Adrian tried to speed up. The shipyards were a little way ahead. He felt a tug at his leg. He shook it off and slashed it with released feathers that cut the thing in two. He held onto his son and screamed to the men working below. They were too far away and didn't seem to see or hear him. The creatures were around him, grabbing at Antoine, whose tight grip choked his neck.

Others in crimson and brass wings appeared. Maybe they had heard him after all. Maybe they had seen the struggle in the sky. Regardless, these were his people, and they had come to help him and his son. They flew up from below, mercilessly cutting. Adrian spun around and around, slicing as he went. How dare they attack him? How dare they attack his son? The boy slipped out of his arms. It was sudden. He just fell. Adrian tried to grab him, but couldn't find him. He looked all around. He couldn't see him. All was red and gold and screams and the sounds of slicing flesh, but his son was gone.

"Antoine! Antoine!"

>> timeframe /jump +80 *SYSTEM TIMEJUMP COMPLETE*

Antoine was among eleven others in the elevator. A sadness lingered as they flew higher and higher, up to the surface. Flashes of light seeped through, periodically illuminating their somber faces as they passed the many levels of the underground city. Most of them looked like new recruits. Their young lineless faces stared aimlessly at the changing numbers indicating the levels as they went by. Antoine felt so old standing next to them. His stomach paunched over his belt, and his shoulders sagged. He had once had a body that was firm like theirs. But that was long ago. The years somehow had been stolen from him. It felt as though he had woken up one morning and found himself in this old skin. Being the son of "The Great Adrian," he had been permitted to come today as a courtesy. He knew his presence was not really needed, so he would do his best to stay out of the way. He wanted to see how all of this would play out. He wanted to see for himself how his world finally came to an end.

Antoine was old enough to remember when this was only a dream his father had. Now it was going to happen. And they were heading up to the surface for the last time to make sure all went well. The screeching inside the shaft sounded like a wailing child as the elevator reached the upper levels. Then the elevator was immersed in the natural light that shined in from above. Antoine leaned over to look out the windows in the door. They had reached the crust, the level between the very top of the city and the surface of the world. Stretching as far as his eyes could see were the great sheets of translucent metal used to produce the illusion of sky for the city below. They lay flat against the upper surface of the artificial world, undulating to simulate the movement of the heavens. Antoine could also see the inner workings of the atmospheric processors and the climate controllers that created the wind and the rain from the recycled air. No one was allowed to see this level. No one from the city was allowed out into the real world anymore. The high council had ordered it so. And who would disagree? No one really wanted to see the mess that had been made of it.

Antoine's dad had helped to design and build the underground city. He had been one of the few who understood that this day would be coming. If not for men like his dad, the fate of the people of Earth would be most uncertain. His dad had long ago passed on, killed when Antoine was a little boy of eight. Antoine knew his time was coming soon to join him. He wondered if his dad ever knew that he had taken him home safely that day. When Antoine saw him, he would tell him. There was so much that he wanted to tell him. He was almost looking forward to it. But mostly, he just wanted to see his dad again. He missed him so.

Antoine also wished that his dad could see the results of his work. The world as it once was had been recreated to the finest detail. Antoine had watched the city grow from a deep, wide chasm in the ground to what it was today. The tall buildings reaching into the artificial sky, the ordered and perpendicular streets, and the market square teeming with buyers and sellers, all gave the sense of once-was. The city dwellers could almost forget that they lived underground. The one criticism Antoine had was that the city seemed too clean. It lacked grittiness. It lacked "warmth." A city grown through the generations had a kind of disorder and randomness to it - a feeling that there might be something new and unexpected to be found by turning a corner and walking down an unknown street. The architecture of the underworld was too homogeneous, and so were the people. The young probably didn't regret living in a false environment. But Antoine always did. He still remembered the feeling of the real wind on his cheeks and the smell of the natural air.

Antoine changed his mind then. He was glad that his dad was not alive to see this day.

The elevator door opened on the surface level to a dark enclosed passageway. There was a hint of light from the other end of the hall. Everyone paused. No one said anything. Antoine waited for the first of them to leave the elevator. The youngest one walked out first, followed by the others. The air felt hot and dry and still as they walked toward the light. They stopped beside a small stairway that led to a door outlined by the glow of day. One of them produced a key card that glowed red on its edge. He slid the key into the slot next to the door, and a heavy lock clicked. Then the metal door slowly rumbled open, allowing in the hot fresh air. Sand and brown dirt flew toward them. One by one they climbed the stairs to emerge outside. Antoine struggled with every step he took. His knee joints creaked painfully. The young ones attempted to help him climb the stairs. Antoine refused their assistance. He wanted to do this himself.

