The Loved and the Lost Page 10

“Thanks Mom,” Lincoln called back. Then, looking back at Hansum he said, “How’s it feel to be the guest of honor?”

  “What are you talking about?” Hansum asked. “Your Mom just invited me to dinner.”

  “You and all our family three generations back and forward . . . and most of the village. Everyone wants to meet the guy in the Mists of Time Chronicle.”

  “Oh great,” Hansum said. “That’s happening everywhere I go. But how about you? You were there too . . . and you saved my butt more than once.”

  “And you mine. But I’m not the one with the new heart, or the one who had the love affair in front of millions of people. Bro, you’re a star.”

  “That’s stupid, man. I just want to go back and save Guil.” Then he looked serious. “Our notoriety could cause problems. The transport here was full of people all gawking at me and wanting to talk. And your mom and Nan, they fawned all over me.”

  “Well, maybe we shouldn’t fight it, but find a way to use it.”

  “We?”

  “Of course, bro. Wherever you go, I’ll be there. Guil’s my family too, ya know.”

  Hansum came and gave Lincoln a hug. “You and Shamira are the only ones I really trust.” Lincoln hugged back.

  “Isn’t that sweet,” a deep voice said at the door.

  “Shamira! Kingsley!” Hansum and Lincoln shouted at the same time. Now everyone was hugging.

  “Oh, Hansum, you look fantastic,” Shamira said. “Let me hear,” she said putting her ear to his chest.

  “I’m better than ever,” he said thumping his chest. Then he tapped Kingsley on his chest. “Maybe I can take you on now.”

  Kingsley laughed heartily. “We’ll see, big guy, we’ll see.”

  “Your Mom and Nan are nice,” Shamira said to Lincoln. “Where’s Medeea?”

  Lincoln sucked in some air and made a face. “Well, Medeea and I . . .”

  “Hello Shamira,” Medeea’s voice said.

  Lincoln spun around and there she was, smiling. She walked over to Shamira and they embraced.

  “It’s so good to see you,” Shamira said.

  “And you too.”

  “Wish I could say the same,” Hansum added. “Hello again, Medeea, wherever you are.”

  “Hi, Medeea,” Kingsely said.

  “Hello boys,” Medeea replied.

  “Medeea says hello,” Shamira informed them.

  Medeea came and took Lincoln’s arm like nothing had happened.

  “How was your trip?” Hansum asked Kingsley.

  “We had a private transport booked, but that was cancelled and we ended up travelling with a bunch of other people.”

  “That happened to me too,” Hansum said. “And when we landed here, there were other transports all full of people. Oh, excuse me. There’s a call,” he said clicking his communications node. “Hello? Hey, hello Elder Arimus.”

  “Hansum, the news is good,”

  Arimus said, his previous anger long gone.

  “We must contact the others quickly.”

  “I’m at Lincoln’s, Elder. Shamira and Kingsley are here too. I’ll connect them and you can tell everyone.” He pointed around the room, a gesture that told his implant to share the call.

  “Greetings, all,” Arimus said.

  “There has been a most positive development that couldn’t be better.

  The Council has agreed to hear Hansum’s proposal

  for going back and saving Guillietta.”

  “That is very good news,” Hansum agreed, allowing himself a smile.

  “Hansum, well done,” Kingsley said.

  “Zippy!” Lincoln added.

  There was a look of concern on Shamira’s face.

  “Does that mean they like the plan?” Hansum asked.

  “Your plan has captured thoughts and hearts

  from Mongolia to Mars.

  It’s so bold, it left many counselors cold.

  But even those opposed, you’ve captured their imagination.

  And to the public you’ve become a world-wide sensation.

  So many people wish to hear the proposal with their own ears,

  it has turned into the largest public meeting

  in the past hundred years.”

  “But the meeting’s scheduled to be in a room at the Council building,” Shamira said.

  “Oh ho, but within minutes of an announcement saying

  Hansum would a rescue mission proposal be making,

  not one seat in the regular meeting room’s gallery

  was left for the taking.

  Within the hour, there were thousands of requests,

  and the new choice of a venue had to be addressed.”

