The Golden Circuit (The Smith Chronicles) (13 page)

09.37 - Sunday, July 29, 2187 (nr. Grafuulen, Tapi-36)

The morning light was streaming in through the blinds as Mikita woke up after a long, heavy sleep. For a split second, she thought she was at home in her bed and turned over to doze for a while. But her hopes of a lie-in were dashed when she felt the dull ache in her right arm - then it all came back to her, in a flood of emotion that was almost sickening…

The journey from Lojikaal Parc had passed undramatically. The suitcase she’d managed to steal from the Muhaze shuttle contained clothes that allowed Mikita to dress in a colourful, printed dress and a summer hat. It was the opposite of what she would normally wear, but she didn’t think twice when putting on the flowery shift. And the hat did a good job of hiding her shorn locks. But it was her facial lineaments that the mutants were reacting to and nothing else, so she still needed to be careful. Mikita looked the other way when the guard-mutant came through the cabin asking for tickets, while Vannerman kept him distracted and Taarja paid for the three of them. In the end, she went unnoticed all the way to Grafuulen.

Vannerman managed to hot-wire a vehicle in the overland-shuttle car park and they were soon setting off through the sporadic late-night traffic of the small, northern town.
Mikita sat in the back seat with Taarja. But the enormity of what had happened to her that evening finally sunk in and she began to weep uncontrollably.

“Hey, Mikita. It’s all right,” comforted Taarja.
“
We’ll make sure you’re OK, don’t you worry.”

Why is Taarja being so nice?
thought Mikita.
Taarja is never nice.

“Yeah, Mikita,” said Vannerman. “Sorry to get you tangled up in all of this. It’s all our fault. We’ll get you back to your flat tomorrow if you want, or to your Aunt Fizz’s?”

“Yes, thanks, Vannerman,” Mikita snivelled. “That would probably be best. It doesn’t matter, either one.”

She knew she would have to tell them about what had happened
, eventually, but she was so exhausted she couldn’t summon the energy or the courage to do it now - and her arm was so painful. But even that discomfort couldn’t stop her from drifting off to sleep as they sped on through the outskirts of Grafuulen…

Mikita looked out of the bedroom window and could see that the house was surrounded by woodland. The trees were mainly of the Bleubaak variety with their white trunks, azure leaves, while the long, red grasses of the Steppes (the same kind to be found on neatly trimmed Muhaze lawns) were blowing in a light breeze that was circling the grounds. She could hear qi-birds in the trees, bringing a brief smile to her face. But even that joyous sound soon served as a cruel reminder of yesterday, and how little happiness she now felt. And the unexplained power that was to be found hidden within her.

             
Oh, Hanoi…

She began to reflect on the dormant energy inside her body, lying there, waiting to make her life hell with its random intentions. The uncertainty of not knowing when it was going to rear itself was maddening. And the destruction it had already caused to the people around her was unbearable to contemplate.

She shook off her feelings, got dressed and wandered through to the front room of the house. Vannerman and Taarja were already up and talking together as she came in. They stopped abruptly when they saw her. Then Taarja spoke:

“Good morning, Mikita. Did you have a pleasant sleep?”

“Um, yes, I suppose so, thanks. All things considered.”

“Good, that’s good,” she said, looking over at Vannerman.

“Where are we?” asked Mikita. “This isn’t Grafuulen?”

“No. We’re about 10km to the north-east of Grafuulen. I
n the middle of nowhere, really,” said Vannerman. “Mikita, there is something we need to tell you.”

“Um, OK,” stammered Mikita, blearily. “What is it? Go ahead.”

“Mikita,” began Vannerman. “We are not who you think we are.”

Mikita looked at Vannerman blankly.

“Let me put it like this. We are not Vannerman and Taarja. Those are names that we use when we are here on Tapi-36. They are characters that we portray when on your planet. But I see I am confusing you.”

Vannerman took a breath and started again.

“We are here to help you. We have been here to help you for sometime. We’ve been watching you, and waiting for you to come of age. That time is now. Here. And you have arrived Mikita - to us.”

