Game Changer, Part 3

by Mary Ruth Pursselley

Robin dropped his pencil into the pile of paper on the table and sat back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes and stubbled face. He’d taken the disk translation as far as he could. He was no linguist or angel expert, so most of the finer nuances and references in the inscription would have to be figured out by someone else, but he had understood enough.

Enough to make him laugh as he sat, face in his hands, exhausted and ecstatic. Enough to assure him that this was the find of a lifetime—maybe several lifetimes.

“Unbelievable,” he said aloud, referring not just to the disk and its writings, but to his own fortune in being the one to decode it. God was, as always, watching out for him… though His watchfulness and favor were surpassing even Robin’s wildest imaginings. He couldn’t possibly have deserved this.

He said a brief prayer of thanks, then looked at his watch. Doing so made him laugh again—he’d been sitting here for almost twenty-four hours. No wonder he was starving. He stood up and stretched, already working on a mental to-do list:  Arrange for the disk to be taken to Trinity University. Get a crew of interns assigned to Adagio to help him. Look into renting boats and diving equipment for an expedition to Funder’s Cove, where the fisherman had found the disk.

Oh—the fisherman. Robin remembered his promise to tell the man what the disk said. He rifled through the blizzard of papers on the desk until he found a blank sheet, grabbed his pencil again, and jotted down a basic outline of the translation.

As he wrote, he considered a few of the stranger points in the account. Strangest of all was the reasoning given for the angels’ decision to abandon their city, Light: an invasion that caused the loss of several lives, as well as considerable damage to the city itself. It wasn’t an invasion of humans—references to the Founders were very distinctly worded—but Robin was sure either he or Hanks must have mistranslated the symbol describing what the invaders were. It was too random, too bizarre. An invasion of crazy bugs, so crazy they nearly destroyed the city? Robin had no doubt that the linguist assigned to the disk would get a good laugh at his expense over that one. Oh well. He’d never claimed to be a linguist.

He was curious to find out what or who the invaders really were, though. Especially since the disk explained the angels’ realization that the event would take place again, because “such is their nature”. Whatever that meant.

As he headed for the bathroom to get a much-needed shave and shower—the last one he was likely to get for a while, if he set out on the expedition to Funder’s Cove as soon as he hoped—he suddenly stopped and grimaced. He’d promised that girl from the school in Zirconia that he’d contact her sister, the archaeologist, while he was in Adagio.

Well, he decided with a sigh, that shouldn’t take too awfully long—a day, at most. He’d get that out of the way, give the fisherman his rough translation of the disk, and then he’d be free to get to work.

Game Changer, Part 2

by Mary Ruth Pursselley -

Ash storms blasted Adagio all through the night, hissing and scratching against the window of Robin’s room, but he barely noticed. Morning came and went in similar fashion. He hadn’t slept or eaten since starting work on the angel disk the previous afternoon.

“Incredible,” he said aloud for what must have been the three-hundredth time—not that he was keeping track of that, either. He’d completely forgotten everything but the disk. He had a stack of paper covered with translations, notes, and corrections, most of which were scrawled so haphazardly that even he would have trouble reading it later. But that didn’t matter. All that mattered was the revolutionary information flowing from the disk’s inscription.

It was a Founding-by-Founding record of an angel civilization’s attempt to colonize land. If it was to be believed—and at this point Robin had no reason not to believe it—the angels had actually built a water-filled city, like a giant aquarium, on a peninsula that, according to the descriptions, wasn’t far from where the fishermen had found the disk.

A good portion of the inscription was taken up with growth records of the city’s population, descriptions of the algae and fish they raised for food, and a few incredible passages describing technological developments or cultural practices. There was scarcely a sentence in the entire thing that wouldn’t rock the academic world all by itself.

There were also several passages alluding to light and dark, and Robin had been at a loss for hours trying to decipher them. Finally, he had realized that the references to light and dark weren’t literal: the angels had named their city “Light”.

The name carried some literal connotation in that there was more light from the Whale on the surface than undersea, but most of it seemed to stem from the angels’ relief at having escaped the “dark ones” and what Robin took to be some kind of undersea war.