  “So . . . if it’s not going to be at the Council builiding,” a nervous Shamira asked, “where will we be?”

  Arimus’s visage smiled in each of the teen’s heads.

  “The Arena of Today and Tomorrow.”

  “Oh . . . good . . . Gia!” Shamira groaned.

  “But that amphitheater is only used four times a year for the planet’s district representative meetings,” Hansum said. “It’s about 30,000 seats.”

  “Exactly that many,” Arimus said.

  “And now even this venue is over-subscribed.

  The rest must listen from

  the plateau above the amphitheater.”

  “Hey, we’re standing room only,” Lincoln chimed.

  “So that’s why so many people are travelling,” Kingsley realized.

  “They’re all coming . . . to see us,” a wide-eyed Shamira said.

  “I must go now, my children.

  See you all the day after tomorrow at the amphitheater.

  Never fear. The universe is unfolding

  in the only way it must. Tra la,”

  and he was gone.

  The teens were beginning to see the many sides of Arimus, the mentor, the diplomat, the compassionate elder, but also the tough task-master with a mercurial temper.

  “Fantastic news,” Lincoln said.

  “Yeah,” Shamira said weakly, leaning in and hugging Kingsley’s arm.

  “Are you nervous, Sham?” Kingsley asked, putting an arm around her.

  “I . . . I don’t like being the center of attention in a big group,” she said.

  “You? You’re one of the most outgoing people I know,” Lincoln said.

  “In a small group, sure. But public speaking? It terrifies me.”

  “I’ll be there with you, Shamira,” Kingsley said, giving her a squeeze. “I’m used to being in front of crowds.”

  Medeea came and took Shamira’s arm. “We’ll all be there with you,” she assured her. Then the delver turned and smiled at Lincoln.

  “I’m glad you came back, Medeea,” he thought.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she answered, still stroking Shamira’s arm. “Obviously you aren’t ready for something serious, so we’ll just cool it with the . . . you know what.”

  “Thank you.” And then Lincoln realized. “No more you know what? Darn!”

  Just then the sound of people shouting and laughing could be heard outside. Going to Lincoln’s large glassless bedroom window, they all looked down at the scene spreading before them. The small village of some sixty people was now thronging with hundreds. Many carried picnic baskets and seemed to be making their way to Lincoln’s home.

  “There they are!” a voice in the crowd shouted.

  Suddenly the teenagers in the window felt a thousand eyes upon them. Applause broke out and soon there was cheering. The teens looked at each other, wondering what to do.

  “Smile,” Kingsley said, and as they did the cheering got louder. When Hansum gave a small wave, the cheer turned into a roar.

  “You were right,” Hansum said to Lincoln, keeping a smile on his face. “We’ll have to find a way to use this.”

  “And if it’s like this here,” Lincoln said, smiling and waving like crazy, “What’s it going to be at the amphitheater?”


  “Good Gia!” he heard Shamira moan.

  Chapter 4

  Shamira tried to keep her worries about being the center of attention in large crowds to herself, but her insecurity still showed through. She said little and didn’t smile. Wisely, Kingsley didn’t try to ease her discomfort by talking about it. Instead he was constantly by her side, just as he was now, holding her hand as Talos, Arimus’s A.I. assistant, site transported them with the others to the Arena for Today and Tomorrow.

  Talos was interesting in that his orb was like an old ham-mered-bronze mask, severe and emotionless. However, his green and gold-flecked eyes were most human-like, sympathetic and moist. It appeared as if a flesh and blood person was looking out from behind a metal mask.

  The A.I. site transported them to one of the few open spaces on the huge concourse in front of the pillared entrance to the amphitheater. The place was bustling with people making their way to one of the thirty thousand seats.

  “A public gathering this large hasn’t happened on the planet for over a century,” Talos reminded them. “The people’s interest has definitely been piqued by time travel and each of your personal stories.”

  “Great,” Shamira whispered sarcastically.

  Talos looked over at Shamira. “Are you ready for this, Mistress Shamira?”

  “I just want to get it over with,” she said, squeezing Kingsley’s hand.

  “And you, Master Hansum?”

