhere.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. Many works of art strewn about the capital depict such scenes. By regulating the distribution of resources, we’ve been able to ensure equitable distribution for all. Efficiencies aren’t optimized in a free market. They’re created by us. We, and we alone, have the power to ensure a child never goes unfed. A mother is never without shelter. And a man doesn’t have to have the means to provide for his family.”
“It’s a lofty ambition.”
“You’re skeptical.”
“I’ve seen this tried before.”
“Ah, you are referring to communism. This is not communism. It’s communalism. Communism failed for a great many reasons, but equitable distribution of resources was not one of them.”
“I suppose I’ve never looked too far into it,” I replied. Human nature was human nature; no matter what you called it, it didn’t work.
“Jack, you’ve seen famine. You’ve seen war. You’ve seen what humanity devolves into when we are not united. When there is no common purpose. I fear we’re slipping into the grips of those dark times again.”
“Why do you think that?”
“The incident at the terminal was the just latest in a long line of attacks. There’s a swell rising amongst the people. Jack, for the life of me I can’t explain why, but the movement to destabilize our collective prosperity is gaining steam. And I need your help to calm these raging seas.”
So, I’m a pawn—Claudius’s toy and now yours.
“I’m not sure I would be able to help.”
“Of course, you could. We are generations removed from the suffering that plagued humanity for so long. But you, Master Jack, you’ve seen it with your own eyes. You’re the decedent of this chaos. You can talk to the people. Carry the message of collective prosperity over the misguided beliefs that lead to bombing like the one you witnessed.”
“I didn’t witness this firsthand, but the world united behind a common purpose after we received the signal. A unified government didn’t pull us from the brink. Hope did. Hope that the missions I was a part of would bring prosperity. I’m not sure I’ll be your best advocate.”
“I would like to show you more. If you’d agree to accompany me to the lower city.”
Do I have a choice?
Visions of the terminal attack flashed back into my mind. I could almost smell the ammonia and feel the heat wave wash over me.
“Of course. But I have to know, did you find anything else when my craft arrived? If there wasn’t a signal, there had to be something—”
“There was something, yes. It wasn’t a signal as you describe, though. It was a… how did Hadrian explain it - a gravitational anomaly. But I’m afraid that’s all I can say on the matter.”
“That helps a little. Next time I see Hadrian, I’ll ask him.”
“Excellent,” Augustus replied, his attention turning back toward the doorway. “I have business I need to attend to for the next couple of days, after which we will travel to the lower city.”
“Before you go,” I said. Augustus stopped, turning toward me with a raised brow. “Why are the people revolting? If every outcome is optimized, why should they?”
“That is an excellent question, Jack. The system we use ensures prosperity. But…” he said, his attention drifting toward the mural. “Sometimes I fear man isn’t able to cope with prosperity. Maybe comfort is an unnatural state.” He let his words fall.
“What system?”
He looked at me. His face softened as a pennant smile drew across his lips. “Maybe another time.”
I nodded, then watched him leave the hall without another word. I was alone, left to pour over his words and the paintings in silence. He wouldn’t have left me there if he didn’t want me to continue down the corridor. My curiosity got the best of me. The remainder of the murals told a consistent story, one I wasn’t familiar with but recognized through their thematic propaganda—state above self. When the state is the mechanism for the collective prosperity of all, it takes precedence over the individual. Again, I’d read enough history to see the parallels. He might have called it communalism, but words are often a mask to hide the truth in plain sight.
What more could he show me?
I continued searching, looking for anything that would point toward the signal. I didn’t buy his statement on our differing pasts. There is only one past. Time is a straight line. Although the signal seemingly defied the laws of physics, time only moves in one direction, like a river whose current couldn’t reverse back uphill. But the signal’s did.
