Stones: Theory (Stones #4) (2 page)

R
yzaard stares up, mouth hanging open.

The image of Miyazawa fills the white screen. The Shinto robes he wears hang heavy on thin shoulders.

Emptiness consumes Ryzaard’s chest. He hasn’t taken a breath since Miyazawa started speaking. With conscious effort, his lips part and fill his lungs with fresh air.

Miyazawa’s speech is impressive. He’s changed a few things without permission, but even Ryzaard has to admit the effect is powerful.

And it’s working. Like tectonic plates shifting below the surface of the ocean, the human race is changing. The nuclear holocaust has brought them to the edge of the precipice and given them a final glimpse of the old world. They hunger for something new.

Something only Ryzaard can give them.

Time to check in with the children. His finger slides along the surface of the jax in front of him.

A holo image of Jing-wei hops out of it. “I assume you would like a preliminary report.” Lids drooping down, she looks exhausted and relieved at the same time.

“Go,” Ryzaard says.

“Here’s the bottom line. The final human death toll is horrific, but less than expected. The good news is that Mesh traffic is off the charts.” A relaxed look takes over her face, perhaps even the hint of a smile, like a weight has lifted from her shoulders. “Governments, corporations, the rich and famous. Everyone has suddenly discovered an urgent need for Shinto. Miyazawa’s going to be a busy man. And there’s more.”

“Go on.”

“Radioactive fallout from the nuclear blasts will be a big issue. But we’re already moving on that front. MX Global has established a massive fund to assist survivors of the war with medical treatment and rebuilding. And we’ve set up a new subsidiary to quickly deploy technology for the cleanup effort. The news is already making its way through the Mesh. MX Global is being hailed as the first multinational corporation to recognize the scale of the devastation and offer help and solutions. A public relations bonanza is in the making. We decided not to wait for your permission. It was my idea. I hope you approve.”

“You’re a genius. A perfect way to wrap up this nasty business so we can quickly move on.” A weight slides off Ryzaard’s back. “I’ve got a pressing matter of business of my own to take care of right now. It won’t take long.” As he stands, his body is a black silhouette against the white screen. “Thank the rest of the team for their good work. I’ll meet with you all when I get back.”

The holo fades to nothing.

Ryzaard closes his eyes and imagines an open courtyard in a sea of white pebbles at the base of a mountain in Northern Japan. When he opens his eyes, he is standing under the shade of a massive cherry tree. The white blossoms are gone, replaced by oval-shaped green leaves, jagged-edged, as sharp as daggers and as thin as rice paper. The afternoon buzz of cicadas is in full swing.

The dark branches on the cherry tree hold only leaves with no hint of the sweet crimson fruit.

“This kind of tree bears only flowers in a single explosion of beauty.” Miyazawa approaches from behind, staring up into the foliage. “Then the blossoms suddenly die. Leaves are all that remain. No cherries. Rather deceptive, wouldn’t you say?”

Ryzaard smiles and turns. “Deception can be a powerful tool if used correctly.” He moves from under the tree into the open sun. “Will you join me for a walk?”

Nodding, Miyazawa walks to the side of Ryzaard. They move in silence across the courtyard, each with hands behind their backs, as if waiting for the other to speak.

Miyazawa makes the first move. “Forgive me, but I hardly recognized you. So young and healthy. Have you been taking cytopropyl treatments?”

“If only it were as pleasant as that. An accident at the lab caused massive burns on my face and arms. I had no alternative but to get extensive surgical reconstruction.” Ryzaard lifts his own hands, turning them over. “I’m grateful for the miracle of science.”

“I hadn’t heard.” Miyazawa dips his head in a short bow. “I’m sorry for the pain you suffered.”

“Your performance of the speech was brilliant. Truly impressive.” Ryzaard flicks a rock with the toe of his shoe. “We estimate the audience at over 15 billion. From all accounts, the impact has been huge, exactly as we had hoped. A turning point in the history of the world. Global demand for Shinto is going to make you very busy. It’s not every day that one witnesses the birth of a new world religion.”

Betraying no emotion, Miyazawa stares ahead. “I am deeply grateful for your help. The torii gates of our shrines now grace the centers of more than 200,000 villages and cities outside of Japan. We have MX Global to thank for the many doors that have been opened to us.”

“You are the head of a great organization. It is our honor to assist in your noble cause.”

Miyazawa stops. “Then I hope you’ll forgive me if I ask a simple question.”

“I welcome it.”

“The nuclear detonations.” Miyazawa casts his gaze on the undulating lines of mountain ranges to the east, one after another until the view is lost in floating mist. “How is it that MX Global knew of them in advance?” His voice falters slightly as the words leave his mouth.

Ryzaard pauses to gather his thoughts. “We have a vast information network, including close ties to the military in multiple countries.” He reaches down and picks up a wilted cherry blossom. “High-level communications passing through our surveillance net caught our attention. With some difficulty, we intercepted and de-encrypted them. After a lengthy and painstaking internal effort, the pieces came together. Like everyone, we were devastated by the implications.”

“But you saw an opportunity.” A slight smile flashes across Miyazawa’s lips, and his head drops down into a shallow bow. “At the cost of millions of lives, MX Global found a way to advance the cause of Shinto.”

