Fortuna Read online

  “In addition to your other crimes, you removed cells from Carolyn and created her clone. The doctor said it’s easy. The equipment is basic and wouldn’t require much space. You’d need a private room, that’s all, like this one here. That’s your secret, isn’t it? That’s why you’ve been careful to keep this room locked? While I was shelving books, you were cloning my friend.”

  His father was gasping too hard to answer. He was doubled over and coughing loudly. Snorting with impatience, Felix searched for the key that would open the lock. There were at least two dozen of them and they looked the same. One after the next they proved unsuccessful, and, as each one failed, his rage kept mounting. When the last one didn’t work, he hurled himself forward, kicking the door and punching it until a hand restrained him. Fishing out another key, his dad placed it in the lock. The bolt turned instantly and the door wheeled open.

  Panting still, he motioned Felix forward. With a bitter glare, Felix walked into the chamber. Groping for the light switch next to the door, he flicked it on and stared around him.

  He was expecting to see a tell-tale tank, tubes, vessels, chemicals, and gadgets. In fact, the room was empty but for a shelf. This shelf contained one object alone: a dust-covered helmet. A tangle of wires dangled from its sides. These wires, and their contacts, could be plugged into a console. Felix inhaled sharply.

  “That’s an ERR unit,” he observed. “Why’s it here?”

  His father was beside him now. He was gasping still and rubbing his leg. He looked old, frail, and beaten down. Even so, he took the helmet from its place on the shelf.

  “Welcome to the museum of my youth,” he joked.

  “I don’t understand,” Felix said. His anger had left him and he was utterly spent. He’d been certain that he’d find a “smoking gun,” to the point that he’d dared to treat his father roughly, and now …

  “I wasn’t always a classicist,” his dad explained. “As a matter of fact, I was extreme in my youth. I thought math and science were the only subjects worth knowing. I believed in logic and ‘solid’ thinking. I was a really big fan of ERR.”

  “No,” Felix said disbelievingly.

  “Oh yes,” his dad insisted. “And I had it installed. It helped me focus when I was working. I was a structural engineer, you see. It was my job to demolish the old, worn-out buildings, which numbered in the hundreds decades ago, and make room for new totalium towers. When I toured these old structures I found furniture, appliances, art works, and … books. Boxes of books, piles of books, shelves of books, rooms full of books. I destroyed dozens of libraries and millions of volumes. My method was simple. I’d pile all the tomes together, douse them with fuel and … the flames were always thrilling.”

  While his father’s gaze was locked on him, his pupils had a far-off look, as if they were reviewing these bonfires of old. It was funny. Felix and his father had spent years together and discussed every subject under the sun, yet he’d never once asked him how he’d come to love Latin or why he’d founded the Book Repository. Was this how it always was with people? You could know them well but only up to a point?

  At the same time a thought was taking root.

  “To make a long story short,” his dad continued, “there was this one collection I’d just ignited. It was in a broken-down building and I figured what the hell. The flames were spreading when this woman comes running. Those books were hers, she yelled at me, and she couldn’t let them burn. Before I could stop her, she dashed forward to save them, only she lost her footing and … to this day I can hear her scream. A book of Latin grammar was the sole survivor. That’s when my outlook changed. I unplugged my ERR, mastered the classics, and atoned for my past by creating this Repository — the last of its kind.”

  “Why did you keep this ERR unit? And why didn’t you tell me years ago?”

  “The unit reminds me how lethal we are when we’re drunk on logic. And I hid my story because I was deeply ashamed. These hands of mine? They’ve burned millions of books.”

  “They’ve saved millions of books, as well. You could have told me. I would’ve understood. As for logic …” He hesitated.

  “Yes?”

  Felix was looking hard at his dad. If he was sick at the thought of the books he’d burned, could he cause the deaths of millions of people? And where was that supposed cloning equipment? His dad spent his days either here or at home. If the equipment wasn’t here, or in their unit, maybe he wasn’t linked to that clone. And if the clone wasn’t his doing…?

  “You mentioned logic,” his father prompted him.

  “Logic says you’re guilty and behind these events. But maybe logic isn’t the right tool to use.”

  “If logic isn’t the right one, which one is?”

  “I don’t know. Fortuna maybe,” Felix said, with a rueful grin.

  “Welcome home, Felix. It’s good to see you.”

  “I’m glad to see you too, Mentor.”

  “Can I get you something? You are short three hundred calories.”

  “Thanks, but no. I don’t have time. I’m in a hurry and have a favour to ask.”

  “I will help in any way I can.”

  “I have a scrap of material here.” Felix held out his hand. In it was a square of silk. It came from the clone’s ripped evening gown. “It’s stained, as you can see.”

  “My sensors indicate this stain is human blood.”

  “Yes. The blood contains a tracer that’s been programmed with a date. Someone’s already tracking it down, but a second pair of eyes can’t hurt. Can you find out what this date might be?”

  “Indeed I can. Estimated time for task: four hours, eighteen minutes, and nineteen seconds.”