I continued to wander, surveying the works of art as I went. One series of frames caught my attention. It was simple, but I recognized the constellation they depicted. It was Orion, beautifully crafted against a deep background of cosmic radiation. The next painting showed the same constellation, but Orion was partially obscured, as were the plumes of greens and reds, which only highly sensitive observation equipment could pick up. The trend continued until, in the last painting, all traces of light had been snuffed out. I didn’t understand it then, so I filed it away to ask Hadrian.
Several days passed before I saw Augustus again. In those days, ministers and undersecretaries started to reemerge from wherever they were sent off. Breakfasts grew more interesting as, one by one, they would regale me with tales of their travels. It would seem the General Secretary had sent them all on various diplomatic missions to cities around the globe, meeting with their magistrates and governing bodies. From their accounts, it’s a great honor to receive a delegate from the capital, and it only happens on the rarest of occasions. In fact, from what I could gather, it was rare for any of the ministers to leave the capital at all. Even in my time, global communication was instantaneous and effortless. Four hundred years later, there was little need to step foot outside these walls. All administrative duties could be carried out from the comfort of this tower. Still, an in-person visit showed great respect toward these disparate regions of the world. Granted, an inflated sense of self-importance was the norm, so I took everything I was told with a grain of salt.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
With each minister’s recounting, I would follow up, inquiring as to the whereabouts of Claudius. The answers among the ministers varied little. They would shrug off my question and continue with their own self-aggrandizing. They had no reason to hide anything from me, so I had little reason to doubt them. Claudius was missing, sent off on some unknown errand by the General Secretary. The longer he was away, the more time I had to plan my next move. My temper still flared for the man, but my resolve to murder him outright waned over the weeks. He would still pay a price. Whether that price was paid in blood was yet to be seen. Still, he had a debt to pay, and I would extract payment.
The day before I found Augustus sitting in the library again, Hadrian arrived back at the capital. I was eating my breakfast in the grand hall when he entered, eyes gleaming with joy as soon as he saw me. At that moment, he felt less like a man, embodying the personification of a golden retriever who just saw their owner walk through the door. He hadn’t been away long, but I could tell he’d put on weight since last we spoke. Hadrian shimmied between chairs, wrapping around the end of the table, carrying his growing gut over backrests toward me. With a glowing smile, he plopped down in a chair beside mine and beamed, “Master Jack! How have you been these past weeks?”
“I’ve been hanging in there. How’ve you been?”
“Splendid, Master Jack. Just splendid. I must say, I don’t know why we don’t embark on these diplomatic missions more often. The hospitality is second to none, and our subjects around the globe are beyond ecstatic to see us.”
“I’m glad to hear your trip went well. Where were sent to?”
“The Eastern Capital. Located on this absolutely magical Island in the Pacific.”
Does he mean Japan?
“Japan?”
“Japan — yes I do believe that its name before the unification. Lovely place. Have you ever been?”
“I have. Although, I doubt it resembles anything like the Japan I’d visited in my time.”
“The food was exquisite,” Hadrian rumbled, rubbing his protruding gut. “And the women, Master Jack. I’ll let you infer the details but I will say they are most generous with all their delicacies in the Eastern Capital.”
Those poor women.
“I’m glad the trip was successful.”
“Very. I must say, it will take weeks to properly massage out the knots in my hips.”
Goddammit, I didn’t need that image.
“Outside of spreading goodwill, was there a scientific purpose for your visit?”
“Yes, actually, there was. An engineering group within their university developed a more efficient means to desalinate seawater. I was there to verify, and if the process did, in fact, turn out to be more efficient, then I’d work with them on a rollout plan to the rest of the provincial governments.”
“And? Was it more efficient?”
“Yet to be seen. We’re still running the numbers. It looks promising, though.”
“I assume this finding was reported to the General Secretary. That’s why he sent you?”
“Oh, heavens no. The General Secretary would never hear of something so mundane.”
“He didn’t send you then?” I asked, puzzled by Hadrian’s surprise that I would assume Augustus had been in the loop.
“Not Augustus, no. The GCS handles matters of state.”
“The GCS?”
