Once Temri and Makoe returned to the cavern, it was just about the time for bed. The crew put a couple of pillows together and gathered some blankets. Dokai and Iysik checked the access points and boarded them up with wood. They tied strings to the boards, and pulled the other ends towards the bundle of pillows - Each would be tied to a member of the crew, so that they would tug on their fingers if someone tried to enter.
Rhea had explained that Miriani slept in pods, at least they did before coming to Rosamond’s World. She noted a gradual change in genetic makeup that removed the fear induced by sleeping solo. Yet enough of the instinct remained that some chose partners to cuddle with.
Damien sighed in relief when he learned that this was considered to be an unbecoming behaviour, and the professors at the Academy slept alone. But judging by the increased levels of anxiety within the professorial dorm, Matrioshka concluded that the professors yearned for the comfort.
He completed his curriculum during the short-sleep, and went into a simulation of a farm. Matrioshka was quite surprised to see Damien take up a sickle, and walk towards a field of simulated barley. The light of an unknown star shone from the sky, and Damien hid under a straw hat. Matrioshka elected not to comment and left him to his peace.
Makoe accepted the groups invitation, and went to bed. She decided to make herself warm that usual – and ended up in the middle of the pod, Temri and Rui hugger her close. Iysik tried to keep away, his distrusting nature prohibiting him from touching Makoe. Dokai had noticed this, and the two slept hugged.
In the middle of the short sleep, as Makoe was preparing an area for the use of the atomic press, Temri had awoken. Preceded by a sharp increase in calming hormones, Temri had begun to sob. Her throat clenched, making her unable to make a sound, except for the occasional swift inhale and exhale. Her nose had flared pink and it got runny. Her ears curled into themselves as she hugged herself for comfort.
Makoe saw she was trying to keep as quiet as possible, but Rui was awake now too. Grief enveloped Rui too, and Makoe saw her brain flare with thoughts. Temri had managed to calm herself and hugged the supposedly sleeping Makoe. Both she and Rut fell asleep soon. It was her illness, Makoe had decided, unexpected onslaughts of sorrow would be expected due to the imbalance of chemicals within her brain. Makoe took some time then to create a detailed plan on how to make Temri better.
Matrioshka listened in to the King’s address; some 500 members of the help and guards shuffled into a wide room, arranged so that the speaker at its front would have their voice amplified. The King stood here, and spoke of demons. He presented the guards with a test, hold a small candle to a person’s fur. And if they don’t burn, bring them into the light of the stars.
The listeners were dubious, but once the King mentioned he had learned of this from the Suns, most began to believe. Rumel had been anxious the entire address, no doubt connecting the King's words with Matrioshka’s appearance. He had been furious at the guards once he saw they let Matrioshka escape. But calmed soon and did not punish them.
Must have attributed my disappearance to magic.
Some time during the short sleep, Matrioshka had explained the fate of the previous Miriani civilizations – about how the Swarm-builders created the Emperor and Empress, and how the Virus-makers planned to dominate through biological weaponry.
The crew was saddened, yet they accepted it in good faith – all except PesKal, who just barely managed to avoid another outburst.
Matrioshka then scanned the would-be assassins of Prince Ketri and allowed herself some time to study up on Miriani mythology. Depending on context, demons could be associated as saviours – Matrioshka aimed to exploit that.
Omrica had brought a change of clothes for Rhea and was moderately surprised at the new equipment in the clinic. Rhea said that she had found it; this did not go over well, and Omrica stationed two more Miriani to guard the clinic’s entrance.
Nobody offered any sleep companionship to Rhea. And she didn’t mind; she left her nanite body in a sleeping position, as she focused herself on biological analysis and planning out medical procedures on the Miriani.
Yim hadn’t been back to PesKal’s cube; he and Bemri coiled together in a room, and were both fast asleep. PesKal partitioned a portion of his lattice, and Makoe took residence inside as her body slept in the cavern.
Makoe had spent the short sleep repairing the Atomic Press and managed to get it working with time to spare. The crew decided to prioritize their backups. And as such, Makoe began work on building a craft that would place the satellite into space.
