12-06-2017, 03:28 PM
A ghost of a smile played on his lips. Valeriya's green eyes seemed veiled, as if probing. A test? Or was she hungry? He quirked an eyebrow at the thought. He'd given thought to how the Khylsty would respond to technology. A lot of thought. He'd cast his mind back to examples in history where "primitive" peoples encountered advanced technology.
What had always stuck out with him was how quickly they adapted to it. They moved beyond viewing it as awe-inspiring power rather quickly. "Magic"- the kind peddled in non-scientific societies- held its power because it was in the power of the few- priest, clerics or shaman. They were the middlemen, the mediators, the intercessors, invoking the gods or the power of nature in prescribed formulas and incantations and rituals. The people were petitioners, begging for consideration, offering up obedience and value. The power flowed inexorably in one direction.
Technology did the opposite. Yes, there were the new priests and magicians of any modern era- engineers, scientists and programmers- who held the final knowledge on how things were made and how they worked- controlled them. But the tech they created was for the masses, empowering everyone to take control. The power flowed in both directions.
And that was how it always worked. The Tlaxacalans almost assuredly would not have had the same experience with Cortez as Moctezuma and the Aztecs, had he arrived a mere ten years later. The Aztec empire was already crumbling from within, due to decay and social ossification, and the Tlaxacala had been on the verge of jumping in and taking over in a coup. They did not view Cortez and his men as the return of Queztalcoatl.
Instead, they were champing at the bit for new technology to coopt. They already had a hold in the Tarascan smiths- who were on the verge of nearly jumping over their own bronze age directly into iron working- and the Zapotecan boat builders who'd broken free of the concept of single log canoes and were on a straight path to large keel, rudder and beam ships.
They would not have viewed Cortez and his technology as magic. They would have recognized these tools for what they were- and exploited them.
It was almost humorous to imagine how few men it took getting their hearts ripped out before the smiths and ship-wrights among them gave up their secrets. The world would have been a very different place.
Aboriginals in Australia had been given television recording and broadcasting equipment and been shown how to use them, and before long, they were producing their own content and sharing them over the airwaves.
The bottom line, proven over and over again, was the same. People were people, "primitive" or not. The same hungers, the same intelligence, the same abilities. They did not have to understand how things worked to use them. The vast majority of people alive today didn't, even among those who worked in the tech field.
The Khylsty would get used to the world above quickly. The language barrier was the bigger hurdle and would take longer.
Still, it would not happen over night. And Valeriya deserved her position. And to retain that position. She was his Eye. Her learning would be a good first step for the remaining Khylsty. It would good for her to learn first and for it to pass through her to the others.
His icy blue gaze swept the group, noting the fear and- yes, in a few places, hunger- before returning to hers. "It is not magic as you imagine it. And all of you will learn it. Soon." He paused, choosing his words. "It does not see as deeply or truly as your Eye. It cannot see beyond the veil to the face of god. But in some ways, it is more powerful than anything man has ever known. I will teach you when we reach our destination."
Unsatisfying, he knew. But supplies were still low. And this close to the surface, they weren't safe. They had been noticed, he was sure. Raiding more than one camp had made them many enemies.
He led them the rest of the way until they reached an exit of sorts. The district drank water and excreted industrial waste. It was vile and slow going, but finally an opening out to the sky showed.
Strangely, he felt a sense of relief and release at the sight of the cobalt blue sky, only a few stars visible through the ambient glare of the city. The moon hung low and fat in the sky, silver clouds wreathed it in halo. The air- despite pollutants- was crisp and fresh and he couldn't help but breath deeply.
He heard hisses and invocations. He looked back at them, his blue eyes glowing in the moonlight. "This is the surface. It is currently dark. But in a few hours, light will appear. We must make our way." He could imagine the fear and anxiety that wormed in them. His voice strengthened. "Fear is understandable! Fear is human. The newborn child screams at being yanked from its safe and warm home. But you are Khylsty. This is your world. You are all born anew! Be brave."
It was a struggle for him. He was not an orator. Inspiring people was not in his nature. He hoped it was enough to get them to where they needed to go. In the safe house, there would be chance for rest and adjustment.
A large group threading their way through the streets next to large, abandoned or closed buildings, had to draw some attention, even as they used every back alley and side street his wallet indicated. The sounds of barking dogs and the occasional car seemed to fill the still damp air. The streets and sidewalks were still damp from a spring rain.
Somehow, they made it undisturbed and Armande entered the master-key passcode on the locking mechanism. The door swung open and he paused, looking down at Valeriya through the shadows behind him. He looked in the room and listened, felt the air, waiting for that telltale indicator that every home or building seemed to have- was it inhabited. Nothing.
