Read Online The Soul Consortium by Simon West-Bulford - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Simon West-Bulford
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feet as I head for the exit of the Aberration Sphere, and at last I’m me again, but I will never be able to forget the murders I committed inside that man’s life. Even without my enhanced synapses, those bloody memories will leave a permanent stain. Zachary Cox’s glassy gaze imprinting on my brain, Orson Roth’s syringe in my hand, the stench of formaldehyde burning my sinuses.
I stop, and my heart skips a beat. I can’t leave, not yet. I came into this new sphere for a reason, and Orson Roth had no answers for me. All around in every alcove, a tiny light glitters—each one a soul containing some sort of aberration. But what are these aberrations? I have my suspicions, and I have a lead, but the thought of where that investigation may take me brings a shudder of trepidation.
“Qod?”
“Yes?”
“I need you to locate another soul for me. His name is Keitus Vieta.”
FIVE
F orty-six years is nothing. A lifetime ago before I became Orson Roth, I witnessed the birth of the universe.
It’s still happening now, unfolding just as it did before. Every last particle combining with its neighbor in exactly the same predictable way, obeying the same physical laws with the same uncompromising rigidity, forming gaseous clouds that will ultimately bear their own children. Galaxies will explode with the first fresh stars, and the cooling matter in between will one day condense into planets and moons. A precious fraction of those will support life, and the miracle of humanity will be born all over again. Every life will be lived exactly as it was before, the same predetermined existence racing toward its glorious destiny.
I could watch it all, observing from a distance as vast as the universe itself, as I have before, relishing its beauty and reveling in the mystery of sentience that spawned from a soulless mote. Yes, I could be drifting in the Observation Sphere now, watching the distant images of creation, but I’m not.
Cowled in somber robes to match my mood, I am in the Calibration Sphere, watching the turning walls, musing over the dead: so much life whittled down to a library of tiny blinking lights. Throughout the millennia, unseen control mechanisms pluck souls from every sphere and check the data, calibrating it and, if necessary, recategorizing. No doubt this is where Qod discovered the aberrations—irreconcilable inconsistency in the data causing her to create the Aberration Sphere. An irrational part of me wonders if they know something is different now they’ve been transferred here.
Should I be like everyone else? A memory?
I could end my life in a heartbeat.
I want to leave. Want to rest my head against a cool pillow in a warm bed with a smile on my lips as soft dreams take me from this world to the next, knowing I have tasted every sweet thing this universe has to offer. I am content in the knowledge that I have done the latter, but what
of
the next world? Is there one? The same question plagues me still, and I cannot leave as the others did. Not until I have the answer. Orson Roth didn’t know. Perhaps one of my other choices will, but before I venture into another life, one enigma remains.
“You’ve been silent a long time, Qod.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Busy? How can you be busy? You could have looked through the entire index ten times over in this amount of time.”
“Two hundred and seventy-three times to be exact.”
“Why? Wasn’t once enough?”
“I have been checking and rechecking since you made your request. Keitus Vieta’s soul is nowhere to be found.”
I look up at the domed ceiling, and even though I know Qod has no face, I entertain the fantasy that I might catch her off guard and steal a glimpse of her baffled expression. There is no hint of confusion in her voice, but I know her. This has puzzled even her. “What do you mean you can’t find him? I saw him, spoke with him.”
“There is no record of Keitus Vieta in the Consortium
I stop, and my heart skips a beat. I can’t leave, not yet. I came into this new sphere for a reason, and Orson Roth had no answers for me. All around in every alcove, a tiny light glitters—each one a soul containing some sort of aberration. But what are these aberrations? I have my suspicions, and I have a lead, but the thought of where that investigation may take me brings a shudder of trepidation.
“Qod?”
“Yes?”
“I need you to locate another soul for me. His name is Keitus Vieta.”
FIVE
F orty-six years is nothing. A lifetime ago before I became Orson Roth, I witnessed the birth of the universe.
It’s still happening now, unfolding just as it did before. Every last particle combining with its neighbor in exactly the same predictable way, obeying the same physical laws with the same uncompromising rigidity, forming gaseous clouds that will ultimately bear their own children. Galaxies will explode with the first fresh stars, and the cooling matter in between will one day condense into planets and moons. A precious fraction of those will support life, and the miracle of humanity will be born all over again. Every life will be lived exactly as it was before, the same predetermined existence racing toward its glorious destiny.
I could watch it all, observing from a distance as vast as the universe itself, as I have before, relishing its beauty and reveling in the mystery of sentience that spawned from a soulless mote. Yes, I could be drifting in the Observation Sphere now, watching the distant images of creation, but I’m not.
Cowled in somber robes to match my mood, I am in the Calibration Sphere, watching the turning walls, musing over the dead: so much life whittled down to a library of tiny blinking lights. Throughout the millennia, unseen control mechanisms pluck souls from every sphere and check the data, calibrating it and, if necessary, recategorizing. No doubt this is where Qod discovered the aberrations—irreconcilable inconsistency in the data causing her to create the Aberration Sphere. An irrational part of me wonders if they know something is different now they’ve been transferred here.
Should I be like everyone else? A memory?
I could end my life in a heartbeat.
I want to leave. Want to rest my head against a cool pillow in a warm bed with a smile on my lips as soft dreams take me from this world to the next, knowing I have tasted every sweet thing this universe has to offer. I am content in the knowledge that I have done the latter, but what
of
the next world? Is there one? The same question plagues me still, and I cannot leave as the others did. Not until I have the answer. Orson Roth didn’t know. Perhaps one of my other choices will, but before I venture into another life, one enigma remains.
“You’ve been silent a long time, Qod.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Busy? How can you be busy? You could have looked through the entire index ten times over in this amount of time.”
“Two hundred and seventy-three times to be exact.”
“Why? Wasn’t once enough?”
“I have been checking and rechecking since you made your request. Keitus Vieta’s soul is nowhere to be found.”
I look up at the domed ceiling, and even though I know Qod has no face, I entertain the fantasy that I might catch her off guard and steal a glimpse of her baffled expression. There is no hint of confusion in her voice, but I know her. This has puzzled even her. “What do you mean you can’t find him? I saw him, spoke with him.”
“There is no record of Keitus Vieta in the Consortium
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