Makoe had excavated, with PesKal’s help, a tunnel which connected the bottom of the box to a dug-out sphere some 150 meters behind the mansion, hidden within a forest of short tree-like plants. She reported that the statelite would become operational by midnight, so some 13 hours from the end of the short sleep.
The Empress and Emperor, in their dance in the sky, eclipse each other every few hours. The emperor stood in front of the Empress as the pair set below the horizon. The dusk sky was a deep red, heightened by the above-average thermal emissions from the stars.
Damien was the first to move his Miriani body outside his room. He wore his professorial uniforms, glanced at Adra’s door, and saw she was still asleep. With a sigh of relief, he hurried towards the cafeteria.
Two other professors were already here. Both enjoyed a bowl of fruit soaked with crunchy algae and a calcium-based liquid. Rhea explained it was horse-rabbit milk. Damien cringed once he saw a sim of the creature, forwarded by PesKal, so he chose some dried kelp-wrapped fish.
“You know what I just realized?” Damien asked around the crew-wide channel. “I’ve never seen a Miriani drink.”
“Understandable,” explained Rhea. “They get most of their water through food. And while we’re on the topic of Miriani biology, I have an interesting conclusion.”
She continued: “The Miriani on Rosamond’s World are different than those that lived on Prudence. The biggest difference lies within a new neural organ within their brains. Engineered.”
Rhea showed the scans of the sub-centimetre-sized globule within Miriani brains.
“This organ suppresses direct aggression by way of excruciating pain.”
“The assassins didn’t have it,” Matrioshka said, and provided the scans of Dall and Sumi.
“Correct.” said Rhea. “There is evidence of surgery. They had it removed.”
Matrioshka considered the upcoming genocide. The King did not seem in pain while planning it. “Any other way to overcome the pain?”
Rhea nodded. “Yes. This is an engineered feature, mostly likely created by the Virus-makers and applied to the Wayfarers. Given what you told us, and the data in the diamond storage we found on Oliver’s world. I believe the Wayfarer descendants live in the lowest three kingdoms. The Swarm-builders in the 11th Kingdom - the one we are in now. The rest are Virus-makers.”
“Oh!” Rhea’s eyes brightened. “I have taken the liberty of naming this organ Nucleus Concordiae – the Center of Harmony.”
She continued: “Over time, and due to these genes being more dominant than fur-color, the organ spread across Rosamond’s World. Every Miriani has one, but not all experience its effects with the same intensity. For example, the Royal Guards Matrioshka encountered all have a below average sized Nucleus, meaning they experience only a light headache during aggression.”
Matrioshka asked: “You’re telling me that the Disgraced Kingdoms couldn’t rebel even if they tried?”
“Not violently. No.” Rhea nodded.
There was silence, and gradually everyone returned to their lattices. Damien was startled by a dull chime in the cafeteria. He saw it was the system of ropes and pulleys which chimed across the Academy to signal a change of class. Damien rose from his seat and rushed to deposit the utensils and the remaining food. He sighed when he saw that he had to throw the majority away.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
Damien raced across the Academy towards classroom 208 where he would hold his first-ever lecture. On approach, he scanned the 43 students inside, chatting about the new professor. Damien smiled as he saw Hiri Bat-Ani as one of the attending students.
Damien summoned stacks of paper under his uniform and pulled them out as he opened the door. The students quieted, watching him, and raised their hands to their chests, palms close together. They would stay like this until Damien mimicked the motion, a sign of respect.
The classroom was circular, with a blackboard encompassing its wall. Mathematical theorems were drawn on around 63% of it; most were correct, but there were some leaps in logic that, under scrutiny, could provide additional insight into the world of mathematics.
The students sat on pillows, and a small table was before each of them. Notebooks lay open, and charcoal pens stood at their sides.
Damien approached his table and sat at his pillow. He placed all his papers neatly on the table and faced the students. Matrioshka saw the excitement flowing through Damien’s lattice. He addressed the students:
“Blessed Night.”
Like a chorus, the students repeated the greeting.
Damien rose to his feet and walked towards one of the equations written on the board. The board itself would get filled by notes during the semester, and at the end of it, there would be a final test – the students were expected to solve each question completely. It seemed draconian to Damien; day-to-day performance depends on a lot more than just hard work and diligent studying.
