Brandon Victorian 82,882 Words

Brandon Victorian 82,882 Words

208 Vieux Orleans Circle

Lafayette, LA 70508

Elven Roses

A Novel by Brandon Hill

Prologue

The change of seasons brought a cold, early autumn to Sakar, and with it, a chill that felt like the dead of winter. Human, elf, and dragon alike wore woolens andenchanted fabrics to fend off the cold, but the wind that whipped around the city’s rust-colored brick buildings and blew through its endless shop-filled alleyways bit through even these. Only androids were unfazed by the weather change, and most wore whatever clothes pleased them. The sight of the near white-skinned human replicas in filmy summer garb, exposed imperviously to the unseasonable chill roused resentment and jealousy in humans, and caused more than a few odd looks from the elves and dragons, even though most androids could not have cared less. Still, one uniquely beautiful android named Mericlou, dressed far more conservatively than most of her kind, could not help but feel a growing exasperation, though it was not aimed at the onlookers who had watched her enter the cyber-brothel. Rather, her anger seethed at the manager behind the counter who had just asked for her codec number.

“You know damn well that I don’t have to give you that information,” Mericlou snapped, fed up with the sleazy man’s lame attempts at coaxing it from her. “Androids of level-4 consciousness or higher are no longer required to give their codec numbers for any reason whatsoever.” The very gall of him! Codec numbers were access codes to their very CPUs, and were shared at an android’s own risk. Between trustworthy individuals, access provided intimate communication through the Orb Network, but if misused, it could lead to manipulation, infection, or mindwipe. After the Liberation War, the headlines were often full of reports of androids falling dead in the streets, victims of such acts by vengeful former owners, hired hackers, or indiscriminate acts of cruelty by resourceful people. Thankfully, humans became bored, and the novelty wore off as attitudes shifted. Nevertheless, many still resisted change.

The manager tried to explain that a codec number was needed to complete the transaction. But Mericlou knew when humans were lying, and was well versed in the statutes of the Android Rights Act. The Republic was often lax in enforcing it, but if an android pushed the issue, the matter would be settled properly.

“So unless you want a call from my lawyer …”

“All right, all right!” the manager said in whining capitulation, “I don’t need your codec, okay?”

“That’s what I thought,” Mericlou gave a derisive snort. The manager quickened his writing pace on the form, perhaps to sooner be rid of her, and Mericlou finalized it with her signature once he was done. The manager then took the document, passed behind the counter through pink sequined drapes, and a moment later returned … with her.

Her thick, black hair, luxurious in bygone days, was unkempt, her makeup smeared and crusty. Her filmy clothes were tattered, and stained with the blood-like fluid from her still-bleeding pores.

Mericlou smiled, despite the android’s dreadful condition. No one would have thought twice about a barely-sentient Setru love doll model, but from the moment she first saw her, the smallest and most miserable of the entire bunch in the display window, she knew that this android would be hers. For months, she saved her money to buy out her contract and pay for whatever repairs she would need. After a CPU upgrade and a tune up, she would be good as new.

“Sister,” Mericlou said, taking her by the hand, “My name is Mericlou.” She touched the android’s face; her skin was nearly as white as her own, despite the smears of blood. “Can you understand me?”

“Sister … Mer-i-clou,” The other android replied, her eyes momentarily focusing upon the one that spoke to her.

“Yes, that’s right,” Mericlou said encouragingly. “I’m going to take you home with me.”

“Home …?”

“Yes, a new home. Do you want to come?”
“Home … yes … home,” the android whispered slowly. A weak smile crept onto her dry lips.

She needed a lot of work. Mericlou checked her over for hidden damage. Even if she seemed fine in every other way, it was obvious that the blood that encrusted her skin was old: a sure sign of severe malnutrition. Sedriil would have his work cut out for him to repair her circulatory system.

“Hey there! You think we broke her or something?” The manager said. “Aside from the blood, she’s factory perfect!”

“Sure she is.” Mericlou’s words dripped with dismissive sarcasm. After a minute more of checking, she was satisfied. “She’ll do,” she said at last, and then led the android to the exit.

“So take it outside, already! You got what you came for, now get out!”

Mericlou was more than happy to oblige. She guided the sick android out the door to the sidewalk and towards the transcontinental railway station as speedily as possible. Passersby, at the sight of the Setru model’s horrid condition, quickly gave the two a wide berth.

“Do you have a name?” Mericlou asked the android as they boarded the transcon bound for Lusea.

“Had … many … names,” the android replied. She then began to utter a string of words that had the misfortune of being unsuitable for polite chatter.

