I’m immortal, but I won’t live forever.

  The summation felt like a breakthrough. This was Day Three. The teacher said most newbs answered the first question in two, and the other answers followed soon thereafter, as an easy correlative.

  Dare he say it now? Right as he approached the river? Would it distract from what he had to do next?

  What if Exeter’s answer was wrong? The last time he violated procedure, the amp shattered Exeter with a lightning bolt of blinding pain. He rolled on the ground, screaming and begging for it to end. When it did, the teacher offered him a drink of water and a beatific smile. “Pain is progress,” the teacher said. “Pain is central to joy.”

  Yet today there was no pain. He sprinted at a pace that should have pushed him to heatstroke at the very least. His breathing and his pulse were strong and steady. He felt nourished and invigorated. This was unnatural, even for an immortal. We won’t live forever.

  Why did this not kill him?

  The approaching river thundered. He stumbled out of the grass onto hardscrabble ground with sharp rocks that cut his feet, but Exeter pushed through the agony and focused on the white foam. Two steps into the river, he flung himself forward with no discipline, no plan, and smashed into the chaotic brew. The current grabbed him and rolled him over. For a moment, he submerged and gulped too much water. He choked on it as he resurfaced. Two boulders raced toward him, the river coursing between them in a funnel barely wide enough for a man. Exeter flailed against the current.

  Powerless, he slithered through the narrow passage and stared down into a vortex, from the bottom of which rose another rock, wide and glistening in the sunlight.

  Too late. He closed his eyes a nanosecond before his skull smashed the rock and cracked like an egg.

  The last words he heard disappeared down the long, dark corridor he feared most. Won’t live forever ….

  No, it isn’t a corridor this time. It twists and morphs before descending like a spiral staircase.

  It is quiet for a time, like waiting for the inevitable.

  Exeter hears a cry from a far corner and looks over his shoulder.

  They’re taking me. They’re taking me.

  Hands everywhere.

  Lips wet and cold.

  Leave me.

  He ascends above the takers and does not look back ….

  Exeter awoke to an excruciating headache. He heard the turbulence of water close by, but also the smell of fish. He sat up and felt a stabbing pain under a shoulder blade. He was healing, but not there yet. The shoreline was sandy, and a broadleaf tree protected him from the sun. Beside him, a slab of pink fish waited on a plate.

  “Eat,” the teacher said, sitting on a nearby rock, finishing off his own piece. His flat-bed rifter hovered in the sunlight. “You earned it.”

  “What happened? I don’t remember.”

  “It’ll come back. You did really fucking well, Exeter. About forty percent or so don’t make it to the river. Their hearts just burst in the middle of that field. Don’t worry about the blood in your dreads. We’ll wash it out later.”

  The teacher’s name was Rikhi Syed, the Information Minister for Aeterna. Barely a man but cut like Adonis with dreadlocks tied into a ponytail and Brahma’s rings tattooed over his right cheek.

  Exeter was ravenous. He grabbed the fish and took a bite. It was cold and raw.

  “Lightly seared,” Rikhi said. “That’s the way you eat hanopp. Cook it too long, and you lose all the stimulants. It’s native to Pinochet. This whole ecostem comes from Pinochet. Southern hemisphere, I think.”

  Ecostem. A word Exeter learned on Day One of indoctrination while he watched CVids about Aeterna’s patchwork geography. The Aeternans documented more than thirty thousand ecostems: Diverse landscapes that transitioned between each other in stark, often unnatural fashion. Its extreme combination of flora made it the ultimate botanical gardens. Aeterna was a geographic quilt stitched together from terraforming templates used by an alien intelligence called the Jewels of Eternity.

  As he watched the CVids, Exeter saw descriptions of things impossible, an entire planet remade in less than thirty years. The narrator claimed the Jewels terraformed most of the Collectorate worlds in previous millennia and constructed the Fulcrum wormhole network to connect those star systems before humans left Earth. They finalized their grand plan by rendering this planet a wasteland. After the last natives evacuated, they reprogrammed the planet now known as Aeterna, waiting for the “promised few” to arrive.

