Cracks in the Universe

The glass ceiling above the spacious, opulent meeting chamber was years in design and years again in construction.  It held at bay fifty meters of clear blue water which refracted the the glowing outer lights creating an otherworldly feel in what would have otherwise been simply another monument to government vanity.

The ceiling dome above, while transparent, depicted the entirety of known space.  The scale was, of course, miniscule to fit upon it the thousands of worlds the Cinnhilif people had colonized in thier three hundred years of space travel and exploration.  The center of the dome, directly above the seat of the president, contained the central systems with Cinnhilif itself placed, rather inaccurately, in the center of all things.  Cinnhilif space was created with a carefully moulded and shaped layer of lime green glass, curved and bended with the intricate edges of Cinnhilif Central Space.  Each system was a silver star that twinkled whether caught by natural light from above or the lights of the chamber below.  No matter the conditions, each silver point was brilliant and startling to eyes below.

Five spokes extended out from the central region.  Solid, thick trails of sparkling gold dust traced across the glittering blue dome showing the arrow-like paths of the wormholes that allowed for instantaneous travel between specific remote systems in the galaxy.  At each end was a silver circular swirl, the jump gates which had facilitated wormhole travel and made it safe.  Each region was done in lime green as the Cinnhilif Central Space was, but was outlined in a different color for each of the Cinnhilif colonial groups that had first created colonies on the other side of the wormholes.

The home of the Cinnhilif Grand Council, this chamber was truly something special, a work of art at once physical and spiritual.  It was a focal point for the known galaxy.  From here the ten representatives from around Cinnhilif space  lived and worked amongst themselves and with those who traveled to the center of government in order to petition the council directly.  Here the council decided upon courses of action both severe and mundane.  From this very chamber they had conducted, organized, and seen through, daring rescues as well war.  They had celebrated life and mourned death, along with the Cinnhilif people of the galaxy who could join in and watch their leaders via small cameras mounted invisibly here and there about the chamber and could be turned on and off at the discretion of the council members.

The Cinnhilif Grand Council Chambers were housed within the greater administration center of Cinnhilif.  The sprawling complex spilled from the shore of a crystal clear bay, into the water and culminated in the chambers of the Grand Council underwater below the bay.  It was understated and yet awesome in its scope.  A series of underwater taxis ran day and night ferrying visitors to the structure so that they could stare in wonder for a finite number of minutes before being whisked back to shore to brag that they'd seen it.

Jono Keffler stood over his bucket and mop looking up into the blue of the water.  He saw neither the beauty of the artifical light pouring over him, bathing his wrinkled self in a eerie luminescence, nor the glass mosaic monument to Cinnhilif culture, ingenuity, and daring.  At that moment, staring upwards one thought occupied his mind.  He wondered, with some annoyance, why with all their technology they hadn't bothered to revolutionize the mop(1).

"I'll tell ya what," he'd complain to anyone who'd listen, "if I could convince someone this mop and bucket could explore space, it'd have more buttons and whistles and lights than ya can imagine."  Jono would then chuckle and lean forward in a conspiratorial manner and say with a grin, "'Course I'd be out of a job then.  Don't got a head for space, I don't."

Jono wasn't a man to worry about things he couldn't change, and saw little reason to worry about anything he couldn't see or feel.  He hardly knew the Langlinion Sector from the city of Fellsfall Reach half a continent away.  He was, however, happy, had little use for such knowledge, and in his ignorance was likely, as even those with university degrees were, to lean back on his heels and declare the outer colonies, none of which he could name, "a group of spineless do nothing's that just take take take."

"I'll tell ya what, kid," he'd begin, talking to anyone under the age of fifty, "they should just cut 'em off.  Close those whatcha-thamiggets and leave 'em out there.  That'll teach 'em.  They're all rich anyway.  Ungrateful sons of..."

Someone always cut him off at that point.

