Journey of Rick Heiden Ch. 31-32

The restaurant had an azure blue, mahogany wood, with a cream and gold color palette. Its décor consisted of seating in tufted blue velvet and wood grain, with a masterpiece of an arched ceiling, covered in frescoes of people in various French locales, surrounded in elaborate gold filigree with cherubs and flowers.

The maître d'hôtel (master of the house) greeted us, recognizing David and me in an instant --an experience occurring in surprising frequency. He led us to the private dining room where Amaré waited at a large round table. We greeted one another with the traditional bows, but I noted that each time we met we replaced more formalities to a greeting one would have with close friends.

"I heard Teresa had died," said Amaré.

"Yes, Sir, she died in Rick's arms," said David.

"Oh my, I had not heard that." Amaré's brow furrowed. "I appreciate the difficulty that would present for you, Mr. Heiden. I am sorry."

"Thank you. I've had my quota of death for today."

"I can imagine," he said with a little smile. "No doubt, you both wonder why I asked you here. I wished to speak to you, Mr. Levitt, before anyone else had the opportunity. If you have yet to realize it, you have become the most respected and influential person on Jiyū."

"Even with the incursion?" David asked.

"No one could outguess the things that are happening, and you should not take the blame for them, even if you take the responsibility of setting things right. You had a successful mission to Earth; people blame Pearce for the difficulties we face now. However, I would prefer everyone to hear his side before making such judgments."

He paused a moment to gather his thoughts. "Change is coming, and sometimes we need a stabilizing force to help carry the people through. Dmitry believes some of us will approach you to ask if you would lead the community."

"Isn't that anathema to everything we stand for?" David asked.

"Aurum set a precedent for it long ago," said Amaré. "Times of profound change have happened before, and when the need passed, we went on with our lives. As I have told Mr. Heiden, individuals are not islands. Everybody needs somebody and more so during hard times. Those times are coming, Mr. Levitt."

"I'm not the right person for that," said David. "I believe our way is the way things should stay. We have freedom, and we should resist as much change away from that as possible. How can that make me anything but unsuitable?"

"On the contrary, Mr. Levitt, that makes you an impeccable choice. Change is inevitable because change is growth, but not all change is beneficial. People don't want to lose their freedom. You would guard against that. They aren't looking for someone to help them integrate that sort of change. They want someone who will step up and defy it when necessary. They will stand by you."

"Why do they not ask you?" David asked. "You have served as Prime for a long time."

"They would not ask me for the same reason that I came to you when I knew of no solution to finding Cadmar's ring and body. Always defer to the one with greater knowledge, Mr. Levitt. That is neither me nor anyone else I can think of, except you. When our people go to Earth for service, they avoid dealing with the governments of the world. You did not. You fearlessly entangled yourself with the British Government. Not just anyone could do that."

"I didn't do it alone," David said. "I had a lot of help. You would have me do this if they asked?"

"I think you should do it whether they ask you or not," said Amaré. "I think you could do it well, as you would have even more help here, but it is up to you."

Amaré's words struck me as revealing of his real thoughts. He knew.

"I still need to fulfill my promise to the British and soon," said David. "I cannot do everything at once."

"It is acceptable to appoint proxies," said Amaré, "people you trust, to do in your name, what you would do in your absence."

"I didn't know that. I will give it some thought."

When he excused himself for the facilities during our meal, I brought up my thoughts on the matter with Amaré. I didn't have time for diplomacy. When David passed through the door of our private room, I moved over one seat next to Amaré, his head tilted back, gazing at the ceiling, as he admired the frescoes. "You know that no one will ask David anything of the sort."

"Notice that did you, Rick?" asked Amaré. He then looked into my eyes. "You know David better than I. Dmitry had the idea people would approach David, not me. He does not understand David."

"You're using David," I said. "I don't want you to use him. Why can't we avoid this? All the change involves Earth. If we destroy the portals, the problem disappears."

He shook his head. "No."

"How bad do things have to get before that happens?"

"We cannot."

"No matter what happens, we never will. Is that what you're saying?"

Amaré's visage held a mixture of emotions: sadness and resolution. "We cannot," he said. "Earth is one of our stabilizing forces. We need it as much as its people will depend on us for their survival."

"I don't understand," I said.

