NewU Pt. 09

"Errr yes, it's an apartment building. I'm not following." That part was true. Not even Charlotte had known their function.

"Are you sure?" He smiled as if relishing the moment of finally getting to teach me something. "Then who lives there?"

I squinted for a moment, looking back at the building. As obvious as it suddenly seemed, that question had never even occurred to me.

"They are not apartment buildings," He grinned after I didn't answer. "I have only seen them a few times before, never that big and certainly not this many of them but They are what we call 'placeholders'... They represent your mind's ability to adapt, grow, and change." Both of us were staring at one of the non-descript buildings that, now that I thought about it, were everywhere in my city. They took up the vast majority of space within the sprawling metropolis. "It's an evolutionary trait that most of our species has lost over the eons, but the ability to adapt is one of the hallmarks of what our people call "The Sovereign Caste." he finished.

I blinked a few times, as much for my own benefit as for his. "You are going to have to run that by me again."

Over the course of the next hour or so, Marco told me about the Conclave. Things I mostly already knew after my time with Charlotte. Having heard about their organization from a member of a group opposed to them. It surprised me to find that Marco's account of the Conclave's history matched, pretty much exactly, with Charlotte's. My strawberry-blonde friend had neither embellished nor underplayed anything. There were a few details that, given the Sect's split from the Conclave, she probably wasn't aware of. But for the most part, their stories matched. What was equally surprising, was that Marco seemed to be completely honest about the Sect too. The impression he gave off when talking about them, was not one of hostility or mistrust, but something akin to regret. The split had happened before his time, despite his immense age, but it was like he was carrying around the collective grief at the loss of their members from the rest of the Conclave.

I honestly expected, as I had seen countless times during my 'human' life, for one side to blame or villainize the other. But it was as if neither of them even bothered with trying. They gave the facts of what happened without seeming to have any sort of prejudice or bias... It wasn't only surprising, it was oddly refreshing.

What he told me, that Charlotte apparently wasn't aware of, was the changes in the Conclave's political structure that came about as a result of the Schism. The Archon, the leader of the Conclave, was redefined as a position that would be served for life. The constant changing of this post when someone more powerful was brought in - along with the corresponding shifts in political focus - had been blamed for a lot of the inner-political turmoil that was ultimately held liable for the schism. A new Archon was anonymously voted in by the members of the next three ranks below it. This was done after the rules had been changed, ruling out the possibility that this law had been altered for the gain of one person. The Sovereign Caste, as he had called it, was the name given to the Newly established rank immediately below the Archon. All of whom were actually more powerful than the man himself, and would have replaced him under the old rules.

The Archon, a man simply known as Thomas, had made his share of political enemies in the early days of his reign, by insisting on a policy of peaceful co-existence with the Sect. A few of the lower-ranked members, feeling a deep sense of betrayal, had simply chosen to ignore him. A rogue faction within the Conclave, including the former Archon, had taken it upon themselves to go to war with the Sect, and had hunted them down with ruthless and merciless zeal.

This part, although from a significantly different perspective, tied into what Charlotte had told me about the Conclave viciously attacking the Sect in the years after the Schism. She and her people had assumed that the end of that war had come about due to Inquisitor attacks on the Conclave. Although this was partially true, the reality; at least according to Marco, was that this rogue faction was stamped out with a measure of overwhelmingly violent force, a force that the organization had never used against its own members. Killing one of their own was against the highest of all laws, and despite the members of the Sect having left the Conclave, they were still members of the same species. This faction, in the eyes of the rest of the Conclave, were serial murderers, and an imminent threat to the survival of the species. They were treated as such.

In a time when the death penalty was still used in almost every country on earth. Each and every single member of this rogue faction was ruthlessly hunted down, captured, drained of their powers, and then executed.

Marco spoke about the Sect in the same way someone would talk about a family member you had argued with; you may be hurt, you may be disappointed, you may feel let down, but they were still family. Even though he hadn't even been born at the time of the schism, it was as if he held the collective sorrow and regret for the loss of former brothers and sisters within him. Which, in a manner of speaking, was exactly the case.