“No, no! Those aren’t names,” Mericlou said as she fumbled to gently cover the android’s mouth. Already some of the other commuters had begun to stare their way. She laughed, in spite of herself. “I guess I should pick one out for you, then.”

“Name … for me?” the android replied weakly.

“Yes,” Mericlou said, “and this can be your name forever.”

There was a long pause, and the android’s expression remained as blank as unused paper. At last, she whispered, “Yes … name.”

“How about ‘Alaema’?” Mericlou said after a bit of thought. “That sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

“Alaema … my name?”

“Yes, sister. That will be your name. It’s an old Dwarvish word. It means foundling.”

“Alaema … foundling,” the android repeated, her voice breaking into a slight quaver. And then tears erupted from her expressionless face. They came out profusely, mixed with blood from her ruptured tear ducts. They stained her face, leaving even more crimson streaks upon her pale synthetic flesh.

Mericlou quickly removed a handkerchief from her purse, and wiped the bloodied tears away. “There, there; don’t cry, sister,” she said consolingly, and placed her clean hand atop her thick crown of raven-black hair. “You’ve got a home now, and no one will misuse you again. I promise.”

“Mer-i-clou …” Alaema said, and then unexpectedly, reached over to embrace her. “Alaema … sister.”

Chapter 1

An Unexpected Meeting

The Elven city of Lusea sprawled resplendently across a lush, rolling valley just south of the border between the human Republic of Natoia and the elven kingdom of Daina to the north. Long ago, it had been a center of trade between the Republic, Daina, and the subterranean lands of the now-extinct Dwarves, who lived beneath the distant cradling mountains that bordered the sweltering OrobiaBasin to the immediate north. There, the long-abandoned gateways to underground cities, now crumbling ghost towns, could still be seen: massive portraits of ancient leaders carved into even more ancient stone, now worn from millennia of erosion and disrepair.

Though small in size, Lusea’s mild year-round pleasant climate and atmosphere made for frequent visits by residents of nearby towns and villages. But in summertime, Lusea was not only a beautiful vacation spot in the Republic; it was the place to be. There were carnivals and bustling crowds by day, and quiet, lazy nights filled with fireflies, hundreds of open-air restaurants, and romantic boat rides in the peaceful waters of the SelisnaRiver that wound through the heart of the city.

On this beautiful midsummer’s day, there were no clouds marring the piercing azure blue sky. A gentle, warm breeze blew through the rustling treetops while flocks of colorful exotic birds flew high overhead. It was one of those especiallylovely days, when the golden sunlight bathed the city in its full splendor. It sprinkled through the leaves of the swaying trees and glinted off of the platinum spires and stained glass of the downtown buildings. Like soundless music, it cast gorgeous, shifting rainbows of light upon the busy streets.

It was odd that of all the city’s residents, there would be, of all beings, an elf that displayed such a severe contrast to the day’s cheerful brilliance. Those who recognized him knew that he was a long-time resident, seen by their parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, and even great-great-grandparents.

“I guess even elves have bad days,” a woman in floral dancing attire muttered to her boyfriend as they passed him: an elf with an odd combination of hardiness and lankiness about his figure. His eyes were gentle looking and deep blue; his straight, wispy pale blond hair just brushed the top of his shoulders. In addition to his unusually human-like height, his chin was more squared than pointed. He wore a sleeveless, high collared, white tunic trimmed with gold and silver, from which the long, light blue sleeves of his under tunic showed prominently. The outer tunic was bound at the waist by a golden sash, above blue pants and simple brown leather shoes.

Plodding absently through the marketplace, the elf ignored the curious stares of dragons, subdued whispers of other elves, and finger pointing of humans and androids brought about by his disturbingly conspicuous melancholy. He leaned against one of the giant marble pillars of the marketplace dome, allowing his attention to drift in and out upon the shoppers and passers by. They were the usual colorful array of people: residents of Lusea, merchants from the Republic and Daina, and tourists and entertainers from all five nations, haggling over the prices of necessities, trifles, and trinkets. The sameness of it all had become agony to him, the same activities, the same life day in and day out, each day as the one before, ad nauseum.

Every day, the same as yesterday. With a predictable chaos in between, century upon century, the same in the Republic, and all the Five Nations since time immemorial.

I used to enjoy it, and now I grieve it, the elf thought to himself, the same unchanging people, the same unchanging cycle of events. I’m so terribly old to have seen it all.

He pushed himself away from the pillar and resumed his blind walk through the crowds in the market, oblivious to the passage of time, the insipid noises of commerce, and the smells of various dishes that failed to stimulate.

