Hegemon’s Promise

  “Thank you! Thank you, thank you, Your Highness!” The old woman said. For the moment, she was grinning wildly, eyes sparkling once more as she stared up at Zeldo. He had just repaired her implant, returning her connection to the larger community and allowing the nanobots that have swarmed through her and every citizen of the Empire of Anahstas since the First Technocratic Age began nearly 11,000 years ago to reconnect to the system, restoring the woman’s hearing and eyesight, and replenishing what strength and stamina her body could maintain as the now functioning nanobots were able to better deliver blood and oxygen to her organs and muscles. With both of her hands still holding one of his in gratitude, she began pulling him from the porch of her small farmhouse toward the interior. “You must meet my granddaughter! You are about the same age, and I am sure you will just love her! Please, Your Highness, she’s just inside.”

  “My apologies Ma’am, but I really must be going.” Zeldo pulled back on the woman’s forward momentum as she was marching them toward the front door. “I’m on an investigation,” he said. She continued tugging his arm, reassuring him that her granddaughter was just lovely. “While the overall deaths in the Empire have not changed,” he said, “this area has suffered greatly in the last few years.” At the mention of the deaths, the woman stopped, her hand on the doorknob. She looked up at Zeldo once more, eyes beginning to well with tears.

  “Do you know why? Surely you must know something. Can’t you stop it? The village is nearly empty at this point. Pretty much everyone I knew is …” She said, her voice fading away at the end.

  “That’s why I’m here. So far, I haven’t been able to learn anything more than rumors and conspiracies, I’m afraid.”

  She nodded as her head sank back down. As she was releasing his hand, he gave hers a squeeze. When they made eye contact, he said, “I will uncover the truth and bring an end to this. I swear it.” She smiled grimly at him before her face began to brighten.

  “I’ll count my blessings that I still have my granddaughter and, thanks to you, working nanobots.”

  After departing from the old woman’s house at the edge of the village, Zeldo continued toward the center square of the village. He’d stopped several times along the way to speak with villagers, and they had all expressed the same fears and concerns as the others. He passed a father and son, hauling a large robot, initially intended for sorting and loading in a factory but refitted and programmed to gather crops, in the back of a cart pulled by a single, rather sizeable cloven-hooved animal whose flanks were eye-level to the unusually tall Zeldo.

  “Hello, sirs,” Zeldo called over the sound of the wagon bouncing and creaking and the beast snorting and stomping along the path. The man leading the creature forward with a bridle attached to the animal’s chin turned from speaking to his son close by his side to see Zeldo approaching and brought the parade of beast, cart, and hulking cargo to a halt.

  “Ah, g’day, your Highness! Good to see you’re well. I reckon I can figure why you’re here,” the man said, his eyes darting to his son and back to Zeldo. Zeldo nodded knowingly; there was no reason to bring up the deaths in front of the boy. The man’s son, who couldn’t have been more than eight years old, and had probably already lost people to the mysterious malady, peered around from behind his father, gazing up wide-eyed at Zeldo. “I’m afraid I can’t help though. Far as I heard, no one has any ideas that make a lick of sense.”

  Zeldo frowned. His access to the Empire’s collective knowledge base, his implants, nanobots, and his innate ability to project his consciousness into robotics, complex machines, and computers meant he should be able to figure this out. He should have figured it out long ago. It was the one problem most in need of solving and seemed to be the one problem that evaded every attempt to resolve. He turned from looking at the man and his son to their cargo.

  “ATS-38.M, modified to gather crops?” Zeldo asked, gesturing to the machine threatening to break the cart under its weight.

  “Aye, your Highness. Works like a charm most the time. But every few months, the old self-repair programming rebuilds enough of itself to interfere with the new gathering software and crash the whole system. We have to drag it in a few times a year for new programming.” As they spoke, the three of them walked around the back of the cart to get a look at the machine.

  Zeldo closed his eyes. Reaching out with his mind, he immediately found the machine. In vivid detail, he quickly traced the circuits and examined the components. Finding no faults, he moved on to software. Sure enough, the original programming had been highly redundant and self-repairing. Whoever had altered the programming for the machine’s new purpose had left the original redundancy hidden in the base functionality of the machine’s programming. It would have been nearly impossible to find digging through it line by line, but Zeldo’s conscious connection to the machine allowed him to view the programming as a single image with incredible detail, where the five lines of code stood out in stark contrast. Zeldo removed the lines and sent a reboot signal to the central processor. The entire process took less than a second.

  Zeldo opened his eyes. The little cart began to creak. The machine, a dark metallic orb, 3 meters across, with six appendages ending in sheers and baskets, emitted a quiet hum as it lifted itself gracefully into the air, hovering above the now silent, empty cart. The man, now as wide-eyed as his son, backed away a few steps bringing the boy with him. Zeldo joined them as the machine continued booting up.

  “I found the code that was causing problems and removed it. I also ran a quick hardware check and found no issues. You should have no more problems with it.” As Zeldo spoke, the wide-eyed man’s chin dropped and hung loosely from his jaw. He tried to speak, but his tongue was the only thing he had any control over, and all it accomplished was to flop around in his still-open mouth. Zeldo grinned at the boy while they watched his father try to pull himself together.

