Chapter Two The Nova #3
At the end of the skyway, another arch, then into a small, wood-lined room.
A large desk with slots behind it stacked as high as the ceiling.
Pieces of paper traded to keep track of archival records.
Also behind the desk, another door to the physical archives and the stairwell to the main floor of the Treasury—employees only.
The Treasury was actually comprised of many different departments, with a strict number of staff.
Funding from the state was tight, so they made do by borrowing employees from different offices.
The Treasury Library held the Archive and the conservationist. The Patent Office was in a different wing, then the mid-level municipal offices in another.
The Treasury Library was the most tourist-ridden part.
Just to get a glimpse at it, not even to touch any of the books.
I curled my fingers over the edge of the desk, flicking the greeting bell to the side.
Ding!
No faces yet.
Ding ding!
I tapped it again. Then another. Then—
“I am petitioning to do away with the bell!” A shout from behind the door.
“It’s still here, I shall ring away.” I tapped the bell again.
A tall, lean man slipped from behind the door, closing it a bit harder than was acceptable. His stare was sharp. Slicked-back black hair against a medium tan, which made the light green eyes all the more bright.
“Did you get my telegram the other day?” I asked.
“I did,” he sighed. “I’m not supposed to take personal visits during work hours.”
“I’m not personal. I can be business.” I smirked. “I can show you what I’ve been working on? For archival interests, of course.”
“All this time for playing with trinkets, and you still haven’t visited Father?”
I bit my cheek, leaning forward on the desk. “If you take me downstairs, we can talk all about my outstanding tasks. How about it, Maxim?”
“Right here isn’t good enough?”
“No! We need the gloomy darkness of the Archives, of course,” I teased. “It’s something new. You’ll be excited about it, trust me.”
His eyes narrowed, then he glanced over my head. A few moments of deliberation before his shoulders slumped and he jerked his head toward the door.
The permission granted me a release of excitement through sprightly feet and, surely, the widest smile I could contain.
Through the door, it was like an opening to a whole new world.
We stepped through into darkness, the smells of dusty wood and naturally distressed parchment.
My heels clicked on the metal stairs overlooking the impossibly tall shelves stacked neatly and efficiently in the musty warehouse.
Each case of shelves rolled on a wheel and track, allowing for them to close against each other.
This setup further allowed for one row to open at a time, conserving space for the Archives.
The cases were so long that each one stretched to the entire other end of the warehouse.
The weight made the cases impossible to move by yourself, enough to crush people if a case closed on top of them.
Wheel systems on the ends of each case of shelves allowed them to be moved back and forth.
Hundreds of thousands of artifacts were preserved with a strict use of biolight only.
The biolight was one of the best things we’d learned to utilize.
Tiny bioluminescent plankton that gave off no damaging light waves, gentle on the eyes, and earth friendly.
All you had to do was expose them to sunlight or, if that wasn’t possible, feed them a preformulated fertilizer, since they couldn’t make their own food without the sun.
The mixotrophic organisms had been such a leap in bioenergy and natural electrification. Little microscopic blessings.
As we descended to the floor, the water lamps gave the illusion of being underwater.
Maxim handed me a globe. The tiny plankton sloshed inside, giving off a brighter burn of blue with every disturbance.
I never liked to shake them. I felt that it was rude in spirit, even if they had no brain function or feelings.
Maxim approached the shelves, guiding me down the narrow opening to the back of the room.
My finger swept along the seams of the drawers, their numbers embossed in the paper identifiers.
I could spend a hundred years in this very room, only to never get to know every artifact to its true potential by the time I’d passed.
It was an honor to work at the Treasury, to be its guardian.
Mother and Father were very proud of my baby brother for holding such an esteemed position.
He’d been promoted last year to First Keeper of the Treasury.
“You can’t keep coming so often. I could lose my job.” His jaw clenched as he set down a couple of boxes on one of the many wide inspection desks.
“You sweat every time I’m here. Relax, be easy. I’m not here on ill intentions like some people.” I shrugged as I fished through my skirt pockets. “Look here.”
He squinted at me as he reached for a set of cotton gloves.
I placed the biolight on the counter, holding the emulsive film strip in front of the glow.
“Portraits?” He sounded rather unimpressed.
“Look closer, you’ll see.”
He leaned over the table, the glass globe close to the film.
It was a negative image, but odd blotches hung like an aura around the figures, each taken with a new person.
“Do you see it?” I hugged his arm, my chin on his shoulder.
“Is it mold?” His brow furrowed as he pulled out a magnifier.
“My film does not mold.” I slapped the back of his head. “Look.”
He was looking, just not how I wanted him to.
I grabbed his magnifier and brought my globe closer. “Do you remember how I explained that some chemicals are more or less sensitive to different light waves, which usually relates to the color we perceive them as?”
“Colors. Yes, I know what colors are.”
“Some species of animals can see a thousand more colors than the human eye can. Have you ever wondered how?”
“Not really—”
“Pretend you have.” I blew a breath through my nose, leaning in toward the film. “Like stars, like gravity, we give off energy passively. Just like chemicals, gases, germs—our eyes may not be able to perceive everything . . .”
“So you’ve somehow made a film that is sensitive enough to capture it?”
“Yes, my good man, you have it!” I punched his arm.
“Are these a sort of aura, then?”
“Yes—and also no,” I explained. “You say aura, and people will believe some divine explanation, a truth of the soul. No, it is as random as our eye color, our skin, my—” I stopped myself, rubbing my thumb to the palm of my hand. The white spots were vivid in the blue biolight.
Maxim’s brow softened as he took my hand. “It’s brilliant. You are brilliant”—he squeezed—“but you’re also a bit obnoxious.”
“For once, I want you to not be ridiculous.” A bashful shove, but it was nice to share with him. “I have a patent appointment in a couple of days. Can you push along the patent process for me?”
“You plan to make this public?” His dark brow raised.
“I don’t see why not. My last formula was received highly and is now widely available and accessible. I’ve managed to make this in emulsion film and wet-plate formats.”
“I don’t want to be a soaked cat; please don’t take this as me being an alarmist . . .”
“But?” I urged him to finish.
“I would mull it over carefully. What you have here is brand new, steeped in possibilities of alternate applications.”
“I don’t understand, that is a good thing, is it not?”
“It is. Except you are about to tell a large group of religious folk that something they consider divine is ordinary.”
“So?”
“So, I would be careful. There may be resistance, that is all.”
I rolled my eyes and grabbed the film, then tucked it into my pocket. “People adapt, so should their ideas.”
“I’m not in disagreement, but you know how Astrians are.”
“I know you. Do you believe it is an abomination?”
“You know I’m as moderate as it gets, but it’s not me you should be worried about. More traditional kinds are the problem.”
I waved my hand and grabbed the globe as I began to leave.
“Speaking of . . .” Maxim rushed beside me.
“I’ll visit them soon, I promise.”
“Papà asked for you again.”
“I know.” I bit my lip. “Tell me plainly.” I looked up at him, waiting for his expression to give me any hint. “How is he?”
His features resembled some sort of a wince. Tight jaw, a grimace.
I nodded, a deep breath to keep my eyes dry. The emotional labor would come later, not now. I had to finish my work before then.