He had no idea that it was, in fact, a struggle to carve out a space for human life on a planet not perfectly designed for it.  Even three hundred years later, it was still not easy despite leaps in technology.  What Jono was more familiar with though was that he himself was struggling.  He worked long hours, made little and frequently found it hard to support himself.  There were talks of food rationing for the lower classes.  That kind of thing was not lost on the likes of Jono Keffler.

On the surface Cinnhilif VI was a beautiful planet, green and rich, but it was still crowded.  Fewer people had the money to leave the Cinnhilif home world and the world, still free of pollution due to advances in space travel and environmental control, was running out of food and resources for its people.  More and more of it was coming from the outer systems who had their own problems.  The inner systems were suffocating.

Jono hadn't been looking specifically at the glass dome overhead but now he was.  Something had caught the blue light from above.  A dull object was fluttering down through the water above.  Something oddly heavy but that was being tossed around by the currents in the man-made bay.   He frowned watching it squinting to see what it was from the floor of the chamber.

It tumbled downward for another long few moments before coming to rest on the dome just to the left of the silver star that represented Cinnhilif on the glass map.  Jono's first thought was that it was litter, a piece of trash carelessly tossed overboard by a pleasure boater as it zoomed by overhead.  Then he thought better of it.  There were no pleasure boaters.  Moving his head side to side, squinting, and bobbing like a pigeon Jono tried to make it out.  It was dull.  Light didn't catch it.  It was...possibly...round.

Frustrated at his inability to explain the object, he set his mop down and headed out of the chamber, leaving the bucket behind, too.  Moments later he returned, limping as he lugged his burden into the room.  The mop might not have changed, but ladders, they were a thing of the past.  Every bit as bulky as its old world ancestor, the anti-grav plate was heavy.  Normally one needed a second person to, at the very least, act as a spotter.  Jono had used them for his entire life.  He'd played on them, raced them around the school yard before being scolded for it.  He didn't need a spotter.

Dropping the pad to the floor with an echoing thud that would have made anyone more respectful of the chamber flinch, Jono clapped his hands together and brushed them off with satisfaction.  He bent over, still relatively lithe despite his age and strapped his feet to the indentations on the thick stainless steel platform.  With a strong yet subtle downward motion from his left foot, the anti-grav plate came to life with a low, satisfying hum.  The device took its control information directly from the user's body posture.  Expanding and stretching outward made it rise while contracting and crunching down lowered one to the floor.

Jono expertly stretched his back and angled his head for the the lime green of Cinnhilif space on the great glass dome overhead.  Careful not to move too fast or risk smashing himself into the glass, an occurrence that would only hurt Jono, he ascended slowly keeping his eyes on the dull round object that rested on the dome. It was flat and now on closer inspection clearly disc shaped.  There was nothing he could do from this side.  It was a job for the exterior maintenance crew and Jono would have been well within his rights to simply call them, but he was curious and didn't want some current to whisk it away before he'd gotten a chance to inspect it.

He came to rest against the ceiling with his palms pressed flat against the glass.  He grimaced noting he'd have to clean that now but then turned his attention to the disc.  It was small really, not much larger than two or three feet across.  It was in fact a disc as it had seemed and was in no danger of floating away.  There was a suction cup in the center of it and two small pieces of metal that looked like old world electrodes, or some such thing.  Jono didn't know much about technology and the thing could as well have been alien in origin, if indeed there had turned out to be aliens in the vastness of space.  But there hadn't.  More than a few citizens of Cinnhilif VI had been disappointed by that fact.  It made no difference to Jono however.  He just wished he could get dinner a bit easier and pay his rent on time.

There was writing on the disc.  It was large and written in a block style of lettering meant to be read easily but was only barely so through the thick glass.  Stretching out his body as much as he could, the plate pushed him closer.  Jono had to struggle to stay expanded outward and yet get close to the glass.  Squinting he read it, frowned and read it again.  He considered it for a long moment and then smirked, "True enough."

Chuckling he bent over and let himself sink slowly to the floor, thinking about the statement on the disc.  He repeated it a few times aloud to himself, "Fools are the ones who give leash to the greedy dogs."

