PERSONAL RECORD: DESIGNATION ZETA4542910-9545E
PUBLIC HALL OF RECORDS, ALBANY CITY, NEW TRITON
478.3.1.07
Pale, utilitarian concrete rose in polished columns while broad steps a meter deep led up to the lobby. I limped up the stairs. Quiet shrouded the depths of a room designed to inspire compliance by creating a sense of smallness, but instead of capitulating to the intended emotion, thoughts of the sky broke into the present. In my mind, I again stood on Pallas’s dust while trillions upon trillions of lights arced overhead.
How odd that when I was at my smallest under the naked stars, my heart had swelled, and I, a tiny speck in the universe, had felt a connection with the whole, with beyond the whole, as if tasting the infinite. No matter how these halls had been designed. Their crafted grandeur oppressed, not elevated, and having sampled that sense of wonder, which called me to something—or someone?—beyond the scope of what was tangible, the hall’s stern oppression could not steal my value.
That gentle concept of wonder edged out my fear and lifted my eyes.
An Elder stood in the center of the room, at one with the innate stillness, his drone close at his side, the other two several meters above his head. His eyes, as grey and dimensionless as his tunic, bored into me.
“We have been waiting for you.”
His drones accompanied us as our boots clicked on the floor, the sound echoing until our footsteps seemed a multitude.
Without looking at me, he asked, “So this, then, is truly your choice?”
“It is.”
He stopped abruptly, and a glance at his impassive face brought me to a stop as well.
“There is no return.” His voice grew as gravelly as Jackson’s. “Friends are not bound by contract. They can betray you, wound you, abandon you.”
“Indeed.” Despite the hovering drones and the Elder himself, I smiled. “They are free to do so, but I trust them, and beyond that, I have faith. And love, which is stronger than fear itself. I . . .” Hesitation edged out my words for a moment, but I forced it back. Reaching out my hand, palm up, I said gently, “And I wish as much for you, Elder. For hope, for peace, for love.”
For a moment, he seemed to stop breathing, and his primary drone twined a slender, silvery tendril around his torso.
I dropped my hand.
He blinked grey-veiled eyes. “Let us finish what needs to be done.”
He pivoted and strode down the hallway to my right. I drew in a breath and followed him into the bowels of the building.