The Clay Queen Read online

  The Clay Queen Excerpt

  The Children of Clay, Volume 1

  Ono Ekeh

  Published by Ono Ekeh, 2017.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  THE CLAY QUEEN EXCERPT

  First edition. September 2, 2017.

  Copyright © 2017 Ono Ekeh.

  Written by Ono Ekeh.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  From the Author

  Prologue

  There are two and only two gods, Ryna—pronounced Rhee-nay—the sky god and creator of all, and myself, Nouei, the earth god, the primordial clay. I am the fabled demiurge. I am eternal, indestructible, but not immutable. I have no powers of my own except what I receive from Ryna—but Ryna has no outlet for her powers except in me.

  Ryna sees in me, a slave, and she, my benevolent mistress. I see in her my mother, and me, her child, though she recoils at the thought. “We are of different natures,” she insists. She is being, and I am matter.

  The Jaru mock me and my subjects because I do not fit their idea of a god. They say I am just like them: human, weak, fragile. Why must it be said to be so? Why is it that you are not like me, gods? Yes, I hunger and thirst, for I am human. I crave touch and warmth. I fear the dark, the pain, and the suffering. But how does that make me any less a god?

  From where I sit, it is now four thousand years into the future from your present. The earth has been devastated by human hubris and, I shall confess, by my failure to broker peace. But that was two thousand years ago (from my present) and now, as my self-induced penance, I must bear in my bones the poison of the earth in order to preserve the very humans who mock me.

  The Jaru, the Fenti, and others say I am a pathetic god. They laugh at the modesty of my temple. I like my temple. It is magnificent and befitting a god.

  Even now, they march up north to demand that I kneel before the image of Ryna. They have every right to, because for the fifth time, by Ryna’s aid, my people’s military has been decimated and many of the Low Country have abandoned me to worship Ryna. The Jaru march north, converting my people along the way. In a fortnight, they will arrive here at my temple gates.

  Ryna controls time. It is in her power as the Almighty. I, on the other hand, am pure passivity. I am only what I am made to be. I take powers from whomever or whatever will offer them to me. I can absorb pain, fear, love, joy, hope, poison, anything—except evil. Evil is nothing and cannot exist.

  I have set myself against Ryna for ages upon ages, and in each cycle, I am forced to return to my eternal state of passivity until she reanimates me. Except now.

  After so many eons, I have finally absorbed the power of time.

  There are two ways to see time. One, Ryna’s way, is to perceive it as a linear progression toward the future. I cannot plan for the future, for I cannot see it. I see time the other way, the way it was not meant to be seen. I perceive time laterally, sprouting out of the present.

  While Ryna marches forward, I march sideways.

  And so now I write my story. Not the story of how I became a god, for I am and always will be one. But of how Ryna will recognize me as a god and must then receive me and love me as her child. My writings are hidden from Ryna. This is my prerogative. As long as I write my present and its possibilities, I write the future. If I finish telling my story, a story that spans from your present to three thousand years into my future, if I finish that story, a seven-thousand-year story, before the Jaru arrive at my temple in a fortnight, I will have won the race, for I will have changed the past before they get here. They will arrive to find me more powerful than they ever imagined.

  Ryna animates me, but I animate potentiality.

  I have three secrets.

  I created the Selites, my pure children who preserve the pure passivity of the demiurge. Every time I am returned to my primordial state and Ryna begins again, they preserve the history of my existence, and I am thus no longer tabula rasa.

  My second secret is that before my story is done, I will have created a new god. With her by my side, Ryna will no longer have the power to dispose of me as she wills. She must meet me as an equal.

  I do not wish to speak ill of Ryna. There is no one I love more. Every dawn, my heart skips when I see her in the horizon, staring in wonder and fascination at the children of men. I have tried to emulate her in everything I have done. Everything but one. As desperate as I am for worship, I will not reap men’s souls to satisfy my thirst. I strive to inspire all humanity to love me, and it is only when the intransigent are left that I will unleash my sword as he who will force the rest to bow before me.

  I digress.

  The Jaru march north.

  I must begin my story if I am to rewrite seven thousand years of history before they arrive.

  I begin with the marriage of two parallel worlds. One is a world of pure randomness—a zero-probability world. The other world is one of pure definitiveness, one-hundred-percent probability, where all that is probable... is.

  This is my third secret. I have splintered the world out into all probable configurations. Ryna sees only absolutes. I see only probability. There is one absolute world—and a million probable worlds. Her world is somewhere on the spectrum of worlds. I don’t know which one it is. I only know it is not world zero or world one hundred. I begin with these.

  I am Nouei, and this is my opening gambit.

  Chapter 1

  “Containment’s secure, Sir. Confirming energy transfer!” Captain Tumai called out.

  A sharp crackling discharge rocked the room, causing everyone in the large, amphitheater-style control room to duck in fright. The lights flickered from the electrical surge but stabilized soon after.

  “Prepare the Selites,” Director Hera Tifo ordered. “Bring them in here, all two hundred.” She inhaled as she watched the large containment area at the center of the room spark and fill up with a milky gas.