  “Let’s get on with it.”

  “Master Lincoln?”

  Lincoln yawned. “I’ll be awake by the time we get there,” and he winked at Medeea.

  “And he was teasing us,” Kingsley said to Shamira, who finally gave the faintest of smiles.

  “Let us proceed,” and Talos led the way towards the entrance.

  A century and a half earlier, designers made use of a natural bowl shape on the southern slope of a plateau to carve out the Arena for Today and Tomorrow. Its entrance at the top was flanked by a long row of varied building columns and arches, homage to the architectural ingenuity of humankind through the ages. The majority were ancient originals; Minoan, Greek, Doric, Ionic, Corinthian, Egyptian, Roman-esque, Tuscan and even wooden palisades. But there were also poured cement columns with rusted rebar sticking out from their tops.

  As the group walked toward the entrance, the eyes of many fell upon them, most smiling and nodding in recognition. Hansum, Lincoln and Kingsley seemed to take this in their stride, but poor Shamira, so bold in her private life, continued not to like it one small bit. As they passed through the towering pillars at the entrance, the amphitheater spread out before them, thirty thousand seats carved in a semi-circle, the whole theatre raked at an extreme angle, surrounding a small stage at the bottom.

  The place was designed so that, by mid-morning, natural sunlight flooded the stage area for the rest of the day. As it was open to the elements, when inclement weather prevailed, an invisible energy dome would protect the space. As this day was hot and sunny, the field only kept out biting insects, while allowing in pollinating creatures and birds, all of whom flitted about the many plants artfully worked in around the pillars and concourses. The energy dome also screened out harmful rays and moderated the temperature, to keep everyone comfortable.

  As the group began down the hundred and fifty steps to the stage, Hansum turned to Talos.

  “Any hint of what the inquest verdicts will be?”

  “The human elders guard their decision well and, as I am A.I. and not from this time, I may not comment,” Talos answered.

  “And changes about this new thing?” Lincoln asked. “About Arimus and that really old guy from the future? Is it still in kerfuffle mode?”

  The world’s communications web was abuzz about a new wrinkle that happened over the past twenty-four hours.

  “Nothing has changed as to the kerfuffle, as you call it, although antipathy was expected when we reminded the Council of what it had agreed to,” Talos explained. “We made contact with 24th-century History Camp officials when your scientists first achieved time travel. However, before agreeing to show ourselves to the public, we negotiated certain terms. The two most important at the time were that we would only give advice to your novice Council when we thought it was making a catastrophic decision. As well, we could veto any decision it made, again for the same reason. They liked the idea that their 24th-century Council would make all its own decisions and your scientists would invent their own breakthroughs.”

  “Sounded reasonable at the time,” Hansum smiled.

  “And now some on the Council have their knickers in a knot,” Lincoln laughed.

  “Precisely,” Talos confirmed. “Over a line item that none of them thought important at the time. That was, a Council or inquest only has jurisdiction to sanction people from their own era.”

  “It makes sense to me,” Hansum said. “But, besides the Council, apparently half the planet’s population resent the fact that our Council won’t be able to rule about what Arimus was brought in front of it for, and that your time’s one counselor can veto any decision the twelve members of our Council make.”

  “I don’t think people would object so much,” Lincoln laughed, “if that old guy from your time wasn’t so weird. He doesn’t even seem to know what’s going on.”

  “We shall soon see,” Talos said. “We shall soon see. Are you sure you’re all right, Mistress?”

  They were almost to the bottom and Shamira hadn’t said a word the whole walk down. She just trod ghostlike down the stairs, holding Kingsley’s hand and staring straight ahead.

  “Do we have to sit right on the stage?” she asked, seeing how the stage was arranged.

  “I’m afraid so, Mistress,” Talos replied.

  The stage was simply set. There was a long wooden table and thirteen chairs for the Council members behind it. Five chairs for the council “guests” were situated on the other side, set back a distance from the table and exposing the people sitting in them to the gaze of everyone in the audience. The Council Elders were already seated, all but one with an A.I. hovering behind or beside them. This was the elder from the future, Cassian Olama. He was at the extreme right of the table and, although he sat ramrod straight in his chair, he looked asleep. There were conflicting rumors, one saying that he had left his A.I. at home in the future, but some saying that not everybody from the 31st-century had their own artificial intelligence. This was a very odd notion for the 24th-century mind.