He stepped in and flipped on the light. He couldn't stop to imagine their reaction to everything that he was doing. Get them to where they were safe and give them time to acclimate. That was key. He stepped aside, unblocking the way. "Quickly. Inside."
He closed the door at the last of them. The room was rather large, with waist high cubicles and office furniture scattered about. Which was purposeful. It was to be seen only as an abandoned office. Atharim security had been in place, monitored at the Vatican, to log entries and record activity. He entered a code and shut down the cameras. He'd have to meet with the Pope. With everything up in the air, he needed to make sure the
Vatican didn't decide to cut their losses. It had been a marriage of convenience all those centuries ago. When he rebuilt, he'd have to come up with more Atharim autonomy. He'd have done it sooner if not for the myriad of other things vying for his attention- not the least of which was the recognition of Apollyon's appearance.
Which was odd, now that he thought about it. Their passage through from the tunnels to this office- as careful as it was- should have elicited more notice. There were no fires either. The city had seemed placid. It was not what he would have expected with Brandon's death. Had the propaganda arm kept things under wraps? Not that much time had passed. It was possible.
if so, they were fortuitous indeed to be on the ground floor when the chaos erupted, as it eventually must. Perhaps he could even stoke the fires. What a coup that would be.
Later, though. He had the Khylsty to take care of. "This will be our home, for the time being. There are bunks below and provisions." He set the alarms for the building. The noise would alert them at least. Then he led them below to the warehouse- really a barracks- showing them where they'd be staying. He also enlisted some of them to help him raid the pantries for provisions- water, food, blankets, clothing, as well as showed them the restrooms for personal ablusions, and demonstrated their use. Those few would pass the word. He also got the first aid kits and tended to the any who needed it, even if that included the need for simple pain relievers.
He felt a sense of calm. This leg of their journey was over. But it was only the beginning. "Get some rest. Tomorrow we will talk further and I will answer your questions."
He then turned to Valeria and studied her for a moment, curious as to what she was thinking. Of all of them, she alone knew what they had been going to. But knowing and seeing where two different things. And she wanted to learn. He pitched his voice low. "Come with me. I will answer what I can and teach what you wish to know." She didn't know what questions to ask, of course, not fully. But he knew she craved understanding.
He turned indicating an office off to one of the corners, far enough away for private conversation, close enough to be available at a moment's notice.
Edited by Regus, Dec 6 2017, 04:31 PM.
What had always stuck out with him was how quickly they adapted to it. They moved beyond viewing it as awe-inspiring power rather quickly. "Magic"- the kind peddled in non-scientific societies- held its power because it was in the power of the few- priest, clerics or shaman. They were the middlemen, the mediators, the intercessors, invoking the gods or the power of nature in prescribed formulas and incantations and rituals. The people were petitioners, begging for consideration, offering up obedience and value. The power flowed inexorably in one direction.
Technology did the opposite. Yes, there were the new priests and magicians of any modern era- engineers, scientists and programmers- who held the final knowledge on how things were made and how they worked- controlled them. But the tech they created was for the masses, empowering everyone to take control. The power flowed in both directions.
And that was how it always worked. The Tlaxacalans almost assuredly would not have had the same experience with Cortez as Moctezuma and the Aztecs, had he arrived a mere ten years later. The Aztec empire was already crumbling from within, due to decay and social ossification, and the Tlaxacala had been on the verge of jumping in and taking over in a coup. They did not view Cortez and his men as the return of Queztalcoatl.
Instead, they were champing at the bit for new technology to coopt. They already had a hold in the Tarascan smiths- who were on the verge of nearly jumping over their own bronze age directly into iron working- and the Zapotecan boat builders who'd broken free of the concept of single log canoes and were on a straight path to large keel, rudder and beam ships.
They would not have viewed Cortez and his technology as magic. They would have recognized these tools for what they were- and exploited them.
It was almost humorous to imagine how few men it took getting their hearts ripped out before the smiths and ship-wrights among them gave up their secrets. The world would have been a very different place.
Aboriginals in Australia had been given television recording and broadcasting equipment and been shown how to use them, and before long, they were producing their own content and sharing them over the airwaves.
The bottom line, proven over and over again, was the same. People were people, "primitive" or not. The same hungers, the same intelligence, the same abilities. They did not have to understand how things worked to use them. The vast majority of people alive today didn't, even among those who worked in the tech field.
The Khylsty would get used to the world above quickly. The language barrier was the bigger hurdle and would take longer.
