The Golden City

12

The young man on the right had a muscular neck and shoulders, and long black hair that covered his ears. He carried himself in a confident manner and raised his chin slightly as if he expected to be obeyed. In contrast, the older woman on the left looked delighted to meet the Traveler. She leaned forward as if she were going deaf and didn’t want to miss a word. The oldest man-clearly the leader-stood in the middle. His hook nose and sunken eyes remind Michael of a marble bust of a Roman emperor.

“We apologize for the severity of our demonstration,” the older man said. “But we needed to discover if you were a Traveler or someone from the outlands.”

“A barbarian would have fallen to his knees,” the woman explained. “They weep and shiver and pray to our light.”

“Do you have names?” Michael asked.

“Of course,” said the older man. “But they would sound strange to you and you wouldn’t understand their meaning.”

“We want you to feel like you’re talking to friends,” said the woman.

“So we’ve picked names from your world,” said the older man. “I’m Mr. Westley. This is Miss Holderness and-”

“I’m Dash,” said the young man. “Mr. Dash.” He looked pleased with the name he’d given himself.

“Are you the people who contacted us using the quantum computer?”

Mr. Westley nodded. “For many years, we’ve been trying to communicate with your world. Finally, you reached the level of technology that could pick up the messages we sent across the barriers.”

“We wanted a Traveler,” Miss Holderness explained. “But we didn’t know if they still existed in your world.”

“And you call yourself gods?”

“We are the gods of this reality,” Mr. Westley said. “There are more of us, but we three were given the task of meeting you.”

“In my world, we have a different image of God. He’s a powerful force who knows everything.”

“We know about everything that goes on in our Republic,” Miss Holderness said. “The computers track every negative thought and sign of rebellion.”

Mr. Dash looked annoyed. “And we’re powerful as gods. If we gave the right order, half the population would kill the other half.”

“But God is…” Michael hesitated, not knowing how to finish the statement. If he thought about God, he pictured the man with the white beard painted on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. “God is immortal.”

The three half gods glanced at each other, and Michael sensed that death was a sensitive topic.

“Our power isn’t dependent upon an individual being,” Mr. Westley said. “If one of us disappears, a new god is chosen from the guardian class. Mr. Dash is our newest recruit.”

“The faithful never see us directly,” Miss Holderness said. “Sometimes we punish citizens who have prayed every day and followed all our laws. People fear us because they can’t predict our actions.”

“But you didn’t create this world,” Michael said. “You’re not-”

“Of course we created the world,” Miss Holderness said. “Ask anyone who lives here. They’ll tell you that we placed the three suns in the sky and made the spark grow in the waterfields.”

Mr. Dash was getting angry. “God is whatever is worshiped. Perhaps you are a Traveler, but you seem rather ignorant about religion.”

“There’s no reason for an argument,” Mr. Westley said with a soothing voice. “Michael has never been to our world and he still doesn’t understand our system.”

“I’m sure he’s tired and hungry.” Miss Holderness turned to the others. “Aren’t we going to feed him?”

“An excellent idea.” Mr. Westley pulled a black disc out of his shirt pocket and pressed one corner. There was a humming sound directly behind Michael. When he turned around, he saw sections of the floor open like an elaborate trap door. Slowly, a black metal platform with furniture on it was raised up from a lower level.

The three half gods guided Michael over to benches surrounding a glass table covered with plates of food. The various slices and salads looked like different kinds of vegetables, but Michael wasn’t sure. Everyone sat down, and Mr. Dash mixed water and a blue liquid in a gold drinking bowl.

“We’ve had Travelers visit us as long as we have recorded our history,” Mr. Westley said. “Some of the Travelers were only here for a brief time. Others, like Plato of Athens, stayed and learned from us.”

“We started out with three divisions of society: workers, soldiers and rulers,” Miss Holderness said. “At a certain point, our ancestors introduced a series of myths to justify our system. The first myth is that there is a fundamental reason for our three divisions. The faithful servants are the arms and legs of the Republic. The militants are the heart and the guardians are the head.”

“I heard the same story from a servant in the waterfields,” Michael said.

Miss Holderness looked pleased. “Our ancestors also created a wonderful story where everyone is imprisoned in a cave, gazing at shadows on the wall. Only we gods can leave the cave and truly see the light.”

“The myth justifies our existence,” Mr. Westley said. “The major threat to stability is when people think and act freely. With a hierarchy of consciousness, you can say that anyone’s perception is foolish-or blasphemy.”

“The men you executed were called heretics.”

