Dreamworms Book 1: The Advent of Dreamtech by Isaac Petrov (drm ebook reader TXT) 📕

Century Festival shall take place in Geldershire’s capital colony. What’s the name again?”

“Oosterbeek, Consul Levinsohn. A wise choice—”

“No!” Ximena jumps at the unexpected exclamation from the back of the room. It is Edda, walking towards the Consul. Everybody else—both in the scene and the amphitheater—is staring at her wide-eyed. “Forgive me for my boldness, Consul.” Edda bows awkwardly. “I know I’m out of place, but the selection of Oosterbeek would be a costly mistake.”

“Who is this?” Consul Levinsohn’s eyes scan Edda’s white garments and then turns her head towards Rew.

“Do excuse my impetuous… underling, Consul Levinsohn. Redeemed van Dolah is indeed speaking out of turn.”

Edda clears her throat. “I am, uh, the chancellor’s expert on Geldershire matters, Consul. And I’d be a poor expert if I failed to warn you.”

Consul Levinsohn studies her for a long moment. “Fine. Say what you have to say. Why is selecting Geldershire such a mistake?”

“Not Geldershire, Consul. On the contrary, I concur two hundred percent with the chancellor. Geldershire is the perfect place to hold the Century Festival, yeah? But Oosterbeek is to Geldershire what Rhenania is to Germania. Plus, it is also the residence of Geldershire’s Aedil. How would the other aedils of Germania feel? There’s no need to pick favorites if you can choose an even more remote colony.”

“I see.” Consul Levinsohn smiles at her, her eyes scanning the feminine shapes under Edda’s tunic. “And I am sure you have a suggestion?”

“Lunteren, Consul. Lunteren. Lunteren is the place. Fish, steel, and beautiful sunsets. At the fringe of the fringe, Lunteren is the place nobody cares about.”

“Lunteren.” Consul Levinsohn nods slowly, takes a step forward and rubs a finger on Edda’s exposed neck. “Sounds like a fascinating place.” Her smile broadens. “Care to accompany me to my chambers and tell me more about it?”

Edda seems momentarily at a loss, but then puts a playful hand on her hips and smiles back. “Anything you desire, Consul.”

END OF DREAMWORMS EPISODE I

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Nine

Pontifex’s Day

The auditorium darkens as the next section of the dreamsenso comes up, floating vividly above and across the amphitheater. A landscape lights up from above, a roughly almond-shaped collection of a thousand colonial houses—spacious double-story buildings, most with garden patches around them, like a jigsaw of maroon roofs mixed with vegetable green. The chaotic network of narrow, red-bricked streets hints at the legacy of a town settled for uncountable generations.

“Lunteren,” Professor Miyagi says. “Meticulously recreated as it was a hundred years ago, before the Dreamwars: a sleepy colony prospering contentedly at the margins of aws Imperia.”

From this height, a few hundred yards over the red-tiled roofs, Lunteren appears seamlessly embedded into its natural environment. To the east, right on the edge of the colony, a large dense forest; farmlands extending far to the north and south; the sea to the west, not farther than fifteen walking minutes, with a large sandy beach and an active harbor. The afternoon is advancing; the sun sends traces of gold over the sparkling waves and the fishing boats and merchant barges that unload their catch and wares onto horse carts.

The scene slides lower, towards Lunteren. Ximena squints at the movement in the streets. Yes, they are teeming with colonists. As the dreamsenso point of view approaches the ground, the air fills with animated chatter, noise and music. And orange. Plenty of orange. Most colonists are wearing orange-tinted tunics, and those with hats, the oldest among them, have decorated them with orange-colored motifs: feathers, orange leaves—even carrots and small pumpkins. This must be a festivity, Ximena thinks.

“Thirteenth of December,” Miyagi says. “Pontifex’s Day. A tradition in the Dutch Province. Everybody is out on the street, sharing and trading junk.” Ximena can see him pacing below the scene. “Lots of fun, apparently. And all for the glory of the Pontifex in Townsend, who brings them peace and prosperity.” Ximena feels a pinch of pride. The Goah’s Imperia of the Americas are still nominally under the sovereignty of the Pontifex. A symbolic and religious role nowadays, of course. But Ximena, like most of Pontifex Fahey’s subjects, still prays for her health and wise guidance every day.

Like a placid pigeon, the scene lands in the middle of a busy street where people walk leisurely in small family groups. No horses nor carts on the road, not even bicycles. The public space belongs to the people today. Music hammers the air, loud and rhythmic. People laugh, children run, and everybody—absolutely everybody—dances.

Decorated tables have been set up on both sides of the street, in front of each house, as if an extension of the front yards. Old, used every-day objects—toys, pottery, books, radios, tools, clothes, anything and everything—are put on display for trading. Bright orange-themed decorations cover the tables, and strongly scented delicacies on beautiful large ceramic plates lure neighbors and fellow colonists. The spiced aroma waters Ximena’s mouth. A member or two of each family stands by the tables to greet passersby, while the rest of the family roams the colony, dancing and filling large bags with bargains.

The scene closes in on a particular house on the south side of the street. It is not so busy here, towards the eastern edge of the colony. Two teenage girls dressed in ornate, orange tunics stand by the gleaming orange table gesticulating excitedly, one black and tall, the other white and short: Edda and Aline.

“This is the Speeses’ residence on the Miel Way,” Miyagi says. “Edda lives nearby, up the street.” He points with a finger to where the crowd grows thicker. “Let’s watch.”

The teenage girls chat with discreet but excited voices, too enthralled in their conversation to mind the world around them.

“That’s not proof enough,” Aline is saying, trying to keep a calm, controlled