If he was interpreting the information correctly, Robin realized that this disk proved more than the fact that angels were sentient and intelligent. It proved that they were moral—creatures with understanding of right and wrong, and the means and will to fight about it.

The implications of that were staggering. Even Robin, whose love of revolutionary discoveries was unrivaled, had to wonder if Eclectia was ready to face this.

Game Changer Part 1

by Mary Ruth Pursselley -

Robin Corpsman kept clean living quarters. For all the faults he willingly owned up to, he at least had that to his credit. Weekly room checks during his years at boarding school and the university had trained him well.

There were times when clutter was a necessary evil, though, and this was one of them. The table in his hotel room was a wreck of books and diagrams surrounding the disk Robin had bought from the fisherman, Burt.

He had transcribed the symbols from the disk onto paper—reading them line by line was easier than following their spiral—and was now beginning the process of comparing them with the symbols in Hanks’ book.

He’d been surprised at how quickly Trinity had responded to his request for informational resources. Ernesto Hanks and his work weren’t exactly lauded in the academic community, and yet the archaeology department had gotten a copy to Robin in just a couple of days. They must be getting antsy for a big find—it had been a while since their last one—and Robin’s descriptions of the disk must have seemed irresistible.

They wouldn’t be disappointed. Robin was only a few lines in, and already his heart was pounding, his hands shaking. His excitement grew with every symbol he translated and transcribed into his notebook. This was incredible: the artifact was angel-made.

Hanks was right about everything—angel writing, angel intelligence and civilization, all of it. If he was right about that, Robin could see no reason Hanks couldn’t have been right in his theories of angel-human interaction, too.

It was amazing. The very beginning of the inscription was a short list of meaningless words that Robin guessed were names, followed by an account of the angels’ decision to colonize some kind of headland somewhere, above water. Incredible! There were legends about this, theories thrown around by the most radical dreamers and speculators, but who would have guessed those dreamers were right all along?

This very premise of this find went against everything Robin had learned about angels. It was almost more than he could process and accept at one time.

It would take time to translate the disk, at least another day, but God only knew what he could have learned by then. This was going to revolutionize the academic world—maybe the world in general. Whether he ever succeeded in finding Empathia or not, the find in front of him not only had the potential to secure his future, but to open the door to a whole new world of knowledge.

Decoder

by Travis Perry

Burt Jonzn shook hands with the man his cousin had brought out to the boat. The handsome younger man spoke, “Mr. Jonzn, I’m Robin Corpsman.”

“Nice ta meet ya. You can read ancient writin’?”

“Ah, I don’t know. Maybe. I need to see it first.”

Without further comment, Burt flipped open the tarp at the back of his boat. He eyed the face of the young man as he caught sight of the large disk, glinting with gold and etched in some bizarre form of hieroglyph. Robin’s eyes lit up in the open wonder of awe, not the attempted-but-failed desire to hide ambition, the covert lust of greed.

“Where did you find this?”

“Ocean bank. I s’ppose it was an island once.”

Robin leaned in and spoke in a near whisper, “I can’t believe it…”

“Can’t believe what, friend?” Burt studied the archeologist. His cousin Edard stood nearby, tapping his foot with the impatience of wanting to make the sale.

Robin stood straight and met his eyes, his face flushed with excitement. “There is a book by one of the old pioneers that claims to contain ‘angel writing.’ The author, a gent named Ernesto Hanks, was regarded as bugscat insane in his own day…but some few wizards have always maintained his book contained real symbols, that somehow the man really had been in communication with the angels. The symbols here look just like the ones from his book.”

“Really,” said Burt, beginning to acquire some of Robin’s excitement. “Can you tell me what it says?”

“You know, I think I might be able to! I’ll have to go get a copy of the book—it’ll take some time to decode. I don’t have the book’s contents memorized.”

“Oh,” said Burt, surprised with himself that he’d been hoping the young man would be able to read the disk now.

“Ahem,” interjected Edard, grinning greedily. “It looks like we’ve just shown you the greatest discovery in your field since the Founding. Surely you realize we’ll want to be compensated for our efforts in bringing this to you.”

“Ah, whoa, uh, I’ve got a grant for two hundred credits to fund my studies, but that’s all the money I have.”

Edard snorted. “This is worth a thousand times that!”