"But anyway..." He finished with what looked to be a genuinely sorrowful smile. "The political realities are what they are, as much as many of my brethren would like to change that. As for you, I can guarantee that your acceptance into the Conclave, given the power of your abilities, is pretty much a no-brainer if you wish to join us."

"Wait... If? I got the impression that after your help in awakening me that it was expected I would join, that you were doing this as a means to recruit me," I replied with a confused frown.

"Yes, back in the old days, before the new rules, you would have been right." He smiled, "but the awakening and your training have nothing to do with recruitment. Of course, we would be more than happy to have you join."

"So... why then?"

"Why have we helped you?" He asked, waiting for me to nod before answering. "That goes back to the threats I warned you about before. Normally we don't talk about things like self-defense for a few more meetings, due to a child's age and the stress that these processes can inflict on a young mind. But again, we can speed that part up and deal with that during your next lesson. But to answer your question, we aren't able to reach and awaken as many of our kind as we would like. Those who are not reached, or those who choose not to join us, are more or less defenseless if they are attacked. After suffering too many losses over the years, it was decided that we would give as many of our people a fighting chance as possible."

"I see," I said slowly, pondering his answer. I had to admit, this was not the Conclave I had come to expect after talking to Charlotte. I was more than a little intrigued. "So, what now?"

"Well, that's simple. I will step up your training. I will come back in a few weeks to talk you through things like intraspecies communication...." I frowned at that, prompting him to clarify. "How we exchange knowledge and memories with each other without violating things like privacy."

"Ah, okay... Go on."

"After that, maybe during the same session, we will start talking about self-defense and combat. That will last a while, though, even with your age, that is a skill that our members spend decades of their lives honing. Then, depending on if you have joined the Conclave, your training will revolve largely around your position."

"I feel like you are beating around a very large bush here, Marco," I said with an arched eyebrow after he had finished.

He laughed to himself, that infectious, beaming, disarming smile was as bright in my city as it had been in the hospital all that time ago. "Fair point. You want to know if I am going to offer you a place in the Conclave. I am not sure you are in much of a position to make that decision yet, though. Most of us are awakened and start our training before we are teenagers, then are offered positions in the Conclave when we become adults. Obviously, you're already an adult..."

"So I'm told," I interjected with a smile.

Another laugh spilled from his chest. "That clearly changes a lot, but..." He paused and thought for a moment, his eyes wandering back over the skyline of my city, before finally coming to some kind of a decision. "I'll tell you what," He offered. "Most recruits, by the time it comes to make their decision, have grown up around, or at least with a fair amount of involvement with, the Conclave. They know quite a few people there, it helps inform their decision for good or for ill. In many cases, including mine, those people form something of a second family, but that is something that may be lost with your accelerated timeline."

"I feel the overwhelming urge to wait for a 'but'"

"But... We do have one of our quarterly gatherings not too far from here in a week's time. All the members and older recruits in this part of the country come for a little get-together. Nothing formal, just an excuse to socialize and catch up with friends outside the more rigid inner structure of the Conclave. Why don't you come along, meet a few of the locals, and see how you feel then?"

"Yeah," I said after a few moment's thought. "That sounds like something I would be interested in. Send me the details, and I will make a point to come."

"Excellent." He beamed, clapping his hands together excitedly. "For now, though, I think our time is up...." He took one last long look around the city. "Truly remarkable," he smiled to himself. Before existence faded away around us, and I found myself staring at him across the kitchen counter, before he said his goodbyes and promptly left, a beaming smile on his face.

The five or so hours in the mindscape had taken less than ten minutes in the real world.

I chuckled to myself and got on with some chores, while I waited for an appropriate time to start getting ready.

