John Hawks - The Golden City

“We started out with three divisions of society: workers, soldiers and rulers,” Miss Holderness said. “At a certain point, our ancestors introduced a series of myths to justify our system. The first myth is that there is a fundamental reason for our three divisions. The faithful servants are the arms and legs of the Republic. The militants are the heart and the guardians are the head.”

“I heard the same story from a servant in the waterfields,” Michael said.

Miss Holderness looked pleased. “Our ancestors also created a wonderful story where everyone is imprisoned in a cave, gazing at shadows on the wall. Only we gods can leave the cave and truly see the light.”

“The myth justifies our existence,” Mr. Westley said. “The major threat to stability is when people think and act freely. With a hierarchy of consciousness, you can say that anyone’s perception is foolish-or blasphemy.”

“The men you executed were called heretics.”

“The most significant challenge to stability is the perverse impulse toward freedom. You can’t control this desire for freedom entirely with threats and punishments; it’s more effective if you teach people to doubt the reality of their own perceptions. When the system is working correctly, they censor themselves.”

Mr. Dash finished mixing the water and the blue liquid. He drank first and handed the bowl to Mr. Westley. The older man drank, and then handed the bowl to Miss Holderness, who took several swallows and gave the bowl to Michael. All three half gods were silent, watching him. Mr. Dash sat on the edge of his couch as if he expected an unpleasant surprise.

Michael raised the bowl and took a sip of the turquoise-colored liquid. It had a slightly bitter taste, but when he swallowed, he felt warmth spread through his body. He decided that it must be alcohol or something like that. At least they weren’t trying to poison him.

“The guardian who brought me here said you can track anyone wearing a red collar.”

“There are a variety of other ways to monitor the population,” Miss Holderness said. “The militants watch the servants. The guardians watch the militants. And we make sure the guardians aren’t organizing some kind of rebellion.”

“If you have that kind of technology, I don’t know why you use horse carts and steam engines.”

“Would you give explosives to a child?” Mr. Westley asked. “It would be a disaster if everyone in our society were granted access to the machines-so we’ve created a two-tier system. Over a long period of time, we have developed computers, the visionary screens and the monitoring collars. But this technology is restricted to religion and security. We keep food, clothing and medicine at a simpler level. This allows us to create miracles every day. As far as the people are concerned, we gods see everything, know everything…”

“Yes, I came here because of the quantum computer. You were sending us technical data and then it stopped.”

“We assumed that any government or organization that could create a quantum computer would also have knowledge of the Travelers,” Mr. Westley said.

“This was all about you,” Miss Holderness said. “Our goal was to get a Traveler to come to our world.”

Although the blue liquid had made Michael feel a little woozy, he sensed that something significant was about to happen. This was the moment in a sales presentation when someone produced a contract and pushed it across the table.

“So now I’m here,” Michael said. Trying to hide his own tension, he picked up a red morsel of food that resembled a slice of watermelon. It tasted salty-like Korean kimchi -but he swallowed it down and forced a smile. “Why did you want to meet me?”

“For some unknown reason, you and the other Travelers have a power that was not given to us,” Mr. Westley said. “You can escape your world.”

The three half gods stared at Michael. There was an uncomfortable moment of silence. Michael took another sip of the blue liquid and tried not to smile. They were jealous of him. Yes, that was it. Jealous of his power.

“We want to cross over to the different worlds,” Mr. Westley said.

“We’ve done everything we can in this place,” Mr. Dash said. “All of us are bored. We want to go to the dark island and the realm of the hungry ghosts. But most of all we want to travel to the golden city.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Travelers have come here in the past and they have insulted us,” Mr. Dash said. “They call us ‘half gods’ and say that the ‘real’ gods live in this special place.”

Miss Holderness tapped her fingers on the table. “Some creatures might appear to have a higher form of consciousness, but we know how to use our power. It wouldn’t take much effort to make them bow to our true divinity.”

“I can’t teach you how to be a Traveler,” Michael said. “My father had the power and he passed it on to me.”

“It’s simply a way to focus and send energy,” Mr. Westley said. “I think we could duplicate the process with our quantum computers.”

Miss Holderness sipped some more of the blue liquid and passed the bowl to Mr. Dash. “Look at Michael,” she said. “He’s trying to figure out how this is going to increase his own power.”

“Help us become Travelers and we’ll show you how to take control of your world,” Mr. Westley said. “We’ll be in charge of the other five realms, but you’ll be the god of your own particular reality.”

“The Fourth Realm a big place,” Michael told him. “A lot of people live there.”

“You’re not going to be watching them all,” Mr. Dash explained. “Other people can do that job-your church militants and your guardians. However, you’ll be in charge of the system. And you’ll be become a god, just like the three of us.”

“Forget about art and philosophy,” Mr. Westley said. “There is only one truth, and we see it clearly. The permanent force in the universe is the Light held within each living thing. If you control another person, you control their Light.”

“It’s a game-only much more elaborate,” Miss Holderness said. “We make our citizens march around and fight each other. We make them weep and laugh and pray.”

Mr. Dash raised the bowl and grinned. “And after we’re done with that, we can always make them die, sometimes in spectacular ways.”

Sweat trickled down Michael’s neck. He felt as if he had just finished running a race on a warm summer’s day. “My world has different governments and armies and religions.”

“There’s no need to fight against any of these groups,” Mr. Westley said. “We’ll show you how to guide them in a particular direction. First you create a frightening story, and then you provide a happy ending…”

For the next few hours, Hollis wandered through the Ginza district waiting for the phone to ring. If the Tabula knew about his passport, their computers might have registered his arrival in Japan. Once his presence was confirmed, the Tabula’s local contacts would start looking him.

As the sun went down, the neon signs of Ginza began to glow red and green. An enormous video screen on the side of a building flashed pictures of young women who smiled and pointed to new products. Hollis wandered through the canyons of skyscrapers and found himself on a street that was devoted to gift giving. Each shop offered one particular kind of offering: aged sake or expensive luggage, orchids wrapped in white tissue or chocolate candies wrapped in red. Even these gifts made him think about Vicki. Would she have liked a silk scarf or a bottle of perfume? Why didn’t he buy gifts for her when they were living in New York City?