by T5 and The Eurostar
The room was magnificent, containing a huge double bed with angelic patterns on its clothbound roof and curtains. Ancient paintings of landscapes covered the white wood-paneled walls. The window showed a view of the forest that grew on the side of the snowy mountain. A small basin to wash his hands and a typical Victorian desk to sit down and write letters or powder one's nose made the room feel almost cozy. Fake gaslight bulbs decorated the corners of the room.
Demeter smiled. "I see you like it. Shall I order some tea for you, or do you want to see the rest of the castle?"
"Please, show me the rest. This must be expensive. But I wish my friends could live in a house like this."
"Ah, yes, your fellow... what did you call yourselves... investigators?"
"Yes, well we are more problem solvers than anything else..."
"I see. Maybe they would be open for suggestions as well?"
"I don't think that..."
She interrupted him as she led him out into the corridor again, saying, "Don't worry. Just relax now, Mr. Edulcore. You are among friends here."
Was he? He wasn't so sure about that. But at least listening couldn't do any harm. If not, he would at least have more information about them than before.
Outside, a limousine and two following cars parked by the entrance, and three people in Italian made suits came out. One of them, a bald man with a patch on his left eye, smiled.
"Hmmmm... The fresh air reminds me of home. I wonder what that old fool Stephan has in mind this time? Maybe a cease fire in the Middle East?" he laughed. Politely, so did the others.
Tobias Cracken enjoyed these little fencing sessions with his ancient foe. Maybe it was time to be more diplomatic with him. After all, the Game was getting a bit tiresome.
Edulcore Cicciotto:
The woman fits around me like a velvet glove. Warm and wet, like the forest outside the residence.
She works over me, up and down slowly, smiling at me, her long red hair covering her rounded breasts. Her hands on my hands as if to stop my urge to touch, to feel Ladnikia, that rests in the scabbard near the bed.
After she showed me the building, she brought me to the dining room, a big veranda, a winter garden full of greenery and with big windows overlooking the ocean. There we ate in complete silence, with only the songs of the many birds resting in the vegetation.
Then, as the sun went down, and we ended our meal, she brought me here to my appointed room.
She slowly undressed, revealing her beautiful body, and brought me to the bed. In the last few hours we have been making love. Not a word was spoken.
As we both took our pleasure for the umpteenth time, the darkness of the night sky outside the window is broken by the lights of a car arriving in the parking lot of the hotel.
"They have arrived," she whispers. She gets off the bed and -- still naked -- goes to the window. I follow her. There is a classic old limousine that looks like it was made in the 1930s stopping in front of the main gate of the castle. A few butlers step out to take the luggage. The occupants of the limousine, under the moonlight, appear to be dressed in seventeenth century robes. And they sport long, blue cloaks.
"Who are they?" I ask.
"Futurists," she answers. "You will meet them tomorrow."
Far away in the depths of space, a fleet of starships were centered around a gas giant. Its green-blue atmosphere was breathtaking, even to the hard drilled officers of the scout-ship Seela.
Captain Ekorre was having a difficult time with this mission. Following a prison transport commandeered by escaped prisoners was tiring stuff, especially when they had managed to give him the slip in what appeared to be an inhospitable gas giant.
He struck his fist against his console. Where were they? It was impossible to fly into that atmosphere. They should have been crushed instantly.
An officer came up to him. "Captain, we have some news."
"Yes?"
"There seems to be something down there that is radiating a neutrino field."
Edulcore Cicciotto:
Before me at the same table where yesterday sat the council of the Hoods, are the so-called Futurists, or -- as I heard them called often -- the Cloaks.
The garb they wear is not much different, although these seem more inclined to bright colors. And of course these ones don't hide their faces.
The one sitting right in front of me is old, with a long white beard. Like a Gandalf who tries but fails to adjust to the twenty-first century. The others are very similar, all looking slightly outside our time, whether they are old or young. There are no women present.
The one that seems to be the leader stands up, and with a broad smile offers me his hand to shake. I notice that an old man, three seats on his right, looks very suspiciously at me.
"I prefer not to greet you for now. I didn't do so with your... opposites... yesterday. It's fair I keep my reservations, even for you." At my words, the suspicious man smiles triumphantly to the leader.
"As you wish," says the man. "I don't know what the Hoods told you yesterday, but be warned, Mr. Cicciotto: they are all lies. The Hoods have continually lied to humanity since their race fell from Heaven and set roots on Earth. So allow me to show you the truth."
At his words, the curtains run on their rails by themselves, and in the obscured room, I see glowing bubbles coming out of the mouth of the man. The bubbles enlarge, and inside them appear images. And the images speak for the man.