Robin looked down at the bolted metal of the fishing dock. “Mr. Mayor, you’re right. In fact, if this really is a disk made by angels—heck, even if the pioneers made it—it’s worth more than a thousand times what I have…this is literally priceless. But that doesn’t mean it will be easy for me to get the credits to pay you.”

Edard snapped, “If you don’t, I’m sure that someone else will—“

Burt interrupted, “Two hundred credits will be just fine.”

“Burt!” Edard’s eyes blazed.

“It’s my discovery, cousin. I can sell it as I wish. Don’ worry—you’ll get your twenty percent.”

“You’ve got to be joking!”

“I’m not.” Turning to the young man, he said, “Sound reasonable?”

“Ah…sir, that’s to find the whole Founding…the two hundred, I mean.”

“Oh, sorry, son. How about one hundred?”

“BURT!” Edard’s face raged red and his eyes protruded even more than normal.

“Uh, I might be able to make that work…” Robin’s voice trailed off.

“Still too steep? How ‘bout eight?”

“Burt…” sputtered Edard, “a man…does not customarily…barter downhill!”

Robin nodded his head, so Burt extended his right hand, ignoring his cousin. As the younger man took it he said, “It’s a deal then. But one more thing.” He retained Robin Corpsman’s hand in his firm grip.

“What’s that, sir?”

“I want to know what the disk says. Whatever it says. Promise me you’ll tell me.”

“Yes, sir,” said Robin, his eyes widening in surprise. “I will.”

Wild Card

by Mary Ruth Pursselley -

Robin Corpsman had been told that the Steakhouse Arjentina was the best place to have dinner in Zirconia, so he headed there. This was his last night in town, and he planned to enjoy it.

The restaurant doors swung inwards, injecting him into a U-shaped room glowing with neon blues and greens. Wait staff dressed in black moved among the tables, their steps matching the beat of rhythmic music flowing from hidden speakers.

Robin made his way to the obsidian-top bar and pulled a stool out for himself. The waiter behind the counter offered him a good evening.

“What can I get you?”

“Dinner and a drink,” Robin said, “whatever’s best here.”

“Coming right up.” The waiter smiled, a look that promised an excellent meal, but with an exorbitant ticket attached.

Robin didn’t mind. Why not splurge on his last night in town and the school’s tab? Tomorrow morning he’d be heading landside, back to bland food, gritty water, ash, earthquakes, and lava. Back to his quest.

He’d have to spend enough time at one of the already-established digs to keep Trinity’s archaeology department directors happy, but as long as they had something new to brag about and display in the museum, they didn’t usually complain about the time Robin spent chasing legends. His quest, should he ever succeed, would benefit them too.

The waiter brought a glass flute of something that sparkled silvery-green. Robin lifted the flute and took a sip; the taste was exquisite, like nothing he’d had before.

Seeing the waiter watching him, he nodded his approval and raised the flute as if in a toast. The waiter smiled and nodded as he walked back into the kitchens.

Robin took another sip and swirled the drink slowly in the glass. If he ever succeeded in his quest, the whole of Trinity University, the entire Christchurch community, and even the high-ups on the Avenir would be toasting him. His discoveries would be the greatest in Eclectian history. He would be guaranteed a relatively easy life and substantial income for as long as he lived.

If he failed, he’d likely keep working as an archaeologist until age or ash lung disabled him. Then Trinity’s darling poster child would be left to fend for himself on a planet that was far from merciful to the weak.

The two potential futures were always standing over him, taunting him with suspense about which one would become reality. Reality hinged on the chances of him drawing the wildcard from a deck shuffled by fate and volcanoes.

The wildcard was Empathia.

Stroke of Luck

by Mary Ruth Pursselley -

Celia was out the classroom door before the last bell had even finished ringing. She pulled her book bag over her shoulder and headed for the superintendant’s office. She knew he could help her, the problem would be convincing him he should. Somehow, she had to talk to Robin Corpsman.

She slowed down as she neared the office, trying to buy more time to plan, but no ideas were forthcoming. She might just have to wing it.

She was five steps away when the door opened and Robin Corpsman stepped into the hall.

Celia caught herself mid-gasp; her heart felt like it had stopped completely this time. He was right there. This was her chance!

