Akropolis Read online

“Don’t worry,” Norika said. “No one will know you’re gone, at least not for a while. Days. Weeks.”

  “Oh, you can do that?” he said. “Slow down time? What else can you do? Are you some sort of super-hero or what? Who are you, anyway? I can’t believe I’m here! I knew I shouldn’t have taken that rock home! You’re some crazy person and now I’m stuck here! Wherever here is!”

  His voice had risen and he was throwing his arms around too much. He swallowed hard, pinned his arms to his side and kept walking in silence.

  “Grow up,” Norika said. “I’ll take you to Yoshiki and then it’s up to you what you do.” She sprinted ahead and he ran to catch up with her.

  First chance I get, I’m out of here. He’d ended up in the middle of nowhere. Okay, somewhere weird. Planet of the Dead. They hadn’t seen anyone since they left, only sometimes a blurred effect, everything speeded up, where people should be. Where were they?

  They had reached a riverbank, where a small red rowboat was lying on the grass. “Help me push this into the water,” Norika said. She grabbed its bow and started to drag it to the water’s edge. Nat pushed from behind and the boat was soon afloat. They jumped in and Norika sat at the stern. “Grab the oars and start rowing. I’ll navigate.”

  She was definitely bossy. He fumbled with the oars, talking nervously. “…the last time I rowed anything it was a rubber dinghy”‌—‌he tried a quick grin‌—‌”in a pool.” When he got no response he shrugged in an exaggerated way. “But if that’s what you want…”

  “Just row.”

  Nat fitted the oars in the locks and started rowing. The boat rocked erratically and he took a few minutes to find his stroke. He was relieved when he felt the boat sliding through the water. Not bad, he thought, pleased with himself. After a while the river narrowed and he noticed the same peculiarity in the landscape as before‌—‌a rushing, like a motion blur. He stopped rowing, disoriented. The effect lasted a few seconds and was gone again.

  “The river branch is ahead of us,” said Norika, “and I can see the cottage on the bank to the left.”

  Nat veered towards the bank and when close enough they stepped from the boat, dragged it to dry land and secured it to a nearby tree. He looked up at the cottage. It sat in a leafy glade high on the steep bank with a path leading up from the river‌—‌a timber-framed cottage with sliding doors of a light, translucent material opening on to a weathered timber deck.

  They climbed the path through masses of fragrant wildflowers. The setting was hyper-real, the flowers too beautiful, the sunlight on the water too sparkling. Like a painting, Nat thought, except they were part of it. Where is this place?

  Yoshiki stood waiting on the deck to greet them. As they approached, Norika ran ahead up the steps and hugged her grandfather. Nat followed behind.

  “Welcome, Nathaniel,” Yoshiki said. “This is my cottage, once the country retreat of my father’s employer.”

  “Where are we?” said Nat.

  “You are in Japan, the Japan from my childhood. I spend much of my time here these days.” Yoshiki smiled. “Homesickness can afflict the old as well as the young.” He slid the doors open and gestured inside. “Our plans are hastened somewhat and we will talk soon. But first, I imagine you must both be hungry. I have food prepared.”

  Nat stared at him. A cottage in an earlier Japan. How was this possible? How was any of it possible?

  They removed their runners, went inside and sat on mats in front of a low table laden with steaming bowls of rice and thick vegetable soup. The aroma reminded Nat he hadn’t eaten for a while‌—‌maybe days, if what Norika had said was true. Yoshiki ladled the soup into bowls and Nat had two servings before sitting back with a satisfied sigh, thinking it was definitely the best soup he’d ever tasted.

  Yoshiki cleared the table except for a small wooden box and sat down opposite them. “You will have many questions. Be patient and I will try to explain everything. First, the rock. Is it safe?”

  Nat took the rock out of his pocket and placed it on the table in front of Yoshiki, who pushed it gently back.

  “The rock is now yours,” Yoshiki said. From the box on the table he took out two other rocks and placed them beside the first one. “What do you notice about the three rocks?”

