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“I hear you’ve chosen Ta’Nak Annir as your new settlement location.” Kiva ignores his friend, babbling to Mak as we head down the first marble-lined hallways. Each little sound echoes off the walls. “The original building here dates back much farther than the structures at Ta’Nak Annir. There are many modern updates, but the foundational temple was constructed long before the technological revolutions that predate the Archaic Era…”
He goes on and on, but my mind drifts away, captivated by the little details that we pass by on our way. Unlike Ta’Nak Annir, this place was not fully stripped for all its contents, so we encounter rotted furniture and piles of fabric so deteriorated it’s impossible to determine what purpose they once served. Along the walls, what were once tapestries have disintegrated to nothing more than the metal threads that once made them shimmer.
Our group of explorers moves through the eerie space with shafts of light from our comm devices held high. Kiva has strapped on a headlamp, leading us through the dark hallway with barely restrained excitement.
“Step carefully,” Mori advises. “I ran a scan of the structure, and while it seems sturdy for the most part, there were zones where the tile flooring has started to crumble.”
“This is all very Tomb Raider,” Raina says with a grin. “I fucking love it!”
“There aren’t any tombs here,” Kiva informs her seriously. “This was a religious and cultural center for the living, and as you should know by now, our people burn their dead on funeral pyres.”
Many of the larger rooms are well lit, designed to welcome plenty of sunlight through transparent ceiling panels that must be far sturdier than glass. Some of them have become decorated with more of those spiny black vines, resulting in beautiful patterns of shadows cast across the floors. From the exterior, I might’ve imagined that everything inside would be akin to ancient Roman ruins. But the interiors are equipped with modern things like metal light fixtures, sophisticated plumbing, and even long dead tablets inset in the walls.
When Kiva expresses that he’d like to know what fascinating data the old tablets might contain, his friend pries one out of the wall and tucks it in his pack.
“Shouldn’t be too difficult,” he declares.
“I doubt that’s best practice archaeologically speaking,” I say, blinking at the empty socket he’s left with slim silvery wires sticking out.
We come to one of the central rooms, its apparent importance highlighted by an imposing set of doors framed by intricately carved pillars. As I enter with my eyes staring straight up instead of forward, Mak tucks his hand around my waist to keep me from bumping into anything.
At the center of the room, there is a massive tile mosaic showing a scene of the Proving Ceremony in action. A beautiful Kar’Kali female with black hair flowing down to her hips is walking boldly into the pool wearing only a skirt. Her eyes are serenely shut as she dips into the waters like they’re cool ocean waves.
Unlike the other rooms, whose walls are either empty or hung with long-rotted tapestries, this one is covered from ceiling to floor in strange, suspended dowels.
I approach one of these racks and poke it, only to find the dowels spin around like a paper towel dispenser. Beside each spinner is a small metal plaque, giving the impression that this is some whacky contemporary art installation.
“What is this?” I wonder aloud. The others are wandering around the room and inspecting the strange walls as well.
“Looks like a torture device,” Raina snorts.
“What was this room?” Kaye asks our unofficial guide.
“A library,” Kiva supplies, joining me next to one of the spinning arms. “The dowels once held a few scrolls, and one could spin them to bring your chosen scroll to the front. Then, you could either read the scroll while it still hangs on the dowel or unhook it to remove the scroll. These are the labels indicating which scrolls belong where.”
I scan the room, looking for a rack with scrolls still clinging to the rod, but there are none.
“Did the paper disintegrate?” I ask. “What sort of paper did they use in those days?”
Kiva shakes his head sadly.
“All the scrolls from before the Modern Era were removed by order of the council,” he explains. “They were collected. Some were destroyed, while others were stored. This was one of my earliest jobs. I would read and catalogue the materials.”
“The Deadheads feared Deviant influence above all else,” Mak says. “Perhaps even more than they feared the Azza.”
The Deadhead scientist frowns. “I do not know about that,” he replies. “But I know they wanted us to fear the possibility that we could become Deviants ourselves. Of that, I am certain.”
“So foolish to fear what’s already inside you,” Mak muses, staring down at the mosaic. “Hiding from the past is a losing game.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
FRANKIE
Even as the others have moved on, I linger in the library to admire the picture on the tile floor. It’s obscured in the top right corner by an algae-coated puddle. Mak doesn’t leave without me, even as Kiva’s constant chatter grows more distant. The others are moving on to the other rooms.
“I wonder who she is,” I say, tiptoeing around the border of the image.
“A Ka’lakka,” Mak says.