“Governing Control System. In essence, it’s a highly sophisticated artificial intelligence that runs our administrative state.”
Ah, the system he referred to.
“What kinds of tasks does the GCS handle?”
“Really anything pertaining to the running of the administration. Governing is an optimization problem when you think about it. You have millions of inputs and millions of constraints. Only an advanced AI could handle that load and make decisions for the most optimized outcome.”
Holy shit.
“What decisions are left to the General Secretary? Or does the GCS only handle the most mundane and routine decision making?”
“The General Secretary is really just a figurehead. A face to the administrative state. By extension, I suppose we’re also just figureheads…” Hadrian trailed off, thinking deeply about his revelation.
I wanted to press further about the system they used to govern, but I could tell Hadrian was spiraling down a mental rabbit hole, one that I needed to pull him from.
“Have you seen Claudius? Has he returned?”
“No. Well, I’m not sure. I didn’t know he left.”
Liar.
“If you hear of his return, can you let me know?”
“Of course, Master Jack. Now, about breakfast,” Hadrian said, raising one hand, snapping his fingers to gain the attention of the attendants hauling dishes in and out of the room.
“One other thing, Hadrian.”
“Mmhmm.”
“The General Secretary showed me the visual history hall.”
“That’s a great honor,” Hadrian replied, still trying to wave down one of the servants.
“Yes, it was. I stumbled upon something, well, odd.”
“Many odd things to be seen in there,” he agreed.
“It was a depiction of the constellation Orion. It looked like a time-lapse where the constellation became obscured.”
“I know that one. I studied it myself many years ago. You’re wondering why, or rather what obscured the stars?”
“I am, yes.”
“It’s difficult to say for certain. What we do know is the observable universe has been gaining mass at an exponential rate. Mass that doesn’t seem to follow the properties as we know mass to follow.”
“I don’t follow,” I smiled.
“Clever. Since the arrival of said mass, the space in which they occupy appears to expand, pushing out every bit of matter in its wake.”
“So this mass has the inverse properties of gravity?”
“Yes, exactly. All while still maintaining the property of visibility. Hence the obscuring of your Orion constellation. I say your since Orion has not been visible in my lifetime.”
Finally fed up with his efforts, Hadrian apologized and excused himself from the table to track down a servant. I graciously nodded, following close behind after he exited the hall. For the remainder of the day, I stole myself away in the fortress of solitude among the books.
The following day, I skipped breakfast and headed straight for the library. Every meal was extravagant and overdone, and after seeing Hadrian’s physical state, I began to worry that I, too, was unwittingly putting on excess pounds. When I entered through the grand wooden door, I found Augustus sitting in my chair, just like he’d promised several days prior. He peered at me momentarily before letting out his yellowed smile.
“Good morning, Master Jack.”
“Good morning, Augustus.”
“Skipped breakfast, I see. I hope you have some strength in reserves. Today will be a long day, but one I am most excited for.”
“I’ll be fine, thank you. I must admit, I’ve been looking forward to today as well.”
“Let’s not waste any more time then,” Augustus decreed, snapping from his chair and striding out the door.
I chased after the elderly man, impressed by his swift movements as he took great lunges down the hall and into the grand windowed room. The transition between the two settings always jolted my senses, even though I had made it a hundred times at least by this point. The contrast between the gilded halls and the flat grey walls tore at my perception. The abrupt change required a shift in my mental state, as it could be disorienting to flick between the two.
Augustus wasted no time, proceeding through an opening in the wall I hadn’t yet seen. On the other side, we descended a short set of marble stairs covered by a royal blue runner. I took care not to step on the felt carpet and instead placed my feet over the swirling white and grey stone. Augustus paid the carpet little mind, traipsing the soles of his feet across the fabric, scrunching it on the floor below. Just beyond the steps stood a towering set of double brass doors guarded by two men dressed in ceremonial tunics, each shouldering a black composite rifle. At the sight of the General Secretary, the men stiffened and stepped to the side. Facing inboard, the guards presented their arms in salute. Given the countless hours in the scorching heat or blistering cold drilling around the parade grounds of Annapolis, I had recognized the gesture.