The phrase seemed odd.  Something behind the meaning.  Perhaps it was his subconscious mind at work, the part of him that paid attention and filed data away he knew nothing about, but he knew something about it was wrong.

Without another thought, Jono arched his back and rocketed above.  This time he gave little thought to the dangers and certainly failed to avoid making a small scratch on the president's desk as he rose to the ceiling.  He had to see the disc again.  He was sure there had been something else, something he'd missed.

Once again, palms flat against the dome, Jono peered through the glass at the block writing on the disc.  Fools are the ones who give leash to greedy dogs.

It was just as he'd seen it.

The text in the block lettering was curved around the suction cup that had stuck it to the dome and written neatly.  There was no mistaking what it said.  Jono looked closer, screwing up his face in concentration.  Around the outer edge of the disc was another line of text, wrapping itself almost completely around its circumference.  It was too small to read.  Jono swore and carefully dug into one of his denim pockets while carefully keeping himself aloft.    He withdrew another piece of technology that seemed to never be replaced with a technological improvement.

He held the little lens up against the glass and peered through the thick glass of the dome with it, squinting, his eyes almost shut.  He moved his head side to side furiously trying to bring the small text into focus.

The people of the Centralian Cinnhilif Guard make this statement in the name of our gods, against the greed and corruption of the outer systems.  The gates must be closed and our people united in their return, or forever separate and divided.

Jono read the text twice.  Three times.  He then read it once more, to be sure he was right.  He knew though.  He wasn't given to flights of fancy or paranoia.  He floated in the air above the historic meeting chamber of the Cinnhilif Grand Council and thought.

Someone needed to know!

He looked around the room for a way to transcribe the message.  He'd never remember it word for word and if he didn't, he knew he'd be dismissed, ignored, as the old cleaning man.  Jono suddenly regretted the wild tales he’d spun and the truths he embellished.

Pressing against the glass once again he read it slowly.

The people...of the...Centralian Cinhil...

There was a brilliant, blinding flash, though small, and it only caused Jono to reel in the air because his face was pressed against the glass, reading. The two metal electrodes had exploded, each in its own little tiny flash.  The edges of the disc were now charred and warped.  Jono inspected the change and read the phrase once more, unsure what to make of an explosion of its type underwater.  Jono pushed the magnifying lens into his pocket and turned in mid air.  A sickening sound reached his ears, just as he was about to crunch himself into a ball and drop fast to the floor below.  With a deft wave of his arms he turned.  A fine point had developed on the glass dome, like a tiny pebble strike on a glass canopy.

Jono's eyes went wide as the pin prick in the glass spread.  In mere seconds it had spread out to the size of a coin.  Fear and panic spread into his throat and Jono froze in terror.  His staring eyes took in the sight of the slowly spreading crack.  He followed one spider arm as it moved and stopped at the silver star that represented Cinnhilif.  Pressure built up at the star.  It seemed to sit there for a long interminable moment during which Jono's frozen mind thought nothing, simply feeling terror.  A completely understated pop signaled the crack's destructive victory and the star, separated from it's almost ancient place on the glass map of the galaxy, tumbled to the floor far below.

Jono watched it fall and hit the carpet in agonizingly slow motion.  It struck the blood red carpet below without a sound, yet he heard it in his mind as if it was a lead weight.  Jolted from his fear induced trance he curled himself into a compact squat and sank to the floor below, striking it hard and rolling down the slanted floor of the chamber.  His feet were wrenched by the heavy anti-grav plate and he felt a jolt of pain as he came to a stop one second before the plate did.  He winced, yelping in agony.

The straps around his feet had twisted and the pain was too great.  Jono tried desperately to reach them, get them untied.  He somehow had to separate his now twisted ankles from their binding, but he could neither reach them nor wiggle nor shake them loose.  If anything, the tumble had tightened them, making movement impossible.  In pain and panting with exertion Jono finally laid still.  He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself.  He'd had a long life, even if he'd anticipated a longer one.  He did not want to die in a state of panic.

