The Semaphore

The people of Osseon stood at their windows, looking out at the green light floating over the square. The more intrepid of them crept cautiously from their buildings and gathered on the sidewalks. The light was blinding, and cast strange shadows of the crowd and the buildings. One woman, watching from the awning of her apartment building, leaned over to her doorman and mentioned something about ball lightning, which sometimes—she'd read—appeared green. Another woman on the opposite side of the square assumed it was some kind of art installation, given its proximity to the Museum of Art and Artifact. A boy on the steps of the Museum looked up at his mother and asked if a star had fallen. His mother explained that stars were not able to fall—they were suns of other worlds very, very far away—though her voice was laced with doubt, and she could offer no more convincing explanation for the glaring green light.

Curator Hobbes Nicole Penate, Sage Kamê Astrelon and Lady Mondagreen of Tecca hurried down the Museum's front steps. They made their way through the crowd of onlookers, their eyes glued overhead. Hobbes Nicole kept muttering the same three words over and over, though Mondagreen could not make them out.

When the three managed to get through the square, Hobbes Nicole cleared her throat and cupped her little hands around her mouth—but before she could utter a word, a voice boomed from the green light.

"GREETINGS!" Exclaimed a pair of voices, one lower than the other, that echoed through the stone skyscrapers. "I AM HERE ON URGENT BUSINESS!"

Mondagreen, despite his state of awe, could not help but think that somehow, beyond reason, he recognized one of the voices from somewhere.

"I NEED TO SPEAK TO HOBBES NICOLE PENATE!" said the voice from the light. "IT IS A MATTER OF GRAVE IMPORTANCE!"

Hobbes Nicole stepped forward, adjusting her thick glasses. She looked up at the green light and shielded her eyes. "I am Hobbes Nicole!" she shouted as if into a powerful wind. "Who are you? Show yourself!"

For a moment the green light continued to dazzle. Then all at once it waned. The people of Osseon opened their eyes wide, willing them to adjust to the suddenly dim light of the square. A murmur passed through the crowd as they beheld, standing in the square's center, a boy in a green coat.

Hobbes Nicole's breath caught. "It can't…"

Kamê Astrelon nodded behind their veil. "It is…"

Mondagreen peered at the boy, who now strode toward them. He had sticks and leaves in his hair, and offered Hobbes Nicole a thumbs-up.

"Pontis?!" Mondagreen gushed.

The boy stopped midstride and turned to Mondagreen. His eyes widened and his mouth opened.

"Mondagreen?!" said the two voices, which appeared to come from the coat.

Mondagreen broke into laughter, and he and Pontis ran toward each other, their arms outspread. They started to hug, and then quickly changed their minds, settling for a long handshake, shoulder clasps, and wide grins.

"I can't believe this," Mondagreen said. "I'd have bet everything I had that you were dead. I saw this man—this eyeless man—at the bottom of the hole, and then the hole disappeared, and I figured he killed you and…" Mondagreen looked around the square and then back at Pontis. "Is Varia…?"

"I'm right here!" said the voices from the coat.

Mondagreen stepped back and blinked. Then he erupted into incredulous laughter. "I knew I recognized that voice!" he said. "You're both here! This is insane. Truly fucking insane. What are you…How did you… Varia, why are you in that coat?"

Pontis's grin faded, and there was a moment of silence.

"It's a long story," the coat said then.

Mondagreen shook his head slowly. "You'll have to explain it to me," he said. "But my brain's so full of crazy shit right now, I'm not sure I'd be able to follow it even if you did." His eyes scanned the coat. "What is this thing?"

Something appeared at Mondagreen's waist. He looked down to find Hobbes Nicole standing beside him, her glasses reflecting the coat's gentle green glow.

"This is Hobbes Nicole Penate," Mondagreen said. "I guess you two are here to speak to her—and it's a good thing, too."

Hobbes Nicole blinked up at Pontis, her face entirely expressionless. Then tears welled in her eyes.

"Is… Is she there?" Hobbes Nicole asked. "Is she with you?"

Pontis frowned and tilted his head, as if hearing something that no one else could hear. Several seconds passed this way, and then Pontis nodded.