  “We are those few,” the narrator said.

  Exeter heard nothing more about the Jewels during subsequent CVids or in the scientific texts given to him for study. In another context, he might have considered it fantastical propaganda. But as Michael noted during their initial visit in orbit: When you’ve crossed between universes, nothing tends to surprise you.

  “You’re right,” he told Rikhi. “The fish is perfect.”

  “You want another?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “I will, but you have to give me what I want.”

  “An answer.”

  “If you don’t have a bead on the first by now, you never will.”

  “What happens if my answer doesn’t meet the standard?”

  Rikhi whipped out a pipe and tapped it twice.

  “No more fish, and I send you back to the river. The falls are three kilometers downstream. Fifty foot drop.”

  “I’m not going back to the abyss today.”

  Rikhi blew white smoke rings.

  “Good plan. Answer the first question.”

  He thought Rikhi was having too much fun. He’d no doubt done this many times before. Was he a sadist who wanted Exeter to fail? Exeter took a breath and said:

  “There is no forever. There are only the natural boundaries we are allowed to break. To live forever is to live longer than most. Our allowance will expire.”

  Rikhi slapped his knee.

  “Fuck yes. You nailed it. That’s the foundation for everything we do. The rest is a corollary. So, your mind has reached this conclusion. What about your heart?”

  “It’s strange. I feel reassured. When I learned I was immortal, I was terrified. I didn’t feel human anymore. I was a freak.”

  “You’re blessed, Exeter. Life gives you extra allowance to see, do, and experience more. But the prize is not endless. You’re still human.”

  “Do we know how long it will last?”

  Rikhi tucked the pipe between his lips and opened a case.

  “That’s the glory of it. No guarantees. Bring your plate.”

  The second fish tasted better. Rikhi waited until Exeter finished.

  “Now you know the first, you oughta be able to make a quick leap to the second. Do you know how to live for the day, when it is but one among millions?”

  “I’m torn between two possibilities.”

  “Don’t say them aloud. You have to reach a definitive answer.”

  “You’ll torture me with the amp if I’m wrong.”

  “Damn straight. Then I’ll send you downriver.”

  “Why won’t you give me more time?”

  “Because you’re behind schedule. If you haven’t finished every step by sunset on day five, you’ll be sent to the fire. You must become one of us in every way. Believing in life and death as we do is essential. Two answers today will set you on course.”

  Exeter dropped the plate in frustration.

  “I’m thirsty. Do you have a beverage?”

  Rikhi pointed to the river. “The water’s pure.”

  It was also cold. He drank his fill and splashed his face in it. Exeter wanted to answer the second question. He knew the most likely choice, but he needed to be more than correct. He needed to be precise. Since the first hour of the first day, Rikhi and his two associates demanded nothing but perfection in all responses.

  Quizzing on history, science and geography CVids. Reciting Aeterna’s governing principles and analyzing their benefits. Summarizing patterns he saw in the origin testimonies of more than two hundred Bouchet immortals.

  And running. Two hours the first day. Three hours the second. Four hours today. Injections in between. His mind never so open but the information never so overwhelming.

  Rikhi promised so much to come: The story of the Bouchets. The madness of the Salvation hybrids. The founding of JaRa. The Last Day’s War. The biography of the Aeternans’ savior, Michael Cooper. Testimony of allegiance and thanks for Michael Cooper. Finally, the mantra: Learn to love. Prepare to kill.

  Exeter had so many questions. What of the capital city Promise? When would he be allowed to see it? What of the security forces? The quantum singularities? The curriculum left him two hours sleep and no time to pursue the questions that mattered most to Angela.

  He sat on his knees at river’s edge when Rikhi approached and rubbed his back. The hand moved in gentle circles. Did he mean to calm Exeter? Did he imply something else? This wasn’t the first time.

  Exeter took to his feet.

