Tiberius stood on the platform rising above the city until he reached Level 314. This was the highest level of the Central Tower that the members of Parliament could access. The lift was large and circular, with a red sofa in the center, radiating outward and embroidered with the Imperial eagle. At Level 314, it was as if the platform was merely part of the floor of a much larger room, also circular. Light from the yellow day sun filled the room from all directions. At this height, the view of the city would have been stunning had Tiberius been of a mind to enjoy such things.
At the portions of the room corresponding to North, East, South, and West on a compass, there were ornately patterned gold doors, each emblazoned with the family crest of the Overseer with which they were associated. Jewels punctuated the beautiful carvings, gleaming in the sunlight.
The northern door was covered in emeralds, the green sequoia heralding the family of Vladymir Romanov. To the west, red rubies outlined the scorpion of the Medici family. To the east, the blue sapphires of the venerable Paulo Dominiccio outlined the griffin that had long represented his family. Tiberius turned south toward his destination, facing the diamond encrusted two-headed serpent of Marco Luccio. Unconsciously, he grabbed his own family crest, hanging from his neck, his fingers rubbing the medallion’s grooves, feeling awed, yet inspired by the spectacle before him. Stepping from the platform, he was chided by a secretary for Overseer Luccio, stationed just to the right of his door.
“Please step back, Consulate, and have a seat on the sofa behind you. The Overseer will see you shortly. Would you like a beverage while you wait?”
“No, thank you, I am fine,” Tiberius replied, in spite of the dryness in his throat. He took a few steps back, abashed, seating himself on the red sofa. A man such as him was not accustomed to waiting, but then again, he was not accustomed to having a private meeting with an Overseer either. To say this was a great honor would be a disservice to what it truly was. It was an opportunity, and Tiberius was well aware of the practice of making those below you wait before a meeting. He sat, nervously toying with the medallion around his neck, which felt tighter than when he had entered. The secretary looked down at the console before her, oblivious to his presence. He could see that the secretaries for the other Overseers were equally unimpressed with him. After a few moments, a red light began flashing from the desk of Overseer Luccio’s assistant.
“The Overseer will see you now,” she said without looking up. The gold door creaked as it lifted upward, revealing a beautiful lift, as ornate as the door that had obscured it. As he walked past the desk of the secretary, she cleared her throat politely, bringing him to a halt.
“Consulate, our scanner shows you still are in possession of your qubit. I’m afraid you will have to leave that with us.”
Looking to the guards at the door, Tiberius relinquished his qubit, feeling naked without it. He was apprehensive at leaving it with one who worked for the Overseers given the sensitive personal information it contained, but had no choice. Moving past the secretary, he walked toward the now open door, feeling better as the guards on both sides moved, allowing him to pass.
Entering the lift, Tiberius was in unknown territory. The top of the Central Tower consisted of ten stories, the last five of which were comprised of four independent spires that housed the Overseers. The five floors below the spires served as office space for their staff. Tiberius was headed to the top floor of the southern spire. He had been invited to the home office of Marco Luccio. The elevator slowed to a stop, and Tiberius stood in nervous anticipation of what awaited him on the other side.
As the door slowly rose, he was overwhelmed by the smell of jasmine. The floral odor hung thick but fresh in the air. Stepping out, he was struck by the grandeur of his surroundings. The walls were comprised of thick white marble with large rectangular windows, from the floor to the 40 foot vaulted ceiling, placed intermittently around the room. Four skylights angled the light of the yellow day sun to a bronze emblem on the floor in the center of the room. The diamond serpent eyes reflected the sunlight, sparkling with a thousand rainbows. As his eyes adjusted to the brilliance of the light, Tiberius was able to see that the jewels etched out the pattern of a two-headed snake choking the Imperial eagle.
To the left of the jeweled emblem, at the far end of the room, four long steps rose from the marble floor leading to the carved oak desk of the Overseer, currently unoccupied. Tiberius took a few steps forward, unsure of what do before a fit of coughing caught his attention. Two nurses were attending to an old, sickly man in a portable hospital bed. Monitors were all around him, and an IV fed a clear solution into his arm. Tiberius felt embarrassed, as if he had stumbled upon something he wasn’t supposed to witness.
