Tonedeaf: Part 4

Good Morning, here are today’s headlines. The clean-up operation is in its thirty-first day since the Meteor Shower. Efforts across the city are said to be going well with communities pulling together to clear neighbourhoods of the devastation left in the wake of the shower. A memorial will take place for the astronauts of the Falcon later this day; the Space Programme gave a press conference last week commending the crew posthumously for their efforts. Psychologists from the University of Avian One are still studying the effect of the disaster on the survivors. Of particular interest is the phenomenon that saw many people try to escape the city by climbing the Perimeter Wall. Global Harmonics today will be reduced due to technical difficulties – expect interrupted service throughout the d—

Adept Erith tapped the side of the Amplifier and adjusted the tone control as the signal spluttered.

“Leave it.” Brother Pica muttered irritably.

Erith jumped. Brother Pica was standing in the doorway of his nest, he was frowning. “Come. We have work to do in the fields.”

Erith tidied his habit and followed the Brother out of the nest and down the central corridor of the Monastery towards the gardens.

This was the third week of his mentorship under Brother Pica. The decision to partner him with the strictest Brother hadn’t come as a surprise to Erith. He lacked structure, perception and most worryingly, faith. Apparently.

He believed in the Gods, which was important, but he still asked questions, which was bad. Brother Pica’s reputation as a stern taskmaster, however, was an understatement. His knowledge of the Texts was flawless and he expected the same standards from all of the Adepts.
“Today we’ll be covering the word of the Gods on the law of the land.” Pica instructed as Erith followed close to the Brother’s heels. “Maybe working with the earth and seeing the truth of their wisdom in the most elemental of tasks will strengthen your floundering faith.”

“Yes, Brother.” Erith responded mechanically.

Outside, Pica found him a hoe and a basket and led him out into the gardens. The grounds of the Monastery were divided into different sections, ornamental, kitchen and economic.

“We’ll start with the economic section,” Pica said as they walked through the busy kitchen garden. They came to an ancient wall, half reclaimed by nature with a large gate set into it. On the other side was the field where they grew wheat and barley to be sold in the city on their rare visits.

“The Gods told us that the land is the key to maintaining the heavens. Without it, the sky doesn’t exist and it is necessary to separate the Gods from people. That said, its maintenance is uppermost in their regard. The ground must be tilled and worked to produce fruit as it supports Gods and People alike.”

Erith listened. He knew all of this, it wasn’t like he was an idiot – he just had issues with elements of the Texts which the others seemed to take for granted. They didn’t seem to realise that this had nothing to do with his faith. As far as he was concerned the Gods existed and that was that. The problem he had was that the texts were written by people not the Gods, and, therefore must have imperfections.

“Ah! But the Gods were speaking through the individuals who wrote the Texts.” He was constantly rebuked. Largely speaking he kept his mouth shut these days, it wasn’t worth bothering with an argument. The older Brothers though interpreted his reticence as proof of his stupidity.

“We’ll begin with the Dictates of Seed. As we know, the Gods were born of eggs, just like their earthly replications – birds. Seeds, like eggs, are the origins of life. So, seeds are sacred and have an inherent right to be planted and become life. To control life is to commit the greatest of sins. This is why we reject technology beyond that which is necessary to maintain the harmony. These free thinkers, with their good intentions of controlling nature will doubtlessly burn in the Last War.”

“Yes, Brother.”

Erith looked back at the Monastery of Chimes, so called because its cone-like structure channelled the wind through it creating an approximation of the Great Harmony.

“Next to the Dictate to Live in Harmony, the Dictate of Seed is the most important of our fundamental social rules. This is why you are going to plant an entire crop of barley by hand, by your self.”

Erith sighed. He had a feeling something like this was going to happen. “Until you learn that ‘Living in Harmony’ doesn’t just include gluing your ears to the Amplifier from the city, you will be made to perform menial tasks so that you understand the severity of your undertaking.” The Brother continued, without breathing. Erith began to scatter seeds from the basket, combing over the soil with the hoe. He wondered whether Brother Pica realised that he spoke in monologues.