The doors receded into their respective pockets, revealing the inner room of an elevator. The walls, like the grand room, were glass. Each pane was married to ornate brass trimmings decorated with carvings of towers and cityscapes. Augustus entered first and took his place at the front of the elevator. I stepped in behind him, watching the doors close beyond his nose. The room dropped. Nearly a thousand floors flashed past through the walls. We traveled too quickly to take in all the sights, but the variations of decor and aesthetics presented their own blur as we descended.
The elevator slowed, stopping in what appeared to be a gap in the tower several hundred feet from the tip of the tallest building below. The doors opened, and Augustus entered a room much like the one we were just in. The walls, however, were also glass, giving a stunning panoramic view of the city below.
“Come along. You’ll have plenty of time to admire the views. First, I want to show you the edge of our civilization.”
We walked through another set of glistening golden doors into a windowed box. Above, space clung to a rail system, tethered by an unseen force with no direct contact points.
“Magnetism,” Augustus offered, having noticed my surveying.
The room set off, following the slim track, weaving through a forest of towers like a skier in glades. Our surroundings became a blur, and soon, my stomach churned. What felt like butterflies at first turned into a head-spinning nausea. I gripped onto a railing handle and tried to focus on it and not the world streaming past. Thankfully, the trip was short, and soon the doors opened.
“Well done, Master Jack. Most vomit their first time.”
“I was close.”
Augustus moved past me and walked over to a two-story-tall stone door. With ease, the hatch opened, swiveling along an unseen track as though the hulking mass were suspended.
Magnetism, I’m guessing.
The opening revealed expansive light, burning off the claustrophobic grey around me. I stepped out with Augustus onto a long, narrow terrace stretching farther than the horizon. On one side, the city; on the other, endless fields radiating hues of Earth and greenery. Upon closer examination, the nature was ordered. Rows of meticulously cultivated crops stretched out beyond sight. The land was a mosaic, broken up between green, tan, and deep brown rectangular patches. Augustus walked beside me, admiring the view.
“I’ve always loved coming up here. In fact, I do believe this is my favorite place in the whole of the city. One billion mouths all nourished from the bosom of this land. When I look out over these fields, I’m reminded that man’s greatest achievements aren’t the towers that stand behind us, but our abilities to bring life from Earth.”
“I’ve seen large swathes of farmland in my time, but nothing of this scale.”
“This is the life force that drives forward our civilization and must be protected at all costs.”
“Protected from whom?”
“Ourselves, Master Jack. Our very own nature.”
“Who works the fields?”
“Machines. Well, machines and automated digital systems. It’s a delicate balance to maintain such high yields. Every aspect must be monitored and tended to. If the PH level in the soil changes, it must be balanced. If there is a drought, water must be brought in and precisely applied. Billions and billions of crops, each receiving the delicate care they require. It’s a marvel of modernity. Any change or disruption would lead to the starvation of the masses. I just wish we could convey that those on the other side.”
“Other side of this wall?” I asked, finally noticing the structure’s purpose.
“Yes.”
“To keep people in, not out?”
“Exactly. If left to their own devices, the people would break out into these fields, destroying the very thing that keeps them alive. I don’t blame them. In fact, it appears to be second nature to claim land for yourself at the expense of others. Food-producing land was privately held in your time, was it not?”
“Yes. The government didn’t control the means of food production. They certainly had a hand in assisting, but the production was left up to the owners.”
“The inefficiencies that arise from that model would never be enough to feed the world’s people. We are very near our planet’s carrying capacity, and without strict controls, we would never be able to maintain the population. These fields, the systems that control their output, and the bodies that govern must be maintained to ensure the longevity of our species. Mankind is not capable of collaboration at this scale. Control must be centralized, or else billions will starve.”
Is that not a population problem of your own making? The cure necessitates the disease.