  Nat glanced at the rocks. “They’re exactly the same, like clones. Identical.” He was disappointed. The rocks had to be fakes‌—‌good ones. Natural rocks did not clone themselves. “What’s this about?”

  “They are all fragments of a larger rock,” said Yoshiki, “a meteorite which fell to earth millennia ago. Although the fragments look identical, your fragment has something, a power, the others don’t have.”

  Nat spoke carefully. “It’s impossible for a rock to have powers.”

  Yoshiki smiled. “You’re sceptical, I understand. After you hear the story I have to tell you, perhaps you’ll change your mind.”

  Nat was uneasy. He’d tried to call home but there was no signal. Wherever the cottage was, it was out of range.

  He had to focus, he had to get back to Tasmania.

  9

  Northern Japan, 1937

  Yoshiki rested his arms lightly on the table and began his story.

  “When he was young my father worked for an important man, a renowned naval scientist and explorer who charted not only his own seas but travelled far beyond them. His name was Kenji Takada.

  “Each time Kenji returned from a voyage he brought back treasures‌—‌rare plants, fine fabrics, paintings, woven carpets, maps. But the object he valued most was a strange rock, a meteorite as tall as a man, which he found on a remote island and removed to his ship with the help of the crew. He called it Rock Island, and later claimed it had rescued him from danger many times.”

  “Rock Island!” Nat interrupted. “That’s what the intruder called the rock. The rock is the island.”

  Yoshiki nodded. “Your rock is a fragment of Rock Island and is known to have the same power.” He continued, “Towards the end of his career Kenji wanted to share his many treasures, and so he constructed a museum near his home in Japan. Around the buildings he created a magnificent garden, based on the gardens of medieval Zen temples and tended by Zen priests. It was known as The Garden of Kenji and took five years to complete. By the time it was finished, the museum and its garden had become famous and people travelled from all over the world to see it.”

  Nat sat up a little.

  “Many areas of the garden were symbolic,” Yoshiki said. “Lakes were created and bridges built to connect to small islands. Winding paths and stepping stones led to areas of contemplation. In such a garden every element represents a part of the natural world, but its meaning is not always known. To know the code is to understand the garden.”

  Watching Nat across the table, Yoshiki knew the boy doubted him. At first, he had questioned the Committee’s decision to recruit Nathaniel. Now he accepted that the decision had been unavoidable. They had no choice.

  “Plans were drawn up and changes made as the garden formed its own shape and character. Pine trees were planted around its boundaries and grew tall, offering shade in summer and shelter from autumn rains. In winter their branches were weighed down by snow. In spring fragrant cherry blossoms attracted song birds. A teahouse was constructed beside an artificial lake and stone lanterns were placed at entrances. Stone basins filled with cold mountain water were provided in cool, mossy areas for the refreshment of visitors. It was a restful place, an artful place, a garden for meditation.” Yoshiki took a moment. The effort of speaking had clearly tired him.

  Nat was thinking the garden seemed too perfect to be real.

  “How did Rock Island fit in?” he said.

  “Rock Island had its own garden,” said Yoshiki, “created especially for it in the courtyard of the temple.”

  “A garden constructed around a rock,” Norika said softly. “What was it like?”

  “It was a Zen garden,” said Yoshiki, “a dry garden of
sand and stone. In a land of abundant rain, a dry garden is a work of art. Sand is raked into wave-like patterns and rocks become islands rising from the sea. It was its own complete world, a microcosm. Kenji went there every day to meditate.” He paused. “Rock Island was placed in a group of rocks at one end of the garden. There was no vegetation except for the moss which grew around their base.”

  “What happened to the garden?” Nat asked.

  “The garden was destroyed in an earthquake almost seventy years ago. Rock Island shattered into a thousand fragments, most of them still buried. Kenji retrieved these three and discovered that one of them‌—‌the fragment you have‌—‌had retained the power.”

  “How did he know?” said Nat, going along with the story.

