The Renaissance was a cultural movement that spanned roughly the 14th to the 17th century, beginning in Italy in the Late Middle Ages and later spreading to the rest of Europe. As a cultural movement, it encompassed a flowering of literature, science, art, religion, and politics, and a resurgence of learning based on classical sources, the development of linear perspective in painting, and gradual but widespread educational reform.
– Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia
Jem knocked on the door of the hospital room and peeked in.
“Jem!” Kav shrieked.
At his enthusiastic greeting, Jem relaxed into a grin. She walked into the room, with Rio at her side. “Hi, Kav.”
“Did you bring something new for me?”
“I sure did. Hi, Kir.” She offered Kir a smile as he stood up to meet her. “This is Rio Loren. Rio, Kir and Kav Davos.”
“Hey.” Rio smiled, extending his hand in greeting, first to Kir and then to Kav. “How are you doing?”
“Kav’s better,” Kir said. “He’s been looking forward to your visit all day.”’
“Good. Hi, Kav.” Rio stepped closer to the bed. He grinned and reached out to ruffle Kav’s hair. “I wanted to meet the guy who has gotten Jem so worried.”
“You’re not worried anymore, right, Jem?” Kav looked up at her.
“No, I’m not worried anymore. You’re recovering so fast. I brought puzzle books. Do you want to—”
Kav bounced on the bed. “I love puzzle books.”
“I would never have guessed that,” Jem said dryly. She looked over at Kir. “I’ve got him, if you want to take a break.”
“I’ll buy you a drink,” Rio offered. “You look like you could use one.”
Kir hesitated briefly and then shrugged. “Sure, sounds great.”
Jem flipped open her astral workstation and handed Kav a stylus. “All right, Kav. Where should we start?’
An hour later, Jem looked up when the door opened to admit Kir. “Where’s Rio?”
“He had to leave for class.” Kir’s gaze darted to his sleeping brother. “Your boyfriend seems like a nice guy. Your fiancé, I mean.”
“He is,” Jem said and then dropped the topic altogether. It felt odd talking about Rio, especially to Kir. “Hope it was a good break.”
“Yeah, I needed it. Staying in this room all day would drive anyone crazy. Thanks for coming by. I know you don’t need to, and you’re not a big fan of kids, so I doubly appreciate it.”
“I don’t mind some kids,” she said and was surprised to realize that she meant it. “I thought you could use a break, and we could use a chance to talk about the simulation before the next semester starts up tomorrow.”
“I’m not going to be able to get to class for another week or so.”
“I know, so class is coming to you. I’ve been working with SimOne over the past week, staying on top of issues on our planet and in the universe, and there are things you definitely need to know.” Jem pulled her personal device off her wrist, set it on the table, and then activated the astral workstation. “SimOne, are you there?”
SimOne’s astral image projected into the room. “Yes, I am ready. Good afternoon, Kir.”
“Hi, SimOne.” Kir sank down in a chair. “I guess there’s no getting out of this. So, what’s the latest news?”
“We didn’t want to bother you with it earlier, but I think we need to do something,” Jem said.
“That’s your standard response to everything,” Kir said. “I’m not sure it counts. SimOne, what do you think?”
The android spoke up. “The plague was especially devastating to the western countries, following centuries of intellectual stagnation. They had neither the knowledge nor the skills to treat the disease, and they were too enmeshed in their archaic beliefs to seek anything other than a supernatural explanation for the plague. As a result, they blamed and persecuted several minority groups for causing the disease.”
“Idiots,” Kir said.
“Exactly,” SimOne agreed.
“So, what are you proposing?” Kir asked, turning to Jem.
Jem sighed. “I think…we can’t win this simulation.”
Kir gaped at her. “What are you saying?”
“Kav’s sickness was a turning point for me. I think I finally understand what you’ve been trying to tell me. It’s not a game, and my treating it like a game was wrong. When Kav fell sick, millions of people on our planet died. Every one of them is an individual, just like Kav. We could go full out and try to win this game, or we can just focus on the people and the planet. We can get them to the point where we can be sure they’ll be okay without adult supervision through the summer, even if it means we won’t be able to win this simulation.”
“And you’re okay with not winning?”
“I have to be,” Jem said quietly. “I just don’t see how it can happen. We’ve lost so many people. We need to try something different. We haven’t that many extra people that we can afford to lose them through stupidity and unchecked human superstition.”
“How? Were you planning on talking to them in their sleep?”
“I’ve already started talking to them.”
Kir’s eyes widened. “What?”
“It was just a game I started several weeks ago. I wanted some of them to create cryptic books. I figured it would keep them busy in between wars.”
“You connected directly with them?”