  “That’s great. In the meantime I’ve got to go.”

  “Will you be home for dinner?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  He didn’t add, as he left the apartment, that he might be delayed some two thousand years.

  “Are you ready?” the doctor asked.

  Felix merely nodded. He and Carolyn were on the threshold of the TPM and steeling themselves for yet another time jump. They were dressed in Roman tunics alone, as Alexandria was too hot for woollen cloaks and togae.

  “Have you got your figurines?”

  The pair checked their pockets and nodded. These figurines were crucial. If danger beckoned, they could return to the future and start their time-jump over.

  “There’s one slight change,” the doctor said with some reluctance.

  “What’s that?”

  “Your figurines have sufficient charge for just one person. There’ve been so many jumps in recent days that we can’t provide you with a double charge, not without taking the Earth off-line.”

  “I see.” Felix’s mind was on his upcoming jump and he wasn’t paying close enough attention.

  “What I mean,” the doctor said, in a gentle tone, “is that you can no longer capture the clone. There isn’t sufficient charge to carry her back.”

  “You’re saying we have to kill her,” Carolyn spoke.

  “Yes.”

  Despite his shock at this announcement, there wasn’t time for debate. That’s why Felix nodded and gave the doctor the thumbs-up. As he and Carolyn entered the sphere, and so the stream of time itself, he was thinking that they’d return as killers … or they wouldn’t return at all.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Felix?”

  “I’m here. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Although I feel kind of woozy.”

  “So do I. Do you think you can take your leg off my chest?”

  He and Carolyn stood. They were in a square chamber — the temple’s cella. The room was spacious and two storeys high. It was built from marble with some gaps between its blocks, to allow the outside light to enter. Some of these blocks bore hieroglyphics — the Egyptians’ sacred writing — but there was Greek writing, too. Before them was the statue of a man. He was thickly bearded, decked with a crown and carrying a staff wi
th the horns of a bull.

  Felix’s head was clearing. They’d performed another time jump, he remembered. To judge by this statue, they’d arrived safe and sound.

  “Where are we?” Carolyn asked. She was straightening her tunic. It left her shoulders bare and her scar was visible. Now that he knew it was from the cloning process, Felix felt embarrassed. Had his dad inflicted it, yes or no?

  “We’re in Alexandria, Egypt, in the temple of Serapis. That’s his statue over there.”

  “Aren’t lots of cities named Alexandria?”

  “The name comes from Alexander the Great. When he founded a city, like this one here, he’d sometimes name it after himself.”

  “A modest guy, huh?” Carolyn sniffed. “So what’s our plan?”

  “We’ll visit the library,” Felix said, admiring the statue. He knew it wouldn’t survive the past and wanted to remember it so he could draw it later. “It’s about a mile from here. Once there, we’ll lie in ambush for the clone and stop her in her tracks.”

  “That sounds easy.”

  “Yes and no. Alexandria is dangerous. A brother and sister are fighting over the throne. Caesar is here and supporting the sister — her name is Cleopatra. The locals don’t like this. They feel he’s interfering and the Romans should mind their own business. They’re on the verge of war. In fact, the fighting will start later on tonight.”

  “Where does this leave us?”

  “When the locals see our tunics they’ll assume we’re Romans. I can’t imagine they’ll welcome us with open arms.”

  “So we should stick to the Romans?”

  “Not if we can help it. I’d rather not see Caesar. He might remember us from last time and that could lead to awkward questions. We should try to lie low if we can.”

  Felix moved away from the statue. Standing by a wooden door, he opened it a crack and glanced outdoors. The outside light was blinding and he blinked his eyes to get them to adjust. When he could absorb their surroundings he almost whistled.

  Immediately before him was the rest of the temple, with its pillars and long stylobate. But the building was part of a larger complex. It was located in a spacious courtyard bounded on all sides by a roofed colonnade. The complex rested on a modest hill. At its foot lay Alexandria, the largest ancient city after Rome itself.

  “Come on,” he said, leaving the cella. “The coast is clear.”

  She followed and he closed the door behind them. Veering right, they proceeded to the compound’s northern exit which would lead them to the Street of Columns, Alexandria’s best-known thoroughfare. The sun flayed their skin and their sandals barely shielded them from the hot stone underfoot.

  “It’s boiling!” Carolyn said. “I’ve never felt such heat.”

  “It’s noon. The heat is terrible, but it will keep the locals indoors.”

  As if to contradict him, they heard a burst of laughter. People were encamped in the colonnade’s shadows to escape the fury of the noon-day sun. They were there to make offerings to the god Serapis, but would do so when the heat relented. Some were napping, some were eating, while others were chatting affably together. Again a peal of laughter rang out.

  “Why are they laughing?” Carolyn asked. They were halfway across the courtyard and her face and arms were dripping sweat. The heat didn’t agree with her.

  “I don’t know,” Felix answered, “but I think it’s great. You don’t hear laughter where we come from.”

  “You can’t have laughter without misery,” she said primly.

  “I sometimes think it’s a price worth paying.”