The wind began to pick up and it became harder to scatter the seeds. Erith’s habit began to flap and a nasty draft threatened to expose him. He looked up and saw that Brother Pica, normally the picture of habit perfection was struggling too.

The wind got stronger and stronger, and a thunderous sound from above was swelling, getting closer. The Amplifiers scattered around the field, normally pumping out gentle Harmonic tones, began to spit and curse with static.

A shadow was approaching, sweeping across the fields towards them – Pica and Erith looked up and saw a great winged creature approaching. It was as big as the monastery and had long silver wings growing from a sleek curved body. Arms grew from its underbelly, extending out like fingers. As it got closer it slowed down and gently began to lower itself down onto the field.

Brother Pica was staring agape at the beast before him. “The Chariot!” He shouted, prophetically.

The image came into Erith’s mind instantly. The Great Vessel that would deliver to earth the messenger of the Gods. The Herald.

A black hole appeared on the underbelly of the beast. Behind him, Erith heard the other Brothers and Adepts pouring through the gate into the field.

Footsteps were distinctly audible over the noise as a figure appeared in the hole. Underneath its feet, steps appeared. The light revealed a tall human figure swathed in a technicolour cloak. A hood was pulled over its head; the whole thing covered in a coat of coloured feathers.

The figure approached the assembled Monks and stood before them, a clear foot taller than even the tallest Brother.

I am the Herald. I believe you know what I want.

Erith blinked and looked around, uncertain whether or not what he thought had happened had actually happened. The Herald spoke in pure Harmony - it was like feeling, tasting, smelling and feeling words all at once.

Brother Pica stammered forward, “Yu-yes – come with me. I will show you the way.”

Splendid.

The figure strode forward and past the assembled Monks, who had to almost leap out of its way. Erith was stunned. It was true – the Texts were actually correct. There was no question of it.

“While the doubtful till the land, the Herald will arrive to awaken the faithful.” He muttered under his breath. As the other Brothers and Adepts followed the Herald and Brother Pica, Erith was left wondering exactly how the Herald planned to ‘awaken the faithful’.

**

Ten minutes twenty, twenty one, twenty two, twenty three, twenty four –

The sweat was beginning to gather on Kay’s forehead. Her body was knotted with concentration as she sat, crossed legged in the darkness. Her thoughts began to blur and she found counting increasingly difficult, she clenched her teeth and forced her mind to pinpoint the numbers as they rattled on.

- thirty seven, thirty eight, thirty nine, forty, forty one, forty two, forty three, forty –

As her consciousness swirled about her, Kay switched on and her foot shot forward and kicked the door in front of her. In a sudden the Harmony flooded back into the room and she found herself on her back gasping for breath. She began to laugh and stood up, grabbed the towel next to her and wiped herself down.

Sipping from a bottle of water she walked into the next room, out of the padded ‘sound-proof’ chamber she’d created in her pantry. She looked out of the window and saw the city. Ten minutes and forty four seconds. It was a new record for her, but it still wasn’t good enough. She needed to be able to last longer if she was going to stand any chance with what had to be done.

She’d never considered herself religious, but there were things you just took for granted. The dependence on the Harmony was just part of life – wasn’t it? Were would we be without it? Rang the glorious slogans adorning every other street corner. If her brother could live without it, then why couldn’t she? Besides, there were things she was beginning to question. The shootings at the Perimeter Wall. What had driven so many people to actually try and escape? Even to her, the thought was difficult to consider.

She turned from the window and sat at her desk. Laid out before her were photos and news clippings. These were all of the missing people – lists of their families, contact details, notes. A vast, methodical network of people. For the past weeks she’d been moonlighting as her brother’s secretary, using his name as a means of asking them questions. When was the last time you saw your daughter? How was she then? How did she feel?

Throughout, one name recurred over and over. One friend seemed to link most of these youths. Mac a’Denu. She knew in an instant that she'd found their dealer, the one who supplied them all with Din. Now she had to find him, because he might be the key she needed to develop a resistance to the Harmony.