************

It had been arranged, earlier in the week, that my date with Olivia wouldn't exactly be a one-on-one situation. Knowing that neither Jimmy, nor any of her friends - who had apparently known about her crush on me before even Jimmy had noticed - would ever let us go alone. So we were going to make it a group thing. She would arrive with her friends, and I would arrive with mine, and at some point in the night, they would leave us alone to talk without making things too awkward. Not only did that take into account my pre-accident shyness, which she had no real way of knowing was a thing of the past. But it also accounted for the fact that our friends were going to, 'accidentally' and conveniently, show up whether we wanted them to or not. So we decided to just invite them along and see what happened. With my apartment upstairs, and hers just down the road, plus the fact that she had a car, there were places for us to go if we wanted somewhere quieter.

What I didn't know, or had somehow overlooked, was that tonight was themed karaoke night in the Queen's head.

I should mention here that my musical tastes are about as eclectic as they come. Although music would never be as important to me as it would be to, say, someone who worked in the music industry, it had over the years grown into one of the few constants in my life. Music was almost always on in the background in my apartment. There was often something playing in my bunker, and the moments of silence when music wasn't being played just felt... Odd. I also liked more or less all of it, all genres that weren't named after a building anyway, House, Garage, Kitchen, whatever... that isn't music. It is noise to a beat. Heavy Metal I could take or leave, I didn't mind it, if it was on, but never enjoyed it enough to go out of my way to put it on. Everything else was fair game, from country to pop, from Rock to Rap, from RnB to Classical, I would listen to it all. In fact, my knowledge of music was second only to my knowledge of computers.

Themed Karaoke night in the Head was always a popular night. Normal Karaoke nights were every week, but once a month, the management added a theme... and the themes were as random as the management could make them. They'd had gender-bender nights, where you were only allowed to sing songs released by artists of the opposite sex to your own. They had had 60s nights, fancy dress nights (where your drinks were free if you dressed as an artist and sang one of their songs), they'd had group nights, rock nights and guilty pleasure nights, and that was only to name a few. Regardless of the theme, the crowds came out in their droves. The Queen's head was usually filled to capacity long before the performances started. And could easily stay open much later than they did if their license allowed it. But from 8:00 in the evening until 2:00 in the morning, it was the best night out for miles.

Of course, Jimmy was running late.

Well, that's not entirely accurate. I had arranged to meet Olivia at 8:00, so when I knocked on Jimmy's door at 7:30, I had been met by the sounds of some pretty frantic, breathless, and heated amorous moans coming from the other side... plus the unmistakable sound of the sofa springs creaking...

Note to self, don't sit there again.

Knocking a little harder on the door had been answered by the increasingly high-pitched squeals from Lori, shouting more and more urgently, "We're coming, oh fuck, we're coming!!"

I didn't hold out much hope that she meant it the way I would have liked. That was confirmed a few moments later when the panting and groaning started back up again. I retreated back into my apartment to wait for them.

It was 8:15 before we actually made it into the bar.

I have never been particularly fashion-conscious. I couldn't tell the difference between one designer label and another if they were laid out in front of me. My ethos when it came to getting dressed in the morning was that my clothes were clean, they fit, and they didn't make me look like an idiot, so they'd do. As much as I liked computer games and music, I had never in my life been tempted to buy the merch. Having something plastered across my chest announcing that I was a fan of one game or another, or a certain band, was a concept that just didn't resonate with me.

Jimmy, for example, had dozens of them; even now, as we walked into the bar, he was wearing a black t-shirt with Metallica scrawled across the front of it. Although I considered their music a modern form of poetry, following his lead was just something that I didn't do. It wasn't through some pretentious moral stance about consumerism, or anything as noble as that. It had always simply been about money. Those things were expensive, and I could buy 5 or 6 plain or non-branded shirts for the same price.

However, in an enormous break with tradition, I was not the one who was massively mis-dressed for the occasion. Apparently, nobody had told Jimmy that the theme for this Karaoke night was country music. I, on the other hand, was dressed in faded blue jeans I'd had for years and a plain white button-down shirt. Hardly what could be considered Country to the world of fancy dress, but for once, I was doing better than my sheepish-looking friend.