Robin passed her without speaking and started down the hall towards the exit.

“Hey.” It was the only thing Celia could get out of her mouth in time to stop him.

He paused and looked back, eyebrows raised.

“Uh…” Celia blinked, trying to collect herself. “I was in your lecture today.”

He smiled. “Oh? I hope you enjoyed it.”

His tone said he’d already fended off all the girls he cared to today. Celia knew she’d have to make her case fast.

“I wanted to talk to you about my sister,” she said. “She’s—an archaeologist.” Basically.

Robin turned around and cocked his head. “What’s her name?”

“Celeste Harper.”

Robin frowned. “I don’t recognize it. Who’s her sponsor?”

Uh-oh. No, wait—maybe that was it! “Um… I think she’s been having trouble with that. Something about lack of interest.”

“Lack of interest?” Robin’s tone was disbelieving. “Maybe landside, but aristocrats on the Avenir pay big for Eclectian artifacts. She’s just not applying in the right places.”

There was an opening, and Celia went for it. “So… could you recommend someplace she might apply?”

“Where’s she working?”

“Adagio.”

Robin dug in his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. “I’ll do better than that, then. Give me her address and I’ll contact her. Maybe I can help her out.”

Celia’s hands trembled as she wrote Celeste’s address and gave the paper back to Robin.

He glanced at the address and returned the paper to his pocket. “I’ll be passing through Adagio in the next week or ten days. I’ll look her up. Take care.”

And with that, he was off.

Celia watched him go, her heart pounding, unable to believe the luck that had just struck like a bolt of lightning. She hadn’t dared to even dream things might work out like this!

Now, she just had to figure out how to tell Celeste what she’d done.

Spark of Hope

by Mary Ruth Pursselley -

Celia tucked her left foot under her other leg, trying to get comfortable on the rigid bench in the lecture hall. The professor marched onto the platform in front, and the class grudgingly opened their books.

Celia smirked and reached discreetly into her book bag. Eclectian History was always torturously dull; that was why she came prepared. She slid an art book from the library out of her bag and opened it over top of her history book.

“You’re not worried about exams?” someone nearby whispered.

“Yeah, right.” Celia replied as the professor welcomed everyone to ‘today’s exciting lecture’. He sounded excited alright, droning on in a nasal, monotone voice about the guest he was pleased to welcome…

Wait a second—guest speaker? That was a change of pace, at least.

“He has dedicated his life to the study of Eclectia’s history, excavating remains of our early civilizations.”

Celia perked up.

“His findings are among the most significant contributions to history museums on Avenir, as well as the Christchurch museum and our own Zirconia Museum.”

Celia sat forward and scanned the lecture hall, looking for the guest. A cluster of students blocked her view to the right, and since she couldn’t see anyone unfamiliar elsewhere she assumed the guest was sitting past them. She wished the professor would hurry with his introduction.

Finally, he held out a hand and smiled—well, Celia could imagine it as a smile if she tried. “Class, please welcome Mr. Robin Corpsman,” the professor said, backing away from the podium.

Celia’s heart stuttered as the guest speaker took the platform. He was much younger than she had expected—probably only fourteen or fifteen Foundings old—and he was tanned, rugged, and rakish. Celia wasn’t the only one who noticed, either, judging by scattered whispers from her female classmates.

“Well, your professor said it: I’m Robin Corpsman—you all can call me Robin—and I’m an archeologist.” His voice was a pleasant baritone.

Celia propped her chin in her hand and listened intently for the entire hour as Robin talked about his work collecting artifacts across Eclectia’s surface. He and Celeste were in the same line of work, but he was obviously making way more money than she was, and living a far better life. He was practically a celebrity, travelling and giving presentations at different museums. He had even been invited to the Avenir to speak, while Celeste lived planetside in misery, fighting just to make ends meet.

Celia wondered... what would it take for Celeste to get into Robin’s position?

The end-of-class bell interrupted the question-and-answer session at the end of Robin’s talk. Celia knew she’d never fight her way through the bevy of girl classmates in time to talk to Robin before she had to be in art class, but she had to find a way to talk to him before he left Zirconia.

He’d brought her a spark of hope that maybe she and Celeste could be together again. No way was she going to let him leave and take that spark with him.