“Are all farmlands under government control?”
“All land is under government control. Everything you see, inside and out of these walls, is governed. We strive toward one hundred percent efficiency. Although this is theoretically impossible, our greatest and most admirable labor is to try.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but words escaped me. Augustus noticed, taking the opportunity to move us along.
“Come, there’s more I want to show you.”
I followed the General Secretary back into the glass box, dreading another spurt through the grand spires. Instead of the quick dash we made earlier, the room glided slowly over the city. From that vantage point, I could see its grid, building upon building stacked atop one another—grey cement blocks piled toward the heavens, pocked with thin windows sprawled out below. A light haze layered over the top, but not enough to obscure my view. Above us, the towers pierced the clouds, projections slowly transitioning into physical carvings.
“What the city lacks in beauty, it makes up for in function. Every building has a purpose. Every room is designated for a predefined task long before construction is underway. Whether it’s housing, medical, or manufacturing, each space is designed with purpose.”
“And the projections?”
“Ah, you noticed. They’re less utilitarian in nature, but necessary none the less.”
“Can the residents leave?”
“No. Why would they? It’s designed so that you never have to venture more than a few blocks from where you live.”
“They’re near their work as well?”
“Work is an antiquated concept, long done away with. Machines and systems are more efficient and thus far more suited.”
“How do they make a living?”
“They don’t. They’re provided with one. Everyone receives a living wage.”
“The same wage?”
“Yes. One great advancement of our civilization is the systematic rooting out of inequities. Now, everyone enjoys the same high standard and quality of life.”
“If that’s so, I still wonder why some want to upend the system? Bite the hand that feeds?”
“I do not know. But those that would bring about the death of the masses must be rooted out and destroyed. Too many down below turn an indifferent eye. If only they knew what you know. Have seen what you’ve seen. Then, maybe they’d turn from their ways and handover the perpetrators of these heinous crimes.”
“Like the terminal?”
“Yes, like I said before, we believe that attack was carried out by the very same people. And unfortunately, the system that optimizes our governance is blind to this effect.”
“The GCS,” I said in confirmation.
“Exactly.”
The platform continued its slow glide over the city. Block after block of that concrete maze played out under us. I tried looking for distinctions and landmarks that stood out against the drab layer. But uniformity was the building code, and the cityscape changed little as we progressed.
I wonder how many of them will get the chance to live in these towers they’re forced to look at every day.
I wanted to quiz Augustus on the evident inequality between the ministers and the rest of society, but I figured the point would be moot as he would have some half-baked rationale.
“The GCS, does it ever make the wrong decision?”
“In terms of leading to the least efficient outcome, no. Not that I’ve seen, at least.”
“Is efficiency always the most optimal outcome?”
“Yes… and no. Optimal can devolve into a philosophical debate, a matter of perspective. In philosophical debates, neither side wins. Therefore, a society cannot be governed in that manner.”
We managed.
I continued to peer down through the floor until we picked up speed, and our surroundings blurred.
“Are all cities around the world the same?”
“With varying degrees of differences, yes.”
The nausea in my stomach reared up again. Try as I might focus on anything stationary, my stomach turned over, and in short order, I projectile vomited all over the side of the glass encasing. I looked back at Augustus to apologize, but he refused to acknowledge, keeping his chin and nose held up without eye contact. Mercifully, we slowed to a stop. The stench was overpowering in the confined space, and as soon as the doors opened, Augustus hurried out of the room. I followed close behind, apologizing to the guards as I left.
“Are you feeling better, Master Jack?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“I have one more place I’d like to show you, but luckily, it’s right below us, and we won’t need to travel like that again.”
Thank god. How can that be worse than escaping Earth’s gravity strapped to a rocket?
I followed him through another set of double brass doors into an identical glass case. When the doors shut, my stomach lurched into my throat as we plummeted down level after level. I caught traces and glimpses of the floors, but never enough to paint a complete picture of what they contained. As we descended, the elevator picked up speed before abruptly decelerating, weighting my torso against my buckling knees.
