They took a lift to the roof. On the way up, Kai gave him instructions.
“If there’s ever a doubt, RJ, do this.” He crossed his right index and middle fingers. “A quick tap above your heart. Don’t hold it, even for a beat. If they nod, you nod. Don’t overcomplicate it.
Understand?”
He did. Kai was taking him directly into the nest for Hokkaido’s most anticipated spectacle.
The scene was far more upscale than expected. This was, after al , Umkau. Hokkis young and old huddled in smal groups. Clouds of poltash sweetened the air, and the spread of finger foods and fish rolls was complemented by many wines and liquors. Lights were hanging along the edges, but they were no brighter than the stars above.
Kai seemed to know everyone. They responded with generous smiles, compliments about his hair, and of course the two-fingered greeting. When surprised or cynical eyes turned his way, Ryllen stiffened his shoulders and delivered the sign. He saw their concerns
vanish, and they welcomed him.
This was Green Sun? While most were a few years older than Kai, children as young as twelve ate and drank alongside their elders, and a few others were old enough to be grandparents. It could have passed as an ordinary gathering of tenants. Maybe that was the point.
“It’s almost time,” Kai said, pointing toward the west.
He was right. This was the perfect place to view Ascension.
The sun had disappeared beyond the ocean’s eastern horizon, but its fading embers – violet, red, orange – formed a lively backdrop against a cloudless sky.
To the west, the Kye-Do rings ascended forty degrees high. On their own, they inspired endless wonder. More than thirteen hundred rings carried quadril ions of tiny chunks of ice and rock borne from a cataclysm dating back to long before humans became thinking creatures. At night, their bril iance cal ed to mind a celestial racetrack, casting a silver sheen greater than Hokkaido’s lone moon.
That moon – Huryo – was itself almost in position to complete the three-pronged reunion necessary for Ascension’s ful effect. Tonight, its light was ful , the tiny continents and vast oceans on its sunward side visible in great detail. Huryo crossed Hokkaido’s skies thirty percent faster than the rings. In minutes, it would align perfectly behind the center bands. Ryllen wondered whether Huryo’s mil ion residents – protectors of the moon’s natural wonders – cared how much excitement their tiny world brought to Hokkaido.
Ryllen and Kai found a spot at roof’s edge, away from the other patriots of Green Sun. Kai draped an arm over Ryllen’s shoulder.
“We’re luckier than most,” Kai said. “The other colonies … do we even cal ourselves colonies anymore? … they have nothing like this.
I’ve heard Brahma’s rings are interesting, but they’re equatorial.
Boring. Just always there.”
Kai handed Ryllen a pipe. After he took a long pul , Ryllen asked:
“Do you think there’s more to it than luck? Some people say it’s a message from the Divine.”
Kai’s tone darkened noticeably. “Not a chance. If it’s the Divine, they’re sending us the wrong message.”
“What do you mean?”
“Not now, RJ. Here it comes. Here it comes.”
Ascension’s first halo was not to be missed. Ryl en was told this from an early age, not long after he arrived on Hokkaido from parts unknown. Miss the first halo, they said, and your heart wil not sing its highest note.
On cue, precisely seven hundred thirty-three days, twenty-seven hours, fourteen minutes, and nine seconds after its last dying miracle, Ascension lit up the Kye-Do rings and the moon Huryo in a concert of color. Waves of rose, orange, and violet swooshes consumed the rings, spreading out until painted from north to south.
The dying rays of the sun narrowed into beams, as if mil ions of lasers rose from the east and draped the rings in natural graffiti.
Simultaneously, Huryo grew a massive halo, more than twice its visible size, as if it were projecting downward to Hokkaido. The halo appeared to dril a hole through the rings, as if the moon was clawing its way out.
Ryllen’s tears fel without hesitation. Though he was witnessing the miracle for a fourth time, each Ascension meant more than the previous. He couldn’t explain why, but his heart told him this was the truth of life. Many scientists wrote at great length to explain how this convergence of light and shadow was possible, but Ryllen never read their doctrine. If he knew the scientific secrets, he would only be disappointed. Kai was right: No planet in the former empire known as the Collectorate had anything like this.
They watched, like most others, in awed silence. Al the cacophony Ryllen heard at the nearby port and in the narrow streets of Umkau disappeared. The city
