The Loved and the Lost (14 page)

“Sounded reasonable at the time,” Hansum smiled.

“And now some on the Council have their knickers in a knot,” Lincoln laughed.

“Precisely,” Talos confirmed. “Over a line item that none of them thought important at the time. That was, a Council or inquest only has jurisdiction to sanction people from their own era.”

“It makes sense to me,” Hansum said. “But, besides the Council, apparently half the planet's population resent the fact that our Council won't be able to rule about what Arimus was brought in front of it for, and that your time's one counselor can veto any decision the twelve members of our Council make.”

“I don't think people would object so much,” Lincoln laughed, “if that old guy from your time wasn't so weird. He doesn't even seem to know what's going on.”

“We shall soon see,” Talos said. “We shall soon see. Are you sure you're all right, Mistress?”

They were almost to the bottom and Shamira hadn't said a word the whole walk down. She just trod ghostlike down the stairs, holding Kingsley's hand and staring straight ahead.

“Do we have to sit right on the stage?” she asked, seeing how the stage was arranged.

“I'm afraid so, Mistress,” Talos replied.

The stage was simply set. There was a long wooden table and thirteen chairs for the Council members behind it. Five chairs for the council “guests” were situated on the other side, set back a distance from the table and exposing the people sitting in them to the gaze of everyone in the audience. The Council Elders were already seated, all but one with an A.I. hovering behind or beside them. This was the elder from the future, Cassian Olama. He was at the extreme right of the table and, although he sat ramrod straight in his chair, he looked asleep. There were conflicting rumors, one saying that he had left his A.I. at home in the future, but some saying that not everybody from the 31
^st
-century had their own artificial intelligence. This was a very odd notion for the 24
^th
-century mind.

Arimus was already onstage, his back to the crowd, talking to the two members seated next to the sleeping Cassian. One was Elder Cynthia Barnes, the chairwoman of the Council. She had also been the administrator the teens met when they first arrived at History Camp Verona 1347, about a year earlier. Next to her was Elder Parmatheon Olama, the vice-chair. Because of the perfect acoustics of the place, Elder Parmatheon's voice could be heard.

“Arimus, I am still angry that you're not subject to this Council's judgment,” he was saying. “You were the one responsible on this botched foray to the past.”

This seemed to cause the elder from the 31
^st
-century to stir. He sat up and rasped, “Now, Great-grandfather Parmatheon,” the voice of the much older man wheezed, “It has been said . . . many times . . . that we from the future cannot explain . . . our decisions. Be assured . . . it is a law made . . . from long experience . . . that people from specific times . . . must be judged . . . by their own . . . people. And your generation . . . must make . . . its own . . . decisions.”

“And yet you can veto our judgments,” Elder Parmatheon challenged. But it didn't register. Elder Cassian had already fallen back to sleep.

The situation was made more comical by the fact that the elder from the future, Cassian Olama, was a direct descendant of the 24
^th
-century Council vice-chair, Parmatheon Olama. Cassian, however, looked like a light skinned Asian with limp white hair, while his progenitor had dark skin and short, curly black hair. To top that, the biologically much older Cassian insisted on calling the other “great-grandfather,” which seemed to rankle his forbearer.

As the teens got to the bottom of the amphitheater steps, the members of the Council and their A.I.s noticed them. Arimus turned around, smiling and unaffected by the controversy. He was obviously in diplo-matic mode. He came over, hugged each teen in turn and escorted them to their seats. Talos by his side, Arimus then smiled at the Council and tapped his temple, which seemed to reawaken Elder Cassian with a start.

“Come to order!” old Cassian blurted as his head shot up. “Must I veto something?” Some in the crowd laughed. Others shook their heads.

The energy field over the amphitheater darkened, except for a rectangular shape facing the sun. The clear opening caused a shaft of sunlight to form over the Council and guests. Elder Cynthia Barnes's A.I. levitated to center stage. He was an orb the shape of a comical scarecrow head, complete with a ragged bowler hat, two mismatched button eyes and a stitched five-o'clock shadow.