Damien said: “My name is Nam Brarom. I am a new professor here at the Academy, and I will be teaching Mathematics. I graduated from the Central University in the 5th Kingdom, where I received the highest honors. It is a pleasure to meet you all.”
The students exchanged looks. Damien could scan tension in their minds.
Damien looked at Hiri; he was tense too. “Is something the matter?”
Hiri almost jumped out of his seat. “No, professor!”
Silence filled the classroom. Damien scanned the classroom opposite his; a history class was in session. All the students stood quiet, motionless, simply writing down the professor’s words. There was no interaction between the two sides of the class. Damien returned his attention back to his own students:
“I know this may sound strange, but I want you to not be afraid of talking to me.”
Silence.
Damien sighed mentally, and Matrioshka saw him browse for a sufficiently shocking mathematical revelation. He approached the blackboard and drew three large circles. In the first he drew two hyperbolas expanding away from each other. In the second, two parallel lines. And in the final circle, he drew two line swhch curved towards each other, and connected at the edges of the circle.
He turned to the students. “Lirand.”
Lirand was tall and very willowy. His eyes widened, ears curling in confusion. “Yes professor?”
Damien looked at him plainly. “At ease. We are not in the military…”
Lirand exchanged a look with his classmate; the two were friends most likely, given their previous chatter about a new novel “Listener of Yore”. They spoke of it as Damien was approaching the classroom. He found a copy of the book within Lirand’s bag and scanned it.
The professor asked: “Can you tell me what you see? Ignore the circle; it is just meant to encapsulate a concept. I will give you a hint. The central circle has lines which are parallel.”
Lirand’s heart rate increased, anxiety rushing across his mind. There was no chance he would be able to think straight.
Damien looked apologetic; he turned away from the student and mumbled quietly:
“Like the young Listener, afraid of failure…”
He did so just loud enough for Lirand to hear him.
The student’s ears vibrated, and the jolt of familiarity activated his mind. He said: “The left circle… the lines are not parallel; they curve away. And they curve towards each other in the right circle.”
Damien turned towards the student and smiled. “Exactly. Good job Lirand.”
Lirand’s ears curled again, in joy this time, he smiled brightly, and exchanged a look with his friend.
The students had begun to relax, like an intangible wave, their minds switched from fear to mild interest.
Damien scanned another professor walking towards the classroom’s door. Clear as day, Damien could detect traces of substances within the man’s body – relaxing substances. Unfortunately, these reduced a person's control of themselves and made one act irrationally. It would be safe to say this professor was drunk. He helped himself walk with a long wooden cane.
The professor opened the door and stumbled inside. The man was golden-furred and old. So old that his coloration began to pale into a soft whitish-yellow. The students tensed again; all progress Damien made in getting them to open up vanished. The professor, Urhen based on his ID, peered at Damien and said:
“Apologies!” He stumbled onto one of the empty pillows and sat. “You must allow me to spectate the first lecture of my replacement.”
In the classroom next door, the professor had slapped a student with a stick across their head. The student had stretched – a mostly instinctual motion for the Miriani, and received prompt punishment.
Urhen placed his cane atop his desk.
Damien noted a student twitch as he saw the cane. The student went to guard his hand, where Damien saw healed-over wounds, and a gash in the bone where there was once a break. The damage imprint was consistent with the tip of Urhen’s cane.
Emotions swirled inside Damien.
“Calm, Officer Viris,” said Matrioshka. “You are there to teach. Not fight.”
Through clenched teeth, Damien responded: “Understood.”
And as genuine as he managed to make himself look, Damien told the older professor: “You are welcome, of course, Professor Urhen.”
The man scowled when Damien said his name but commented no further.
Damien tried to coax the student back; he asked: “Can anyone tell me how many lines, which are parallel to each other, and cross two sperate points, exist?”
Damien saw the students think; their vocal cords moved soundlessly as they worked the question. All had reached the correct number – two. But none spoke; most anyone did was write down the number in their notebooks.
Urhen did not manage to keep quiet: “Geometry? Where we left off it was number theory.”