  Arimus was already onstage, his back to the crowd, talking to the two members seated next to the sleeping Cassian. One was Elder Cynthia Barnes, the chairwoman of the Council. She had also been the administrator the teens met when they first arrived at History Camp Verona 1347, about a year earlier. Next to her was Elder Parmatheon Olama, the vice-chair. Because of the perfect acoustics of the place, Elder Parmatheon’s voice could be heard.

  “Arimus, I am still angry that you’re not subject to this Council’s judgment,” he was saying. “You were the one responsible on this botched foray to the past.”

  This seemed to cause the elder from the 31st-century to stir. He sat up and rasped, “Now, Great-grandfather Parmatheon,” the voice of the much older man wheezed, “It has been said . . . many times . . . that we from the future cannot explain . . . our decisions. Be assured . . . it is a law made . . . from long experience . . . that people from specific times . . . must be judged . . . by their own . . . people. And your generation . . . must make . . . its own . . . decisions.”

  “And yet you can veto our judgments,” Elder Parmatheon challenged. But it didn’t register. Elder Cassian had already fallen back to sleep.

  The situation was made more comical by the fact that the elder from the future, Cassian Olama, was a direct descendant of the 24th-century Council vice-chair, Parmatheon Olama. Cassian, however, looked like a light skinned Asian with limp white hair, while his progenitor had dark skin and short, curly black hair. To top that, the biologically much older Cassian insist
ed on calling the other “great-grandfather,” which seemed to rankle his forbearer.

  As the teens got to the bottom of the amphitheater steps, the members of the Council and their A.I.s noticed them. Arimus turned around, smiling and unaffected by the controversy. He was obviously in diplo-matic mode. He came over, hugged each teen in turn and escorted them to their seats. Talos by his side, Arimus then smiled at the Council and tapped his temple, which seemed to reawaken Elder Cassian with a start.

  “Come to order!” old Cassian blurted as his head shot up. “Must I veto something?” Some in the crowd laughed. Others shook their heads.

  The energy field over the amphitheater darkened, except for a rectangular shape facing the sun. The clear opening caused a shaft of sunlight to form over the Council and guests. Elder Cynthia Barnes’s A.I. levitated to center stage. He was an orb the shape of a comical scarecrow head, complete with a ragged bowler hat, two mismatched button eyes and a stitched five-o’clock shadow.

  With the clear voice of a practiced orator, the A.I.’s speech echoed through the amphitheater. And as he spoke, a ten-meter high holographic image of him appeared above the stage so everyone in the audience, and everyone forced to listen from outside the amphitheater, could see him clearly.

  “This Council is called to order,” the A.I. began. “Please take your seats, adjust your levitation cushions and please be quiet throughout the proceeding. We ask that no heckling or commentary be made by the public. Many unique things are happening. Please accept them with dignity. Thank you.” He then floated back to his place by Elder Barnes’ shoulder. The holographic image of the A.I. was replaced by one of the chairwoman.

  “Thank you, Demos,” the woman with tight dark curls and warm brown skin said. “Let’s make short work of the first part of this meeting. That is, what punishment, if any, should be given to Shamira and Kingsley for not following instructions and opening themselves to the 14th-century? Also, we need to decide whether any wrongdoing was done on the part of Hansum, Lincoln or Elder Arimus on that same day. We’ll start with Shamira and Kingsley.” Shamira fidgeted in her seat and lowered her head. Kingsley placed a large hand over hers and looked attentive.

  “There can be no question that Shamira and Kingsley did contra-vene their instructions and made an opening directly to the 14th-century,” Elder Barnes continued. As she said this, her holographic projection was replaced by the frozen image of Shamira and Kingsley just before Ugilino came running around the corner. Both their faces were peeking out of small blue-rimmed circles in the air. The image then animated and they kissed. The image froze again. A young female voice called from somewhere in the crowd.