“The most significant challenge to stability is the perverse impulse toward freedom. You can’t control this desire for freedom entirely with threats and punishments; it’s more effective if you teach people to doubt the reality of their own perceptions. When the system is working correctly, they censor themselves.”

Mr. Dash finished mixing the water and the blue liquid. He drank first and handed the bowl to Mr. Westley. The older man drank, and then handed the bowl to Miss Holderness, who took several swallows and gave the bowl to Michael. All three half gods were silent, watching him. Mr. Dash sat on the edge of his couch as if he expected an unpleasant surprise.

Michael raised the bowl and took a sip of the turquoise-colored liquid. It had a slightly bitter taste, but when he swallowed, he felt warmth spread through his body. He decided that it must be alcohol or something like that. At least they weren’t trying to poison him.

“The guardian who brought me here said you can track anyone wearing a red collar.”

“There are a variety of other ways to monitor the population,” Miss Holderness said. “The militants watch the servants. The guardians watch the militants. And we make sure the guardians aren’t organizing some kind of rebellion.”

“If you have that kind of technology, I don’t know why you use horse carts and steam engines.”

“Would you give explosives to a child?” Mr. Westley asked. “It would be a disaster if everyone in our society were granted access to the machines-so we’ve created a two-tier system. Over a long period of time, we have developed computers, the visionary screens and the monitoring collars. But this technology is restricted to religion and security. We keep food, clothing and medicine at a simpler level. This allows us to create miracles every day. As far as the people are concerned, we gods see everything, know everything…”

“Yes, I came here because of the quantum computer. You were sending us technical data and then it stopped.”

“We assumed that any government or organization that could create a quantum computer would also have knowledge of the Travelers,” Mr. Westley said.

“This was all about you,” Miss Holderness said. “Our goal was to get a Traveler to come to our world.”

Although the blue liquid had made Michael feel a little woozy, he sensed that something significant was about to happen. This was the moment in a sales presentation when someone produced a contract and pushed it across the table.

“So now I’m here,” Michael said. Trying to hide his own tension, he picked up a red morsel of food that resembled a slice of watermelon. It tasted salty-like Korean kimchi-but he swallowed it down and forced a smile. “Why did you want to meet me?”

“For some unknown reason, you and the other Travelers have a power that was not given to us,” Mr. Westley said. “You can escape your world.”

The three half gods stared at Michael. There was an uncomfortable moment of silence. Michael took another sip of the blue liquid and tried not to smile. They were jealous of him. Yes, that was it. Jealous of his power.

“We want to cross over to the different worlds,” Mr. Westley said.

“We’ve done everything we can in this place,” Mr. Dash said. “All of us are bored. We want to go to the dark island and the realm of the hungry ghosts. But most of all we want to travel to the golden city.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Travelers have come here in the past and they have insulted us,” Mr. Dash said. “They call us ‘half gods’ and say that the ‘real’ gods live in this special place.”

Miss Holderness tapped her fingers on the table. “Some creatures might appear to have a higher form of consciousness, but we know how to use our power. It wouldn’t take much effort to make them bow to our true divinity.”

“I can’t teach you how to be a Traveler,” Michael said. “My father had the power and he passed it on to me.”

“It’s simply a way to focus and send energy,” Mr. Westley said. “I think we could duplicate the process with our quantum computers.”

Miss Holderness sipped some more of the blue liquid and passed the bowl to Mr. Dash. “Look at Michael,” she said. “He’s trying to figure out how this is going to increase his own power.”

“Help us become Travelers and we’ll show you how to take control of your world,” Mr. Westley said. “We’ll be in charge of the other five realms, but you’ll be the god of your own particular reality.”

“The Fourth Realm a big place,” Michael told him. “A lot of people live there.”

“You’re not going to be watching them all,” Mr. Dash explained. “Other people can do that job-your church militants and your guardians. However, you’ll be in charge of the system. And you’ll be become a god, just like the three of us.”

“Forget about art and philosophy,” Mr. Westley said. “There is only one truth, and we see it clearly. The permanent force in the universe is the Light held within each living thing. If you control another person, you control their Light.”

“It’s a game-only much more elaborate,” Miss Holderness said. “We make our citizens march around and fight each other. We make them weep and laugh and pray.”

Mr. Dash raised the bowl and grinned. “And after we’re done with that, we can always make them die, sometimes in spectacular ways.”

Sweat trickled down Michael’s neck. He felt as if he had just finished running a race on a warm summer’s day. “My world has different governments and armies and religions.”

“There’s no need to fight against any of these groups,” Mr. Westley said. “We’ll show you how to guide them in a particular direction. First you create a frightening story, and then you provide a happy ending…”