**

Jon stepped down into the down straw building. He was carrying two bowls of soup. Within, Amplifiers were set up around two beds in the centre of the room. Light streamed through tiny slit windows around the room, blocking the sight of the trees beyond. Jon took a deep breath and smiled.

“Good morning Captain,” Jon said.

Captain Neor Nithes stood up from his bed and backed away from the door. Jon set down the bowls within the Amplifier circle and then stepped back. In the other bed was the comatose woman. Captain Nithes was protecting her like a mother bear and her cub.

“What’s that?”

“Broth – soup. I’m afraid the people here have nothing more exciting.”

Captain Nithes picked the bowls up tentatively. He sniffed them.

“They aren’t poisoned – well, they have Din in them, but in your position that’s a good thing, it’ll help you adjust.” Jon stammered. Captain Nithes took a deep breath as he sat down next to the woman. Jon wondered what had become of his social skills.

“Where are we?” Captain Nithes asked quietly, turning his attention to the woman.

“Well, we’re about fifteen miles from Avian One. Beyond that, it’s hard to say. It’s just the Wilderness.” Jon shrugged. Nithes was spooning soup into the woman’s mouth. “What’s her name?”

Captain Nithes gave Jon a cool side-long gaze. The man was about fifteen years older than Jon, but he seemed an entire generation older. He was part of the generation that looked to the stars, he was one of the first people into space. The good Captain held himself differently – he was a man who didn’t slouch, he was reserved and calm.

“Chordata Diomedea, or Cho, to her friends.”

“Very pretty.” Jon replied glibly. Neor was still spooning broth into her mouth steadily. “How is she?”

“Still in a coma. The shock after the crash…” He stopped for a second, “The silence was astonishing. I can’t remember carrying her through the forest.”

“We found the shuttle. We’ve brought back the other bodies, so they can be buried when you’ve both recovered.”

“Bodies? Those people were my friends.”

“Sorry.” Jon looked away, quietly he edged his way towards the door.

“She isn’t going to wake up.” Captain Nithes said clearly, but without looking around. Jon looked down and backed out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

**

Jon tapped on the door and Sol opened it. “How are they?”

“Captain Nithes is as stoic as ever and his friend is, well she’s in a coma.” Jon replied, stepping into the Harmonic Outpost.

The Outpost was filled with Amplifiers and consoles displaying different signals being picked up from different directions. Walter was sitting in the centre of the room surrounded by all the machinery. At their feet, snakes and coils of wires linked the computers to the receivers outside.
“Look, I can’t stay – this place is giving me a headache. I was wondering whether it would be possible to return to the pyramids in the hills.”

"Forget the pyramids. We’ve found something.” Sol replied, excitedly. “A strange sound has cropped up. Just recently – since the Meteor Shower, in fact.” Sol looked away sheepishly.

Walter turned around, “We heard about you on the Harmony – your discovery, that is.”

“Yes, well. Someone else discovered the sound, I was just able to go down and dig it up.” Jon replied.

“Yes, but that’s the point. Those ruins underground wouldn’t have been found without you.” Walter said.

“Nothing’s stopping you from investigating this.”

Walter spun around and smiled, “Of course. But you’re quite welcome to come along.”

**

“Mac?”

“Who’s asking?” The surly man countered. He was sitting at the bar of the Feathered Crown. Kay hopped up on the stool next to him and ordered two drinks.

“Does it matter?”

“No, I suppose not.”

Kay kept her voice low, she felt incredibly stupid. “I’m wondering whether you can help me?”

“You haven’t done this before, have you?” Asked the drunk Mac.

“Er, no.”

“I should think not – why would a pretty girl like you be interested in what I’ve got, eh?”

“Look – I just need some Noise – you get me?” Kay stumbled over the slang, blushing. Mac laughed. “Be quiet, will you?” She hissed, terrified that someone might guess what she was doing and report her.

“You really are green, aren’t you?” Mac chuckled, “Look lady, you seem nice, so I’ll give you some free advice. Walk out of this bar and don’t come back. It’s over. Go home.”