"The girl with the white hair?" asked the coat.

Hobbes Nicole smiled—a sad smile, layered and complicated—and removed her glasses to wipe her eyes with her palm. She turned to look at Kamê Astrelon, who bowed slightly, their gloved hands pressed together as if in prayer.

"The Semaphore has returned," Hobbes Nicole said.

Mondagreen raised an eyebrow at Pontis, who smiled bashfully.

A murmur passed through the crowd. Mondagreen eyed the people of Osseon, and felt suddenly uneasy. He thought about Dez—Malory Dezergray Abroghast—and all the friends he claimed to have who shared his given first name.

The crowd spoke in hushed voices. Hobbes Nicole looked around, her eyes narrow and her lips thin. She glanced back at Kamê Astrelon, who straightened to their full height, suddenly alert.

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Mondagreen leaned down and whispered into Hobbes Nicole's ear. "You know this city better than I do," he said. "But in the short while I've been here, I've got the sense some of these folk might not love the idea of the Semaphore."

Hobbes Nicole nodded. "Indeed," she said quietly, and then turned to the crowd. "Please everyone, listen. I know we have sometimes diverged in our understandings of history. And I understand that for generations, all you have known is a Malory asleep in his palace. But now there is something about which we must be in agreement: He is awakening. And he is not what you think."

The crowd stirred.

"I believed we were without hope," Hobbes Nicole continued. "Until fate returned to us the one means we have to defend ourselves." She gestured to Pontis. "The Semaphore will protect us."

Mondagreen whispered, "You sure now's the right time for this?"

"The Demiurge will protect us!" someone yelled.

There was a chorus of concurrence.

"The Demiurge is our savior!" cried someone else.

"You are wrong!" Hobbes retorted. "Malory is a threat to our existence! It is the Semaphore that will protect us from him!"

"Blasphemy!" someone shouted.

"It is a political ploy!" shouted another.

"She wants to topple our rule!" shouted a third. "She despises Eschatons!"

"Now, now," said a loud voice then, drawing a hush over the crowd. A woman stepped forward, her hand raised for silence. The collar of her long black dress flared around the bottom of her jaw, and her short, spiky hair reflected the lights of the windows surrounding the square. "Curator Penate is mistaken," she said. "There is no Semaphore, and there never was. But we should give her the benefit of the doubt. It is not a nefarious claim. She is merely confused."

The crowd stirred.

"Who is that?" Mondagreen asked Hobbes Nicole.

"President Edia Logora," said Hobbes Nicole quietly, disdain dripping from her voice. "An Eschaton Priest who rode the wave of populist revisionism into office. But she is no believer. She is an opportunist, and plays to the people's worst ignorances." Hobbes Nicole's nostrils flared. "This is the price of comfort and abundance: a lazy mind, and the luxury to see the world in whatever way suits you."

President Logora positioned herself in the center of the square. "We are in no danger from the Demiurge. Our faith confirms this truth. No, our real enemies are to the south—the Cadish tribes who interrupt our trade routes and threaten our way of life. Curator Penate simply does not understand the complicated socio-economic forces at work in that conflict, understandings that we all take for granted. This is why she resorts to muddying the Demiurge's name, because she is merely ignorant."

"Curator Penate is a blasphemer!" someone shouted again from the crowd, inspiring cheers and echoes.

"Now, now," said President Logora, raising her palm. "There is no need for such indictments. She is simply incorrect, but it is for no reason other than ignorance."

"Ignorance?" Hobbes Nicole stormed into the square toward the President, her little fists balled. A pair of guards—special members of the Security Force clad all in black and wielding long, barbed lancets—appeared suddenly to block her path, one of them seizing her roughly by her arm.

Mondagreen instinctively started into the square toward them, but a staying hand landed on his shoulder. He turned around, where Kamê Astrelon shook their head minutely. Mondagreen took a slow breath.