  “Hold your hand over the rocks.”

  Nat moved his hand slowly over the three rocks. The first two remained unchanged, but several layers in the third glowed softly translucent as his hand reached it. Nat withdrew his hand and the glow faded. He picked up the rock and studied it. “It must have some kind of heat sensor embedded in it,” he said.

  Yoshiki said, “The rock is as it is, Nathaniel. Consider how you came to be here, the strange things that have happened. Nothing is as it seems.”

  He had a point, Nat thought. He replaced the rock on the table and leaned forward. “Why are you telling me this? What’s it to do with me? My brother asked me to contact you and now he’s missing. Where is he? Do you know?”

  Yoshiki remained calm. “Let me continue my story, Nathaniel. Maybe it will help you find him.” He waited until Nat sat back.

  “In designing the Zen garden the priests made an unexpected discovery. They found evidence, dating back millennia, of a settlement on the site by a group who came to be known as Survivors. Further proof showed the site was one of several chosen for the First Transition, a mass migration to a place more kind than the one left behind.”

  “Who settled in these places?” Nat interrupted. “Where were they from?”

  Yoshiki hesitated. “They were a people very similar to us. They looked like us because their planet developed in the same way as ours, with conditions for life identical to our own. There was very little difference between our world and theirs, between our people and them.”

  Nat stared. “Their planet?”

  Yoshiki said, “Did you think our galaxy was alone in the universe, the only galaxy with intelligent life?”

  Nat was silent.

  “The First Transition took place so long ago it went unnoticed, it was never noted in our history. The main site was ancient Greece, chosen because it was considered the perfect place to implant new ideas, to shape an emerging civilisation. And so it was. Survivors settled, assimilated, became like us. Those born here became Descendants. But over time it changed us, diverted our path from what it would have been.”

  Nat said, “Changed us? How?”

  “One of the priests came across a strange occurrence in the natural world of the Garden. He noticed the ability of some birds to communicate with him, through his mind. At first no one believed him, but he investigated further and found the birds were not the first sign of advanced genetic modification.

  “His research revealed enough to convince the priests that genetic modifications were becoming dominant. Our DNA has been changing. Now the changes are irrevocable. We are a hybrid people.”

  There was a silence. Nat thought the story beyond imagining. But he was here, it was real, and either the world he knew was different or he just hadn’t noticed it before.

  Keep asking questions. “How could it happen like that?” he said.

  “In small increments over a long passage of time,” Yoshiki said. “It took centuries before some people realised they were different. All we can do is prevent further intervention.”

  “Who would intervene, if Descendants are part of us?”

  “A Second Transition of new arrivals, known as Ascendants. Most of them are fanatical defenders of their own science and culture. They’re ready to track back through history, revise past events and change the existing foundations of our civilisation. If that happens, we would again be different without knowing it. More particularly, our science, the way we perceive the world, would be different.”

  The Age of Akropolis is upon us. Nat reminded himself he’d been brought here for a reason. “You mean time travel? How far back would they need to go?”

  “To the original sites, to embed Ascendants there to change our past. We need to prevent them, or risk an alternative future.”

  “We?”

  “I am one of a Committee.”

  Committee? Nat let it go. “How would you find the sites?”

  “The priests concealed their knowledge in a series of diagrams connected to the Zen garden. They were thought to have been destroyed in the earthquake, but Kenji hid them and they were saved.”

  Yoshiki rose from the table and went to a high cabinet. He reached up and removed a roll of parchment, which he opened to reveal four separate diagrams. Nat leaned forward to study them with quickened interest.

  The diagrams were old and brittle, letter size and a mottled cream colour. Each had a central drawing in faded coloured inks, applied in a curiously modern style‌—‌like an effect in Photoshop, Nat thought. The drawings were framed within a wide margin and above each one was a different set of symbols.

  “According to the priests’ notes, each of the Zen diagrams leads to a different timespace,” said Yoshiki.

  Nat looked up. “Why are you showing me these?”