“What do you mean?”

“Crack down. Sources have dried up. The game’s over.” Mac replied, belching.

“Look. I know you’ve got what I want. All I need is a little bit – I’ve got money.”

“I don’t doubt it, but you don’t seem to understand. I’m not in the business any more.”

Kay knocked back her drink. It seemed she had a choice. She could either press him further or walk out of the bar now with her dignity and reputation in tact. Thoughts of her brothers came into her mind. She necked the second drink and raised her finger.

“Listen to me. I know you’ve got what I want and I’m not leaving until I get it.” She was about to launch into a tirade when she heard a sound. The patrons of the bar looked to the windows – they’d all heard it too.

“Well, that’s my cue to leave.” Mac muttered, downing the last of his drink. “It was nice meeting you. See you in another life, eh?”

Kay got up to follow him as the windows exploded.

**

The doors to the Catacombs swung open and the Herald strode through and down the dusty staircase. Behind him, the Brothers of the Monastery followed. Erith squeezed his way through his brother Adepts and tried to keep Pica in sight. The crowd was buzzing with chatter. Harmonic waves seemed to flow from the Herald. It was like he was on fire and they could feel the heat emanating from him. Erith shook his head and woke up from the trance they seemed to be walking under. It was strange, no one was blinking, no one was looking around. They were talking, but no one seemed to be able to look away from the Herald.

The Catacombs hadn’t been opened in an age. Some of the Brothers had lit lanterns and torches. The strange orange glow danced over the walls illuminating passages of text carved straight into the wall. Erith squinted – it was all from the Book of Prophecies. It talked of the Awakening and how the faithful would be saved from the Last War. Erith shuddered.

The staircase opened out into a large bowled chamber. The lights were swallowed by the darkness as the group of Monks crossed a stone bridge. Before them was a central column, below was darkness. Erith looked over the edge and thought he saw round objects in the gloom.

The Herald strode up to the column. As he approached it he emitted a strange, low sound. The Monks kept their distance and watched. Brother Pica loomed closer than anyone else. Erith watched as the column shook, dust and dirt was loosened from above, a crack of light appeared and grew as the column rose into the ceiling. Like everyone else, Erith leaned forwards to get a closer look. The herald stretched out his hand and for the first time they could see his marbled blue skin as it hovered above a jewelled egg, sitting in a gold nest and bathed in light.

The Herald lowered his hand and touched the egg and an unholy scream filled the chamber.

Cracks of light appeared in the ceiling as the room shook, the Monks all fell to the ground, their hands covering their ears. The light from above revealed the contents in the pit beneath the bridge. A sea of pearly shelled eggs.

**

Neor leaped to the edge of the circle. Cho was sitting bolt upright and screaming at the top of her lungs. All around the Harmony was going crazy, the Amplifiers peaking and cracking under the strain.

Even with his hands clamped over his ears, Neor could still feel the scream tearing into his head. Through watering eyes, he watched as Cho sat up from the bed and began to walk, zombie-like towards the door. She passed out of the range of the Amplifiers as Neor darted forward to stop her. When he looked up again, she was gone. Bracing himself, he grabbed one of the Amplifiers, tore it out of the ground and kicked down the door. Outside, he was surrounded by trees, a wall of greenery pressing in on him. Delirious, he pushed on, stumbling through the dirt towards the blurry shape of Cho up ahead.

She was entering a clearing – other figures were appearing from the forest, crowding her. She was still screaming. Neor knew that she would stop if only he could get close, but he was slipping. The Harmony was weakening and all he could hear was the scream. His knees buckled and he fell to the dirt. - -

**

The off-road beast skidded through the undergrowth. Walter was driving, with Sol in the passenger seat. Jon sat behind, trying to hold on to his lunch.

Then they heard it – in the distance, an explosion. Walter slammed on the breaks and they came to a stop. There was silence, followed by the sound of birds fleeing the canopy together in fright.

“Do you hear something?” Sol asked, he could hear a distant whine growing in intensity. Walter shook his head. Sol looked back to ask Jon – but Jon was on the back seat fitting, his legs and arms spasming erratically.

