This is a fan translation of Emperors of Illusions (Императоры иллюзий) by the Russian science fiction and fantasy author Sergei Lukyanenko. The novel is a sequel to Lukyanenko's Line of Dreams (Линия грёз) novel and can be considered a fan fiction of the original Master of Orion game.
Chapter 9
The detective looked confused. Rachelle could tell immediately by his uncomprehending stare and his uncertain, almost polite smile.
"I have to read a portion of the Emperor's will to you," he said in lieu of a greeting.
Rachelle jerked. The detective glanced at the video screen, which had been shut off two days before, and grimaced in annoyance, "Eight hours ago, Emperor Gray vanished from the palace. An hour ago, his will was unsealed and the public informed. There's an item in the will—"
"How could he have vanished?" Rachelle asked quietly. She hadn't gotten off the bed when the detective entered and continued to sit, gripping her knees with her arms.
"If I knew that," the detective said a little sarcastically, "I'd be running the ISS instead of talking with former criminals."
Rachelle lifted her head.
"What does the will say?"
The detective unfolded a pale lilac sheet.
"Item number four… okay… 'I, Guardian of Tauri, in accordance with the laws of a number of planets, whose names I see no need to mention, am removing all the charges, both personal and public, from the conspirators who made an attempt on my life. From this moment, their full rights and freedoms, as granted to them as citizens of the Empire, are restored.'"
After a beat, the detective added, "The signatures of the witnesses and the Emperor apply to the entire document, which is why I haven't read them out loud."
"So who is the new emperor?"
"That hasn't been announced yet. There was a big stir at the top," the detective suddenly lost all formality, turning from a machine into a person. "Someone tried to claim that the will was invalid and written in unsound mind, but I think they failed. Gray had chosen some very influential witnesses. They'll announce the last item after they find and deliver the Emperor's successor to Terra."
"I see. Does that mean I'm free to go?" Rachelle asked.
"Yes, of course. It's the Emperor's will… even if I don't understand it. You can go home, girl."
"I don't think I have a home now," Rachelle replied seriously.
The detective nodded. After a moment's hesitation, he offered, "Do you want me to take you out the service entrance? There are reporters there too, but still…"
"Thank you. Would you mind taking me to see my sister at the hospital?"
"But… I'm afraid she already knows who's responsible."
Rachelle shrugged.
"Even more reason to. Do you remember how they taught us to ask for forgiveness as children?"
"They also taught us to never betray friends, loved ones, and the Empire."
"And if one of the betrayals was unavoidable?"
"There's always a compromise, girl."
Rachelle got to her feet. She walked up close to him and whispered in his ear, "No. Not always. Then you have to choose those who can forgive."
Tamura was already regretting his decision. It had been such a dumb move to switch from working in the well-oiled aTan systems department to the Line of Dreams! True, he was making more money, and the career prospects had seemed excellent. But a single week on the job was enough to realize that this time the Old Man had made a mistake.
The Line of Dreams, a path to divinity, power that cost pennies, couldn't find a market. TV stations constantly ran the ads, newspapers and magazines were full of headlines like "Why I Am Leaving…", but the boom of the initial days hadn't repeated itself. The machines were servicing no more than a dozen clients per day. And such clients they were! Nervous acne-ridden teenagers, whose money looked stolen and whose eyes were full of fear; hysterical women, running on and on about how their husbands would suffer after taking them for granted; quiet, neat-looking middle-aged men, whose facial expressions made Tamura's blood run cold.
The day's first client—and it was already almost noon—didn't seem weird, at least. Old, flabby, wearing a business suit and ugly horn-rimmed glasses that hid his eyes. Maybe a minor clerk who hadn't earned enough money for an aTan or a scientist who believed that his talents weren't being appreciated ― the Unified Will only knew…
"I can exchange a paid aTan for a Line of Dreams, correct?" he inquired.