Outside a watercolor wash of an orange-gray sky blotted out the sun. The twelve stood upon a landscape created by swirled dunes of sand. Earth had been completely transformed through the long years of Antoine's life. It was hard to believe that where he stood had once been a city. Today more than any other Antoine felt how his fate had been intertwined with that of his world. They had endured the last hard years together, and soon they both would pass away.

The air was arid and harsh against his skin. The twelve put on their veils. Antoine's veil dropped away from his face. He moved it back. He still found it foreign to drape a cloth across his nose and mouth. The young men didn't seem to have this problem. Their veils remained firmly in place, making them look like robbers with their faces almost completely covered with only a small space left for their eyes.

Antoine noticed that they were staring off into the distance behind him. He turned around to see where they were looking. There stood The Trajan, the last of the great ships. Its huge form darkened the landscape. It was as high as a building of once-was and as long as a farmer's field. The curve of its bow and the lift and sweep of its stern made it seem ready to take flight. It had all the hallmarks of his dad's designing hand.

Gathered beneath a wing of The Trajan was a large group of people sitting on the sand. The women wore dresses that had now become traditional, gonars, colorful robes that covered them from head to foot. The gonars were beautiful from a distance, in saturated colors such as purple, orange, and gold. The men dressed in gonars of solid white. All wore veils to protect their faces from the blowing sand and the dust. It was a treat for the eyes to see them. The people of the underground city had long ago decided on a more practical and drab form of dress.

Their arrival signaled the people to stand. Long gonars flapped in the heated breeze like waving flags. A few of the men remained to guard the door to the city while the others walked to the crowd, who waited in eerie silence the long moments it took for them to approach. The crowd parted noiselessly, allowing them to pass. There was only the sound of feet crunching in the sand. The men began to put up the temporary shelter, basically a large tent, to house the administrators once they arrived. Antoine stood aside and watched. It wearied him to see the young running around while he did nothing.

The people formed a line as if they were familiar with the routine. Here today were those who had waited until the very last possible moment to leave. They had probably thought that it would not come to this. But it had. The tickets that were once freely available to anyone who registered were gone. Many in line had not registered at all and were now vying for the few empty spots left. Antoine could pick out the ticketless on sight. They shifted and moved nervously while standing in line with shared expressions of terror. Many had small children with them. They waited peacefully for their chance to be put into the lifepods of The Trajan and hoped for the long cryogenic sleep that would take them to a new home. Antoine studied their veiled faces. So many. So many. The administrators would try to find a place for everyone. It was possible that there would be many left behind. This would take a long time to sort out, maybe all day. There was nothing to do but wait. Good luck to them. Good luck to them all.

When Antoine was a boy, he used to envy those leaving. His stomach welled with excitement just thinking about it. But as the years went on, he came to the conclusion that he didn't want to go, that he didn't want to be chased off his homeworld. He took the vow like many others to remain on Earth until the end of his days. It was like a religion. Do you believe in Earth, or don't you? Will you stay and defend her, or will you go? Earth first, Earth always - that's what the oath takers said, and Antoine agreed. The creatures had left Earth, but if they ever returned they vowed to defend her.

But the days of arguing were done. Today was the last day. Either you were on The Trajan or you were staying. It was that simple.

Antoine felt a pang of guilt. It had been his father's wish that his son go to the stars. The shades of doubt grew ever more dark in his mind. Maybe he should do as his father requested. He blinked the thought away.

One of the young men noticed Antoine standing alone. He walked over and gently touched Antoine on the arm. The boy had taken off his veil, revealing his heavy-lidded eyes. His head was round and shaped as if it were sculpted out of stone, his skin perfectly smooth. "Elder, maybe you should sit inside the shelter?" The boy attempted to guide Antoine into the tent.

"No, I'm fine where I am," Antoine said. "Thank you for your concern."

The boy took a stance that said that he wasn't going away. They remained standing together in an awkward silence. Antoine scratched at the skin under his beard. His veil dropped down again. He moved it back into place.

Antoine didn't really regret the vow he had taken all those years ago. He wondered sometimes if maybe he should have become a man more like his father, a man of quiet strength who bore the burdens of his life with a silent dignity. His dad was the greatest man Antoine had ever known. He hoped that he had told him that at least once. Maybe he could tell him that soon.

"Walk with me ... uh? What is your name?"

"My name is Eliel."

"Eliel," Antoine paused for a moment, "I think that means 'consoler.'"

"Yes," Eliel smiled, "so my mother has told me."

Antoine took slow deliberate steps, and the boy followed close behind. They stopped and gazed at the long horizon. Antoine had roamed this very area when he was a young man. There were birds and green growing things then. He remembered the blue and the soft white clouds that floated through the sky like pulled cotton. That was in the days when he could still walk with a sense of unhurried freedom. But even then the sand had been encroaching from the west.