“Function over comfort,” I joked as the elevator stopped. Augustus quickly looked out of the side of his eye but did not respond. When the doors opened, he was the first out. I followed, stepping into an expansive mechanized cavern. Tubes, ducts, and thick gauge wiring harnesses snaked up the walls, disappearing through tunnels so large the waist of a tower above could fit through with room to spare. I stepped forward and realized I was perched on an observation deck, looking below at ten stories of machinery, clanking and clawing, belching out steam into the damp, hot air. The walls oozed, slick with the machinery’s exhales, carrying a metallic taste as oil built up on any flat surface that would have it. Machines of all shapes and sizes stretched on for what must’ve been a mile.
“Impressive, isn’t it?”
“Very. I’ve seen machinery like this on ships, but not at such a scale.”
“A ship only needs life support for a few thousand people. This provides for over a billion above us. Everything from the electricity to power the lights to the water pouring from the taps are all fed from this room.”
“Quite the feat of engineering.”
“Yes, but like most things you’ve seen, man can’t take the credit. The designs and manufacturing of these live-breathing beasts all came from other machines. Near perfect efficiency. Automation to create automation.”
“I take it there’s no control room with people in hard hats monitoring switchboards?”
Augustus chuckled. Leaning against the overlook railing, he diverted, “If there were a failure, be it minor or catastrophic, down here, millions would die in days of dehydration. The ones that survived would either starve or freeze to death, depending on the time of year.”
I remained silent, taking in the gravity of what he had to say. His words bore weight, but I did not know why he was so adamant about illustrating this point. After a prolonged silence, Augustus solemnly continued.
“This would be one of the first places they’d attack. They know crippling these machines would start the revolt they so desperately want. Left without power or water, the residents above would storm the walls, overwhelm the guards, and pour out into the fields.”
“They’d die.”
“Yes, exactly. So many deaths, and for what? All so a small contingent of the population could realize their revolution?”
“Have they tried to take down these systems?”
“Yes, they try often, in fact. They haven’t been successful yet, but they’ve gotten close. They’re learning, Jack. And I fear someday soon they’ll succeed, and there won’t be a thing I can do to stop what’s set in motion,” Augustus paused, letting his words sink in. “I need your help, Jack. I’ve exhausted all my options for deterrence. I fear, without your help, I’ll have no other choice but to purge the city.”
Purge?
“What help could I be? I’m a stranger on these shores. I was actually hoping to work with Hadrian to find a way back to my home.”
“We can’t let you leave. I need you to speak reason to these people—” Augustus began but was cut off by the arrival of four armed guards through the elevator doors. Clad in black, they walked in unison, presenting a low bow when they were within ten paces of us. I stepped back, switching my gaze between the man and his protectors.
“I’m not sure what you want from me, Augustus.”
“We’ve secured a hostage swap with them, as a ploy, of course. You’ll be exchanged for Master Julius. I believe you’ve made his acquaintance before. From there, you will network through their ranks until you have the ear of their leader. I hear his name is Constantine. Fitting in a way.”
“I appreciate all the hospitality you’ve shown me, given the extraordinary circumstances of my arrival, but I have no appetite for stopping revolutions.”
“The choice has been made for you, Jack. When you are their prisoner, you will curse me, but in time, you’ll do what you know is right, saving tens of millions of lives. And the life of your child.”
What did he just say?
“I don’t have a child.”
“You don’t know, yet, do you?” Augustus said. A glimmer of humanity entered his eyes, if just for a second. “Your attendant is carrying. For all the abominations committed by Claudius, it would appear this one was useful.”
My heart was set aflame. A renewed hate drowned my psyche, tunneling my vision. My breathing grew rapid, and flutters shook my chest, closing the airway. I lost feeling in my legs, propelling me backward against the hard cement. My vision faded, and my mind drifted like a boat caught in a current.