D. MacHale - Raven Rise

Richard gave Patrick a curious look. Patrick realized he had asked a ridiculous question. Richard didn’t know about traveling between time and territories.

“Why do you ask?” Richard replied. “Did you go somewhere else in Halla?”

Or maybe he did. Patrick had forgotten that Naymeer pulled the curtain back on Halla many centuries before.

“What do you know about Halla?” Patrick asked.

“Enough to know that the promise of living in a world better than our own was never fulfilled” was Richard’s angry answer. “Is there anything else to know?”

“No,” Patrick said, glum. “I guess not.”

“Yesterday,” Richard said.

“Yesterday what?”

“Yesterday they burned the library and sent me to the hospital.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Why did you come back?” Richard asked. “Still looking for answers, Teacher?”

Patrick perked up. “Now more than ever.”

Richard gave a tired nod. He reached for his sleeve and pulled it up to reveal an ugly red blotch on his right forearm.

Patrick gasped.

It was a scar where there once had been the tattoo of a star. “How’s this for a start?” Richard asked.

“You’re one of them?” Patrick asked, stunned.

“I was. Until I learned the truth.”

“Tell me,” Patrick begged. “I need to know. Everything.”

“Why?” Richard asked.

“To try to stop it,” Patrick answered bluntly.

Richard sniffed skeptically. He looked Patrick right in the eye and asked, “Are you strong enough?”

“To stop it? I don’t know.”

“No. I’m asking if you’re strong enough to learn the truth.”

The ominous question made Patrick flinch. “I have to be.”

Richard nodded and shuffled off, headed deeper into the library. Patrick followed him down a long corridor with a cracked marble floor. They soon reached a small room with an unmade bed along the far wall. Clothes were strewn everywhere. The place smelled of smoke and dirty laundry. A small hot plate for cooking was on a scarred old desk.

“You live here?” Patrick asked, incredulous.

“This is my world now,” Richard said as he dug through mounds of clothing and paper containers. “Homey, don’t you think?”

“This isn’t your world,” Patrick corrected. “Your world is those books out there.”

That made Richard stop. He seemed to soften. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “It’s a dying world. I’m tired of living in it.”

He found what he was looking for-a set of car keys.

Afew minutes later Richard and Patrick were driving up Broadway in an ancient, gas-powered automobile. Richard was behind the wheel. Patrick was white-knuckling it in the passenger seat. The old car was falling apart. Every time it hit the slightest crack in the road, it bounced and groaned as if about to crumble. Patrick glanced nervously at the old man. He was actually relieved to see that Richard looked better. He had a happy spark in his eye. He obviously enjoyed driving.

“Haven’t taken this old wreck for a spin in a decade,” Richard explained. “Impossible to get gas. All I do is start it up every so often to keep things working.”

“Where are we going?” Patrick asked.

“To get the answers you’ve been looking for.”

“I thought all the records from the early twenty-first century were destroyed.”

“They were. Most of ‘em, anyway. Things get passed around. And hidden. I’ve read enough to piece some things together. But I’m not taking you to see some old papers. You’re going to see reality.” He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a pad of paper with a pen attached. He tossed it to Patrick, saying, “Take notes. Let’s start our own documentation of history.”

Patrick took the pad but didn’t write anything. He was too terrified of Richard’s driving to look at anything other than the road.

“He was some kind of prophet,” Richard began. “Or so the stories go. He promised a better life. He promised paradise. All his people had to do was buy into his way of thinking.”

“You’re talking about Naymeer?” Patrick asked.

“Who else? He gave people a glimpse into other worlds. ‘Halla,’ he called it. People ate it up. Everybody wants to live in a better place. It’s only natural. Halla wasn’t some mystical afterlife you had to die to get to. No, it swirled all around, all the time. All you had to do to get there was prove your worth.”

“By being perfect,” Patrick added.

Richard gave him a look. “You know more than you let on, teacher.”

“I’m learning,” Patrick answered. “How did Naymeer show them these worlds?”

“He had a ring,” Richard continued. “He said it was made from the stuff that created all existence. Not many doubted him. There was a tunnel in the Bronx. They had big gatherings where he’d use the ring to make that tunnel come alive with visions of Halla.”

“The flume,” Patrick muttered.

D. J. MacHale

Raven Rise

“Yeah, the flume. I understand it was quite the show.”

“That was a long time ago,” Patrick said. “How did it all go wrong?”

“It didn’t at first. Naymeer was all about reward and punishment. Those he considered worthy were given wealth and comfort. Those he thought were a drain on society were given, well, nothing. No, worse than that. They were stripped of everything, including their pride.”

“What about the sick and the elderly?”

“No exceptions. Once you were judged to be a burden, your rights were taken away, and you were forced to live in these camps they called Horizon Compounds. There were thousands of ‘em, all over the world. That’s where they kept the people who didn’t contribute. They were as good as slaves. Occasionally somebody would prove to be worthy and got sprung to join the elite, but mostly they spent their lives between the compounds and whatever job they were assigned to keep the wheels of the world moving.”

“And they weren’t allowed to see the rest of Halla?”

“They weren’t allowed anything,” Richard snapped. “They were treated like a subspecies. The Horizon Compounds were filthy places full of crime and disease.”

Patrick sat back in his seat, stunned. “That’s incredible.”

“What’s incredible is how so many people allowed it to happen. That’s what Ravinia is all about. It’s the essence of their philosophy. They believe that prosperity comes only from rewarding excellence and crushing weakness.”

Patrick shook his head sadly. “Yet society crumbled.”

“Not according to the Ravinians. They’re still around, you know. Who do you think gave me that beating? They haven’t given up. They consider all this just a transitional phase before the true glory will rise from the ashes, or some such nonsense.”

Patrick looked to Richard. “You were one of them.”

“I took on the symbol,” Richard answered. “I was never one of them. I joined to keep the library open and the memories alive. The truth alive. But I was not one of them.”

“Why do they care so much about burying the truth?” Patrick asked.

Richard gave him a sideways glance. “Look around. Reality hasn’t exactly lived up to the promise. They fear that if enough people learned the truth, it could lead to a revolution.”

“Why did you get rid of the star symbol?”

Richard didn’t answer at first. Patrick saw his eyes fill with tears. Patrick didn’t push him. He would answer when he was ready.

“I’m an old man,” Richard finally said. “I won’t be around much longer, and I’m okay with that. I’ve seen too much as it is. I played the game, to do what I thought was right, but every man has his limits. I’d dance through hell, but I’d never make a pact with the devil. When I learned the truth, I reached my limit. So I burned off the star.”