He opened his eyes and looked up.  The dome over the chamber was still a thing of beauty.  For a brief moment he looked up at it and saw the universe, depicted in colorful glass in all its glory.  His mind imagined distant planets, stars, and space lanes traveled by ships moving from planet to planet.  Jono suddenly fancied the spiderweb of cracks, spreading out beyond Cinnhilif space now, to be paths leading to and fro across the known universe.  The technology to achieve so much seemed amazing to the man who, hours before would have declared it a waste, unable to think beyond his own existence.  Jono was suddenly, perhaps for the first time, free to dream.  His impending demise allowed him to think clearly, free of his normal poverty induced concerns.  He thought of wormholes and ships traveling at unimaginable speeds to arrive an unfathomable distance away.  He thought and he smiled.

The cracks in the dome were severe now.  The entire crown of the dome was laced with an intricate pattern of crisscrossing lines that were worsening and weakening the canopy.  It was impossible to see through parts of the glass anymore.  It seemed it would shatter at any moment, raining down water and glass with an angry fury.

With nowhere to go Jono held on to his new appreciation with a tight grip.  A light somewhere inside him had suddenly flickered on and he understood.  He could imagine the drive that drove the first Cinnhilif astronaut to leave the planet he'd spent all his years on.  A desire formed in the pit of his stomach, a longing to see some of those things depicted on the glass dome for himself.  He too, wanted to see the universe.  Ironic, he thought, and somewhat appropriate since the universe was about to rain down on him.

He took a deep breathe feeling his lungs expand with air and life, "If I survive this, I'm turnin' in my broom!"

Two corridors away a security guard sat at a desk, sleepy eyed and weary.  Nothing ever happened here.  He'd been a policeman.  He'd chased the bad guys.  Now he watched a desk all day.

He was a big man, burly, and looked as if he could easily break the toothpick of a chair he was sitting on.  He looked around, stretched and felt his back crack with a satisfying snap.  Forty more of those, he thought, and he could go home.  He watched two women walk down the hall in the opposite direction.  They both cast a glance down the long hall across from the guard, at the other end of which were the ornate golden framed wood doors that led into the heart of Cinnhilif decision making.  He'd been in there a few times, but hadn't been impressed; not as impressed as he was with the woman on the right.  She was excessively pretty, he thought, with a grin.  Walk back THIS way.  Please!

Their footsteps died moments later and the deafening silence returned.  He yawned and cracked his muscle bound back again.  His shoulders sagged and he contemplated putting his head on the desk.  Surely he'd fall asleep.  He dismissed that as a very bad idea.

He turned and looked down the hall toward the chambers of the Cinnhilif Grand Council.  He thought he'd heard something.

Grateful for the opportunity to get up he stood, stretched, and adjusted his coat, utility belt, and then set into a swagger as he walked down the hall.  He hoped maybe she'd walk by again.

He took it slow, wanting to prolong his leg stretch.  He was sure he hadn't heard anything...until he heard it again.  He was closer now so there was no mistaking that someone was, in fact, shouting.  The doors to the chamber were solid and thick and muffled all but the most piercing of voices.  The guard clearly heard yelling.  He set off at a trot down the remainder of the corridor and came to a halt moments later at the doors.  The voice was clear now, still muffled and faint, but the guard could make out a man shouting in an agitated fashion from within.  He had received fiercely worded instructions not to enter the chamber, no matter what he heard.  The councilmen frequently shouted at each other and the guards could not be constantly barging in.  It was a disruption and embarrassing for the frequent rows to be acknowledged.

The guard, however, had been a policeman and he judged the person within to be in trouble.  With only a moment's hesitation he barged into the chamber throwing the heavy doors wide open, ready to come to the aid of whoever it was.

What he saw was somewhat comical.  He knew the man, lying on the floor, feet tied to an anti-grav plate.  He was...he didn't know his name, but he was the cleaning man.  The chamber was his own special duty, if he remembered correctly.  The guard saw him most days coming or going from the chambers, but had never spoken to him.  He seemed to have simply fallen over.