Sol immediately jumped in the back and held him down. The whine was growing into a throbbing screech, louder and louder with every second.

“How far away are we?” Sol shouted.

“Not far.” Walter replied, he jerked the beast into gear and then floored the throttle.

**

The heavy steel door groaned open, its hinges rusted and worn. Walter stumbled through the gap, followed by Sol who was supporting his brother. When they were all in, Walter slammed the door shut.

"I'm fine - I'm fine," Jon muttered feverishly. Sol ignored him and wiped his brow with his sleeve. "Bollocks you are." He replied under his breath.

"Where are we?" Jon asked, teeth chattering.

"One of the many bunkers littered throught these hills. They're Harmony-proof - which is why we haven't done much exploration. Most people at the camp sleep better with the Amplifiers whispering in the dark. It's in these places that you truly come to understand what Silence really is." Walter said, striking a match and holding it to a lamp. Safely lit, the lamp cast its dim light on the steel walls. They were in a tunnel that looked like it extended into the hills.

"Come on, we'd better get moving." Walter said, brandishing an Harmonic Display. The line was steady - but every fifth second it flickered.

They got up and started to move. The tunnel seemed to go on for ever. Jon recovered and became more perky as the Silence became more pronounced. By contrast, Sol and walter only got more anxious.

The tunnel eventually led them to a low room, lined with lockers. Beyond that were bunk rooms, storage facilities and kitchens. Further in they came to a tiered control room with a bank of monitors on the far wall.

"I don't recognise any of this technology." Walter muttered. "It must be ancient."

"If only it were that straightforward. Some of this looks far more advanced than our technology." Jon commented, running his finger along a dusty panel.

"All designed to work without the Harmony." Sol mused.

"I have a sneaking suspicion these people, whoever they were, had nothing to do with the Harmony."

"Sounds unthinkable. Do you think they were alien?" Sol asked.

Jon turned to him in the low light. "Nope."

He pointed to an empty box, it was partially decayed but it was clear that it had once contained food. On it was a picture of a smiling man with bright red hair and a white face.

"Looks pretty alien to me." Sol muttered.

They pressed on into the complex, "This place must have a purpose." Walter kept saying, leading them onwards. Eventually, there was only one door left. On it were strange letters, like the ones on the foundation stone of the natural history museum.

"Main Silo - What do you suppose that means?" Walter asked aloud.

They opened the stiff, steel door with effort and it swung open to reveal a tall, cylindrical chamber that towered above them and carried on going below them, deep into the earth.

"Wow" Jon said, under his breath. Before them was a ship; a tall, elegant vessel the likes of which none of them had ever seen. They walked along the walkway which hugged the wall and stroked the cool surface. It was in perfect condition - around them, it seemed, the cleaning systems were still operating, sucking out the dust and purifying the air.

Walter led them down to a bank of consoles built into the wall.

"I thought you knew bits and pieces of this ancient language," Jon mused aloud.

"We've only been able to translate what we've found. We never found any military handbooks." Walter said, sitting down in front of the console. "It says that there are over forty million unread emails."

"Look at this," Sol was pointing at a door built into the wall.

"Cryo Storage." Walter translated the text on the door. Tentatively, he pushed the door open. they were greeted by the wail of the Klaxon.

"Well, there's your sound." Jon said, stepping into the next chamber. "And that's my professional opinion." The other two ignored him. They were standing in a cylindrical space like the 'silo' But in this room the walls were covered in man-sized glass tubes, built into the wall.

"A distress signal." Walter said, flipping the switch on the control panel. "Set to go off and transmit to all other stations." The sound died away and the flashing red lights ceased.

"Who's in distress though - there's nobody here." Sol muttered, looking around - all the tubes were empty.

"Want a bet?" Asked Jon, pointing down to the floor, fifty feet below. One of the tubes was occupied.

"Walter - what does 'Thawing in Progress' mean?" Sol asked in a small, distant voice. The other two didn't answer, they were too busy staring at the shape emerging from the glass tube.