"I have come to realize, Jiyū has a specific problem," said Amaré. "Earth doesn't have our problem, because there, it is self-correcting without effort, but the people there pay a heavy price for that. On Jiyū, the problem had been self-correcting, but because I made a mistake long ago, its ability to self-correct has required my frequent assistance. Over time, the effectiveness of that assistance has diminished. Conditions changed, and my assistance no longer compensated as it once did. We will have to sacrifice to compensate, or we will die."

"Again, I don't understand."

"We live in a kind of order," he said, "and order is pleasant and good, but we cannot maintain order without occasional chaos. Order is like routine; it is the expected. In a place where order and routine dominate, the unexpected is necessary; without it, order becomes stagnation. The order we have will collapse one day, and we will destroy ourselves."

"What made it self-correcting? Do you mean the portal?"

Amaré nodded. "That's one way. It injects chaos into life here from an element of uncertainty.

"I see. So, what mistake did you make, and how have you assisted?"

He shook his head in resolution. "I will not say, but I will say the chaos the portal injects is sporadic and often unreliable. Without fail, it required something more. If it didn't happen of its own accord, I helped it along. That is all."

"How long have you done that?" I asked.

"The entirety of my tenure as Prime."

"How long is that?"

He paused for a moment, sighed, and closed his eyes. "An interminably long 925 jears. I try to remain positive and patient, but it feels as though I have taken on an aeonian task that I cannot entrust to anyone else. It must end, but I must make it right. Between you and me, I thought by now I would have retired to a Japanese minka. I intended to have one built further down the lake, but I see One City now only has eyes for the opposite side of the mountain. We may never reach that far." He gazed out the window to the southeast. "If I want my home there, I will have to live in solitude," he said in distraction. "Perhaps that is best when all becomes known." For a moment, he seemed old and tired. I had never heard him sound that way.

I suddenly felt overwhelmed by sadness, and I couldn't blink away the wet from my eyes. "You have sacrificed for too long, Amaré," I said, "but David looks up to you and will do as you ask. I don't want you to sacrifice my David."

He looked at me with a tilt of his head and placed his enormous hand on mine. "I promise you that I will not. David will do that all on his own should it come to that. I am sorry, Rick; I cannot tell you how this will end."

David returned to find me in my seat, holding my head in my hands, trying not to cry. I had a tough time explaining it to him without telling him the entirety of a conversation that would do no good for him to hear. In the end, I blamed it on the stress of the day.

Amaré began to talk to me like a trusted friend, and I appreciated that. I didn't blame him for what was happening or what would happen. He had taken responsibility for all of One City and its people. Would any of them ever know he had sacrificed himself to keep things functioning, so the peace and freedom the people enjoyed would continue to reign? To do that as Prime for 925 jears was, without a doubt, the most protracted sacrifice of anyone ever.

It reminded me of something I had heard often on Earth, of how freedom wasn't free. Humans on Earth consider self-sacrifice the highest noble act. People join militaries with the thought of sacrificing for their nation's freedom and the people they loved, and yet soldiers of past wars often question what they fought for because it no longer made sense in hindsight. If they realize they didn't know the purpose during the war, it made sense that any explanation told them at the time was probably untrue. Does someone fight for freedom when their reason is a lie? A soldier's intentions aside, they are not sacrificing themselves, those who lied to them are sacrificing them, using a soldier's honorable intentions against them for personal gain.

For Amaré, I suspected his sacrifice was more complicated than he alluded to in our conversation. He would not reveal his mistake or what he did to compensate, and I don't forget curious things with ease. I suspected it had something to do with the population rebounding. I realized I should have asked him about it while ruminating over our conversation hours later. It's always the way with me.

David and I said our goodbyes to Amaré when our meal ended, and we left for our meeting with Neal down the street.

At the appointed hour, we arrived at Neal's shop. Surrounded by boutiques at the heart of the fashionable Parisian district, it sat a mere block from train station 9 West. He had named it Le Coiffeur, and its façade demonstrated a taste of the opulence that lay within. As we entered, we stood in a waiting area whose radiant impression had shown as regal in appearance as any salle de séjour (living room) at Versailles with its marble and gold décor. Frescos abounded, gorgeously displayed on every wall and ceiling, with the far wall effectively masking the bones of the salon.

I called Neal's name when we entered, but we heard no sound. We assumed he couldn't hear in a lavatory, so we paused in the waiting area.

David called his name a minute later, and still, we heard nothing, so we passed the dividing wall in the process of searching for him. We found on the opposite side, a floor-to-ceiling mirror with the two swivel chairs typical to hairdressing salons on Earth. It startled us to see Neal reclined on the farthest chair. We found him so unlike himself, his hair mussed, his face placid and expressionless, eyes staring into the distance projecting to me a sense of vacancy, and he had become incontinent.