Jem nodded.
He tilted his head to one side, the gesture challenging. “Was that another one of your unilateral decisions?”
She glowered at him. “Sarcasm is the lowest form of irony. My literary project is just a game, and it’s not damaging the planet. My point is, I’ve connected directly with our humans through dreams, and it’s not that difficult to direct their unconscious minds. We don’t have to manage everybody. We just need to go after a few key people.”
“Such as?”
“Their leaders. We target their nobility, their scientists and artists, their philosophers. We educate them. We take the raw material, give it stimulation, and then see where it goes.”
“See where it goes? Wow, I’d never thought I’d hear you say that.”
“What the hell do you think I’ve been doing with my empire? I don’t get involved in daily decisions. I step in when I think it matters, and it matters now.”
“Why?” Kir asked.
Jem bit down on her lower lip. “SimOne, tell him.”
SimOne’s astral image turned to face Kir. “A new dynasty has taken over the Shixar Imperium, and they are once again expanding the range of their influence.”
“We have an agreement with them,” Kir said.
Jem shook her head. “We have an agreement with the team that manages the Shixar, but our planet does not have an agreement with the Shixar Imperium. I think we’ve seen enough instances of planets doing precisely what their managers don’t want them to do. I don’t think we can trust the Imperium.”
“And you don’t want to fly under the radar anymore?”
“At some point, our planet will stop flying under the radar. Would you prefer it stop flying under the radar now, while we are still around to guide it, or over the summer when no one’s around to keep it out of trouble?”
Kir nodded and conceded the point. “So, what is our goal? Get it up to space travel by the end of the semester?”
“That, and generally self-managing.”
Kir grinned. “That goal I can get behind.”
“There’s also another reason. SimOne?”
The android’s astral image appeared to inhale deeply before speaking. “I have not been able to track the anomaly at a macro level, but detailed analysis of sensor reports confirm that humans are interacting daily with it.”
“Uh…” Kir’s brown eyes narrowed. “What’s that in a language I understand?”
“The anomaly is embedded in the planet,” SimOne said.
“That’s impossible. This is a simulation. It’s a perfectly controlled, sterile environment,” Kir said.
Jem chuckled, the sound without humor. “You’re starting to sound like SimOne. I sent a note to the professor, asking him about it, and his reply was a single line…a question: How do you explain anomalies in our own world?”
Kir shrugged. “Obviously, I should have taken more classes in Philosophy. I’m not getting any of this. So, SimOne, you’re telling me that there’s no evidence of the anomaly at the macro level. The central command system can detect no traces of it.”
“Correct,” the android said.
“But humans are reporting anomalies daily, things they can’t explain, things that we haven’t done on purpose or by accident, and that can’t be attributed to the central command system.”
“Correct.”
“And then the professor sends back a cryptic reply?”
“It’s not that cryptic,” Jem said.
“That’s because you believe in God. I don’t,” Kir said.
“You don’t?”
“No, I don’t, but that’s hardly the point. Are you both telling me that something else is playing ‘God’ on this planet, and that we have no idea who or what it is? It’s invisible to the central command system, and all we can see are its effects?”
Jem looked at SimOne. SimOne looked back at Jem. Jem nodded. “That about sums it up.”
“Damn it,” Kir said. “I don’t like it.”
“I don’t either. According to SimOne, it’s happening all over the universe. Small and unexplainable things are happening at a level at which most of us in the class wouldn’t bother to notice. It’s sneaking by right under our noses.”
“But it’s taking place at the level that really matters,” Kir said quietly. “With individual people…”
“Right,” Jem agreed, her voice as soft as his. “This anomaly is directly targeting individuals while we manipulate the planet on a macro level. It could be undoing everything that we’re doing. Our decisions could have had no impact, and we wouldn’t understand why unless we dug deep into the analysis of individual humans.”
“There are three hundred and fifty million humans, and this is after we lost half of them in the plague. We don’t have the time to dig that deep,” Kir said.
“I could, but there’s no purpose to it,” SimOne said. “It would only confirm the presence of the anomaly. Without knowing who or what it is, you can only attempt to outmaneuver it, not stop it.”
“So what can we do?” Kir asked.
Jem shrugged. “Hope and pray for the best? It doesn’t seem hostile,” she added when she saw Kir’s mouth twist into a frown. “Humans have typically painted their interactions with the anomaly in a benevolent light.”
“Humanity’s God.” Kir gritted his teeth. “It’s enough to make me feel unappreciated, considering how much time and work we’ve put into trying to keep their little planet going. At least we’re doing it for a grade. I don’t see how anyone would want to take on this headache for free.” He was silent for a while. “All right, let’s get started. How are we going to kick start this planet again?”
“Together.” Jem smiled. “We don’t have the attention span or the patience of the anomaly, so we can only target a few individuals.”
“I suppose you have a list.”
“I know what we need to accomplish through them. SimOne can select possible candidates based on their genetic makeup and social access. The rest we have to manipulate—upbringing, access to education and other opportunities, motivational pep talks, stuff like that.”
“Nature versus nurture?” Kir asked.
“It takes both, by the way. It was scientifically proven years ago.”
“All right. SimOne, you should slow down the revolutions if we’re to have any chance at all of getting this right.”
“Done,” the android said.
“Where do we start?” Kir asked.
Jem looked down at her astral workstation. “With a little boy called Leon Battista Alberti.”
Jem and Kir regrouped three days later in Kav’s hospital room with the results of their latest well-intentioned interference with the humans of their planet. Kav was asleep, and Jem curled on the couch. Kir sat next to her, reviewing the reports that SimOne had generated.
Jem chewed on her lower lip, feeling like she was on trial.
“This is working a little better than I’d hoped,” Kir said finally.
The heavy pressure against her chest eased. “I was hoping for a more enthusiastic response from you,” Jem said.
“What did you want me to say? You are right?”
She nodded, her natural verve returning now that she was certain that Kir was content with the results. “It would be a good start.”
“All right, fine.” He startled her by wrapping an arm around her neck, tugging her close, and planting a kiss on the top of her head. “You were right.”
She froze and then tugged away.
“You’re twitchy,” he said and tweaked her nose.
It was like an electric shock. She wrinkled her nose. Her snub nose took on a distinctly up tilted angle.
“Wow.” He grinned. “You are twitchy.
She brought both hands up to cover her nose. “Leave my nose alone.”
“I’ll have to remember to not do that. It’s irresistible. All right, so where are we?”
“I can’t say we’ve managed to get all of them to acknowledge that the planet revolves around the star, but we’re a lot closer.” Jem opened her astral workstation and reached for her notes. She nodded in a perfunctory way at SimOne’s astral image as it appeared next to her, but she continued talking to Kir. “Two of the humans we identified were positively brilliant. I didn’t even prod them all that much. They put out all the right theories, including the evidence to support their theories. The religious institutions aren’t buying it, but they’ll get there eventually. We’ll have scientific progress even if we have to drag the humans there kicking and screaming.”
“I think your idea of focusing our efforts was right,” Kir conceded. “I can’t believe we’ve made all this progress by focusing on six people and their corresponding influence on others.”
Jem shrugged. “You know what they say: a rising tide floats all boats.”
“I’ll admit, I had my concerns with the artists, but considering the amount of mathematics and engineering acumen that had to go into architecture, they were the right people. Their buildings will stand for centuries.”
Jem nodded. “The key was choosing polymaths—people who would know a great deal across many fields, not unlike how students were ostensibly chosen for this class.”
Kir choked back a snort of laughter. “Ostensibly?”
“Next to the humans who have made so much difference in so few planetary years, I’m starting to feel like a blithering idiot.”
He reached out to ruffle her hair. “Isn’t it a bit late in the game to be developing an insecurity complex?”
“Look, I’m edging toward an undergraduate degree in Biology and Philosophy. You’ve got a degree in Business. What are we compared to some of the humans on the planet? This guy here, Leonardo da Vinci, is a painter, sculptor, architect, musician, scientist, mathematician, engineer, inventor, anatomist, geologist, cartographer, botanist, and writer. His brilliance is astounding, and he’s just one of the six that we’ve chosen to take our planet into the next phase of growth. What are our qualifications for guiding them? I feel like an idiot parent with a genius child.”
Kir arched his eyebrows. “The Jem of four months ago would have said that it is a simulation and the humans on the planet didn’t actually matter.”
Her mouth twisted. “Don’t remind me. Sometimes, I think that if this planet succeeds, it would have been in spite of us.”
Kir chuckled. “Now that’s depressing. You’ve been spending so much time on my side of the world, trying to get it up to par. How’s your empire doing?”
“They went exploring.”
“Exploring?”
“Yes. They built massive ships, and I mean massive. All these little ships out on this side of the world are about as big as the rudder on those ships they’re building over there.”
“What’s in the ships?” Kir asked.
“Treasure.”
“They’re collecting treasure?”
“Nope. They’re giving it away.”
“What?”
Jem shrugged. “They’re showing off the glorious riches of their empire. It’s also known as ‘unchecked God complex.’”
Kir laughed softly. “Exploring is a good idea, though.”
“Hmm?”