“Tiberius? Is that you?” rasped the feeble voice of Marco Luccio. “Come here, my boy.”
Feeling relieved, but still apprehensive, Tiberius walked to his bedside.
“You may take a break, ladies. I’m sure I can survive a few minutes without you,” Marco said to the nurses, motioning them off. He began laughing, as if at some private joke, a horrible cough-like sound emanating deep from within his emaciated chest. “Have a seat, Tiberius,” he said, moving his wrinkled, spotted hand to a button on the railing of his bed. A chair rose from the floor. Tiberius paused, transfixed by the living corpse, before walking to the chair and sitting down. He had never been this close to an Overseer.
“You look well, your grace,” Tiberius began. He instantly regretted the lie.
“Come now, Consulate. I didn’t look well two hundred years ago, but I appreciate the sentiment. Your father was a liar as well. You do know he was a business associate of mine, long ago, before all this. It’s a shame he didn’t live long enough to receive the treatments.” A coughing spell overcame him, and it was some moments before he was able to speak again. “Then again,” he continued, his tone adopting an air of reflection, “perhaps it was a blessing for him. Eternal youth. Who wouldn’t sign up for that? Eternal old age, however, is quite a different matter. It’s a shame the technology can’t yet reverse aging completely.”
“Your continued leadership is an inspiration, your grace,” Tiberius replied. “It’s your wisdom and experience that has led us to this utopian society we now enjoy.”
“That is kind, Tiberius. You have done your family proud. The Septus name is a large burden for a man to carry, and much was expected of you. You have not disappointed. I know the casino assignment was a tough one to carry out, but you handled it brilliantly. It was an unfortunate yet necessary evil. Part of maintaining balance is making difficult decisions. By cutting the funding to our enemies, they will become weak and fragmented. It is only a matter of time before we have them in our grasp.”
“I must say, your grace, I was alarmed at the news that five of my fellow consulates were in the casino. I was given to understand that the building would be void of Nephites that night. The thought that our actions brought about their demise has haunted my dreams.”
“Everything was as it should have been. You were given to understand what you needed to understand and nothing more. The five consulates who died that night were, in my opinion and that of the other Overseers, enemies of the state. Their incessant liberal agenda and constant crusading for the lowborn scum made them a liability to our fragile peace. In a land where men no longer die naturally, sometimes they must be removed unnaturally. But let your conscience ease, my son. These actions were warranted.”
“But how could they be, your grace?” asked Tiberius.
He knew he needed to tread carefully and maintain his temper, but the shock of knowing that the government had assassinated five of its members had overcome him. “These men were from great families. They were my colleagues. Killing low born terrorists plotting to destroy us is one matter, but killing peers over political differences is quite another.”
Marco again laughed that wretched laugh. It sounded like a death rattle.
“Don’t act as if you are a naïve boy. Your father was naïve as well. For all of his great talents, he never had the stomach to make the hard decisions. He sought the favor of the public, to the detriment of his own interests, I might add. When Luccio Holdings staged the takeover of Nanosoft, do you think they just handed us the keys to the kingdom? They held the knowledge that would end death, but they didn’t recognize what they had. It isn’t scientists and thinkers who build societies. It is the ambition and acumen of our businessmen and the greed of mankind. We created the wealth and industry that fund this perfect world you now inhabit. It is the natural law. Everything in the world exists at the expense of something else. The lion feeds on the gazelle. The eagle hunts the snake, though not according to my seal. A man must carve out a spot for himself in the world, and in filling that place, must necessarily deny that position to another. No man would choose to be the gazelle if given the choice to be a lion. WE ARE THE LIONS!” he screamed, his voice gaining a vigor and fervor Tiberius didn’t expect the frail body was capable of producing.
Not surprisingly, Tiberius found himself not only calmed, but also moved by the wise words of the exalted Overseer. He leaned in closer to the man, over the railing of the bed, in eager anticipation of the wisdom Marco Luccio could teach him.
