Any Other Way
Chapter Two: Industrial Revolution
Author's Note: Wow. This Chapter is way longer than I anticipated! Good luck, guys.
"Dear Courtney,
I know keeping journals is usually Bobby's thing, but he's kind of busy at the moment. Well, we're all busy, but his job is way more important right now. I asked Katya if I could write you, and she agreed to lend me her typewriter so I could get this down.
Cyahtvla is unlike any place I've ever seen. No, I take that back. I've never been to Europe, but I've heard it's like living in a museum-- you see ancient ruins right next to a modern skyscraper. That's exactly what Cyahtvla reminds me of. The first day here was, to say the least, an eye-opener. Despite all Bobby's told us, and all we've seen, I was totally unprepared for what we'd find.
We stepped out of the flume and into the darkness. I was just stunned, but Bobby seemed to be searching for something. I started to ask him what to do, but he motioned for me to shush.
"Quigs." He said, and my blood ran cold. Where were they? How would we fight them?
"Somewhere to our left. Something big." I looked, and to my horror, the room was getting light enough that I could see a row of bookshelves (all emptied) and beside them, on the wall, a faint silhouette. It was indeed huge. And quadruped. And monstrous. While I shivered, Bobby was looking for weapons. But among the strange new clothing, there was nothing. He swore under his breath. The quig was coming closer, and all we had to defend ourselves were our on hands. This didn't look good. The monster, which I now saw to be something like a cross between a cougar and a gorilla (black, tough hide, but claws and ears like a cat), stalked us like a hunter sizing up his prey. Then he lunged, and I closed my eyes.
The blow I anticipated never came. Instead, I found upon opening my eyes again that the beast had crumpled to the ground, unexpectedly. Bobby and I stood in awe of the person behind it, a bloody dagger held upright in her slender hand.
"I've been expecting you," Katya said. "Please follow me." When we reached the source of the light (a single black-light bulb, hanging from an old-fashioned cord in the ceiling), she spoke again, and I noticed her accent was something like German.
"Why have you not dressed? You cannot go out into the streets in Second Earth apparel. Did you not find suitable clothing outside the flume?"
I didn't know how to answer that, but Bobby replied angrily,
"It's a little hard to change with a monster attacking you!"
She smiled. "Very well, then. I'll wait for you here. If you see another quig, just let me know."
As we dressed, I wondered what kind of people these were. Katya's clothing was very different from these. She wore a long coat, like something from Sherlock Holmes, and her shoes were feminine black heels. But for us, there were collared shirts and navy suit jackets. I hoped Cyahtvla had a cooler climate. I was already sweating down here. After we dressed and emerged into the light, she beamed and complimented us about how we looked. I thought Bobby would retort her, but he just shook his head.
"Let's go."
The streets of Cyahtvla's Capitol (which is all the call it, "The Capitol") are narrow cobblestone paths, winding between huge antiquated buildings. But the strange thing is, every few blocks you see construction teams, very similar to the ones on Earth, tearing up the roads and pouring a type of brown cement on the walkway. Oh yea, there are no cars. But we have seen a few of these carriage-looking things, pulled by what looks like a tractor engine. It all seems very crude to me, but that's not the weirdest thing. What really got me was the quiet of the city. Once, we passed a penniless musician playing an instrument that vaguely resembled a harp on the side of the road. The people reacted very strangely. They would look at him almost wistfully, then hurry away, as if he had some contagious disease. Then I saw why. Just as we passed him, a policeman approached, billy-club held high. I swear, no matter what territory you're in, law enforcement never changes. Bobby moved as if to help the musician, but Katya grabbed his arm.
"Don't do anything stupid. We need you. Keep moving." And so the unfortunate man was led down the street, his hands tied behind his back. I wondered what would happen to him. Courtney, all he was trying to do was play some music. Is that so wrong???
What seemed like hours later, we passed a sign saying, "Capitol city limits" and Katya motioned for us to wait there. She took off running into the woods, a dense forest just outside the city's walls. But before I could get really worried, she returned, riding something surprisingly modern.
A motorcycle.
Okay, not really a motorcycle, duh. It was closer to a moped, the way it was built. But as she told us, it goes fast. It's one of those Hiilos we read about, and as we hopped on the back, I had the same feeling I get from jumping into a flume."
Mark paused as he typed. There was no way he'd tell Courtney this, even in a letter, but there was something highly odd about that time. When they'd mounted the Hiilo, Mark had gotten behind Katya, and Bobby sat behind Mark. That wasn't unusual, except that Mark always thought Bobby should ride in front. It seemed to fit the hierarchy. Traveler in front, acolyte in back. And that wasn't the worst of it. Mark had been friends with Bobby for years, but he wasn't prepared to have the Traveler's hands around his waist as they sped along the forest path. It was exhilarating, and not just because of the speed. A twisting sensation gripped Mark's stomach as he keyed the typewriter. He was disgusted to admit to himself that he had enjoyed having Bobby hold him. That was so wrong. He shook off the thought and kept typing.
"She was right: those things go wicked fast. In no time we had cleared the forest and headed for the hills. This territory is beautiful, Courtney. You'd love it here."
That was a bit harsh, but he'd already typed it. There was no erasing. He might as well go ahead.
"I don't know why Bobby decided to bring me, but I'm sorry. I wish you were here." That was good enough. If he typed any more, she might sense a lie. He began a new paragraph.
"We rode for a while longer, and then we saw the sun setting over the mountains. As we sloped downward, I saw a gate that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Instead of going around it, we kept up pace. I got a little nervous. Maybe there was some security post, maybe Katya had all-access and the gates would begin to open as we got closer. They didn't. We were yards away from it.
"Katya! Slow down!" Bobby yelled, but she ignored him. I was about to jump for it, but Bobby was still holding on to me. So we braced ourselves for the crash.