Whereas most of the guys were dressed in a checkered-shirted version of my outfit. Every girl was dressed as some form of cowgirl, ranging from pink and sparkly to downright slutty. There was a sea of fluffy and frilly cowboy hats, tied-up shirts, and crop tops. In the interest of being honest, I can say that my eyes had happily wandered around the plethora of denim booty shorts, knee-high leather boots, and otherwise bare legs long before I started scanning the crowds for Olivia.

Bob, Jimmy's uncle, the owner of the bar who had gifted us the loft apartments at a fraction of their normal rent, and mastermind of the themed karaoke night concept, looked over his navel-high mahogany bar, grinned at me and plopped a brown leather stetson onto my head.

I flicked the rim with a chuckle "Much obliged, partn'r. Three of the usual, please." I looked over to Lori, watching her scrunching her eyes up, clearly not knowing what a 'usual' was. Jimmy looked uncharacteristically self-consciously around the room, tugging uneasily at the hem of his shirt. Jimmy was significantly more fashion-conscious than I was. Luckily, he was distracted by the arrival of his Uncle and our drinks.

"Three large vodkas with just enough coke in them to not make you look like alcoholics," Bob announced with a grin. He batted away the payment I tried to make. The man had never accepted payment for a drink from either Jimmy or me in the entire time I'd known him. "Now, go find a seat while you still have a chance, and Jimmy?" He looked over at his nephew. "It's country night. You look like a twat"

"Cheers Unc!" Jimmy snorted. "I feel better already."

Laughing, we headed over and nabbed one of the last remaining tables with a decent view of the stage. Say what you will about karaoke nights, love them or hate them, there is no denying that they are a spectator sport. Tara, the large woman in her late 40s, was already expertly stirring the crowd up in her role as DJ. She had been running the Karaoke nights at the Head for years. Once something of a local celebrity, she had hung up her microphone and started her little DJ side business, which over the years had evolved into karaoke. She was a big lady with a big personality and a big heart. Easily one of the nicest people I knew, but what was truly extraordinary about her was her big voice. At any time the sacrifices to the karaoke gods were a little thin, she would wow the crowds by singing herself.

There is always an element of luck in becoming a signed musician, and she had never found hers. But with a voice that could easily match the likes of Aretha Franklin and Mariah Carey, if not outdo them; the only imaginable reason I could think of to explain why she had never 'made it big' was that she had simply never been spotted. But dear God! As she started blasting out the first verse of Elkie Brooks' Pearl's a Singer, the hairs on my arms stood on end, and the crowd started cheering wildly.

I still hadn't spotted Olivia. My focus was no longer on the plethora of barely concealed derrieres in the room, but was instead, actively looking for her. The size of the crowd, the vast majority of which were standing, was not helping. I could safely say she was not one of the patrons on their feet, but well over half of the tables were hidden behind the party-goers who were. I was about to take a convenient trip to the bathroom, an excuse to have a look at some of the hidden tables to see if she was at any of them. But with Tara reaching the climax towards the end of her song, the crowds around me started jumping to their feet to cheer on the woman on stage. One face in the sea of jumping bodies immediately caught my eye.

I didn't know her name, and it took my perfect recall a few moments to place where I knew her from, but I suddenly recognized the bouncing blonde on the far side of the room as one of Olivia's friends, who had been with her in this very bar the last time I had seen her. If she was there, so was Olivia. I stood and started to make my way over toward them.

Something made me stop, I froze, watching as the blonde spoke to another friend, laughed a little, and made her way through the crowds and up to Tara, handing her a small slip of paper.

I am not even going to pretend to know what made me stop and watch. Even now, I couldn't begin to understand the process in my head that told me it was a good idea to just sit down and wait. But that is what I did. Taking a long sip of my glass and unequivocally ignoring Jimmy and Lori fawning over each other, I sat back and watched the show.