“Don’t ever forget what you are, my boy,” he continued, softer and more subdued. Reaching his gnarled hand out, he grabbed the medallion that was now hanging out of Tiberius’ robes, drawing him closer. His stomach churned as the hot, putrid breath of the old man filled his nostrils. “As a Septus you were born a lion. But never forget that anyone outside that dome would take that from you without hesitation. It is the actions of the Overseers that keep you a lion.”
“Thank you, your grace. I see the truth and wisdom in your words. They have eased my concerns. I apologize for having doubt in your vision.”
“It is nothing, my boy. It’s only human to feel empathy. If you didn’t question the validity of your actions, you would not be a man worthy of your titles. And your actions at the casino have shown that you are not your father. You are not a man who shies away from tough decisions.”
“Your grace is too kind to me. If I may be so bold, I have spent my life seeking the love of the people that we govern, but now I understand that to govern requires an almost cutthroat commitment to the goals of society as a whole. I believe I understand now that I can maintain the façade of being a man of the people, while serving our own greater vision as the Overseers see fit. Your guidance has never led us astray. I am enlightened by your words.”
“I am proud of you today. I have never fully trusted you before, but I find my doubts alleviated. We’ve decided to create a special security department to oversee all of our domed cities. We would like you to take charge of this endeavor, which, as I’m sure you have ascertained, will be known only to the Overseers and those who work for you. You will have anything you need at your disposal and access to all our information. Understand that this position is a great honor for you. You will be the Chief Security Officer of Arameus, with powers to arrest and bestow justice on whom you see fit… upon consultation with me, of course.”
“I… I don’t know what to say,” Tiberius stammered, tears filling his eyes.
“Don’t say anything. My secretary will give you a special transponder when you leave. It is a direct line to me, as I will be your only contact. The transponder will give you access to an account we have created for this project, which I trust, you will find more than adequate to hire the agents you need.”
“I will not fail you, your grace,” responded Tiberius in a solemn tone.
“See that you don’t. Your purpose is to root out and destroy our enemies, wherever they are, whether in the Institute, in our own Parliament, or outside the dome.”
“I will destroy the Centauri,” Tiberius promised.
“Good,” Marco replied, chuckling to himself. “Now go. I must rest.”
Tiberius stood, bowed slightly, and turned toward the lift, his chest swelling with pride. He had only gone a few steps before he heard the voice of the Overseer again.
“And Tiberius?”
“Yes, your grace,” he replied, turning back toward the bed.
“See that you end your little tryst with that lowborn whore. I believe they call her Kaiya? We can’t have our head of security sharing a bed with a Natural Born. Your former colleague Horace Greely could attest to that… or at least he would be able to if he weren’t killed in that unfortunate explosion at the casino. We had it on good authority that he was sharing his bed with a lowborn hostess named Sharie. As it turns out, she had her own agendas.”
Tiberius’ heart sank and his knees nearly buckled. How could he possibly know about Kaiya? He began to speak, but stopped himself, bowing again, before exiting the room.
Marco closed his eyes, trying to rest as he heard the door to the lift shut, but his brain, the one thing that had never aged, was racing. Deception upon deception, his mind was a forest. He thought of his visit with Iulius a few weeks prior. These Consulates were all the same with their whores. He had given Iulius the same warning he had given Tiberius, but this advice had been ignored. Now it was time deal with Iulius. It was a shame, really. So much wasted potential.
He opened his eyes as the two nurses re-entered the room. Pulling the IV from his arm, the priceless nanocyte solution spilled to the floor. Lowering the railing, Marco rose and stepped down from the bed. He allowed himself a moment to enjoy the coldness of the marble floor as his feet touched the ground before stepping forward into his newly placed slippers. He extended his arm, as one of the nurses guided the thick sleeve of his purple Imperial robes over the shoulder, and around the other arm.
Without a word, he walked forward over the jeweled sigil, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face as he moved. The nanocyte treatment restored his vigor, and he no longer seemed as frail. Moving up the marble stairs, past his carved desk, he stood at the window, looking down on his exquisite city. The hunger in his gaze bespoke of his massive ambition.