"Please!  Get help!"

The guard strode forward with a huge affable grin on his face, "I'm here, sir.  You're gonna be ok.  Let's get you up."

He crouched over the excited man, who lay protesting.

"It's alright, sir," he tried to comfort him.

"No!  It very well isn't you dolt!"

The guard looked into the

cleaning man's face and then followed his gaze upward.

"Oh my..."

Before he could complete the oath the ceiling broke and rained down glass and water on the two men with a fury that went beyond Jono's imagination.

Angus Merlinius, the raven haired head of Merlinius Enterprises, sat forward at his spacious desk with a grin of extreme satisfaction.  He had received his retribution.  They had injured him and he had done so in return... threefold.  He stood and walked around his desk to the floor to ceiling windows that looked out over the capital of Leofmael, Dorlington Common.  The city had been one of the first settlements in the Langlinion sector.  One of the first colonies beyond the wormholes and it had made Merlinius wealthier than he, or his father for that matter, could have ever dreamed.  The city stretched out beyond the windows far below Merlinius tower, a green belt with buildings upon it.  There was none of the vulgar construction and city density found on other planets, and especially not of the kind found on any of the inner system planets.  It was a testament to the will of man.  Merlinius smiled and walked back to his desk.

He reached across it and tapped a key which brought to life a large screen to one end of his conference table.  The end of the video he'd been watching showed in brilliant color and size.

"Restart playback."

He didn't need to watch it.  He'd memorized the glorious sight on first viewing, but he watched it anyway.  The vortex, created by the collapse of the council chamber dome, was a thing of beauty.  He imagined the rich interior with its crimson carpet and gilt tables being washed away like sins.  He imagined that with this act he himself, Angus Merlinius, had made them pay for their sins.  It was too soon though.  There were no reports on the dead.  He had no way of knowing how many of the councilmen had died in the deluge.  He could only hope.

The vortex faded as the water filled the central complex below the surface which was soon only turbulent.  The camera panned upward toward the bright blue sky, creating a painful contrast with the tragedy of what had happened below.  Merlinius waited for his master stroke.

A bright white beam shot from beneath the surface of water, vaporizing the water and igniting the sky above.  The beam excited the gasses in the upper atmosphere which caused the sky to burst into flame, but not the entire sky.  Merlinius had managed to have some key technologies find their way into the right hands.  A word or two from one of his people, discreetly in the right ears, and there was a display in the sky none would forget.

Blazing across the afternoon sky was a message clear as the bright blue day.

The people of the Centralian Cinnhilif Guard make this statement in the name of our gods, against the greed and corruption of the outer systems.  The gates must be closed and our people united in their return, or forever separate and divided.

Merlinius laughed aloud at his orchestrated plot.  A wonder to be hold!

The video concluded with unceremonious darkness and he returned to his desk.  He withdrew a bottle from a tray on his desk and poured a reddish brown liquid into a short glass.

He had solved a pair of problems, with one stroke.

First there was retribution.  Yes, he thought, it had of course been the Langlinion government that sabotaged his colony ship.  But they hadn't the resources or people with the skill to back up their desire.  The inner systems, he was sure, had wanted Angel One to fail as badly as their Langlinion lap dogs.  They had paid for their attack on him, or at least their role in it.

Then there was the small issue of the Centralians.  Fanatics.  Paranoid, delusional, isolationists.  It was only a matter of time before they did something big, and Merlinius's sources claimed it wasn't going to be an attack on their own planet.  They would go after the wormholes.  Close those and all conflict was over.  Merlinius frowned at the thought.  The wormholes were his.  Without them he was finished.  The Centralians were as much his enemies as the enemies of the outer systems.  Now, they'd be rounded up as criminals or, better yet, terrorists.  The best part was that they’d be rounded up as criminals by their own people!

Merlinius sipped his drink and leaned back placing his feet on his desk with a sigh.  Yes, it was true.  The universe was out there for the taking.

Angus Merlinius planned on doing just that.