  “You’re a beautiful man,” Rikhi said. “I don’t normally go for beards, but I could make an exception. We have whatever you want in Promise whenever you want it. Your history suggests you prefer men. I’m flexible. Most of us are. That’s part of the beauty of Aeterna. I don’t want you to miss out, Exeter. But if you can’t finish in time, we’ll put you to the fire. Minister Cooper’s laws are non-negotiable.”

  “So you’ve said. I think maybe I know the answer to the second question, but can I ask you something personal?”

  “No.”

  “It will get me halfway there, and I’m not asking for a testimonial. I just want to know about your face tattoo. Everybody I’ve seen so far has one. Will you tell me why you chose it?”

  Rikhi backed away. That beatific smile vanished. He rubbed his fingers over the rings of Brahma, which dominated his right cheek.

  “Our laws are clear. No one can question or judge our individual stylings. I don’t have to talk to you about this. You haven’t been made.”

  “I’m not judging. It’s a beautiful tattoo.”

  “It’s my story. I don’t owe it to you. I’m the fucking teacher here.”

  “OK. I’m sorry. I …”

  He didn’t see the left hook coming.

  Rikhi planted it then came around with a more powerful right. Exeter wobbled. He saw a shadow cross his field of vision then a fist plunged into his gut. His feet disappeared as he tipped backward.

  When he woke, Exeter stared straight into the sun. Rikhi sat on the side of his rifter, smoking.

  “Thought you were dead for sure,” the teacher said. “Your skull held up better this time. Wounds healed in six minutes. Solid.”

  “Why?”

  “You broke the rules. I’m the teacher. You gotta figure some of this shit out for yourself.”

  “I’m sorry, teacher. It won’t happen again.”

  “Nah. Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind telling the story. It’s all about the happiest time of my childhood. I was raised in this little seaside village called Peshawan. It was a shithole near an innezium factory, but I knew how to have fun. We had these giant granite cliffs. They were called the Omanpuri Shelf. Couple hundred feet high. The sea pounded those rocks.

  “If anyone fell, they’d never be found. What did I do? I skip-jumped along the edge. Couldn’t have been more than two inches from oblivion. I’d go out there after a storm passed, when I knew it was the slipperiest. People looked at me like I had a death wish. But suicide? Never crossed my mind. I didn’t know I was immortal, but I damn well knew I was living. I chose the rings for my tattoo because after I skip-jumped the edge enough times, I was able to look up and watch the rings instead of where I was going. I only understood what it all meant after I settled here with my brothers and sisters, and Michael came to save us.”

  That last part was still pretty sketchy, but Exeter assumed the Day Four curriculum would explain. Yet three days was enough to understand one certainty: For all the talk about “being made” and “being one of us,” there was only one of them who mattered.

  Michael Cooper.

  For Rikhi, the affection showed through starry eyes every time he spoke of Michael. What was it that so engendered this love? Did Angela understand what the man who defeated her had become?

  Regardless, Rikhi’s story provided the solution to his quandary.

  “I know the answer to the second question,” he announced.

  “Really? Fuck. Let’s hear it.”

  He parsed the words carefully before he spoke.

  “How do I live for the day, when it is one among millions? I shed yesterday’s battles and create new ones. I love openly, challenge boldly, and build quickly. By the end of the day, I am exhausted but content and I’m dreaming of the next day. I’ll live more in a day than most mortals will in a year.”

  Rikhi handed Exeter his pipe.

  “Holy shit. That’s amazing. I’ve heard the second answer a few hundred times, but not with that rhythm. Do you believe it?”

  “Yes. I’ve never been that kind of man, but I can be.”

  “Hey, you’re halfway home. Do you know how to pilot a rifter?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good. I’m going for a swim. You follow. Meet me on the other side of the falls.”

  “Wait. What?”

  Rikhi leaped into the river. The current took him.