In the distance used to be a city. The hulking remains of it jutted out along the horizon at weird angles. He and his dad had visited once when great structures soared high into the air. All of that was gone now. His father had called it Elysium, land of the heroic dead. The sand and the dust had done their mighty work. Some of the buildings had been torn down for the metal they would provide. The others were left to rot and were worn away by the unending storms. All that would be left of this world soon would be the memories of old men like Antoine. And no one knew better than he that before long even that would be gone.

"Are you all right, Elder?"

"I am fine, Eliel. I was just thinking about something."

Antoine watched as more people from the underground arrived. They seemed to be coming from all sides at once, one by one and in pairs. They walked among the crowd, helping to carry their stores onto the ship, checking their tickets, or idly standing around. Antoine wondered if they had come for the same reason he had. Many seemed to have nothing much to do.

Antoine's veil slipped once more so that he had to maneuver it back into place. It felt silly to be constantly playing with the thing. When it dropped again, Antoine decided to leave it be and wear his face naked.

"Eliel," Antoine said, "do you ever question your decision to stay on Earth?"

"Elder?" Eliel said. He looked at the old man with a kind of shock. Antoine was sure that the boy was wondering about the soundness of his mind.

"Don't look so surprised. You should question it. You should question it every day. I have," Antoine said. "It will keep you centered. It will keep you whole." The last part felt crass and empty even as it passed his lips. That was the rhetoric he was supposed to say, but it was not how he actually felt. Questioning had kept Antoine far from centered. He had been feeling confused of late. This at a time in his life when he thought he should have a lot of the answers. The ideology that had sustained him all these long years was now losing its potency. Antoine wasn't sure about anything anymore. Maybe the boy would find better answers than he had.

"But Elder," Eliel said, "aren't you happy in your vows?"

"Happiness is ..." Antoine said. "Happiness is an elusive thing."

He wanted to say something else. He thought he knew what, but the words got caught in his throat. Antoine walked on and Eliel followed him. They climbed to the top of a dune where they could see the queue of people boarding the ship. The long colorful line was beginning to disappear into The Trajan. It seemed to be swallowing them whole.

"Someone is coming," Antoine said.

Eliel shaded his eyes and looked all around.

"Where, Elder?"

"There." Antoine pointed to the faintest dot on the horizon. His ancient eyes were strong. "She will need our aid. Come."

Eliel obediently followed the old man down the dune, which gave way easily under each step. He offered Antoine his arm. Antoine was about to refuse Eliel's aid, but there was something in the boy's innocent expression that made Antoine release his pride. He had been self-sufficient all his life. He never thought of himself as someone who needed anyone's help. Maybe today was the day to put down old foolish ways.

The long blue gonar of the approaching woman fluttered in the wind like a sail. She held a small child on her hip. The closer she came into view, the easier it was to see the wariness in her slumping movements. Her child, a little girl, grasped at her mother's flowing robe and buried her head within her mother's veil. Antoine made his way to cross her path, with Eliel not far behind.

"Please," she said, "I know I am late. I tried, but my husband won't come. I ... please ... I don't have tickets. Please ..."

Antoine gently said, "Come with me and Eliel here. We will take you to an administrator. Eliel, ease her burden and take the child." Eliel did as he was told, and the girl went to him without any fuss. The little thing wanted nothing more than to sleep and was forcing her eyes to stay open. Antoine patted the girl on the head as she rested in Eliel's arms, then he slowly guided his new charges to the tent.

The administrator stopped everything he was doing to listen to Antoine explain the woman's situation. Antoine had influence as the only son of one of the greatest of The Builders. Sometimes Antoine wondered if things would have been different if he had not been his father's son. Maybe his life would have been much harder. He was never quite sure. The administrator asked for the woman's name and wrote it down in his manifest. He said that he would try very hard to see that she and her child had a place in the ship. She took the news with gratitude, and Antoine led her to a seat inside the shelter.

The ship was due to leave in the evening, and it was getting dark. The faint radiance of the moon lay heavy on the horizon. There was a musty scent in the air. It was as if whatever moisture left in the sky released itself as the day cooled down. Antoine suddenly could breathe easier. A small wind picked up some sand in front of the tent and tossed it back and forth. It gave birth to a dancing brown dust faerie that swirled and twisted to the music of the moving air. Antoine followed the dust lady as she pirouetted, bowed, and curtsied to an invisible band. She swirled and turned and turned until she dissipated into nothing.

There were only a few people left standing in line. Because the wind had died down a bit, many pulled back their veils, revealing their wary faces. Their gaunt appearance spoke of the growing hunger rumored to be spreading among the aboveground population. The woman next to him sat in silence with her sleeping child. Together she and Antoine watched the endless flow of people as they entered one end of the shelter and exited the other to go up the gangway into the ship.