“That is correct,” said Damien. “But I have decided to change the curriculum a bit. The Academy permits such changes, does it not?”
Urhen was near fainting from rage. He stared at Damien and used the last ounce of willpower to not erupt. He said: “As you wish. Esteemed professor.”
Damien continued: “So back to geometry. Most of you, I’m sure, reached the correct solution. It is two. Well done, everyone.” The students beamed.
They react well to praise from authority figures. Maybe all Miriani do? Matrioshka thought.
Damien announced: “For the remainder of this class, I want you to form groups of four. Discuss openly among each other. If there could be any system of geometric axioms that would allow for more parallel lines, or perhaps no parallel lines. Let’s define being parallel as never intersecting. The hints are on the board.”
Everyone was motionless. Urhen rose slowly, inhaled, and said: “What is this!? Is this a joke?”
“Pardon?” asked Damien.
Urhen wagged his cane at Damien: “Pardon yourself! This is a mockery of the Academy. You will have the students chat and play during class?”
Fully confused, Damien said: “Play? Their task is to learn collaboratively.”
Urhen walked up to Damien. The older man sagged under his age; he was more than 15 centimetres shorter. “They’re children! By the Stars, they will make a fool out of you, and me!”
Damien considered the developmental stage of the students, particularly their brains. “I must disagree.” he said. “Their brains are on par with yours. More functioning even, due to your advanced age.”
Stillness suffused the classroom.
Broken finally, by the sound of Urhen’s cane falling to the floor. The older man stood in absolute shock. Wicked grins spread across the faces of the students.
“I- I have never… witnessed such insult.” Urhen said.
Clueless, Damien said: “Have I said something to offend you?”
Students couldn’t help but giggle; the professor turned in rage. He picked up his cane and went to bring it full force across the face of the closest student. The girl shielded her face but did not run away.
Damien’s hand grabbed the cane and tore it from the man’s hand. Damien placed a firm hand on his back and led the man out, saying to him: “I’d appreciate it if you let my students be in peace. They have learning to do.”
Bound by shock, Urhen said: “You forget the color of your fur. There will be consequences for this embarrassment.”
Damien saw Adra approach the classroom; she had promised to visit his class after his first lecture. Problematic timing – Damien had just opened the door and pushed Urhen out. The man stood with his ears curled in confusion; he laid eyes on Adra and said:
“Figured you would be here. Dirt begets dirt.”
Adra let the insult bounce away like she was wearing armor. “Blessed Night, professors.”
“Blessed Night,” replied Damien.
“Aye. Blessed Night. Enjoy them while they last,” said Urhen, and began to walk away. This took some time; the drunkenness did not help.
“What happened?” Adra asked.
“I think I insulted his intelligence?” said Damien.
Adra smiled gently: “You’re unsure?”
Damien motioned for her to move inside, and Adra noted the students’ barely contained joy. “Yes,” she said. “I’m afraid you might have done exactly that.”
“This is Professor Adra Nan-Tar. She will spectate the rest of the class.”
Hiri looked up at Adra and waved at her, smiling. Adra’s ears curled, and she looked quickly towards Damien. This saddened Hiri, who looked away. And Damien realized he would have to untangle that thread somehow.
Adra sat and smiled at the students around her. They seemed much more relaxed now, after the theatre with Urhen. The students went to form groups just as Damien instructed. Adra approached Damien, and asked:
“What is on the curriculum?”
“Ah,” Damien clasped his hands. “We are starting off with joint brainstorming, I’m trying to see if I can get them to invent-”
Damien smiled when the language pack alerted him that “non-Euclidean geometry” will be translated as a short 120-word essay. He corrected:
“Different types of space.”
“Which types are those?” Adra considered the students, and glanced at the board, taking in the three circles.
Damien considered what to say, perhaps it would be best to not say too much. Adra was evidently brilliant, judging by the fluidity of her synapses and her place among the Academy faculty.
“Ah, I would like the students to tell you by themselves.”
Adra smiled, and clasped her hands.
Elsewhere and at the same time, Matrioshka presented herself as a demonic witch, hoping to instil subservience into the Lord Defender – the leader of the Royal Guard, and the King’s uncle – Rumel Kray-Harawan.