  Yoshiki had hoped this would be easier. There was little time now for debate. Since Sebastian’s code had been identified, every day was important. He would need to be more direct. “The information you need is in the diagrams. The Committee knows you. We’ve been watching you.”

  I have to get out of here. Nat stilled himself and took a deep breath. “What’s all this to do with me?”

  Yoshiki hesitated. “It’s not about you, Nathaniel. It’s about your brother.”

  Nat kept his voice level. “Is this some kind of set-up? Are you tracking Seb?”

  “We’re not the only ones.” Yoshiki sighed. “Ascendants will kill him if they find they can’t turn him to their cause. The Committee is responsible for Sebastian’s safety and we’re asking you to help us. You’re his brother‌—‌who else would have a stronger reason? Or could be trusted more?”

  A short pause. Nat said, “Why Seb?”

  “Sebastian has a code which marks him. The only way to ensure his safety is to erase his code, overwrite it. The Zen diagrams have the solution, it will be up to you to discover how to find it. Otherwise he’s on his own.”

  Nat didn’t need reminding that Seb was in danger. He was starting to believe Yoshiki. There were seriously weird things going on and until he found Seb, he couldn’t take any chances.

  Grow up, Norika had said.

  Yoshiki waited. “You’ll find support through the Network,” he said.

  “How will I know where to start?”

  “Norika will go with you, she can help you. The answers are in the diagrams.” Yoshiki stood. “Now forgive me, I tire easily. You will sleep well, I hope. There are futons and blankets in the cabinet.”

  “What about the rock?” said Nat.

  “The rock will warn you of danger. Watch it and hear it,” Yoshiki said. He bowed and left the room.

  Nat brought a lantern from a sideboard and placed it on the table. The parchments glowed in the flickering light. The Zen diagrams.

  Norika said, “If we could recognise something in the drawings, we’d know which diagram is the first. What do you think they mean?”

  It was the first time she’d shown interest in his opinion. “They look like close-ups of objects,” he said, “familiar objects. In the morning I’ll scan the diagrams into my phone and we can study them.” He stopped, surprised at his change in mood. When Norika glanced at him questioningly, he shook his head. “Nothing,” h
e said. “Let’s get some sleep.”

  “Good idea.” Norika went to the cabinet, took out a futon, wrapped a blanket around herself and was asleep within minutes.

  Nat checked his phone. No messages, no signal. The rock was on the table and he picked it up. It looked and felt like an ordinary rock. He needed to believe it could help them. If it was some sort of sensor, it could be useful. He didn’t know where they were going, and his phone, except for its camera and the text messages, wasn’t working.

  He dragged his futon to where he could look out at the sky. Bats darted across the moon. He wondered at his adjustment to this strange, shifting world, and realised he was looking forward to discovering more of its mysteries.

  Tomorrow will be interesting, he thought, as he drifted off to sleep.

  10

  At dawn the next morning Nat pulled on his runners and checked his phone.

  A message in the same unfamiliar format.

  Enter the numbers.

  What numbers? His phone had no connection. What good would it do to key in numbers? He tried home, and Pete’s number. Nothing. He checked the camera and was relieved to find it was working.

  Taking the diagrams, he quietly slid open the door to the deck. He handled them with care, laying them flat, placing stones on the corners to hold them in place while he scanned them.

  Norika had woken and joined him. She sat on the step and looked at the scans on his screen. “These look clearer than the originals,” she said, impressed.

  Nat was pleased. He’d been working on them‌—‌increasing the contrast, sharpening the detail. “Which one comes first? We need to find a sequence.”

  “The symbols at the top should give us the sequence,” said Norika. “They seem to be a combination of letters and numerals. One set uses Japanese characters. Another has Roman numerals. The most recent is probably the set with modern Arabic numerals.”

  “That leaves the fourth set so it’s probably the oldest. Yoshiki said the main site of settlement was ancient Greece. Their numeric system was a decimal system and the letters in the set look close enough to modern Greek letters to transcribe.”