The Chronicles of the Pale Books 1-3

Chapter 11

Chapter Five

The ‘post-post-aftershock’ was what everyone called it now, or simply ‘the PPA’.

Tayyan, the junior annalist Jaxon had assigned the task of recording the Regent’s experiences around the time of the episode, was interested in words. He theorised that prefixing ‘post-post’ and using the acronym PPA diminished the relative importance of the occurrence in common parlance. It was a way of pacifying the citizens, almost of modifying facts. Convincing them that everything was under control. Instead of ‘the worst calamity the Pale had experienced in generations’, the PPA was just another incident in a series of events, all of which the policosmos had survived. Simply changing the words changed the event, in retrospect. Clever. Tayyan liked that.

Satisfied with his analysis of the semantics around the aftershock, Tayyan was also pleased to leave to the other annalists the tasks of recording the extent of damage, enumerating the dead, reckoning the numbers of each arm of office who would need to be quickly progressed to maturity, and estimating the time it would take to restore the policosmos to its previous level of amenity. Call it what you would, the PPA was by every measure the greatest disaster they had faced since the Great Conflagration itself. The task of restoration was considerable. All the data sets of previous instances shrank to insignificance beside the PPA. As Tayyan knew from the discussions at the forecasters’ oikos, the PPA had exposed a worrying lack of data surviving from before the Great Conflagration. The imposing perimeter fence, for instance, which had been built soon after the Conflagration, was constructed in a fashion that was meant to survive the ages. (In fact, in the early days, as Tayyan with his love of languages knew, the very words ‘the Pale’ referred exclusively to the fence, when the first citizens enclosed themselves within. The name was later applied to the policosmos itself.) The fence had been damaged by the PPA, and service personnel could repair it with only limited success. True enough, the boundary was whole again, but in some places extra layers of cutthroat wire had been deployed to cover up a fundamental breach in the seamless metal of the original construction. While most of the perimeter was formed of a metal base covered in cutthroat wire, parts of it were now simple wire agglomerations. That meant more vigilance, with a consequent additional load on the reduced numbers of active service personnel.

The blow had fallen most heavily on the service, which lost more staff than any other arm of office in the entire policosmos. That stood to reason, mused Tayyan, because service personnel were deployed right across the Pale as guards, citizen assistants, wayfinders, safety wardens, or labour wherever strength was needed. You could see service personnel employed in a broad range of activities any day. For instance, just at the moment they were helping the ingeneers with repairs to all the Pale’s infrastructure—fences, roads, bridges, buildings, comms pillars, and data stores—as well as fulfilling their constant, primary role as guards. It was probably a serviceman who had first noticed the instructions of the ingeneers could not be carried out on the perimeter. The Pale no longer had the tools or the knowledge it needed to effect proper repairs to the original fence.

Tayyan shook his head in disapproval, to the momentary confusion of the Wereguard at the gate of the Acrocomplexa who had just waved him inside. His dark annalist’s garb helped him; every citizen knew that annalists had their mental attention focused away from the everyday world. It was not unusual to find one talking to herself, or tracing imaginary figures in the air, or standing motionless while data revolved internally. Mostly, though, a stationary annalist was making notes on a larger than usual wristscreen, noting and uploading current status data.

Inside the Acrocomplexa, Tayyan had four more guarded portals to pass to reach the waiting area outside the Regent’s Throne Room. He had visited almost every day in the month since the aftershock, at first simply taking notes at the Regent’s dictation. Some of what she told him made little sense, but his duty was to record, not to question or to comment. This had been instilled into him in the long years of his training. Although Tayyan carried both Tangshi and Illian liveware in his gene splices, to his regret he had shown little capacity for forecasting—that exalted office, occupied by so few, which was responsible for analysing past data sets and predicting future events so every aspect of life inside the Pale could be planned and prepared for. The forecasters had elite teshnik hardware and software that prioritised logic and abstraction. The most high-ranking forecasters constructed the calculations that underlay every decision made by all the officers of the Pale, and even those of the Regent; the junior forecasters were occupied with taking measurements, quantifying all changes, and estimating the rates of change for all the basic data from which the higher personnel calculated their predictions. Tayyan revered Jaxon Tangshi, the most senior forecaster of all, though he knew that was not an office he could ever occupy. No, Tayyan was very good at exactly recording data provided to him, and at noting differences between, or oddities within, recorded data sets. That was as far as his talents stretched. It was for others to measure, count, and analyse all the phenomena he noted. Thus he recorded every word the Regent spoke, keeping any reflections on their meaning to himself.

On this occasion the Regent was, typically, engaged on other matters when he arrived. The previous day, she had raised a question to which Tayyan did not have the answer. He had been charged to discover what he could in the data sets stored at the forecasters’ oikos. Though this was not within the scope of his usual duties, Tayyan complied without passing the task onto any of the trainees, and without mentioning it to any of the more senior forecasters. His annalist-grade hardware enabled him to stay focused on the one search for hours or days; when engaged on such a task, fatigue was deferred until the search was completed.

