His was the mind that conceived of an Empire. Hers was the hand that forged it.
* * * * *
"Are you ready?" The soft, modulated female voice seemed to come from the walls.
"Uh huh."
"It is required that you answer yes or no. The pleasant, even voice pushed him towards clarity.
"Yes, yes, I'm ready." The circlet he was wearing around his temple seemed to grow warm.
"Have you set any Reminders?"
"Yes."
"We will proceed."
* * * * *
There was a momentary disorientation before he settled in for the game. He let the smells of the popcorn and other archaic foods wash over him. The aroma joined the rising and falling of the noise of the crowd to fully pull him into the experience. It was only the bottom of the first. He had a vague sense of having just arrived.
"I'm sorry, I believe that this is my seat?" He stood on the stadium steps adjacent to a familiar and beautiful woman. Had he seen her at the ceremony? Rarely forgetting a face, he tried to place her. If she was here, she wasn't a dignitary, of that he was sure.
It had been a ridiculous waste of time, but he did his part. The youngest person ever to be named a tri-planet delegate, he was the guest of honor. He had thought about nothing but this game as he shook countless hands and tried to look engaged.
Apologizing again to the woman who had to move out of his seat and into the one adjacent to her companion, he shifted around, looking for a vendor. When one was spotted, he caught his attention and held up two fingers. The dowgs were brought over to him, affixed with his favorite toppings. With a slightly embarrassed smile, he extended one to the woman he had displaced.
"Please. As an apology. You can't enjoy the game without a dowg."
She smiled back as they were both evidently amused by the retro fun of the baseball game and all of its anachronistic trappings. Where he was slight, tall and elegant, she appeared solid, beautiful and with a certain unidentified sense of purpose.
"That's three apologies. You must really be sorry. Thank you. I'll get the next one." Passing her the food, he felt his pulse quicken as her hands touched his fingers.
As they sat and enjoyed the game they could each sense the other taking sidelong glances when they thought they weren't observed. An inning passed before he finally said something.
"I'm sorry, it's driving me crazy. I'm usually good with faces. Have we met?"
"No, this is the first I've been on-planet in years, but I know who you are. Rumor has it that you're going to be the new Architect. You arranged that treaty that ended the famine. Some of the men and women I serve with would like to buy you a drink."
"You're in the military?"
"I am." She smiled. "I have a ship that's stationed on the fringe."
"That's where I know you from! You were involved with finding the artifacts! I thought I was losing it for a while."
She unconsciously squared off in her seat, facing him almost full on. What had been friendly a moment ago, now seemed guarded and suspicious.
"How did you know about that? Do you have any idea how few people are aware of... of what you just mentioned?" She quickly looked around at the people near them. None seemed to be paying them any attention.
Her change in demeanor was a little off-putting.
"You're right, I shouldn't have mentioned it but I promise you that I'm allowed to know. I was brought in early so we could do some preliminary planning. But you're right. Sorry."
"No, I shouldn't have presumed." She slowly relaxed into her seat.
He remembered her brief bio now. She was a commander well on her way to being a captain. The text of her bio and that of the others involved with the artifacts clearly show that she is well respected. Reading between the lines, she was also feared. Far more intelligent than most of her superiors, they knew that they would likely be retired or serving under her fairly soon.
There was silence between them for two innings. After the exultation of the crowd following a home run, she turned to him.
"Listen, I'm sorry I jumped the gun. That's part of the reason I'm here. I need to decompress a bit and, well, that wasn't called for."
"No, you were absolutely right. I tend to get excited and open my mouth. No harm done. Let's enjoy the game."
After two more batters got on base, he leaned over. "How often do you get back here? Is it always years before you return? Do you think that, well, we could get dinner sometime? I mean, a few years is enough time for you to come up with an excuse if you want to cancel." He offered a lopsided grin as he tried to use humor to defuse any tension.
She smiled and touched his arm. "I'd like that. I've been told that things are changing and I'll be coming back every month or so for debriefings. Dinner sounds..."
Fragments of her skull knicked and lacerated his face as her head exploded. Viscera arced behind her and to her sides. He stared without comprehension as a seemingly omnipresent voice boomed in the stadium. He couldn't make out what was said, but he was sure if he could concentrate for a moment, he would understand. When the voice finished speaking everyone that he could see slumped in their seat or to the ground.
"What? What? What..."
He was incoherently repeating the same word as he felt a hand on his shoulder. As he turned to look at the hand's owner, he saw a figure fleeing up the right-field bleachers, past the array of unconscious humanity.
"Sir. Sir! Please come with me."
* * * * *
"What the hell happened?"
"We're still looking into it, sir. Somehow, she just, I guess, exploded."
Dr. Umberto looked at the functionary.
"You're an idiot. BioMacs don't just explode and certainly not just their heads. He turned to address the rest of the room. Do any of you understand how important this is? Do you have any idea of what will happen if he remembers any of that?"
Dr. Mendoza stepped to his side to speak to him. Her mellifluous voice hid something she was trying to disguise. Was it schadenfreude? If he went down, she would replace him.
"Where do we stand, Umberto? What's next?"
"Next? We proceed as planned and revisit this Walk at the end. We can readjust the sequence in his mind before we pull him out."
* * * * *
Theirs was a sybaritic society and they felt no shame in their indulgences. Countless generations of humanity had toiled to bring them to a point where life's hallmark wasn't constant struggle. They were a people of leisure and self-indulgence. Where their predecessors would have been embarrassed to live without purpose and dedication, they reveled in it.
When the poorest amongst you live to be six-hundred and in a style befitting an emperor, your biggest concern eventually becomes boredom and ennui. That's when firsts become more valuable than almost any possession. The novelty of the first time for anything was sought after and treasured. It was also richly rewarded.
Nearly thirty-two decades earlier, scientists had discovered how to safely mind tape humans. Memories could be recorded periodically and reinstalled in case of catastrophic injury. It took another two hundred years and countless lives before they figured out how to suppress memories and then restore them at will.
Want to re-experience your wedding? No problem. Through genetic remodeling, you and your wife look the same and feel the same. We'll just suppress your memories, reenact your wedding, and let you experience it again, flush with the passion and novelty. Best of all, you can carry both memories with you when those that were suppressed are released.
BioMachines are used as actors in the fictions created for the clients. Technically they aren't human, so their participation isn't solicited as much as demanded via remapping cerebral architecture. Unless needed again for the same client, they are recycled after every job.