Still, it would not happen over night. And Valeriya deserved her position. And to retain that position. She was his Eye. Her learning would be a good first step for the remaining Khylsty. It would good for her to learn first and for it to pass through her to the others.
His icy blue gaze swept the group, noting the fear and- yes, in a few places, hunger- before returning to hers. "It is not magic as you imagine it. And all of you will learn it. Soon." He paused, choosing his words. "It does not see as deeply or truly as your Eye. It cannot see beyond the veil to the face of god. But in some ways, it is more powerful than anything man has ever known. I will teach you when we reach our destination."
Unsatisfying, he knew. But supplies were still low. And this close to the surface, they weren't safe. They had been noticed, he was sure. Raiding more than one camp had made them many enemies.
He led them the rest of the way until they reached an exit of sorts. The district drank water and excreted industrial waste. It was vile and slow going, but finally an opening out to the sky showed.
Strangely, he felt a sense of relief and release at the sight of the cobalt blue sky, only a few stars visible through the ambient glare of the city. The moon hung low and fat in the sky, silver clouds wreathed it in halo. The air- despite pollutants- was crisp and fresh and he couldn't help but breath deeply.
He heard hisses and invocations. He looked back at them, his blue eyes glowing in the moonlight. "This is the surface. It is currently dark. But in a few hours, light will appear. We must make our way." He could imagine the fear and anxiety that wormed in them. His voice strengthened. "Fear is understandable! Fear is human. The newborn child screams at being yanked from its safe and warm home. But you are Khylsty. This is your world. You are all born anew! Be brave."
It was a struggle for him. He was not an orator. Inspiring people was not in his nature. He hoped it was enough to get them to where they needed to go. In the safe house, there would be chance for rest and adjustment.
A large group threading their way through the streets next to large, abandoned or closed buildings, had to draw some attention, even as they used every back alley and side street his wallet indicated. The sounds of barking dogs and the occasional car seemed to fill the still damp air. The streets and sidewalks were still damp from a spring rain.
Somehow, they made it undisturbed and Armande entered the master-key passcode on the locking mechanism. The door swung open and he paused, looking down at Valeriya through the shadows behind him. He looked in the room and listened, felt the air, waiting for that telltale indicator that every home or building seemed to have- was it inhabited. Nothing.
He stepped in and flipped on the light. He couldn't stop to imagine their reaction to everything that he was doing. Get them to where they were safe and give them time to acclimate. That was key. He stepped aside, unblocking the way. "Quickly. Inside."
He closed the door at the last of them. The room was rather large, with waist high cubicles and office furniture scattered about. Which was purposeful. It was to be seen only as an abandoned office. Atharim security had been in place, monitored at the Vatican, to log entries and record activity. He entered a code and shut down the cameras. He'd have to meet with the Pope. With everything up in the air, he needed to make sure the
Vatican didn't decide to cut their losses. It had been a marriage of convenience all those centuries ago. When he rebuilt, he'd have to come up with more Atharim autonomy. He'd have done it sooner if not for the myriad of other things vying for his attention- not the least of which was the recognition of Apollyon's appearance.
Which was odd, now that he thought about it. Their passage through from the tunnels to this office- as careful as it was- should have elicited more notice. There were no fires either. The city had seemed placid. It was not what he would have expected with Brandon's death. Had the propaganda arm kept things under wraps? Not that much time had passed. It was possible.
if so, they were fortuitous indeed to be on the ground floor when the chaos erupted, as it eventually must. Perhaps he could even stoke the fires. What a coup that would be.
Later, though. He had the Khylsty to take care of. "This will be our home, for the time being. There are bunks below and provisions." He set the alarms for the building. The noise would alert them at least. Then he led them below to the warehouse- really a barracks- showing them where they'd be staying. He also enlisted some of them to help him raid the pantries for provisions- water, food, blankets, clothing, as well as showed them the restrooms for personal ablusions, and demonstrated their use. Those few would pass the word. He also got the first aid kits and tended to the any who needed it, even if that included the need for simple pain relievers.
He felt a sense of calm. This leg of their journey was over. But it was only the beginning. "Get some rest. Tomorrow we will talk further and I will answer your questions."
He then turned to Valeria and studied her for a moment, curious as to what she was thinking. Of all of them, she alone knew what they had been going to. But knowing and seeing where two different things. And she wanted to learn. He pitched his voice low. "Come with me. I will answer what I can and teach what you wish to know." She didn't know what questions to ask, of course, not fully. But he knew she craved understanding.
He turned indicating an office off to one of the corners, far enough away for private conversation, close enough to be available at a moment's notice.
Edited by Regus, Dec 6 2017, 04:31 PM.