He glanced at the astral image of their planet. “The countries are getting…squished, for lack of a better word. Their populations are expanding, and sooner or later, they’ll start hankering for more land. It’s just the way life works. The nations can fight each other and undo all the work we’ve done, or they can explore and go conquer other places out there in the world.”
Jem’s eyes narrowed. “Like my empire?”
“It hadn’t even crossed my mind.” Kir spun the astral image of the planet on its axis. “There’s more land in the west and to the south. Who’s out there?”
“Who’s out there, SimOne?” Jem redirected the question to the android’s astral image.
“Indigenous humans.”
“That doesn’t sound particularly advanced,” Jem said.
“They are primitive compared to the development of other civilizations,” SimOne confirmed.
“Shall we do it? Shall we spread the good news?” Kir asked.
Jem snorted. “You mean bring over our guns, germs, and steel?”
Kir chuckled. “It sounds about right. We might as well get our humans out there, exploring. I don’t think they realize how big their world is.”
Jem arched an eyebrow at him.
Kir had the good grace to concede her unspoken observation. “Yes, I know the planet is tiny compared to other planets, but it’s large to our humans.”
“Kir!” Kav screamed, suddenly waking up. His brown eyes were wide with panic. “Kir! Kir!”
“Shhhh, it’s all right.” Kir jumped to his feet and raced through his astral workstation to wrap his arms around his brother. “I’m here. I’m right here.”
“Mama…I want Mama.”
“Mama’s not here anymore, Kav, but I’m here.”
“I want Mama!” Kav’s screams intensified as he pushed his brother away. “I want Mama to hold me.”
Jem reached out and touched his hand gently. “Kav, I can hold you.”
“Jem? Jem…” He threw his little arms around her neck and buried his face against her.
Another little boy had once clung to her with the same desperate fear and the same earnest belief that she would keep him safe. Jem pressed her lips together and braced against the rush of her memories. “I’ve got him.” Jem eased herself onto the bed, pulling Kav down with her. “He’s feverish,” she mouthed the words at Kir.
“I’ll get the doctor,” Kir said and quietly left the room.
Jem held the sobbing child and stroked his hair.
“I miss my Mama,” Kav said softly, hiccupping as he spoke.
“I know. I’m so sorry, baby.” Kav was only five. He was far too young to have suffered so much loss. Her heart ached, although she could not tell if it was for Kav, or if she was hurting for Lukas too.
He burrowed his little face into the side of her neck. “I miss her cuddles.”
She held him tighter.
Kav had been asleep for about ten minutes when Kir returned with the doctor. Jem carefully eased back for the doctor to examine the little boy. She glanced up; Kir’s face was stricken. Against her better judgment, she reached for his cold hand.
He did not pull his hand away. He did not let her go.
“Kav is all right,” the doctor confirmed finally. “He’s doing much better. It’s natural to run slightly warm after a nap. We should be able to discharge him in two days.”
After the doctor left the room, Kir sank into a chair and ran his fingers through his hair. “Kav was in the transporter accident with my parents. They were killed instantly, I think, but he was stuck in the transporter with them for several hours while the emergency personnel tried to cut him loose. I was out of the country, traveling, and it took several days for the hospital to track me down. He was alone the whole time.”
“That must have been really rough on him,” Jem said softly.
“It was. When I got back, he didn’t let go of me physically for weeks. I’ve just managed to get him back into his own bed.” Kir sighed. “Thank you for helping with him. Sometimes, I don’t know what else I can do for him.”
“I think you’re doing everything he needs.”
“It doesn’t seem enough.”
She shrugged, the motion slow. “It never does.”
He looked up at her, his dark gaze searching. “You seem to know what you’re talking about.”
She shrugged. Now was not the time to talk about it. “Will Kav be okay when he’s discharged from the hospital? Who’s going to stay with him?”
“Well, I’ll be with him when I can, and when I’m in class, he’ll be at the daycare center.”
She looked down at her interlaced fingers. “He…uh…seems to be okay with me. Did you want me to stay with him when you can’t be there?”
Kir looked sharply at her. “I can’t ask that.”
“I know. That’s why I’m offering.”
“But you have classes too.”
Jem glanced at SimOne’s astral image. “SimOne, can you do a quick comparison of my and Kir’s schedules?”
“The only overlap in your schedules is in SIM-709. There are no other times when you are both in class at the same time.”
Jem smiled as if the matter were already settled. “I’m sure we can find a way to hand Kav off between the two of us. We can try it out for a few days, and once he’s better, you can move him back to his regular schedule.”
Kir hesitated and then nodded slowly. “Thank you. I’m very grateful.”
“He’s important to me too,” she said, and she meant it.