This is so cool, Courtney. The gate wasn't real!! Or maybe it was. Maybe it was like one of those laser censors, like you see in James Bond movies. Maybe Katya had some kind of tag on her Hiilo that allowed us to pass through. Maybe it's magic. I'd have believed anything at that moment. I was just thankful to be in one piece. Anyway, Katya finally slowed down as we approached a structure, like a garage, and she parked the Hiilo. When we climbed down, I was a little unsteady."
Mark refused to tell how he'd almost collapsed, and Bobby caught him, causing Mark to turn bright red and stutter that he was fine. He continued the paragraph.
"We weren't noticed until we entered the first building, a huge black stucco edifice covered in ivy. I've never seen anything like it, on Earth or in Halla. Immediately it seemed we were crowded. A young child came and took our coats, two more servants offered us drinks, while Katya tried to shoo the others away. They persisted, and only backed off when we heard a new voice.
"Pendragon! So good of you to come."
The owner of this voice was dressed similarly to Katya, although her coat was pitch-black, like the building, and its collar came up to her neck. She also wore black heels, the same leathery material as her gloves. But what we noticed first was her mask. Unlike everyone else we'd seen so far, she wore a black mask that shone with tiny emeralds, accentuating her eyes. It hid about half of her face, and wasn't obscured in the least by her hair, which was partly pulled back and fell just below her shoulders.
It turns out, this was Speaker. From Katya's letter, I was expecting someone⦠taller. More masculine. Don't take that the wrong way, Courtney!! I know, girls can be powerful! But from the way she walked, and gave commands like she owned the place, I was stunned to see she was a young woman. The Traveler from Cyahtvla. I stood behind Bobby as he introduced us, and she soon dispersed the small throng of people.
"Come upstairs to my study. We have much to discuss." That was an understatement. We followed her silently up the main staircase, then down a hallway to a door that opened into more stairs. As we walked, then climbed, I couldn't help gaping at all we saw. Statues, paintings, frescoes and wax figures. Some were ancient, and reminded me of Michelangelo's David, or the Last Supper, while others were modern, and could have come straight from Soho, New York. There were also costumes framed along the walls, elaborate dresses with high collars, animal costumes with what looked like real skins, and suits of armor. Speaker saw us looking around and smirked.
"Do you like my collection?" She asked proudly as we climbed. "At the start of industrialization, nearly a year ago, artisans from all over Cyahtvla came to me, bringing their most precious works. You see," and here her voice dropped mournfully, "Left where they were, they would have been destroyed. The museums are not safe. The libraries are not safe. Fiction disappears more and more everyday, replaced by manuals and guidebooks. Even the Cyahtvlan Royal Theater, once the hub of society, has been closed without notice. At first people protested. Now, those who once cared are too afraid to speak up."
Bobby replied bluntly, "You aren't."
We saw her mouth smile, and we could only assume her eyes did too.
"Yes. We haven't given up."
Speaker's study is a thing of wonder. When you think of a private library, you think maybe a room or two of books, a globe, maybe a small statue or a map. Speaker's had four tower rooms, all connected by an antique elevator that was operated with a hand-crank.
"First floor: theology and poetry. Second floor, history, through the 17th century. Third floor, history through modern days. Fourth floor, private arts. We'll take the third floor. I have things to show you."
And so we ascended. There was a cluster of old couches, like the ones Cleopatra would have used, and at the center of the room there was a pendulum, swinging cyclically over a pond of freshwater, with real fish swimming in it.
"Bluefish. My favorite. But we haven't come to chat about pets. Sit down. That's . Are you hungry? I'll have some refreshment brought up." Without waiting for an answer, she pressed a button on the banister surrounding the pendulum.
"Yes, Speaker?"
"A sampler plate for our guests, and my usual."
"Right away, Speaker." There was a click.
"Why do they treat you like a god? Are you some kind of queen? Or have you just brainwashed them into following you?"
She stopped smiling and looked Bobby dead in the eyes.
"I only have the best interests of my country in heart. Cyahtvla needs a strong leader. When the turning point of our territory arrives, I will be there. Our people will need guidance, and I will provide it. We will not fall. I promised them that, and I never break my word." Quite a speech. But she wasn't finished yet.
"What would have happened to First Earth during World War II if not for Winston Churchill and Roosevelt? Yes, I know your world better than you think. I was there when Normandy was breached. I saw Auschwitz. I saw Birkenau. And I'll be damned if the same thing happens here. I will not let my people be obliterated."
"Who's trying to obliterate you?"
"The government. This may sound paranoid, but the devastation of our culture, our practices is only the first step. Your Nazis had a Master Race. Our government is trying the same approach. Those who are efficient, those who know math, business, technology, will succeed. Those who don't will be cast off. Humanities, in both senses of the word, do not amount to anything in the eyes of our current dictator."
"And who is that? Another woman?" I wasn't the only one feeling a little tired of affirmative action.
"No. You haven't seen any of Cyahtvla if you think women can take power. Sure, you see me in charge of the Underground, but on the outside women are very close to slaves. A woman's place is in the kitchen. Teaching children. Raising her daughter to be just like her. It's the woman's fault if the man is a failure. These are the stereotypes we are fighting every day."
"What about you? What about Katya?"
"Katya? Her job is nothing like mine. She works as a spy for me, a maid in the Yessler's house. He is like your Vice President, our ruler's greatest confidant. And she serves his drinks." There was a humorous edge to her voice.
"But what do you want us to do?"
"I need you to help me kill him."
Author's Note: So, what do you think? Too melodramatic? I'm working on the romance, but as you know, this is an adventure series. The plot comes first! But don't worry, I have an idea. ;) Reviewers get cookies, and a new chapter!