Nodding gravely, Ryzaard runs his fingertips across the seven Stones floating above his chest. “We were helpless. By the time we grasped the reality of the situation, it was too far along to stop. Prematurely revealing it to the world or any government would have resulted in even more damage and chaos. The best we could do was shorten it, saving millions of lives in the process and opening the way for the peaceful spread of Shinto. Now that it’s over, MX Global will take the lead in the cleanup and rebuilding effort. We will relieve suffering wherever we find it.”

Slipping a jax out of his robes, Miyazawa resumes his walk, pulling Ryzaard along with him. “We mourn the loss of so much life. The will of the
Kami
is often difficult to discern. But if it results in Shinto blessing the lives of billions, perhaps the sacrifice of millions will, in the long run, have some meaning.”

“We are of one mind,” Ryzaard says. “And we look forward with anticipation to the day when your shrines dot the earth. It will be a great force for peace and unity.”

Miyazawa bows again. “That is our hope.”

“MX Global will increase its financial support to meet the demand for shrines.” Ryzaard flicks away a falling cherry blossom. “Build quickly while the doors are open. Start in Europe and Russia. Then move on to the Americas. Billions await your coming.”

“With gratitude.” Miyazawa stops again and turns to Ryzaard. “May I ask another question?”

“Of course.”

Miyazawa clears his throat. “When you offered to help in the worldwide spread of Shinto, you said the time would come when you would request a favor in return. Is it too early to ask what that might be?”

“Yes,” Ryzaard says. “It is too early. But I assure you that you will not find the request onerous in any way. It will only increase the appeal of what you offer to the world.” He moves to the large cedar trees at the edge of the courtyard. “And now I must be going. A new world awaits.”

“
Sayonara,
until we meet again.” Miyazawa says. Silently standing, he follows Ryzaard’s movement through the trees and into the forest. The sound of a hawk soaring above him catches his attention, and for a split second, he looks away. When his eyes return to the spot, Ryzaard is gone.

M
att holds the cloaking box tightly in his fingers, sensing the two Stones inside. He stands with his back to the large lapis cube in the center of downtown Vancouver.

Even after the Shinto priest stops speaking, everywhere in the intersection, the mass of humanity silently stares up at the white screens on the buildings or down at white holo images floating above jaxes.

A woman’s voice penetrates the quiet. “You said this city would be destroyed. Looks like you were wrong. We escaped the holocaust.” She turns and raises her arm up at the white screen. “
Shinto
saved us.”

“It’s a lie!” Yarah jumps up and down on top of the lapis cube in the center of the intersection, pointing at the empty screen. “That man didn’t save you. Don’t listen to him.” She puts both her hands on Matt. “
He
saved you. I was there. I saw it.”

Scattered laughter erupts in the crowd. Yarah’s hands go on her hips in a display of indignation. The laughter turns into an avalanche.

“It’s OK.” Turning around, Matt pulls himself up to the top of the cube and stands next to Yarah. “They only believe what they can see.”

Jessica climbs up next to him.

Matt raises his hands in the air, and the laughter dies down. “You’re being set up, all of you and all of the people in the world. The nuclear detonations were planned by MX Global so the Shinto priest could give his speech and take credit. It’s all a lie.”

“You’re the liar!” A man’s voice rings through the crowd. “And a false prophet.” The people roar again with laughter, drowning out all attempts by Matt to reason with them.

Along the edges of the gathering, police move toward the center of the intersection.

Alexa sees them coming. “Looks like trouble. Let’s get out of here.”

Matt helps Jessica and Yarah down. The four of them slip away, leaving the wreckage of the transport they brought with them smoking in the street.

“T
hey’re waiting for you,” Jessica says. “More today than yesterday.”

It’s 9:00 AM, and the temperature has already shot past 90 degrees, well on its way to 110 by mid-afternoon. In spite of the heat, hundreds of people are gathered in the trees at the upper reaches of the slope to hear the man they call
The Finder
.

Matt sits in a lotus position on the flat top of a large rock. His eyelids are closed, and his hands lie on top of his knees. The Stone rests in the center of his right palm while the other palm is empty. His belly slowly moves in and out, but unless he focuses intently, he can’t tell whether he’s inhaling or exhaling. It’s all just flow.

“What’s he doing, anyway?” Alexa says. “Deep meditation?”

“He told me he was exploring,” Jessica says. “Exploring what? The back of his eyelids?”

Jessica points at Matt’s open palm. “The Stone.”

It’s something Matt started shortly before leaving Vancouver with Jessica, Yarah and Alexa. Three months ago.

Moving carefully over the Stone’s surface, Matt is like an ant crawling on the side of a mountain. If it had been his skin or a random rock from the ground, he would see massive gaps and fissures in even the most smooth and flawless exterior. He knows this because he has tried it. But the Stone is different. Even at the molecular level, its surface is as smooth and impenetrable as a polished diamond.

While still in Vancouver, he first noticed the thin aura that rose from the surface of the Stone, only visible after extended concentration and focus. At first, it looked like a vague halo, a haze of light that only he could see. Upon closer study, he discovered the countless microscopic filaments of multicolored energy jumping out of the Stone and connecting to the outer world.

The tiny threads act as if they are alive, reaching out like nerve fibers to touch objects around him. People, rocks, trees, leaves, insects, water. When he talks with Jessica, the tiny filaments shoot toward her, swarming over her skin and eyes. When he looks up at the stars, a mass of filaments follows his gaze into the sky.

As he gets better at seeing the Stone, it becomes clear that the energy field is active all the time, whether the Stone is in use or not, connecting it to everything around him.