He removed an apple from his hip satchel. Though not at all hungry, he needed something to nurse, something that would numb his accosting sadness. He took a bite out of it, but his dismal mood robbed the red fruit of its savor. Still, he continued one tasteless bite after another, down to the core, which he held level with his eyes.

Like so often before, he felt like that core: alone, exposed, empty.

My kinsmen, my family, he thought, fighting back the inevitable tears, I should have left with you … escaped from this world, but I chose to stay behind. Where is your prophecy now, elders? Now I wish that I could have …

“Hey! My purse! Stop! Thief!” A voice rang out from the din of shoppers.

At the sound, the elf’s awareness snapped instantly back to the now. He detected the telltale electronic resonance in the android’s feminine voice. Sight targeted its source: the open-air flower shop immediately to his right … and the absolute perfect moment. Caught within his field of vision were both thief and victim.

The human that first bolted out of the flower shop, blue leather purse in hand, was a boy in a gray coat and blue pants: slight of stature –possibly a teenager.

This was all that the elf needed to know to begin his spell.

The android that dropped her bouquet and gave chase was slightly taller than the human. Athletically built, the most prominent features that the elf glimpsed before she vanished into the confusion were her odd, yet attractive ringlets of green hair, and her almost-white skin. She wore a short-sleeved blue denim jacket, cut open at the shoulders, over a form-fitting blouse that squeezed over the waistline of a loose, black dress.

It was strange how sudden events could change one’s mood, the elf thought, after an inexplicable wave of compassion at last overrode his oppressive sadness.

***

Nalsa district, across the river, Number 4 Windhill Apartments, he repeated like a mantra as he pushed his way through the crowds. In human cities it was unusual for a something as petty as purse-snatching to be the subject of intense gossip amongst the marketplace goers, but elven cities like Lusea were known for their tranquility and near-nonexistent crime. The clerk at the flower shop, an elf maiden who knew him, had given him the android’s address from her records after his promise to deliver the flowers she had dropped. Her home was not far away, yet he hoped that he could meet her beforehand and offer his help.

He was in luck.

He had become aware of her crying above the white noise of the thinning crowds as he reached the marketplace edge. Her electronic voice made her cries sound somewhat peculiar, but no less plaintive or miserable.

The elf pressed on through the final throngs of shoppers, and followed the sound at last to a lone figure sitting on the steps of a shop just beyond the pillars of the marketplace atrium. Her face was buried in her hands, and so she did not notice him until he came to her side and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

Slowly, she lifted her head.

“By the Divine …!” the elf gasped, eyes widening at the sight of her.

She was beautiful!

Though her amber-colored doe eyes were bloodshot and red, her tear-streaked face, like all androids’, was devoid of any physical blemish. If it could be said to be an imperfection at all, there was only a tiny mole set below and to the right of her deep-bronzed red lips. A black leather choker was clasped around her neck, from which hung a gold-encrusted amethyst. He had not noticed it before, but her black, cotton blouse was bound at the waist by a scarlet sash, separating it from her black skirt, made of the same material as her blouse.

For a second, Aldrec simply stared, his voice momentarily caught in his throat. At last, deciding action over words, he fumbled with his hip satchel and handed her a handkerchief.

The android hiccuped another couple of suppressed sobs as she stared curiously at him, then at his gift. At last, with a faint smile, accepted it. Her pale, exposed fingers seemed as delicate as a china doll’s.

“I saw what happened,” the elf said, the words finally coming to his mouth. He knelt beside her as she used the handkerchief to dab at her eyes. “Are you okay?”

The android shook her head, and a couple more tears streamed down her stained cheeks.

“No … I … I think I’m really, really far from okay,” she croaked. “That little punk … My entire life was in that purse! My ether link, my makeup, my ID cards …”

Her last few words became garbled as she grimaced, and broke again into a torrent of cries and wails. She buried her face in the handkerchief, and before long, had soaked it through with her tears.

“It’s … the perfect end … to a perfect day!” She raved once she came up for air, only to cover her face again and resume her crying fit.

Hesitantly, the elf placed his arm around her shoulder to comfort her. Readily accepting him, the android leaned over into his breast, and coughed out a few more ragged sobs, too exhausted to actually cry anymore. Within a couple of minutes, she managed to compose herself.

“Th-thank you,” she quavered, looking more than a little embarrassed at having emptied her sorrow into the bosom of a complete stranger. She sniffled loudly. “I’m … not usually like this, really. It’s just that … well, today’s just gone all to hell, you know what I mean?”