  Zeldo smiled to himself as he entered the village square. Despite the ugly nature of his investigation, or perhaps because of it, it gave him a sense of purpose and belonging when he could help people directly, especially when he got the chance to instill a sense of awe and wonder in children. The man’s young son was timid and shy until Zeldo magically fixed their robot. That was when Zeldo made a new fan. The boy, whose name was Ghel, had immediately warmed up to him and had begun assaulting him with curious questions in the rapid-fire manner that only the youth can accomplish. They spent some time on the side of the dusty lane, Zeldo patiently answering as many questions as he could from the enthusiastic young man. When the questions entered the realm of finding his missing friends and family, Haltem—the boy’s father—thanked Zeldo again and led the boy, the beast, the cart, and the now repaired and hovering farming bot away, back toward the farm.

  The village square was nearly deserted. Several weeks ago, before the last wave of deaths occurred, this square was a bustling place. An idyllic rustic village with very little ground infrastructure but full access to the shipping lanes and personal-transports. The smells of cooked meats and vegetables had prevailed over the smell of pack animals that trudged through the open center. The sounds of vendors competing, calling out to the people milling about, trying to grab the attention of those lost in conversations or focused on their hunt for a particular item.

  Zeldo’s smile fell. Today, there was none of that. Two vendors remained. One was packing up his wares, and the other sat looking dejectedly into the distance, not bothering to call out to the handful of other people to be found in the square.

  The stark contrast between the recently thriving community and the current state of despair reignited his anger at this atrocity being visited upon his people. The anger, coupled with his frustration of not being able to find even a clue as to the cause, left Zeldo shaking, sick, and ashamed. He was the Imperial Heir. They were his people, and his responsibility to protect them. His gaze drifted across the square once more, and his mind overlayed the image of his last visit. A dark, hopeless feeling swam in the back of his mind, looking for a place to take root. With no leads to follow or direction to take, he decided to return to the palace and speak to Astah-Kel once more.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  The square was so empty that Zeldo didn’t bother walking back out of town and had his transport pick him up from there. After spending the last several hours walking through town, in less than 10 minutes, he was back in the royal palace in the city of Anahstas. He’d spoken to his mother about the issue on multiple occasions, and she seemed to share his concerns. His father, as emperor, had far greater demands on his time, so Zeldo had far less opportunity to speak with him. Politics consume an emperor’s life, and Zeldo knew in his core that if he couldn’t solve the mystery before it was his time to take the throne, then he would never have time to return to the investigation. He was prepared to accept his duties as emperor, but he couldn’t bear the knowledge of his people suffering and dying because of his failure to stop it when he had the time.

  These thoughts drove him through sleepless nights to keep searching, to venture out to various communities in an attempt to uncover something, anything that might be the slightest hint of a clue. The same thoughts drove him deep underground below the royal palace to ask Astah-Kel again for any information that might be related to the subject. He passed from wooden steps to stone steps, marking the depth of the original construction of Anahstas and Astah-Kel. After descending 137 stone steps, the stairway flattened out into a tunnel, 13.7 meters across and 137 meters long, carved directly through the bedrock. His mother had explained that in the first and second technocratic ages, the priests would escort hundreds of people each day to see Astah-Kel. Eventually, people forgot, and now, while it isn’t a secret, none but the priesthood and the imperial family are aware of its existence.

  Zeldo emerged into an immense cavern—the Tomb of Astah-Kel. Like the tunnel, it was carved into the bedrock, and the walls had been lined with various alloys and composite materials to create shielding that has protected Astah-Kel for 11,000 years. As he had done hundreds of times over the last few years, he approached the ancient computer and began interfacing. He uploaded his memories from the last few visits to the village for posterity but also, as always, in the hope it would lead to a connection between the deaths and their cause. He updated his algorithms and set them loose on the data banks while he took a more direct approach and continued his studies of the first technocratic age. While inconclusive, he found data suggesting the deaths go back to the beginning of the Empire, possibly even earlier. But what was the cause? He continued to scour the files in search of the answer.

  Several hours later, he was deeply engrossed in the record of the construction of Astah-Kel. After winning the war and founding the Empire, the ancient technocrats proposed the construction of a supercomputer that could house a low-level AI capable of acting as a central hub for all Imperial interests. Listed among the Imperial interests were the people of Anahstas. Zeldo knew the pre-empire wars were brutal beyond imagining by their current lifestyle. But he felt a sense of pride knowing that his ancient ancestor, the first emperor, was as concerned for the people as he was. In fact, the First Emperor of The First Technocratic Age, the man that united the disparate peoples under the Imperial banner, put forth the requirements to be met before he allowed construction to begin.

  Most of the requirements were typical construction requirements, but one clause caught Zeldo’s eye. According to the document, construction would not be allowed to begin unless the entire project received an overwhelmingly positive vote from the people. Zeldo found it odd that the emperor would take a democratic approach to such a major project. Particularly when passing required 90% approving votes. He thought about this for a while, wondering why it would require such a high approval rate. Maybe it was just part of the transition or an attempt to instill trust and faith in the integrity and intentions of the Imperial family.

