Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis (The Vampire Chronicles 12)

In the days that followed we wandered the city anew paying attention now to things we'd ignored before. Nightly without fail, we sat for at least an hour in a Meditation Center. And we visited the great water compounds in Atalantaya which extracted salt from the sea and somehow harnessed the power of the flow of water to run many complex systems of Atalantaya. We also visited the great factories in which all manner of items were made, and everywhere we went we found that pilgrims like us were welcome. Seldom did we need to show our passes.

People worked in large light-filled enclosures with ample food and drink nearby, and as in the Wilderness lands, no one worked more than four hours a day, and some worked even far less. And nowhere did we see the slightest evidence of coercion.

Of course we witnessed arguments, disputes, lines formed to obtain certain goods, occasional mishaps in laboratories or factories, and occasional discontent over lack of personal promotion or recognition, but essentially we witnessed a giant system, a citywide system, a realm of enterprises if you will, in which Amel's values ruled on every level!

And slowly we came to realize something else, that we were witnessing a world in rapid development. In the cafes of the factories and plants we heard passionate conversation of innovations and improvements and what might soon be possible, and the latest innovations in luracastria which now dominated the making of larger ships to sail the seas and talk of the possibility of flying machines. What I did come to understand was that luracastria was in fact an imprecise name for a growing family of chemicals and materials and processes related to polymers and thermoplastics as we call them today. I was so sure I had endless time ahead of me to learn about all this, and to work with luracastria myself, once I had been prepared for the life inside these laboratories.

And understand again: this was a technological paradise evolving free of economic competition and war--the two forces, economic competition and war--that have driven the technology of the world of the twenty-first century.

This was a world of justice and affluence in which innovation was driven by vision and imagination rather than brutal competition, or want, or aggression.

In my heart of hearts I was deeply troubled. And so were the others. We each confronted the paradox of the future! Were we to disobey the Parents, and it seemed almost certain that we would, would we be committing forever to a life beneath the dome of Atalantaya or, at best, a life in the city and in her satellite cities to and from which we must travel under the luracastric domes of her fleets? Would we be hunted beings, marked for destruction by Bravenna?

If we were to set foot outside the dome, would Bravenna have some way of detonating us and the lethal chemicals in our bodies?

And one thing troubled me more than anything else. Had the Parents foreseen our fall from grace? Had they foreseen--as Amel insisted--that we would never detonate or loose the toxin? And if so, then what did they actually want to happen?

The weakest part of Amel's presentation had been his insistence that the Parents wanted to foment trouble. Unless, of course, and it came to me gradually, they had sent us into this paradise to be the equals of Amel intellectually, as we say, if not scientifically--to provide the possibility of a covert movement against him as the absolute ruler? In other words, had we been created to be revolutionaries in Atalantaya? Had we been created to want to compete with Amel for control of this immense metropolis?

I couldn't quite believe such a thing. We had not been inculcated with any unusual thirst for power, nor were we innately competitive, and we were not devious or quarrelsome with anyone, let alone with one another. Nor had the Bravennans spent all that much time on condemning Amel, working us up against Amel. But then maybe there was a reason for that. Maybe they really didn't know what was going on in Atalantaya and assumed it was so evil that we would share their condemnation of it. Maybe they really couldn't grasp the sophistication of Amel's approach to the planet.

It was a mystery, and what also haunted me was something that the Parents had said during our final orientation--that if we did not fulfill the purpose they would find some other way to reduce the planet to its primal purity.

That shook me to the root, because now an immense desire was born in me--not merely to save myself and Welf and Garekyn and Derek, and Amel, the Great One, Amel--but to save the planet! I spent hours on

the balcony or terrace of our apartment home gazing up at the bright "star" that was Bravenna, wondering how this planet Earth could defend itself from such interference. Were these thoughts the result of my mammalian makeup? Was my anger really bred into me? I didn't know.

Derek was beside himself. He made the rounds of the Meditation Centers nearest to us, listening, singing with the others, reciting the statement as to what is evil--that which diminishes life, destroys life--and, coming home, he would say that he could scarcely bear the sight of innocent Earth people everywhere going about their lives in the paradise of Atalantaya without the slightest knowledge that their world was perhaps about to end.

Finally, after much discussion and eventual agreement amongst ourselves, we went again to the Creative Tower to see Amel.

VI

He received us cordially just as he said that he would, though he had to dismiss a meeting of what we would call scientific researchers in order to see us alone.

"We want to work for you," I told him. "We want to do all that we can to promote the good of life on this planet. We have conceived of ourselves as the People of a New Purpose and that purpose is never to do anything that harms life."

"I'm pleased," he said, "and this is what I have been expecting. Tonight, we'll feast here and I'll invite the other Replimoids to meet you."

The feast was a joyous one. But Amel had been kind when he had said these Replimoids were not of the same standard as ourselves. They did not even resemble us, and in fact--except for one--they were exact duplicates of one another--as many before them had been, we were told--and presentable enough, but clearly slow witted, with significant handicaps when it came to reason or initiative.

The one who was not a duplicate did not speak to us at all. I could write a book on them, the ones who did speak, but won't digress anymore on that now. It's enough to say they were inferior models of imitation human beings--hearty males appearing healthy in all respects, slow of speech and obviously deficient in emotional expression and so slow in their natural movements and responses as to arouse any human's suspicion as to what they were. I saw them as foot soldiers in Bravenna's war on the planet, whereas we were Bravenna's attempt at espionage, and when the feasting was over, I wasn't surprised that Amel asked only one--the silent one, the one who had not been designed on the same template--to remain behind for a private session with us.

This one was named Maxym, a being with dark reddish-brown skin and dark wavy reddish-brown hair, very neatly groomed, and perhaps the shabbiest and most indifferently attired creature I'd seen in Atalantaya. He was the only one present who had not attired himself especially for the evening.

As we gathered on the couches again for serious talk, Amel told us Maxym was among the last team of Replimoids sent to the planet before us. There had been three in the group, and the other two had long ago disappeared.

I didn't say so, but I couldn't see anything wrong with this Replimoid, that is, nothing that made him seem in the least inferior to us. But perhaps Amel knew of traits which I couldn't perceive.

"Maxym came many years ago," Amel explained. "More than three human lifetimes in years. And Maxym was with me when I built the first luracastric dwellings on the island. It is Maxym who sees to all the Meditation Centers on Atalantaya and develops new Meditation Centers as the population increases. That is his passion, providing places where souls can meditate and reflect."

"That is not all I do," said Maxym. He had had a rather dreamy expression on his rather solemn face as Amel described him. But when he spoke up he commanded everyone's attention. His face was perfectly oval, and his features balanced. He lacked any of the calculated individualizing faults that we have. Perhaps that was the character of his inferiority. He'd been made too ideally perfect, and maybe the other two with him had been exact duplicates.

"I will never recover the sense of well-being I knew on Bravenna," he said in a deep impressive voice, "and there is no redemption for me since my defection, but I have done what I believed to be right."

"This is surprising," Derek said. "Can you explain? I never felt a sense of well-being on Bravenna. I was disturbed from the outset by the film streams and confused when I was told that I was to die in fulfilling my purpose. What was it that gave you a sense of well-being?"

Maxym gazed on Derek--there is no other verb for it--as if from a lofty height and then explained in a subdued voice, almost a monotone, "Perhaps you spent too little time on Bravenna," he said. "I was part of something bigger than myself when I was on Bravenna. I was part of a great and creative vision. And though I have devoted my life to Amel, I have never known the complete acceptance by any group since the days of Bravenna when I and my brothers were being prepared for our mission--to kill Amel, and destroy what he had done."