"Forty-five thousand years ago, it happened that a host of heavenly angels -- led by Shemyaza, one of the greatest among the sons of the Light -- chose to descend on Earth, challenging the prohibition of the Demiurge, to take wives from among the mortal kind. They created a marvelous metropolis that resembled the Silver City of Heaven and populated it with their offspring. They were called the Nephilim, those who have fallen.
"They took humans as slaves to build the city and to serve them. But their slavery was very smart. They didn't use chains; they used gifts to capture human's mind and hearts and subjugate them. One of the angels' leaders, Azazel, taught man to make swords and knives and the art of metals. To the women, he taught the art of using all kinds of costly stones and coloring tinctures to beautify themselves. Others instructed men in astronomy, meteorology, geodesy, and all the forms of science, and also the first form of writing." The images in the bubbles are outstanding, and the angels shine in their majestic beauty.
"But not all men were enchanted by those gifts. The hunters of the icy north did not fall for Azazel's gifts. They sent their shamans in the spirit land to ask for help and counsel. And the spirits of the ancestors gave them the supreme power: magic. They taught the shamans the way to warp reality, to open the gates to the distant realms, to defy life and death. They were the first of our kind. They believed in a brighter future for man and took the name Futurists. And they were able to destroy the accursed city of the Nephilim.
"Some of these Nephilim survived, however, and wandered all over the Earth teaching their fool diabolical arts. And along the centuries, there have been times when they prevailed, gaining near complete victory over us, when the whole humankind chose to follow their scientific teachings. But every time they were about to win, we have stopped those dark days, bringing back the supremacy of nature and of magic. Just like now, Mr. Cicciotto. After nearly three hundreds years of 'enlightenment,' of blind confidence in science and technology, the Hoods' star is beginning to shine less and less. The age of Aquarius is about to start, and it will wipe away the Nephilim's doings.
"That's why they want to enlist you, Mr. Cicciotto. You have the powers... and the means..." And he looks directly at Ladninkia. "...to shred the clouding curtain that the Hoods have wrapped over humanity, the deceiving matrix that fogs the mind of humankind."
I raise Ladnikia. "This would be the means? And what are the powers you are speaking of? I have only the feathers now."
The bubbles disappear, the curtains run back, and the tropical sun breaks into the room. The man sits.
"The powers we are speaking of are not the metagene-induced ones. To tell the truth, the metagene is a fake. It's part of the fake matrix-induced reality that you humans perceive. No, powers -- like many your friends sport, and even your own -- are true, but magic-induced. And you -- the son of one of the powerful witches ever born -- could dominate magic like no one before you ever has. You need to be taught. You need to study the ancient texts. You need teachers of the highest caliber, like Vadritius or Aurochs here..." And he points to two of his acolytes, one an oriental type and the other the old one who looked at me with suspicion before.
"As for Ladnikia, we know it very well. It was forged by the Lord of Lies himself, Azazel, when it was sunk in Hell for his sins. That's her greatness: it's a magical artifact built from the Nephilim's scientific knowledge. It's a synthesis of the two forces of the world: magic and science, light and darkness, good and evil. It's the sign that you are the chosen one to free the world from the lies. I know you have a dream, Edulcore, to free the metahumans of the Earth and have them live in peace among the humans. Join us, and your dream will come true. The whole world will see that the metagene is a lie and that everybody is equal under the sun."
The white-bearded man stops and stares at me for a few moments before he finally says, "Your answer?"
Convincing words. Just like the ones I heard yesterday. I need to know more -- from them and from the Hoods. I need time.
"Just one more question: the Hoods gave me an explanation for some dreams I have had since my... well, since what I knew as my metagene was unleashed more than a year ago. I keep dreaming of a dark dwarf, talking backwards on a stage..."
The many Cloaks look at each other in disbelief. The leader broadens his perennial smile.
"I admit I did not know about it. But you must understand that we have ever respected you, while the Hoods have scanned your mind for years, now. The... being you dream of is a creation of your mother. She was a valiant alchemist. We had no knowledge of it, but she must have been able to produce the homunculus, the product of the philosopher's stone, artificial life. And she has hidden it inside you... to act as your guide. Join us, and you will be taught to understand his guiding words."
Another version of the same thing. A guide from dad according to the Hoods, a guide from mom according to the Cloaks. What is the truth? What is the lie? And if it was produced by both of them, is it just like Ladnikia? A product of both magic and science? And what if both versions are lies, and the truth is something different, something else? How can I discover the truth?
I stand up. "I need more time to think about your offer and to decide."
"Very well. Outside the room in the corridor is your host, Demeter. She is the mistress of this neutral place. You can ask her to summon one of us if you need to know more. Obviously, you can ask her to summon one of the Hoods. But, as I explained to you, they are the master of lies since the moment they appeared on Earth."
I look at the man for a moment, nod in a nearly unnoticeable manner, and exit.
Outside, Demeter is waiting for me. I will ask her to accompany me to the garden. I need time to make up my mind.