The mother pulled her veil back. Antoine could see her jawbones. Terror was written in the deep lines of her forehead and in the creases around her mouth. She seemed to be aging by the moment, though she did have a beauty to her. Her eyes were wide and dark, and her lips shimmered with neatly applied gloss. The intricate pattern woven into the delicate material of her gonar displayed high-quality workmanship. She must be a woman of some means. Antoine thought that she must find it strange to be in the position of begging for help. He was glad he could be there for her. It made him feel useful.

She got up to move nervously to the edge of the tent. She placed her hand on her mouth. It seemed as though she wanted to stop herself from saying something inappropriate. She was afraid. Those left behind on the surface would have to struggle to survive on the land. No one knew better than Antoine how they would fail.

"What is taking them so long?" she said.

"Patience. They will get to you in time," Antoine said.

The little girl was awake now, but she was quiet and spoke mostly with her eyes. She climbed onto Antoine's lap and leaned into the folds of his shirt to gently pull at his gray whiskers. Antoine put his hand before his face, then took it away quickly and softly said "shoo" to her giggles. As Antoine played this little game, her mother stared off into the administrator's direction. He wished he could know how it would all turn out. What would become of this little girl? Would she get to grow old like him? He held her tight, then pressed her nose like a button. She giggled and patted him on his tummy.

An administrator approached the woman. Her eyes were wide and haunted. She watched his every move like a timid animal. He whispered words to her. Antoine could not hear what was being said. He only saw him give her something. She took the man's hand and pressed it to her face. The administrator desperately tried to pull his hand away, but before he could she had already kissed his palm. Her gonar rustled as she bent over to gather her daughter out of Antoine's arms.

"Thank you," she said, her eyes glistening. With her warm lips she pressed hard against Antoine's forehead. A flush of heat warmed his cheeks. The little girl waved goodbye as her mother's back disappeared up the gangway and into the ship. Antoine raised his hand to return her farewell. He wondered if they would remember him. Probably not. Where they were going, they would have plenty of things to think about rather than the memory of an old man. Antoine tried to picture them on their new world. By the time they got there, he would have long since passed away. This ground would hold his bones.

Many still waited in line when the door to The Trajan closed. The people, once quiet and calm, pushed forward in a wild blur. A riot of color raged, turning and running and pushing. They tore at the tent, bringing it crashing down. Eliel grabbed Antoine by the arm to drag him behind a wall of men of the city, who had positioned themselves behind the crowd. A crazed woman lunged at Antoine. She came so close that he could smell her hot breath. Eliel struck her hard, and she fell to the ground. Blood flowed from a gash on her forehead. Antoine's heart felt as if it would burst out of his chest, it was pounding so hard. He was as helpless as a child. Eliel covered him. Protected him. Antoine was grateful and ashamed.

"You will all stop!" an administrator screamed. He stood on the gangway of The Trajan. The resonance of his voice carried into the night. "You will stop this!"

Everyone went still.

"You all knew that this was a possibility! You knew! We warned you! We urged you to prepare, but still you did nothing! Now there is no room! And there is nothing more that can be done! Return to your homes! We've done all that we can! Now return home and try to make the best of it! Just go home!"

The crowd remained motionless. A long tense time passed before anyone stirred. An army of men stood firmly between them and The Trajan. Antoine watched as the crowd slowly began to drift away and dissolve into the darkness until there was no one left. It didn't seem fair. None of this seemed fair at all.

The Trajan roared its engines and shook the ground. The vow keepers gathered together to stand before this last departing ship for their final prayer on the surface. Antoine covered his face with his veil and made his way slowly to the semicircle they had formed. They waited patiently for him to join them, their veils flapping in the breeze. The Trajan lifted up, sending a mighty storm of dust scattering in all directions. The sound of its departure troubled the ear like water to a drowning man.

They all looked up - except for Antoine. He looked only at his people. Many of them wept as they watched the ship ascend higher and higher into the night sky until it finally disappeared from sight. There were no tears for Antoine. He felt only hollowness. He thought he should want to cry. But he didn't.

Antoine waited with Eliel as the others disappeared into the many entrances to the underground. They were among the last to make their way down. Antoine's limbs ached with each step he made. Eliel and the others helped him inside. They handled him like a treasure. He didn't want their assistance, but he allowed them. It was time to let go. Antoine looked back once more at his world. It would be for the last time. A wind picked up and blew a gust of sand in his direction. Then he went inside and the door closed behind him.

>> timeframe /jump +200 *SYSTEM TIMEJUMP COMPLETE*

>> who Tkeclc observer 0000-00-00 00:00 >> change status Tkeclc interactive *STATUS CHANGE SET*

>> continue BRIDGE PROCESS: CONTINUED.