With the clear voice of a practiced orator, the A.I.'s speech echoed through the amphitheater. And as he spoke, a ten-meter high holographic image of him appeared above the stage so everyone in the audience, and everyone forced to listen from outside the amphitheater, could see him clearly.

“This Council is called to order,” the A.I. began. “Please take your seats, adjust your levitation cushions and please be quiet throughout the proceeding. We ask that no heckling or commentary be made by the public. Many unique things are happening. Please accept them with dignity. Thank you.” He then floated back to his place by Elder Barnes' shoulder. The holographic image of the A.I. was replaced by one of the chairwoman.

“Thank you, Demos,” the woman with tight dark curls and warm brown skin said. “Let's make short work of the first part of this meeting. That is, what punishment, if any, should be given to Shamira and Kingsley for not following instructions and opening themselves to the 14
^th
-century? Also, we need to decide whether any wrongdoing was done on the part of Hansum, Lincoln or Elder Arimus on that same day. We'll start with Shamira and Kingsley.” Shamira fidgeted in her seat and lowered her head. Kingsley placed a large hand over hers and looked attentive.

“There can be no question that Shamira and Kingsley did contra-vene their instructions and made an opening directly to the 14
^th
-century,” Elder Barnes continued. As she said this, her holographic projection was replaced by the frozen image of Shamira and Kingsley just before Ugilino came running around the corner. Both their faces were peeking out of small blue-rimmed circles in the air. The image then animated and they kissed. The image froze again. A young female voice called from somewhere in the crowd.

“It was only for a kiss.”

“Long live love,” another shouted. Thousands muttered their approvals.

“Quiet, please,” came Demos's voice.

The image of Shamira and Kingsley reanimated. It showed them turn as the bloodied Ugilino came into view and ran right through them. The image cross-dissolved into the frozen scene of the wagon, showing Feltrino holding up Guilietta by the neck and the hulking Kingsley, running, head down, arms out, ready to plow into the Gonzaga prince.

“Kingsley,” Elder Barnes began. “Your transgression was greater. Not only did you disobey Elder Arimus's instruction by making a small temporal opening, you actually came full-bodied into the past and attacked a person from the 14
^th
-century. This is a gross contravention of time travel protocol.”

As Elder Barnes spoke, the frozen image started moving at quarter speed, turning the attack on Feltrino into a slow-motion ballet, with Kingsley's massive arms and legs pumping, his bent shoulder in perfect position to take Feltrino down. The crowd went eerily silent as Feltrino was slammed into. His arms slowly flailed outward, causing him to lose his grip on Guilietta. She seemed to float through the air and disappear into the wagon. Kingsley's arms wrapped around Feltrino, pinioning his arms, and then he fell upon him with all his weight. They bounced several times on the hard cobblestones. As the image faded, the silence was broken.

“He did it for love!” a woman's voice shouted from the crowd.

“Feltrino deserved it,” another screamed, which was followed by the sound of tens of thousands of feet stomping in agreement.

“Please. Please. Please be quiet,” Elder Cynthia Barnes shouted, but the crowd wouldn't listen. “May I remind you that people from the past are not fictional characters to be judged by us. They are creatures of their own times . . .”

“SCREW FELTRINO!” a man at the front of the audience screamed, to which a large part of the audience laughed and kept stomping their feet. Most of the people on the Council looked frustrated, except for Elder Cassian, who was snoring. The meeting had ground to a halt.

Hansum looked at Lincoln and winked. “It's time to use our pop-ularity,” he whispered. He stood and faced the crowd, raised his arms and gestured for everyone to quiet down. Amazingly, they complied. As the theatre went silent, Hansum put his hands together in thanks and gave a small bow.

“I love you, Hansum!” a female voice cried. Hansum ignored this and took his seat. He had not only received thousands of letters of support and condolences from all over the globe, but also proposals of marriage.

“To continue,” Elder Barnes said. “The question is what, if any, punishment should be given for transgressing important rules, taking into consideration that you are novices who have not received your first licenses yet. Before we give our decision, do either of you wish to make a statement? Shamira?”