David and I stood there, frozen in shock. Neither of us said a word for at least a minute. We didn't have to. Although we could see Neal breathe and the occasional blink of his eyes, we felt the instinctual sense of something wrong with the animative portion of his being.

More out of reflex than a real need to confirm anything, a tentative David called out to him. "Neal."

He gave no response.

"David," I said, grabbing at this arm in horror. "What's happened to him?"

"I don't know. We should investigate, but for some reason, I'm reluctant to do it."

"Call for medical assistance," I said. "That's available. They can help him."

David did so, and we waited there with Neal, rooted to where we stood. When they arrived, they placed Neal's catatonic body on the levitating gurney. He didn't move of his own accord, giving them no assistance whatsoever. They had picked him up and laid him on the pallet as though he had died. But still, he breathed and blinked his eyes, both of which I knew were not revealing by themselves.

Once they had taken him away, David hugged me.

"I think it's because he knew what Pearce wrote on that page," I said. "Oh, David, this is my fault."

"No. No, Rick. You don't know that, and you did not do this."

"I spoke with him, and I didn't guard anything I said. Anyone could have understood the topic. He covered his end of the conversation, but I didn't mine."

"That doesn't matter. You didn't do this. Do not blame yourself for what may be the actions of others."

"Should we inform anyone about this for Neal?" I asked.

"I wouldn't know who to contact," said David. "The people at the hospital will take care of it."

David and I planned to visit the hospital in a few hours to check on him after they had an opportunity to discover what had happened.

Magnar returned a mere three hours after leaving for Earth and must have taken only a few minutes there to find the answer. David gave him Julien's cellphone, and he made some news searches on the internet. He reported back to us the instant he returned via a three-way communication.

"The British have kept the portal near London clear," said Magnar, "but they have begun erecting a fence to keep people away. They neither approached me nor hindered my task, but many onlookers watched and took photographs."

"Okay, that's not too bad," said David, "and the diamond?"

"We have a curious situation. Someone burgled the Louvre two nights ago, and according to the Louvre's curators, the perpetrator made it to the Sancy Diamond you inquired about but didn't steal it. They placed the diamond under exhaustive examination afterward, and they claimed to have the original diamond. The British media have called the burglar the barmy bandit if you can believe it."

"Does that make any sense to you, David?" I asked.

"The thief must know the significance of the diamond," said David. "I don't believe they went to the trouble of breaking into the Louvre to leave the Sancy, and I can guess what the Louvre will do in response to the break-in."

"As the custodians to a repository of priceless world treasures," said Magnar, "they take breaches seriously. They intend to bolster their security to make it impossible for another successful break-in."

"The diamond in our museum is an exact duplicate," David said, "If we can make one perfect copy, why not two?"

"So, Pearce had a copy made to get a chipped diamond of his own," said Magnar.

David's brow furrowed, and he shook his head. "I don't believe he took a copy of the diamond from Jiyū, intending to steal the Sancy, merely to come and go here as he pleased. That doesn't make complete sense to me."

"A fallback plan, perhaps?" asked Magnar.

"That would make sense," I said. "Pearce wanted the ability to return for some reason."

"We have our original diamond here somewhere," said David, "if he wanted a chipped diamond, why not steal that one or simply take someone's Trust ring? No, we're missing something."

"Maybe the location of the original is Aurum's secret," I suggested and bit my lip for speaking without thinking.

"What's this about Aurum's secret?" asked Magnar.

I put my finger to David's lips and shook my head to keep him from answering. "Where are you right now, Magnar?"

"I'm descending in the lift from the temple."

"Meet us at the Primorium in half an hour," I said, "and when you arrive, turn off all communication."

"Very well, I'll see you there."

"Why did you do that?" asked David as we left Neal's shop. We mounted our bikes on the rack outside.

I had David turn off his communication with Iris, and I did the same.

"I know you don't believe this but let us suggest my conversation with Neal did cause what we've witnessed here. As I said, he covered his end of the conversation, and I didn't. I had the conversation in the penthouse with no one around, but two people might have listened in; Mason via the Attendants and Iris."

I could see David considering this. "I'm not closed to your hypothesis. However, given that Mason lives with us, I'm alarmed by it." He pointed his finger at me. "Know that we cannot level any accusations without evidence."

"I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise."