“Where in the world is Charles?” Mark almost yelled the rhetorical question at no one. He was alone and ready to start. Starting without Charles was not an option. Not today. He was only at the beginning of the journey. A journey that may not go very well without the boy’s unique talents. This was too dangerous, and Charles could make it considerably easier to avoid trouble; he tended to notice things in a way that no other person would. Mark couldn’t decide if the young man was extraordinarily observant or possessed by some kind of gift. He would never reveal his awe to the boy, of course. He acted like it was nothing when Charles did one of his tricks. He’d often act like the information Charles had pointed out was obvious, but it wasn’t. Mark just didn’t want Charles to know how much he had come to rely on the insight of the young man.
Years earlier, they met when Charles was 7 years old, and Mark was 23. Charles was behind Mark in line after he finished shopping with his mother. Mark had several food items that were sold by weight and known as “Bites”; because of their size and shape. A single “bite” could sustain an average man for an entire day. On that day, Charles had apparently noticed weights on the scales and alerted everyone in the line. What a scene, A 7-year-old boy speaking up as if he was acquainted with everyone in the room and saying matter-of-factly that the price for bites at this market didn’t match the state-regulated market price. The shopkeeper was so desperate that he added weight to his scale because he wasn’t allowed to raise his prices. That store closed down several months later when his competitor opened up right next to him and offered a guarantee of accurate scales.
That was a minor example, but Charles was only 7, and there is no way he could have seen the extra weight on the scale, but when asked how he knew the scale was dishonest, he said he saw the extra weight. That would have been seemingly impossible, but Charles had made similar observations throughout his childhood. Each time he did it, people around him would notice the peculiar way he could “observe” things, but no one was willing to delve into the supernatural. The idea of the “supernatural” did not exist. There was no explanation as to how the boy did what he did. They accepted it, and theories abounded about how he had known the unknowable, again. Some people said they didn’t see anything unusual about the boy’s abilities. His insights went further than that too. He could spot a scam, even if there was no physical evidence of the scam. He could also find people and things with remarkable ease. If he needed something, he knew who to ask. Even if he didn't know the person at all he always seemed to have a perfect read on everyone.
Mark is waiting for Charles because traveling is considered dangerous and outsiders are not trusted. Charles had managed to avoid almost all trouble in his life and was blissfully unaware that he was different. He didn’t have psychic visions or anything, after all. His observations seemed obvious to him.
Mark and Charles are members of a race similar to those called Atlonians from Altan. They are not a powerful people because they have lost several wars and no longer have their independence. Charles was just young enough to have missed the last war, but he knew enough about it to know they didn’t want to repeat the missteps of the people before them. Look at what his generation was left with. There were no resources in their country that weren't completely controlled by the Hoards.
Mark has created a new technology that can transport people and objects through teleportation or new propulsion methods or something. The world in this story is 100 times larger than Earth. The technology to circumnavigate the globe is extremely expensive, and it is impossible to get halfway around the large planet in less than 3 months, so the passengers are left to pay operating costs for three months of transportation in advance. Only the extremely wealthy can travel long distances.
Traveling is different too. There are no magical scenes in this story, but there are several mysteries that will remain unsolved. It is up to the reader to decide if the mysterious events are caused by magic. There are stories about a faraway race that uses magic, and some people are capable of telekinesis on a small scale. Charles has a gift for observation. Some of the things he thinks about when using his gift, border on psychic powers because no one can explain how he knows the things he knows; including Charles. He was perhaps conceived of a man from the “faraway race”.
Mark and charles are in Mark’s flyer. It’s like a car but rather than driving, it flies. It’s not a high performance flyer. Its an ordinary vehicle. The color is bland gray but the appearance is very futuristic compared to earth cars. It doesn’t just look like a flying car. A flyer looks more like an airplane. The shape resembles that of an eagle. But no wings. The design is sleek but the propulsion is ionic so it doesn’t have jets or propellers. They generally only fly close to the ground. 50 feet high or so. The lights are attention grabbing and the overall look of the flyer seems to be designed for speed not turning. Although it can turn, it is designed to go straight fast and turn at lower speeds.
The [propulsion device] was almost weightless but felt heavy in his pocket. He wondered if anyone was onto him. When the physicist died, no one knew the device existed. As far as mark knew, that hadn't changed. The technology wasn't supposed to be possible. Others had tried to make it using similar theories and failed. The prototype mark now had was the result of several years of research and trials. No one would believe it existed even if they heard about it. Smaller than his palm, slightly bigger than a large coin, it created a directional field that worked by scrunching space like an accordion; making very long distances as short as a few steps and short distances were like stepping over a crack in the sidewalk. He’d used it several times before but the last time he ended up appearing in the middle of a busy street and nearly got hit by several flyers but their autopilot worked almost instantly and avoided hitting him. Charles was unaware that the device existed too. Although mark planned to tell him about it once they had left the local area. It would take weeks to get out of the country and arrive somewhere mark had never been. That was the problem now though, he didn’t have the destination charted and he didn’t want to end up walking into the middle of an ocean.
Charles walked up to the distorted aura at the entrance of the transportation area. The aura looked like a ovular starburst. The elongated edge was horizontal. It was translucent but visible. It was like looking at the world through water. It was slightly pink around the edges but became a more pronounced shade near the middle. He walked up to it and got as close as he could without touching it. He tried to see into it but all he could see was the swirling surface and the distorted trees behind it. He focused on the surface, it reminded him of a bubble. The way the colors move across the surface of a bubble was similar. He wondered what would happen if he walked into the edge. Half his body in the aura and the other half out of it. He put his hand up to the surface and slowly touched it. It felt like vapor and the part touching his hand turned the same color as the edges. He put his hand in further then took it out. Nothing happened. He sniffed his hand. No smell. “Just curious” he thought. He took a deep breath and stepped in. He saw a shape in the tunnel at first, then a figure. As the figure became clearer, he could see that the figure was moving. Not like a flag in the wind but like an animal sniffing around for food. It was an intentional and purposeful movement. It looked reptilian, long and low to the ground. It could have been made of light. Not sparkling but certainly sharp and possessed of its own light source. It didn’t appear that a light was making it show up but rather it was light enough to see it even if it were dark. Like some kind of bioluminescence. He thought that it would be a good idea to get a closer look but he wasn’t sure how much time he had inside the transport tunnel and decided to keep moving toward his destination. Surely Mark would be able to tell him what it was. When he exited the tunnel, he felt wet. He touched his face and it was dry but the air made it feel cold as if it was wet. He even felt a drip down the back of his neck and his hand traveled there to wipe it instinctively but there was nothing. His clothes were clinging to his skin as if they were wet too but when he felt them they were also dry. He looked around for mark for a moment before he spotted him. Mark was examining himself in a mirror, touching his own face and hair. Mark was right about one thing, nothing would have prepared him for that. Everything he knew to be “physical laws” didn’t seem to apply inside the transport tunnel. The light in the tunnel was ambient. There wasn’t a light source. It was colorful like the surface of a bubble but it was subtle.
Mark wants to use his new transportation technology in trade for military help in Altan. They believe there is a warrior race who could defeat the enemy of Altan (The Hoards”). The “Hoards” take over and maintain control of Altan by force. Altan people are desperate after having their treasures and resources drained away by the Hoards for decades. All will be lost if Mark and Charles can’t bring back help.
Atlans are enslaved and extorted by their enemies. The protagonists want to trade a new transportation technology to other kingdoms that would help win the Altans their independence.
Visitors from their country to neighboring countries end up being captured and sold as slaves to the enemy’s noble class. They are weary of visiting other parts of their world even with the technology they've acquired because they believe they might be captured or killed as escaped slaves. Altan has been a “Slaveland” for decades. Mark and Charles want to raise an army to fight for the Altan people's freedom. Anyone close to Alton had a perception about the country that they were a race of slaves. Marc knew that if he was going to get help, it would come from someone so far away they had never heard of Alton or met any Italians. Not only was the new technology, a bargaining chip, but in addition to being able to bargain with this technology, he was able to use it to go far enough away, that he and Charles would not deal with the stigma of slavery. Being able to come into the respect of whoever they were speaking to in a negotiation was vital to the success of their negotiations. If someone thought them weak, then their negotiating position would be compromised such that they might just be robbed of the technology and get nothing from it. a big consideration was that anyone reporting to be an ally for them would come to Alton and enslave them again. What they wanted was someone to come defeat the surrounding territories, and then walk away. How could they expect someone to conquer a foreign land, and then walk away with nothing? Mark had already thought about that. He considered offering the spoils of other nations as a reward for conquering them. He didn’t much care for the land that the hordes natively owned. But what was theirs to be offered from the horde's land? The Westerners lived in some of the most beautiful areas on the planet And anyone would be happy to take them if they could. That’s why the Westerners had it after all, because they were powerful enough to take it and keep it for themselves. No one could take it away from them. That was a part of the problem. How could he make Alton strong enough?