Shamira stood up. A large holographic image of her head appeared above the stage. She looked up and winced. “It, it was a mistake,” she said quietly. “We were taking our visit too lightly. Now that I have more training, I can better understand the consequences of my actions. If I receive another chance, I assure you similar mistakes will not happen.” Shamira sat down again.

“Thank you,” Elder Barnes said. “I should add for full transparency, I was the elder who greeted Shamira and the others when they first met at History Camp Verona 1347, where the adventure that so many people have watched, started. I'd like to say that I am impressed how Shamira has matured and become a valuable member of society. Now, Kingsley.” Kingsley stood. “While you are from the future, you have declined the option to be judged by elders of your own time and agreed to be bound by our decisions. Do you have anything to say?”

Kingsley stood tall and relaxed, but did not appear cocky. “Nothing to add, but I just want to reiterate that I take full responsibilities for my actions. Although, like Shamira, now that we have had more training, I can guarantee that something similar won't happen again. Also, I am accepting your judgment in hopes of not being sent back to my home when time travel begins again. I don't want to be separated from Shamira. I am deeply in love with her and it is my most fervent hope that we are not parted.”

A sympathetic sigh was heard from thousands in the crowd and some began to shout.

“Long live love through time!” and “Kingsley!” and “Shamira!”

“Quiet please,” Demos cried, coming center stage again. “Quiet! Quiet!”

“You may sit, Kingsley,” Elder Barnes said. Kingsley bowed slightly, sat back down and took Shamira's hand, which brought another wave of “Ahhhhhs,” from the crowd. Elder Barnes continued. “The decision of this Council was split, and therefore needed to be voted on by our A.I. advisors.” You could see Elder Parmatheon Olama scowl and mutter something unintelligable. The A.I., Demos, floated forward to whisper something in Parmatheon's ear, but the human pushed him away.

“As for Shamira,” Elder Barnes started. “It has been decided you did not have proper training before going back in time, but you did disobey the direct and simple instructions given to you. Your punishment is this; when time travel begins again, you will be prohibited from going on any missions to the past . . . for one month.”

Half the crowd booed, thinking the sentence was too light, the other half cheered, seeing it as a light slap on the wrist. The teens on the stage smiled, Shamira looking relieved.

“As for Kingsley,” Elder Barnes continued. The crowd became silent and Shamira looked anxious again. “The Council believes you too should have been better trained before being taken back. But you did attack a person from the past, and it was not in self-defense. For this you will not be allowed to travel back in time for the length of . . . three months after time travel begins again.” Again, half the crowd complained and the other was happy.

“Quiet, quiet!” Demos shouted over the crowd, but they didn't seem to hear.

“Elder Barnes?” Shamira's voice barely carried across the stage.

“Yes, Shamira?” Shamira was looking at the elder with such pleading concern, her question was obvious. The elder smiled. “Don't worry, Shamira. When time travel resumes, Kingsley will not be required to go home. He can stay and live, as will be the right of all people of modernity. The Council has confirmed a law that people of any time travel age can live wherever and whenever they choose.”

With those words, Shamira and Kingsley leapt up and embraced. The crowd roared their approval.

“Quiet, quiet,” Demos shouted. “Quiet, please. We haven't finished. We haven't finished the Council's rulings.”

The arena slowly became quieter, though not silent.

“Thank you, citizens,” Elder Barnes said. “I know everybody is reacting more enthusiastically these days as our society is going through a great change. But please, restrain yourselves. As for Hansum and Lincoln's part in what went on; Lincoln and his mind-delver mentor, Medeea . . . is Medeea here?” Lincoln nodded and looked over to his side, putting his hand out like he was touching something. “Good,” the elder said. “Both of you acted in full accordance with your responsibilities and no fault was found with either of you. We wish you well on your training and hope you will find satisfaction in any time travel you experience in the future.” Lincoln beamed at Medeea and nodded to the elders as applause and shouts resumed throughout the complex.

“Lincoln!” a few female voices shouted.