Tamura nodded. That rule had been introduced by Curtis two days before. It hadn't been met with much enthusiasm.
"Good…" the old man said to himself. "You see, I have no money. Never needed it."
Tamura nodded diligently. His work required him to listen to the clients.
"I was afraid that such a minor thing would be a problem," the old man went on. "Let me try to remember the number…"
"Don't worry about it," Tamura smiled politely, took out the scanner, and passed it over the old man's head. He stared at the digits in confusion.
Eighty-nine.
The old man was one of the first hundred aTan users.
Tamura entered the number into the computer terminal and got a green stripe. The aTan was active.
"One moment," Tamura said, desperately trying to remember where the backup scanner was. The neural network number wasn't just ancient, it was somehow familiar.
"Yes, I remember! Eighty-nine!" the man told him with a note of pride. After a moment's hesitation, Tamura set the device aside. After all, it was none of his business.
"Are you familiar with how the Line of Dreams works?" he handed the old man an introduction to the contract. The man signed without looking.
"Remember, the Line of Dreams is a unidirectional process, you will be unable to return to our world."
"I understand. A one-way trip, any dreams…"
Tamura was a little confused. He wanted to finish up with this business quickly and to chat with the guys about a Vague War-era client, who had decided to go through the Line of Dreams. They wouldn't believe him even after a couple of beers… but there it was, the number on the scanner and the contract forms on the desk.
"Sign here," he handed a pen to the old man.
It once again looked like the client wasn't reading the documents. Only when he went back a few pages to double-check some confusing paragraph with a rule it was referencing, Tamura realized that the old man was simply used to working with a large number of documents.
A planetary administration official?
Tamura decided to convince the guys from the central archives to break a few laws and learn the name and occupation of the client.
"That's it. I agree with your terms," the old man tossed the documents across the desk. Tamura didn't comment; after all, the man was leaving forever.
"Try to clearly imagine your ideal world. It's waiting for you," Tamura said, activating the central computer. Somewhere beyond his office, systems that couldn't by all rights be working were coming alive.
"And that's going to help, is it?" the old man inquired with slight sarcasm. "According to the contract's eighth clause, the Line of Dreams reacts to the deep, genuine dreams."
Tamura shrugged.
"Well… we're supposed to say that. We haven't yet had time to establish any traditions."
"I see," the old man stood. He did it easily, indicating that he was in shape after all. "Well, have a nice life."
Tamura unlocked and opened the door that led to the hardware unit. Unsure of why he was doing it, he inquired, "What do you think is waiting for you?"
The man stopped, as if this simple question had baffled him.
"I… I don't really know."
Tamura smiled guiltily. But the old man seemed to be determined to answer.
"I think it's going to be quiet. Quiet and simple."
Already in the hallway, he added, "I'd like to believe that…"
The short Japanese man wiped the sweat off his brow. Never, not even during the hottest days of working for the aTan Corporation, had he felt himself so drained as he was after this simple conversation. Maybe all the weariness inside this old man was streaming outside, poisoning everyone and everything. It was a good thing he'd gone there.
The distant, barely audible hum of the machinery was relaxing. Tamura walked across his office, his eyes absentmindedly scanning the familiar advertising posters. He didn't feel ready to greet another client… but would there be any more today?
Then Tamura froze, his gaze staring at the text he'd read long ago and forgotten.
"One of aTan's first clients was Emperor Gray. Neural network number eighty-nine had forever granted humankind his priceless genius…"
Tamura became nauseous.
Had he been able to interrupt the Line of Dreams, he would have done it. But after being activated, the system was completely autonomous.
He'd just personally deprived the Empire of the Emperor. It didn't matter anymore whether he'd been a great thinker or simply a clever schemer, a good man or a bad man… Emperor Gray had taken the road, which, in Tamura's experience, was taken only by losers.
As if in a dream, Tamura grabbed the scanner off the desk and reset the indicator.
He would never speak of this. Ever.