  “Zel,” his sister said. Her voice, soft and weak over the comm-plant, snapped him out of his reading with a start. She hadn’t commed him this way since he was a child and she was responsible for watching over him. He didn’t know why, but his stomach dropped, and the room tilted from one side to the other. He heard his sister sniff over the open link. “Zel,” she tried again, “wherever you are, come home. I’ll send you the data, but I wanted to speak to you first.” Zeldo waited in silence, unmoving. He felt cold, and his hands were shaking as he anticipated her next words. “The Emperor and Emp-Father and Mother were on their way to Halyester when the ship’s gravity generator malfunctioned… It was severe and instantaneous… There’s nothing left…” Zeldo stood unbelieving, speechless, alone, next to a hulking machine of unfeeling information in a cavern that yawned out around him. He stumbled toward the tunnel entrance.

  His public ascension to the throne would be in a week. It was the standard practice to show respect for the fallen emperor and allow his subjects time to grieve. Zeldo was granted no such reprieve. His new duties and responsibilities began as he emerged from the Tomb of Astah-Kel. When he entered the throne room, the large group waiting, and suddenly amassed before him, knelt as one. His sister, teary-eyed and looking at him with concern, and The High Priest, pulling himself up with his staff, were first to rise. She trailed as the priest approached.

  “My deepest and most sincere apologies, your majesty, I am aware you have only just heard of the Emperor and Empress’ untimely demise, as have the rest of us, but I am afraid there is a threat with the potential to destroy the dynasty entirely if you do not act with haste.”

  Still in shock, Zeldo allowed the priest and his sister to lead him away. His sister stuck to his side as the priest led them down a familiar set of wooden steps that eventually turned to stone steps and continued down another 137 steps from there. They had crossed the 137 meters to the cavern entrance before Zeldo realized where they were and that the priest was speaking to him.

  “…days if not weeks to prepare and set everything up. This is a very unfortunate situation, very unfortunate,” the priest said. They were standing in front of the massive and ancient computer that had made everything he had ever known possible. The priest was quiet for a moment as he used his implant to open a door directly in front of them. The surprise of the hidden panel barely registered through the tidal forces of everything else Zeldo felt at that moment. With his sister at his side, he followed the priest into the heart of the machine. The door closed behind them.

  “We’ll wait here,” the priest said, gesturing to his sister, “as Emperor, you must enter the next chamber alone.” As he spoke, another panel slid open, allowing even deeper access to the computer. Zeldo blinked; his sister squeezed his hand reassuringly before stepping over next to the priest. His feet dragged as he entered, and the panel slid shut behind him. A soft, yellow glow lit the smaller compartment. In the center of the small room was a desk with a rolled piece of paper. The only other items in the room were a small stool that looked as ancient as the machine itself and a pen, equally ancient. He sat carefully on the stool and examined the roll of paper. It was well-preserved but very old. Cautiously, Zeldo unrolled the scroll.

  “This binding contract between the people of Anahstas and the Imperial family shall stand in perpetuity. As put forth by the people of the first age and approved by the first imperial family, it is recognized that the safety of the whole must outweigh that of any individual or individual’s life. With the activation of Ahsta-kel, the collective consciousness of the people of the Empire will be used to power the Empire itself. At the same time, the imperial family will take on the role of protecting Ahsta-kel and, thereby, the Empire over the lives of the individuals. Through the connection between Astah-Kel, the implants, and the nanobots, the cost is high but will spread equally throughout the Empire, and the reward is a level of peace, health, and prosperity never before attained by sentient beings. Both the people and the imperial family recognize the inherent sacrifice in lives this entails and agree to put aside their own beliefs in the interest of the Empire. For the Empire.”

  Signed,

  “Argo Heldo Peligro-First Emperor of Anahstas, Janik Whelforn-First People’s Liaison, Ester Hargro-First Priest of Ahsta-kel.”

  Below was a succession of signatures at the bottom of the list, scrawled in a hand that he recognized, was his father’s name. Zeldo stared at the paper, disbelieving. Here was the cause of the deaths plaguing the people. Ahsta-kel could draw the consciousness and life energy of anyone in the Empire with implants and nanobots to generate the power needed to maintain function. Through their sacrifice, the people provide the energy needed most for the Technocratic age to prosper; consciousness energy, while the emperor alone carries the weight of this knowledge with the responsibility to ensure that the practice continues. Zeldo sat and stared at nothing for a long time. He had vowed over and over again to discover the cause and end the deaths, but to do so would cause economic and societal collapse as the Empire would no longer have the resources to provide for the people. As it stood, Anastahs was recognized as the healthiest and happiest stand-alone Empire in all of Living Space. After his time among the people, he was convinced that if the truth were to come out, it would mean the end of an 11,000-year dynasty. He wished he could speak to his father about it. He picked up the pen and stared at the paper, his eyes settling on his father’s signature and the blank space under it.