  Exeter got over his shock and jumped onto the rifter. He grabbed the steering arms and thumbed the guidance web. He followed the torrent, catching up with Rikhi a kilometer downstream. The teacher did little work beyond allowing the current to carry him, sometimes contorting his body like a fish.

  The falls arrived with sudden terror, but Rikhi repositioned himself at the last and appeared to leap over the edge like a professional diver might. Exeter piloted the rifter into a hovering position fifty meters beyond the falls and waited for any sign of life.

  There. On the far side, Rikhi emerged from a gentle eddy and waved. When he climbed onboard, Rikhi blew out his nose and released a dynamic whoop.

  “Fuck, that’s cold today. So good.”

  “What were you thinking?”

  “That I’ve crossed the falls thirty times. The last twelve, I lived. It ought to be routine by now, but it feels new every time. You inspired me, Exeter. Challenge boldly. That’s the way we have to live. We’ll become lost if we don’t. You see?”

  For the first time, he did. Now, Exeter needed to survive past the fifth day for any of it to matter.

  18

  W hy do you fear death and rebirth? Why must you listen to the abyss and tell others what you learned? Two questions remained unanswered toward the end of Day Four, though Exeter saw through the assumption of the first. He needed another night to sleep on the second. The teacher gave him little time to contemplate either.

  Exeter awoke hours before sunrise and made his own breakfast from the grains and fruits left in a basket beside his cot. He wasn’t finished before the Aeternan Anthem – a blend of horns, drums, and angelic voices that alternated between serene and militaristic – played at a shrieking volume. Like a symphonic arrangement, it vibrated the walls of the tiny camp headquarters for ten minutes. When it concluded, two immortals who never introduced themselves escorted Exeter into a sound booth. On the other side, Rikhi waved. Exeter took a seat, and the other immortals joined Rikhi. All three blinked twice, and their eyes glowed orange.

  “Morning, Exeter,” Rikhi said. “You’ve heard the anthem seven times. Sing the first stanza. We’re recording.”

  Sing? Wait, what?

  “I don’t know the words. You never said I’d be tested on them.”

  The three chuckled, as if they heard this before.

  “Sure I did. Soon as you walked into the camp, I ordered you to soak in everything. We’ve been quizzing you nonstop. You think we’d overlook the most important song you’ll ever have to know? It’s only six lines. You know it, even if you don’t think so. Go.”

  Rikhi was right. The words had been implanted. But singing? He didn’t know how. Instead, he recited them as if reading a speech.

  “We claim this world, both old and new

  Forged for history’s promised few

  Earned through fire, we are reborn

  A new path leads us to eternal morn

  We will preserve you, our resolve unbowed

  Aeterna, Aeterna, your children speak clear and loud.”

  “That’s a great job, if you’re a fucking drone. Sing, Exeter.”

  “I was never taught how.”

  “What’s to teach? Look, we have a full schedule, plus you’ll be running thirty kay and climbing Tower 6. Get your shit together.”

  Exeter had no talent to speak of, but he managed to allow his voice to soar. When he finished, the immortals stifled their laughter but turned off their amps. He didn’t care. It was one more test completed.

  “What’s Tower 6?”

  “Keep it in your pants. You’ll find out soon enough.”

  Exeter noticed a pattern in his teacher – grumpy in the morning, lively by midday, and downright bawdy by the evening.

  By mid-morning, Exeter learned about Tower 6 plus the other seven obelisks aligned in a concentric circle surrounding Promise and that they played a role in The Last Day’s War. It was precisely the intelligence Angela needed before calculating any invasion. But it wasn’t what dominated the morning.

  The CVid began with an excited narrator:

  “This is the story of Minister Michael Cooper, savior to all Aeternans and guiding force during peace and war. Know that as you prepare to join our community, which is unique in all the universe, Minister Cooper will be your leader. He will guide you in how to live as an immortal. He will train you in every skill necessary to help our world flourish. He will develop you into a warrior to defend us against mortal enemies and when needed, to take the fight directly to them. He will set you free to live as the individual you were born to be and allow you to share your love through the community.