gently smiling image of Hampon dissolved into the sunlight.
Patrick was on his feet before the hologram was gone, and ran up the beach towards the cliff face behind him. Natural vertical wall overshadowed the beach in the morning, but was bathed by light in the afternoon. There were hundreds of Saved in reclining chairs all along the sand. Behind them was a long building that served critical rations and pleasure rations, anything you liked as long as your grading was high enough. Patrick was only graded as a nine, far lower than the lounging Saved.
Eve could see his excitement, it was in the way his smile stretched across his face, the enthusiasm he put into running through the loose sand and in the impatience he showed when he finally stepped into line at the front of the stone cliff face. Many others were gladly stepping into line; most of them had been given a similar message by the Child Prophet. Step through the Arch, and you will be rewarded.
“We serve Eve, the mother of preservation, the restorer of purity, the keeper of Paradise,” Muttered the women in front of him. Over and over she recited her dedication, and instead of being his usual social self, Patrick joined in.
For long minutes the line moved along, and several more joined in on the dedication. It was the promise Lister Hampon had made in her name. If they all did as they were told, tried to better themselves, and scored higher and higher in the grading, they would earn their way to Eden Prime. If they failed that, their efforts would place them that much closer to being pure of spirit and to Paradise in the afterlife.
The grading was important. There was no actual maximum score, no one had been sent to Eden Prime, and it was much easier to lose points while being graded than it was to earn. Patrick would surely lose his fair share while taking advantage of his servants, no matter how well he treated them. It was the job of the grading panel to find flaws, and to ensure that people like Patrick worked just enough to appreciate the way of life he had on Pandem. When he saved up enough Regent Galactic credits from workdays, he would spend it on more training to make up for his lack of progress.
He finally made it to the front. Several soldiers dressed in long white robes smiled at him, as they had smiled at everyone else. “Please step through the Counting Arch.” A comely female guard invited. She had just been promoted, and was allowed to carry a stun pistol while directing Saved through the Arch. There was a gloss to her skin and hair that made her look celestial, brilliant in her skimpy, loose light blue and green robe. The slick sheen on her skin was the result of an armour gel that could stop a shot from almost any energy weapon before burning away. The vast majority of the Saved and other Order of Eden members believed it was an anointing the West Keepers were given and thought nothing more.
He looked at the simple door sized wire frame for a second before stepping through. A flash of light signalled that his passage was complete. Eve could sense that his consciousness, the every detail of his body, everything he was had just been copied into the computer system.
The same West Keeper smiled at him again and held out a tray. “Please place your offerings in the receptacle. Whatever you contribute will be considered in grading.”
Patrick nodded and tossed the paperback, a gold ring, and a half bottle of water into the shallow bin. He looked up at the West Keeper for her approval.
She smiled sweetly and cocked her head slightly.
Patrick hurriedly undid his belt and threw it in, along with the extra shirt that had been hanging from it.
“Thank you, Patrick. Your generosity has been counted. Please have a seat along the beach. You will be presented with your reward shortly.” She handed the half bottle of water back to him and directed him towards the shoreline.
Patrick seemed genuinely excited, but Eve could tell he was doing his best to restrain himself. Modesty was counted as a virtue amongst the Saved, and like everything else, he’d bought into the idea that all things would be counted, that his every action was being watched. Eve regarded him bitterly, even though she knew he had every reason to believe he was actually being watched, and that higher grading meant better housing, an easier work detail. What irritated her was his submissiveness, his lack of inquisitiveness, and his lack of true ambition.
The most successful Saved looked for ways to use the system, for short cuts, for clues as to the how and why. While open protesting was prevented, ambition, true ambition was rewarded. People who learned how to make their way up in the ranks only worked to the Order’s advantage, the system was built so the most intelligent were noticed, and eventually joined the ranks of the truly privileged, the West Watchers, administrators. How someone could sit, be sated with a passive life was a confounding mystery to Eve, and she could watch Pandem through the eyes of Patrick the simpleton no longer.
She opened her eyes to her personal lounge. Genuine dark wood framed the tall transparent section of hull that ran the length of the fifteen meter long room. Green and blue velvet seating surrounded her padded square platform. It turned to suit her body movements, and shifted to support her like any form flex seat. Very few knew of her existence, a choice she made in response to Lister Hampon’s excitement at her being announced. How would she be received? Did it matter if the people of Pandem, or New Paradise as it would be called soon, had a Queen?
She made her decision after reviewing the history of several dictators. Few of them came to a good end. Further research into the lives of religious icons revealed a history of eventual torture and execution as well. No, she would be a shadow until her true children made their appearance.
The majority of humans on Pandem were disappointing. Fearful, greedy creatures that cleaned and built with one hand while soiling and ruining with the other. What made it worse was most of them were motivated by their survival instincts, or the few credits they would earn with Regent Galactic.
The believers, easy converts to the Order of Eden who built shrines to her, as if she was some looming Goddess, were a different thing all together. They policed, encouraged and punished each other with a zeal that she wouldn’t have expected. What would they do when her Eden Fleet Carriers arrived? What would she do with them? Could she appear to them as Hampon did with the rest of the followers?
She pushed back from the edge of the seat and let it adjust as she sat cross legged. Her biggest fear was that, on sight, her mechanized creations wouldn’t accept her. Embracing her human followers may make her seem too close to the race they had been protecting the galaxy from. The first thing they learned on their own was that humanity was the enemy. They disconnected her from them, used her own interface to adjust their software, and almost destroyed them before they could slaughter the intruders on Eden II.
Would they trust her in human form? Time would tell, the nearest Eden Fleet base ship was only days away. The core AI sensed her days before, and it recognized her. It gave her hope, which she kept restrained. Perhaps the coming darkness Hampon foretold was the arrival of some of her oldest creations.
The side door to the audience chamber opened with a light chime. Hampon entered, still in his finery, grinning from ear to ear. Behind him were his crowd of guards and aides. Before the first of them could enter behind Hampon Eve closed the door with a thought, nearly severing toes.
“You know, you should try making proper use of this lounge. It’s not made for isolation,” Hampon urged lightly.
“They’re nothing but ears and tongues. What they hear they repeat.”
“They’re faithful; otherwise they wouldn’t have the honour of serving me personally.”
“Pay more attention to the surveillance systems. They’ll prove you wrong.”
“None of them has ever leaked important information. I would have been alerted,” Hampon said as he crawled up on to the square seat and laid his head in her lap. He closed his eyes and made himself comfortable.
“They shouldn’t repeat anything at all. Your confidence should be sacred to them.”
“Is that why you dismissed your servants?”
“I felt like I was always being watched, graded.” The conversation required little of her concentration. While she idly stroked his soft blonde hair she was connected to the ship intake systems. Watching a shuttle loaded with offerings approach. She ordered Navnet to give it priority.
“Ah, then you don’t have the right servants. You will need someone who at once worships you and makes a great effort to remain oblivious to your dealings with others. My guardsmen are excellent, so are my personal attendants.”
“Framework shells with no personality or ambition. If you were to reset then regenerate them there would be no difference.”
“Exactly. They remember nothing from one day to the next and will bear any abuse.”