Hobbes Nicole yanked her arm free and stood back. "What is ignorant, Edia," she said. "Is your dangerous revisionism. You are young and you have seen nothing—none of you has!" She gestured to the north of the square, where the immense face of the palace stood. "It will not be so easy to believe what you want if he awakens. It will not be so easy to believe he is your savior when he drowns you in fire, or when he forces you to watch your children consume their own flesh. I have seen this with my eyes, Edia!" Hobbes Nicole turned to the crowd. "I was there!"

"So you say, Curator," said President Logora, the arrogant lilt in her voice causing Mondagreen's lip to snarl. "But we have eyes too." The crowd stirred in agreement. "We have seen the Demiurge watching over the Garden of the Well with diligence. We know he is our protector because he has kept us safe. He has always kept us safe. But these are merely simple observations, that anyone can tell. It is our faith that convinces us. Faith which you so desperately wish to dismantle."

"You know nothing of faith," said Hobbes Nicole, the exhaustion in her voice signaling to Mondagreen that this was not the first time she had been forced into this engagement. "You are an opportunist, educated in the EEU. You read the books. You saw the photographs. You are aware of the ample scientific evidence to contradict this so-called faith. But you choose to ignore it. You are willfully ignorant."

"Liar!" someone cried.

"Filthy liar! Blasphemer!" someone else shouted.

President Logora shook her head. "And you wonder why the people of the Garden do not respect you," she said. "After you speak down to them in such a manner. How dare you accuse us of ignorance? How dare you accuse my people of being anything other than servants to this glorious city, and stewards to the Demiurge who, for centuries, has waited dutifully to defend us from evil?"

Hobbes Nicole looked over her shoulder at Mondagreen, Kamê Astrelon, and Pontis. Her old eyes were tired. "It doesn't matter," she said, turning back to the President. "Allow us to conduct our business, my associates and I. None of it need affect you if you wish not to be involved. And if we are lucky enough to do our jobs correctly, none of you will ever know just how wrong you are."

"Blasphemer!" someone shouted.

"She is cruel!" yelled someone else.

"Do not let her speak like that!"

"Blasphemer!"

"Send her to the Demiurge!"

The crowd seemed to close around them.

Mondagreen reached for his katana. When his hand found nothing but air a shiver passed through him. He glanced at Pontis, who scanned the crowd, nodding slowly as if, again, he was conversing with someone that no one else could hear.

The two red-veiled Lorain, who had stood among the people of Osseon, now hurried silently toward Kamê Astrelon, their hands concealed inside their red robes. The third guard stood between the Sage and the crowd, their hands also concealed, prepared, Mondagreen assumed, to launch bottles of flammable liquid.

"Now, now," President Logora raised her hands for what Mondagreen could sense was only feigned appeasement. "I see no reason not to allow the Curator to carry on with her business. She has every right to languish in ignorance and run around with…people in costumes."

The crowd snickered.

"Let them through," the President said. "And let them carry on whatever fantasies they wish. It has no bearing on us. We will go forth with the knowledge that the Demiurge will continue to keep us safe."

For a moment the crowd maintained its threatening density. Then it rippled and parted before the steps of the Museum of Art and Artifact. Mondagreen eyed the faces of the people, who glowered at him, reluctant, he thought, to allow them passage.

Kamê Astrelon placed their gloved hand on the shoulder of the veiled guard beside them, and at once they started up the steps to the Museum, Curator Hobbes Nicole and the other two Lorain guard in tow. Mondagreen followed, Pontis right behind him. The people of Osseon sneered as they passed.

"We elicited a similar response in Tecca," said the coat quietly as Pontis and Mondagreen neared the top of the steps.

"You went to Tecca?" Mondagreen asked.

"To look for you," the coat said. "They weren't too happy to see us. And they don't seem to miss you very much, either."

Mondagreen tried to think of a witty response, something crass and cynical, but he was too tired, and the words from the coat hurt him too deeply. He held the Museum door open for Pontis, casting one more glance at the crowd, which had closed in around President Edia Logora, who again began to speak.

"We are all very good people to spare them their ignorance," she began before Mondagreen let the door drift shut behind him, buffering him with the marbled silence of the Museum's enormous entrance hall. He ran to catch up with the Lorain guards, who had something he figured might come in handy down the line.