“Wait, wait, wait… You’ve been watching me? What are you talking about? What have you seen?”
demanded Mikita.

“It’s all right
. We already know - we know everything - almost. And the things we don’t… well, you can fill in for us in due course. There is no immediate rush. There is no immediate danger, either. We are safe here, for the time being. We have not been followed by the agents.”

Mikita looked relieved by this, though her head was reeling. Everything was spinning around in her mind.

“You see, we are not from Tapi-36,” said Taarja. “We were sent here by the Guardians of the Oort Cloud. They are our masters.”

“The what? The Oort Cloud? Oh, this just gets better, and better!” said Mikita.

“Yes, Mikita, it does,” replied Vannerman, taking her literally. He and Taarja looked at each other, nodded, then reached down underneath their chins. They grabbed at the skin near the bottom of their necks and then pulled at it - upwards. Suddenly, a sticky, elastic material began to peel away from their faces accompanied by a shimmering, gold and russet aura. Mikita recognised the colour. It was the same one that appeared to her during her episodes.

“Oh – My - Herra,” whispered Mikita.

Vannerman paused. His face half on, half off. “Don’t be afraid, Mikita. Please. There’s nothing to be scared of.”

Mikita steadied herself.
No, this is too much.
She closed her eyes.

There was a silence, save for the sound of faces being removed.

Mikita fought down her fear as curiosity got the better of her and she peered out, first through her right eye, and then through her left.

There before her, stood Vannerman and Taarja
– except, it wasn’t them. Not now. They both had the most beautiful, peaceful faces she'd ever seen. Ageless, quiet and tranquil. You couldn’t even begin to put a year on them. They looked old and young at the same time. But not ‘old’ as you would normally think - not lined and wrinkled - but rather, sagacious, and full of knowledge. A look of having seen all the secrets that existed in the galaxy; of having had the experience of inscrutable and ancient insights; an awareness of an all-encompassing wisdom and logic.

“But… you’re both so… beautiful,” began Mikita, full of wonder. “Who…? What…? I mean… Where did you…? How…?”

“It’s OK, Mikita. We understand your confusion,” said Taarja, smiling.

The sound of her voice!
It’s like she’s speaking and singing at the same time!

Taarja’s voice
now had a tunefulness to it, a lightness and delicacy, like it was wreathed in a distant melody. Far removed from Taarja’s usual voice - that one was like a slipper-eel in labour.

“But, you were both so horrible to me at Hanoi’s,”
Mikita said. “And that ‘thing’ you had with you. What was that?”

“That,” began Taarja, “was Aldoorin Anoote. Leader of The Guardians. Our leader,” she said, proudly.

“Then why was he all chained up - on a leash? Vannerman had a leash around his neck.”

“It was another disguise,” explained Vannerman. “Aldoorin wanted to see you at first hand, up close. However, we can only remain in our original forms here on Tapi-36 for so long. An alien pet was the perfect veil. It was his own choice, actually. He is not without humour, regardless of what some might say,” said Vannerman, with a grin.

“It is rare that we find someone as strong as yourself,” continued Taarja. “Someone with such power. It is very rare, Mikita. Very rare and special. You are special.”

“Me? No, no. You’ve got the wrong person. I’m not special,” said Mikita
, shaking her head.

“Yes, Mikita,” said Taarja. “Yes, you are. You must believe me.”

“My name, is Gildan,” said Vannerman. “And Taarja? She is called Florina. Please, call us by these names from now on.”

“You see, Mikita,” continued Florina. “Throughout your life you have experienced random connections to the Golden Circuit. It is the power that governs all things: the way the universe is formed, the equilibrium of the stars, gravity, the manner in which everything is held together and balanced. The Golden Circuit determines all this. It is a gift you possess. The qi-bird, your dog Marta, Hanoi - you healed them, or did harm to them, with your ability to access the Golden Circuit. You are what we call a ‘conductor’
, Mikita.”

