TEKTON

 

Belle-Monde was named in the inimitable vein of sarcasm that marked the humanesque species apart from others. Far from being a beautiful world, it resembled a corroded iron ball.

Tekton was not accustomed to such a solemn vista. Seen from space, his home planet Lostol was a twirling topaz with pristine polar ice at either end like virgins’ caps. A jewel suspended in space, elegantly looping a Type B star.

Belle-Monde’s closest star was Mintaka, the last notch in Orion’s Belt. Tekton’s trip there had been by resonance shift to the Bellatrix system, then on to Alnitak and Mintaka, followed by dreary sub-shift propulsion to Belle-Monde.

It had given him plenty of time to absorb all available information on the discovery of Sole Entity and the subsequent placement of the pseudo-world Belle-Monde in its vicinity. The screeds of speculation and the smaller amount of fact led him one conclusion.

The Entity had wanted to be discovered.

Why, after all this time?

It was a question he pondered over as a distraction from the discomforts of space travel. Already his delicate skin was suffering from dehydration and he longed to return to Lostol for complete skin rehabilitation.

Instead he’d had to put up with an inferior exported light therapy that left him feeling itchy and overly taut.

It was not a way to be feeling as he stood for candidature. As a wealthy archi-Tect in his own right, he could afford more luxurious travel but the controlling body of this project, The Orion League of Sentient Species—OLOSS—insisted that all candidates travelled on their ships.

So typical of bureaucrats.

Yet Tekton knew he shouldn’t really complain. OLOSS were picking up the tab for his travel, using taxes collected for and siphoned into the ‘betterment of sentient species’ fund.

‘Candidate Second Godhead Tekton, your Belle-Monde moud is trying to contact you.’

Tekton dragged his gaze from the viewing port. A little thrill ran through him at hearing his potential new title. Godhead to a God.

The Newland’s Lostolian purser stood diffidently at his shoulder, eyes watering. He had been Tekton’s only comfort on this last leg of his trip, understanding mannered deference and Tekton’s dietary preferences.

‘Thank you. I will tell my fact-aide to enable my in-com.’

The purser hovered. ‘May I say on behalf of all Lostolians, candidate, that we support your favour with the Entity. We wish one of our own to be the first to evolve. We wish you to represent our race and design beautiful things in our name.’

Tekton nodded and graciously opened his robe so that the purser could gaze upon his naked body—a show of gratitude and good faith.

The purser devoured the sight. ‘Should you ever need me, I am at your service. I shall log my name and credentials with your moud.’

‘No need—the memory of your assistance will stay with me long,’ said Tekton, closing his robe with practised ceremony. But, of course, by the time he turned back to the port he’d forgotten the purser entirely.

‘Welcome to Belle-Monde, candidate Godhead. Your mind reconfiguration is scheduled for tomorrow. Is there anything you require?’ The new moud entered his mind in a dignified if stilted tone.

‘I’m not sure,’ Tekton replied. According to the OLOSS fact sheet, the compulsory mind alteration provided the only way for Sole Entity to communicate directly with humans. The specifics of the process varied from sentient to sentient and were a matters of much debate. ‘First, I shall need an escort to my quarters. Then I wish to review the current lists of other tyros and their projects. I’d also like you to replicate my dietary needs.’ Tekton directed his fact-aide to download the ingredients and method of his preferred Lostolian dishes. ‘I should like properly prepared Carminga livers for my evening meal.’

‘Yes, candidate Godhead. A servant will pick you up. I have your disembarkation allotment.’

Tekton gave a delicate, amused snort at such a crude method of organisation. He would have things to get used to. The pseudo-world had been hastily refurbished from OLOSS monies and, like their chosen methods of transport, was said to be quite primitive in its amenities.

He deduced from his pre-orientation that there was no first-class or privileged anything. Everyone received equal material status on the basis that everyone was there for the same reason—that they might gain enlightenment. Glory of candidature was supposed to be reward enough. Knowledge represented a triumph over materialism.

Quaint.

On Tekton’s world prestige was valued. Lostolians believed that it brought out the best in the Lostolian mind. Power and status allowed Tekton the freedom to imagine anything. He was not used to being limited by mean practicalities. Indeed, he had been involved in the design of some of his world’s most significant constructions: the splendid bridges of the Latour moons, the Great Diorama Well of Mapoor, the Floating Palaces of the Armina-Pulchra Raj.

Yet this new discovery, Sole Entity, this being of limitless intellect—if intellect was a term you could even attribute to it—had drawn Tekton as surely as the Magnets of Need drew asteroids away from the planet Misako.

The attraction grew stronger when he heard that his cousin Ra had already been selected for this great honour.

Although Ra was behind Tekton in seniority at the Tadao Ando Studium, the younger man’s aesthetic brilliance had made him Lostol’s first candidate.

Tekton hid his outrage at being overlooked and set about seeking justice by wooing the Chancellor of Tadao Ando’s unappealing daughter.

Carnal pleasures still amused Tekton where most of his colleagues appeared to have long forsaken physical intimacy for other things. Tekton believed that physicality gave a temporal aspect to his designs that the pure aesthetes like Ra had discarded. In fact, Tekton’s students copied his style and had dubbed it ‘Mortalis’. They carried on an unhealthy rivalry with Ra’s aesthetes.

After some excruciatingly unpleasant lovemaking sessions with Doris Mulek, the Chancellor’s puffy offspring, Tekton garnered her support for his petition. He was duly summoned before an OLOSS committee for an interview and examined to see if his body was healthy enough to withstand the mind-reconfiguration process.

Within a week of the interviews he was on his way to Belle-Monde.

And now he was there.

Carrying only a small holdall of skin lotions, Tekton transferred into one of the fat little transport ticks sucking the side of the sub-light vessel. The sturdy craft were the favoured method to courier passengers and cargo from ship to world.

In a matter of tumbling minutes after boarding the tick he was disembarking through a tube into the dismal welcome station.

Couldn’t Sole have chosen a more hospitable sector of the galaxy in which to reside? he wondered.

The livery, a basic modifiable, approached with Tekton’s face on its display. When Tekton touched it for confirmation, it bowed deeply.

‘Welcome back to Belle-a, Belle-a—’

Tekton had a surprising urge to slap its malfunctioning resonator. Instead he followed it to the taxi. Physical force was not something that Tekton had ever considered using before.

At least—not his own.

After instructing Tekton to take a seat and wait, the livery attached itself to the outside of the taxi. Tekton sat primly in the swaying dark and opened himself to the fleeting impressions as artificial lights and sentient heat flashed by.

An appreciable time later the taxi stopped. The livery disengaged itself and held the doors aside. ‘Please follow me, candidate Godhead.’

Tekton’s bags were already waiting in his new rooms.

Though well enough ventilated they smelled of cleaning fluids and the soft-edged furniture suggested that an uuli had once occupied them. One wall in the living room showcased a rather kitsch 3D of a gigantic Selenat waterfall, while another displayed an illuminated map of Belle-Monde that doubled as the taxi phone.

‘Is Godhead Ra in similar quarters?’ he asked.

‘I believe so, Godhead Tekton.’

‘Good.’ Tekton walked slowly through to the Studium node and sleeping room and back again. He examined every surface for emission: uuli excreta would not be acceptable.

Not at all.