  “We have to recreate the exact conditions, in case the Wave hits and we need to repeat this process,” she said to Tumai.

  “Yes, Sir.” Tumai signaled toward the doors at the top tier of the room. A moment later, scores of Selites filed in and lined up against the back wall of the room’s top tier. The Selites, Silicon-based creatures, humanoid at present, took on whatever form was required by their masters.

  “Do we have the child?” Hera asked as she ran up toward the Selites. A man handed her a gurgling baby. “You’re so delightful.” Cooing at the child, she nuzzled its pudgy cheeks as she cradled it.

  The Selites watched her expectantly as she inspected them. “On my authority, as a representative of the Council, you are to retain custody of this child, Theresa Bridget.” She handed the baby carefully to one of them, who cradled the baby and rocked her gently. “We don’t know if our energy bridge will hold successfully, but if—” she paused for emphasis— “if it holds and someone comes through, and if the Wave pulses, which means that everything will change, you are ordered to commit the child to the custody of our guest. Understood?”

  “Understood.” The Selite chorus echoed through the hall.

  Hera leaned in and kissed a Selite who had reached out, and briefly hugged her. They were gluttons for affection, and she usually had that in spades to give them, but not now. There were other pressing matters at the moment.

  The crackling in the containment chamber continued with loud bursts, drawing Hera’s attention back down to the engineers—closer to the center of activity.

  “Thank you,” she whispered to the fragile-looking, dark crystalline beings who
swayed gently, as though in an invisible wind.

  They carefully passed the baby down the line and each one inspected her; some hugged her, others kissed her, while others rocked her.

  Comforted at the sight, Hera made her way back down to the lower tiers. “Report.”

  “The density is sustainable. Particle distribution is... Sir! I think someone’s coming through. These are not our quantum particles; these are new particles!” An excited voice responded from closer to the chamber. A ripple of excitement coursed through the hundreds of people in the room.

  “The spins are locked in the same direction, and the field is in equilibrium,” another voice yelled out. “There’s perfect complementarity.”

  Tumai held Hera’s shoulder. “Good God! A person. From index... one hundred?”

  The room grew silent at the statement. Hera, like everyone, was stunned. In theory, it was true that such a world existed—a world of one-hundred percent probability distribution. It just wasn’t comprehendible. A world so stable and ordered that its inhabitants naturally conceived no alternatives.

  A loud boom sounded in the room, shaking all the fixtures, desks, and equipment. The lights flickered off, leaving the room in darkness. The backup generators started up, bringing the lights back on. Silence prevailed for a minute, followed by a flurry of activity as people rushed to the aid of those who’d fainted or were momentarily incapacitated.

  “There’s a person in there, Sir,” a trembling Tumai said, pointing at a panel display, then peering into the smoky containment chamber.

  Hera rushed toward the containment and hesitated at the door. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears and her hands trembled. She’d wet herself from the boom earlier, but nothing was going to stop her from seeing this project through.

  The door whirled open and a vacuum sucked the gases from the containment chamber. Writhing on the ground was a naked woman, moaning in agony. Hera turned to the Selite next to her. “Observe. If the Wave occurs, continue our prescribed course of action.”

  Hera rushed to the shaking woman and knelt in front of her. “You’re safe, sweetheart. You’re safe.”

  The woman was apparently in the throes of a seizure, foaming at the mouth as her milky eyeballs rolled back and forth.

  “Four-hundred milligrams phenobarbitone,” Hera called out as others joined her in the chamber.

  “No, wait,” a woman said as she listened to the heart. “Her heartbeat’s over two hundred a minute.”

  Hera took a deep breath. “Continue the seizure medication. Apply ice to her eyes and compress the carotid bulb; let’s see if that slows the heart rate.”

  They watched the woman’s vitals on a monitor as they cleaned her and wrapped warmed blankets around her.

  “Seizure’s better, but heartrate’s climbing.”

  A voice filled the chamber. “The Academy just sent a Wave advisory. Fifteen minutes.”

  “What’s the Order’s estimate?” Tumai asked.

  “Six minutes.”

  Tumai looked at Hera, who gave a slight nod.

  “Go with the Order’s estimate,” she said. Still kneeling, she leaned back on her heels and watched their guest, holding her hand. Such courage to have undertaken an uncertain journey between worlds. The chances of success were incredibly low. But it made sense that someone from index one hundred would have the ultimate faith in her abilities. How strange a world it must be to never doubt yourself because there was never an alternative to consider.

  “Hera, the heartrate’s still over two hundred. It’s slowed a little, but if the Order is right, we don’t have time.”

  “Very well. Twelve milligrams of adenosine,” she responded. “Prep the defibrillator, get the electrodes ready.”

  Tumai looked up at the time clock. “Hera. Restart the heart. There’s no time.”

  “Her body has been through so much...”

  “I know,” he said softly. “But the heartrate’s regular. She seems strong—”

  “Okay, stay the adenosine. Twenty milligrams, calcium channel blocker,” Hera said.

  “Blood pressure’s seventy over forty!”

  Hera stroked the guest’s short curly hair. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Looking up to her team. “Continue the blocker. At thirty seconds to the Wave threshold, apply the electrodes!”