While he waited to be summoned, Tayyan thought about what he had to tell the Regent. She was becoming fixated on how to predict aftershocks. It was not logical. Every data set indicated the time elapsing between aftershocks was growing. It was not likely there would be another even during the Regent’s extended life allotment. Still, logical was not a word he would readily apply to the Regent’s experience of premonition. Logic implied predictability, order, and an underlying rationale. Having a strange feeling during the lightning storm that accompanied an aftershock hardly fitted these criteria.

In due course, a servant conducted Tayyan into the Regent’s presence. Élin nodded at him then led the way to her elevated terrace. She preferred to discuss and think out in the open air. It was not logical; neither her software nor liveware needed the stimulation of an outdoor setting, and everyone knew that too great exposure was harmful to hardware. Tayyan supposed the Regent liked to look at the policosmos from above. During the wet weather of winter, this preference did not especially suit the annalist, who did not share the Regent’s impermeable aura. However, as long as he could shield his screen and stylus from the rain, they would prosper in their conference.

‘So, Annalist, what news do you have for me?’ Élin inspected her gorgeous nails, today a transparent and flattering amethyst that exposed the soft pulsing veinlets and gleaming golden wires of her inner live- and hardware. The misty border around her, formed of the rain splattering against her aura, gave her the appearance of an imaginary creature. Tayyan thought of the angels, gods and witches of legend. ‘I feel sure that we Patraenas cannot be the only creatures who experience the warning of aftershocks.’

‘You are quite right, my lady,’ answered Tayyan. ‘I have searched the records. There are scant data on this phenomenon, because it was long ago assessed as an unpredictable and unworthy, I mean, unimportant, I mean, under…’ Tayyan’s voice faded in the face of the Regent’s glare. ‘I am sorry, my lady.’

‘Insolence!’ spat the Regent. She crossed her arms. ‘You are not here, Annalist, to edit or comment upon the historical data. I well know that this phenomenon has been under-valued. That is what I wish to redress! Report your findings. Or must I seek the data sources myself?’

Tayyan abased himself on the wet tiles. ‘I beg pardon, my lady.’

‘As you should. Continue!’

‘My lady. The surviving data testify to a long-held belief in what are termed “premonitions of disaster”. However, whenever investigation of such premonitions has been attempted, no reliable results have been obtained. The notion has been relegated by the forecasters to the status of, of legend.’

The Regent looked anything but pleased. ‘Annalist,’ she said with such menace that Tayyan shuffled backwards on his knees. ‘This is common knowledge. I asked you to seek more information, not to restate the obvious.’

‘My lady! I know, I beg pardon!’

‘Bah! You weary me. Have them send me the Senior Forecaster.’

‘No, please,’ begged Tayyan. ‘There is more, I did find more, my lady.’

‘Then tell it to me, in as few words as you can manage. How dare you waste my time with all this blather. I may as well have you re-commissioned and another made in your place.’ The softness with which she spoke only emphasised the threat.

‘My lady, please—my lady, let me speak. It is true, there is more in the data stores. I found, I found that, in the days around the Great Conflagration, observations were made of, of humans and of, of animals, behaving strangely.’

The Regent frowned. She leant back against the parapet railing around the terrace, suspended over the abyss below. It was a position she favoured; from there not only could she listen in comfort, but she could also launch an attack if the mood took her. Tayyan, new enough to her ways to think her retreat from his immediate vicinity was proof that she had relented towards him, got to his feet and began a complicated explanation.

‘They, you see, animals and humans had been seen gathering and talking, squawking, wailing, communing, whatever, in the days before an aftershock, and some of them tried to bolt. It was as if they knew what was coming. Or, at least, they knew something bad was coming.’

The Regent, despite her annoyance, was interested. ‘Go on, fellow.’

‘Ah, well. There was a researcher called Giovan—oh, sorry, names don’t matter, my lady. This man experimented with both full humans and animals, to check their responses. He couldn’t arrange a test during an aftershock, but he set up a regime that mimicked the lightning storms that are, which go with, which are contemporary with an aftershock. The air pressure, I mean, and the ion discharge, and the, the—’

Élin was pragmatic enough to stifle her impatience. She would discover more by nurturing this pathetic creature. At least for the moment. So she displayed her most clement aspect, gesturing towards a long, cushioned bench under the cover of a colonnade constructed of rainbow glass.

‘Please, Annalist, sit.’ As Tayyan retreated to the dry shelter of the bench, the Regent clapped her hands. A lone servant, crouched near her feet, rose and bowed low. ‘Refreshments,’ snapped Élin. ‘This man has laboured all night. I wish to hear his findings. Bring restoratives.’

‘My lady.’

Very few minutes elapsed before Tayyan was served with a hot stimulant drink, his robes dried, his tense neck muscles kneaded to ease. All this time, the Regent paced the terrace, impervious to the rain. Her fingers clenched and unclenched in a manner the servants recognised as dangerous. As the last tray was cleared, she strode to stand before Tayyan.

‘No, stay seated, I grant you leave. Tell me about the experiments.’

‘My lady,’ said Tayyan, bowing his head. He felt even less confident; indeed, he felt he had embarked on a most perilous undertaking. Nevertheless, the stimulant had done its work and his account was less rambling. ‘The researcher began with ground fowl and flying fowl, which had been noted as the most, er, strident in their reactions to a coming storm. He continued to test as many animals as could be easily obtained—equii, canini, ovines, rodents, and so on. Humans too.’