8.
That evening, a cavalcade of giant airbuses left Kalopolis, sailing through the sky, over the canyons, into the sandstone badlands. As his airbus landed, disgorging its 50 or more passengers, Kery noticed that extensive preparations had already been made. Clifor was beside himself, running from one official to another waving his arms, his fists, yelling. Tables were set up in an area where there had been a lot of small roof fragments. Bulldozers had come in and piled those fragments into a long, high row that looked unnatural against the rest of the Basilica’s architecture. Everyone was ignoring Clifor while the food carts were brought out and a 100-piece orchestra set itself up on a temporary wooden stage. Several dozen temp-a-potties stood along one wall of the Basilica. A row of wilderness ground cars with grip-tooth wheels were parked further down.
With Adjuni on his arm, both dressed to the nines, Kery went about meeting high societythe Palermos, the Jaffas, the Minsks, the Cairos, the Jobergs, the Sidneys, the Shanghais, the Brazzavilles, a dizzying array of powerful men and drop-dead gorgeous women. Temerius and his two wives (one of them a man) went about shaking hands. Liberal quantities of liquids circulated. Adjuni offered Kery a blue liquid in a small glass.
“What’s this?”
“You’ll see,” she murmured, brushing the back of his ear with her lips and laughing.
Tasted cold going down, like ice flowing into his stomach. They sat down according to the seating plan, with Kery at the right hand of Temerius with Adjuni between them. Kery began feeling woozy through the speeches. Somehow, he rose and said a few words, canned phrases he remembered from his last address to the general Terraform work force, and the nobility politely clapped.
After the speeches, they ate. Kery felt dizzy, and could hardly push down any food. Adjuni kept feeding him wine and water in small sips. “Funny,” she said, “it usually makes me feel real great. On top of the world. Come on, darling, maybe we should go to the potty and gag a bit. Then you’ll be fine.”
With the help of Temerius’s men, Kery made it to a potty and sat inside in the dark, bemoaning his condition. Weakly, he flopped onto his knees in a puddle of crud and hung his head over the hole, puking brokenly into lakes of human excrement. Blue, sticky goo hung from his mouth in ropes and he waved his hand in choppy motions to separate the goo from his head. With that out, he began to feel a bit better. The nobility were of course fabled for the amount and the variety of drugs they ingestedat this point, he didn’t want to be one of them. He must find Adjuni! He staggered from the potty, into the helpful arms of Temerius’s men, who steadied him. They led him back to the table and there sat Temerius, deep in a conversation with Adjuni. He had his shoulder close to hers, his head next to hers listening as she spoke, and one hand on her rear end, kneading the flesh there. She smiled and pattered on, and Kery heard “...if you could help me get that commission...” Kery shook off his attendants and headed for a table with racks of wine bottles.
A lot of wine was being consumed. Boy and girl runners kept snatching bottles from the table and running to deliver it at the tables. Kery swallowed a handful of crackers to settle his stomach. Someone opened the wine bottle for him, and he took a deep swallow. Felt like acid etching his throat. He staggered back, coughing. Nobody seemed to notice. People were laughing, raucous, falling out of chairs, slapping each other on the back, snorting wine all over themselves as they laughed, and laughing more.
It was dark in a wink. The orchestra played, and people danced.
Then a gasp rippled through the crowd.
The orchestra fell silent at a wave from Temerius, who shouted: “Everyone be still!”
Temerius had a look of ecstatic anticipation on his face.
Another wave, and the lights went out. The floor of the Basilica was in utter darkness. Kery, staggering slightly, could not see the person to either side of him; he could barely see the wine bottle when he held it in front of his face.
Then the show began. Sheets of glowing lights rippled in the windows. Deep, thrumming notes wafted this way and that through the Basilica. The Ancients were speaking. It wasn’t clear yet what they were saying, but Clifor and his descendants would figure that out over generations.
The lights were particularly intense tonight, perhaps sensing the character of the visitors, perhaps afraid for their future. Then it dawned on Kery: the Basilica was a living thing. The Basilica WAS the ancients. The Basilica was a living thing and it was very old and it might put on its last light show any day. Then it would merely be a ruin.
Kery rejoiced for Clifor. He would tell the scientist, and Clifor would light up in realization. “Yes of course!” he’d say.
“You are singing to us, aren’t you?” Kery marveled, wine bottle swinging lightly at his side.
He closed his eyes and listened in ecstasy at the notes. They were louder and clearer than the other night when the Basilica had sung for Menet.
Now it sang for the new Governor, the UnderGovernor, and all the visiting nobility.
A scream echoed through the night.
Thank you for reading. If you love it, tell your friends. Please post a favorable review at Amazon, Good Reads,
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