  Tumai looked at the Selites. “When the Wave pulses, take over!”

  “Heartrate’s still too high.”

  “Applying electrodes, defibrillator is charged and ready!”

  “Thirty seconds to Wave,” Tumai called out.

  “Selites, move in,” Hera ordered. “Everyone clear!” She pushed the button and the woman’s body pumped off the ground and landed back with a thud.

  “I feel it.” A man to Hera’s right smiled and inhaled. “The Order’s estimate was correct.”

  “I love you all so much. I’ll see you beyond the Wave. May Ryna bless us all,” Hera said as she lay flat on the ground. She never heard the responses. The Wave pulsed.

  VESTA GROANED AS SHE opened her eyes. She sat up and looked around at dozens of quiet eyes staring at her. The moderately-sized room was filled to capacity. The bed under her was soft, but it made a loud squeak whenever she moved.

  A man knelt next to her. “Greetings. I am Director Tumai.” Pointing to a woman who’d crouched next to him, “She’s Captain Hera Tifo.” He took Vesta’s hand.

  “Where am I?” Vesta asked.

  “You are where you are supposed to be,” Hera said. “Does that make sense to you?” Hera pressed a soft patch with a sticky gel onto Vesta’s neck. “This will calm you and help you relax.”

  Vesta leaned back on the wall behind her and closed her eyes. Strong arms enveloped her and laid her back on the bed.

  “I bring greetings from... I bring... I greet you...”

  Soft lips kissed her forehead. “Go to sleep and rest. We will be here when you awake. You are safe.”

  Shuffling sounds filled the room, and then all was silent.

  Vesta woke again to the sounds of excited whispers. The room was the same, although the walls were a colorful and odd mix of brick and concrete, unlike what she thought she remembered. Again, the room was filled to capacity.

  “I’m sorry,” Vesta whispered, her mouth dry. She sat up slowly. “I meant to be more prepared. We trained—”

  Unable to suppress a wave of nausea, she vomited on a woman who had been kneeling next to the bed. The woman made no attempt to move or even react in disgust.

  “You will feel better soon. My name is Captain Hera Tifo, and this is Director Tumai to my right.”

  Vesta leaned her elbows on her knees and closed her eyes to orient herself. She opened them to see Hera being cleaned. She’d taken her shirt and underclothes off, and a shiny, grayish being helped wipe her and put on a new shirt.

  “What is that?” Vesta pointed at the metallic gray creature.

  “They are Selites. Silicon-based lifeforms,” Tumai said. “Welcome to the world of all alternatives, the world of zero probability distribution. You made it.” His rich baritone words rushed into each other as though he were so excited to speak the next word that he could not wait to articulate the current one.

  Hera sat next to Vesta. “Do you have the Wave in your world?”

  “I don’t know what that is,” Vesta replied. The dozens of spectators kept their eyes locked on her. She felt like a specimen, as she discerned pure wonder in their gazes.

  “There is no continuity here. When the Wave pulses at random intervals, everything changes,” Tumai said. “The Selites, though, can preserve information from Wave to Wave. We depend on them to preserve knowledge. They are our slaves.”

  “They don’t change with your Wave?” Vesta asked.

  Tumai shrugged. “We think they succumb eventually. The change is delayed with them. We don’t know why.”

  “Here.” Hera offered Vesta a bowl of green fruit. “Replenish your strength. We don’t have much time. The W
ave may pulse again in three hours, according to our estimates. You’ve been asleep for twenty hours.”

  “But you said the Wave was random?”

  “Yes,” Hera said, looking momentarily confused. “Randomness means it fits no existing pattern or algorithm, but it doesn’t mean we are without a sense of the Wave’s advent. There are those among us who are attuned to the Wave, and they register their perceptions with the Academy and with the Order.”

  Vesta closed her eyes and felt Hera’s strong hands help her down to the pillow. Her mouth still felt dry, but the fruit had helped. Her chest was sore, as was her throat. In her head was a distant thud, like the remnant of a very bad headache. She opened her eyes, grateful for the room’s soft and warm tones. The walls were a muted lime-green color, with waves of various greens streaming across. Along the walls were hundreds of small square plaques with writing on them.

  “What are those squares?” she asked.

  Tumai leaned over her, filling her vision. “We tried hard to think of what things we do that would appear strange to you. But this didn’t occur to us. I’m glad you asked. They are labels and instructions for when things change.”

  “They look like symbols,” Vesta said. “Is this your writing?”

  “Between Wave pulses, the alphabet, grammar, and mathematics of the next wave are perceptible. As the Wave approaches, these squares translate our labels and instructions, so wherever we end up, we have some orientation for what to do. For instance, if you became ill. I don’t know what skills I have, but I know there are instructions around here to help me. After a Wave, I may appear next to a piece of equipment; the labels will tell me what it is and how to operate it.”

  “Wow. This is bizarre,” Vesta said. “I wish my people could see this, could be here.” She sat up again, this time feeling more stable. “Is there a duplicate version of me in this world?”

  “Yes,” Tumai said. “But we wouldn’t know where or how to find her. If she’s meant to be here, she will be.”