Somewhere far away, a dark- skinned 50-year-old woman looks up at the dark sky wondering if her life had reached its pinnacle. By all rights, she should be happy, and she was, but in her youth, she didn't think that her best and highest point in life would be in the chief counselor’s office doing paperwork and making decisions for a local government that had far too few competent decision-makers in power. Theoretically, all counselors had the power to sway decisions but when it came to actually making the final decision, they’d have to “send it up the flag pole” so the real decision-makers could decide. Usually, the final decision was watered down and lacked the impactful result the recommended action would have had. The woman sat back in her chair examining the walls of her government office as if there were something interesting on them. There wasn't. But in her mind, fast-moving thoughts whizzed by as usual. Her thoughts would have been interesting to her enemies though. She was thinking longingly about her past, when she was a junior, she did so many exciting things as she scrambled and clawed her way up to her current position.
Her name, Amari Broz, was synonymous with power in her small circle and if she wanted something from you, you’d better be ready to let her have it or face the consequences. She had operated like a mafia boss. Nothing could get in her way. But now she felt trapped. How had she gained more power over the world around her but so much less power over her own decisions? As a junior counselor, she dreamed of one day being in the position she was in at the moment. She dreamed of making a real difference and being truly impactful with her decisions. But she had betrayed her youthful self more often than not. In fact, most of her decisions as chief counselor did not reflect her youthful ideals. Most of her decisions were the result of pressures that were applied to her by many unseen powers from within her government and without. To the layman, her decisions didn’t make a lot of sense. None of the chief counselor's decisions made much sense unless you knew their true motivations, agendas, and the pressures that affected them. If someone truly understood what was driving these people to make the decisions, then those decisions would make perfect sense. It was astounding how often her constituents did not work backward. Those who did were called conspiracy theorists. Usually, they couldn't vote anyway. Only landowners had voting rights and certain powerful people would buy enough land to get more votes and they would be counted among the guests when there was a swanky party. Politicians and business moguls with young wives and lots of money-making decisions in private conversations. Of course, the other voters felt like they had power but only the ones who voted for what was already going to happen would get their way.
The government she worked for was made up of 201 states. Her state was the smallest by land mass but they had enough population to matter. In fact, they came in at 39 by population despite their small size. A lot of states were mostly open land and sparsely populated. That meant money for taxes, but lately, the tax revenue was suffering everywhere. She had inherited a few large tax-paying companies when she took over governance but even they were struggling to make money lately. Things weren't what they used to be. Now instead of bustling city streets full of business people and commerce, there were empty shops and abandoned buildings everywhere. The recent war had hollowed out the economy, leaving a vacuum of luxuries. Nothing but the basics were left now. If you wanted a decent set of clothes or a luxury flyer, you’d have to import it, and that usually cost as much in taxes and bribes as the item itself. No, things weren't what they used to be.
Breaking from her reverie, she moved a stack of papers from the edge of her desk into a position more convenient for her to work through them and took the first file folder off the top. It was labeled as a legal folder, but the cover sheet said it was a junior counselor’s brief. Hardly compelling as a legal expert. Most counselors came from business backgrounds. She opened it with a sigh and started reading. The first line, “Amari Broz: Chief Counselor - It gives me no pleasure to put this situation in your hands but I can't continue. Please understand how grave our circumstances have gotten before we chose to involve you.” She stopped reading and examined the page. The date was almost a year ago. The author’s name was Killion Antol. She had heard of him but they’d never met. As far as she knew, he was one of the few who had been elected legitimately and he had very few political friends. How had it gotten here? The folder was thin, maybe 30 pages. She leaned forward in her chair and continued reading; mildly interested now.