“The Golden Circuit,” said Mikita, almost
savouring the words. “And you know about all of those things? The things I’ve done?”

“Yes, and there have been more, Mikita. Smaller, lesser events. You were just unaware of them when they happened. Or asleep - you can conduct from your dreams, too.”

“Well, drain me.”

“Indeed, they certainly do,” said Gildan,
once again interpreting her remark at face value. “They take so much energy from you when used uncontrolled. And that is why you must come with us to Plaateux-5 and learn from the Guardians. You must learn the correct methods of use. It is essential. For your safety and for the safety of those around you. An unharnessed gift like yours? It is very, very dangerous. As you have found to your great cost.”

At that moment, Mikita heard a familiar squelching sound coming from the back of the house. It was accompanied by the tread of several feet on the ground and a gurgling of liquids passing through a tube. Mikita looked at Gildan and Florina in dumb surprise. Then, through the door, walked Leo-317
!

“Ah-ha!” exclaimed Mikita. “It’s him!”

“Yes, Mikita. It is
him
,” laughed Florina. “Mikita Smith, meet Aldoorin Anoote, leader of the Guardians of the Oort Cloud.”

In another blaze of that shimmery light, Leo’s body grew and straightened. The warts, cysts and suckers disappeared and were replaced by human arms, legs and a head. His face began to morph into one that resembled Gildan’s, the same ageless
beauty, the same tranquility of gaze, except with an almost fragile profundity, and an even greater depth of empathy. The amber glow slowly dissolved into nothing and there in front of her was Aldoorin Anoote.

His hair was a dark brown, lightly curled and of medium length. He wore two hooped earrings made of green and pearl-coloured stone. Around his throat was a four-tiered crystal necklace, alternating black crystal with clear, and on his slim, ascetic body he wore a long purple smock over loose-fitting,
indentically coloured trousers.

“Greetings, Mikita,” Aldoorin began, his voice deep, yet mellifluous. “It is an honour to meet you, at last.”

Mikita was completely stunned. “Um, thank you, and the same to yourself, uh, your honour, sir.” She didn’t really know what she was saying. She was just opening her mouth and letting words fly out.

Aldoorin smiled and looked at Gildan and Florina. “You have done well, my children,” he said. “Very well, indeed.”

Mikita’s face was a perfect account of incredulity.

“Mikita, as Gildan has already told you, I cannot
remain in this form for long, so, I will be brief. Please excuse my directness. Mikita, I would ask you to come back with us to Plaateux-5. There you can study and learn about your gift - it is strong, so strong - but you must learn to control it. By remaining here untrained you run the grave risk of doing more harm than good. And we have others like you, from all over the galaxy. Other conductors with powers such as yours. You will learn many, many things from the Guardians and I feel you could become a great leader. I can sense this simply by standing next to you. I can feel the strength and the wisdom, the potential for good, that you possess, Mikita, even now, is breathtaking. And so I must ask you: Are you ready? Are you ready to look up to the horizon and accept your future? To follow your destiny, with us, on Plaateux-5?”

Mikita was suffering from information overload. She couldn’t think straight, too many emotions were swirling through her heart. So much had happened, it was dizzying. And
, besides all that, how could she trust these people? How did she know that they were telling her the truth? It was all too coincidental; too pre-ordained to be true, laughable.

Like meeting Gildan and Florina at the station. How did they know I was going to be there?
And now him! This Aldoorin character. A ‘Guardian from the Oort Cloud’? Choosing me as a future leader of his race. Ha, ha! He’s crazy! No, this can’t be real. It must be a trick…

“How do I know you’re not
working for TAPCON?” she began. “All of you. How do I know that this isn’t part of some game of David Sempre’s? What proof can you give me that you’re for real? And anyway, I can’t just up and go without saying goodbye to everyone…” She trailed off. She'd just remembered about Polo. “No, I can’t come with you. I’m sorry. Definitely not. Not a chance. I have to help Polo. She’s my cousin, for fire’s sake!”