  “Did my clone like to laugh?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “My clone. Did she laugh when you were hanging together?”

  “No. She was equipped with ERR. Her range was less constraining than yours, but not to the point that she would burst out laughing.”

  “You preferred her, didn’t you?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me,” she said, stopping abruptly. Grabbing his arm, she forced him to face her. “You liked her better than me. I saw you in the concert hall. You seemed cozy together.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And this is hardly the time …”

  “She couldn’t kill you,” she said, in a disembodied tone. “She kissed you instead. She had no right. She should have asked my permission.”

  “Could we discuss this later?” Felix asked. At the same time he was wondering whether, beneath her ERR, Carolyn was … jealous? Was it possible she was jealous of … herself? If so, the irony was almost funny.

  “I’m only saying this,” she continued, defensively now, “because you can’t let your feelings stand in the way.”

  “You mean, when the time comes to kill her.”

  “That’s right. I have to know your nerve won’t fail.”

  Felix was going to say that his nerves would be fine when they were suddenly interrupted. Carolyn had been shouting and her words had travelled across the courtyard. Perhaps it was the sound of Common Speak, unless it was their Roman dress; one way or another, they’d drawn people’s notice and, from around the courtyard, a mob was forming.

  “We have company,” Felix said.

  “So I see. Any suggestions?”

  “Head to the exit, over by those columns. And try to blend in.”

  He said this as a joke. The pair was fair and garbed in Roman dress. The people around them had a different look: most were dark with short powerful builds. Some were wearing Egyptian dress, while others bore fashions with a Greek cut to them. Overall, they reflected the mixed population, Greek and Egyptian, with some Jews thrown in. There wasn’t a single Roman about.

  “Just keep moving. We’re almost there.”

  He sallied forward, picking up his pace. Carolyn followed close behind. Their desire to leave only spurred the mob on. The ones behind them hurried forward, while others on the side converged on the exit, intent on cutting these foreigners off. A few succeeded. As Felix and Carolyn reached the edge of the compound, a dozen figures blocked their path.

  “Mi tatem!” a burly guy yelled. “Zi bousha litot kan!”

  “What’s he saying?” Carolyn whispered.

  “I have no idea,” Felix said. “Let’s see if this works. Me sungchoirete,” he continued in Greek. “There seems to be some misunderstanding. My sister and I were admiring your temple and …”

  “You shouldn’t be here!” the man thundered, speaking Greek as well. “This temple is reserved for Egyptians alone. There isn’t any room for you overweening Romans …!”

  “We’re not Romans,” Felix explained. “We’re dressed like them but —”

  “— You Romans keep boasting how smart you are and how we Alexandrians are backward and stupid! Has it occurred to you that we’re maybe happy with our culture and our views are as solid as your so-called reason?”

  “That’s very true,” Felix said. He didn’t dare turn round, but he sensed a crowd was closing in from behind. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we’re in a hurry …”

  “It’s outrageous,” the man continued, ignoring Felix. “You come here with your sense of order and think this entitles you to push us around. We don’t want to be Roman. We don’t want your laws and reason. We want you to leave us to our ‘backward’ ways!”

  He shoved Felix. Realizing that the mob was about to explode, Felix gripped the man and flipped him over. At the same time, Carolyn cleared a path before them by knocking a knot of people down. Both shot forward before the crowd could nab them, and, darting past the colonnade, came upon a ramp. All of Alexandria lay before them and Felix yearned to study the view. But delay was out of the question. By now a hundred people were on the move.

  “Run!” Felix said. “They’ll kill us if they can!”

  They stumbled down the ramp. Its angle wasn’t steep, but its marble surface was smooth as glass. This meant they couldn’t run all out. And their pursuers used their caution against them. Hur
tling after them, some slipped and fell, while others came within an inch of their quarry. Felix threw a couple of punches. He hit one man and knocked him sideways and caused a boy to take a tumble.

  They reached the ramp’s end. Before them was an avenue, which was deserted on account of the heat. It was sixty metres wide, lined with soaring columns and displayed an endless length of buildings, some squat and modest, some impossibly grand. There were lots of shops with coloured awnings outside. Their owners were sprawled in front of laden stalls, with clothing, food, spices, and other wares on exhibit.

  Shouts rang out. “Romani, Romani!” Instead of dropping back, as Felix had hoped, a dozen men pursued them still, in spite of the heat. Not only that. They were calling out to anyone who’d listen and urging them to join the chase as well. “Romani, Romani!” they screamed over and over.

  Their shouts swiftly ignited the region. Spying the fugitives in Roman dress, people dropped everything and set off in pursuit. “Romani, Romani!” Faces appeared at doors and windows and, without pausing to ask what the chase was about, these strangers streamed outside, as well, until clusters of Egyptians filled the street. Some were armed. All meant trouble. “Romani, Romani!”

  A stone went whizzing past Felix’s ear. A pot frag-mented a metre to his right: a shard grazed his leg and cut him slightly. A dozen oranges splattered around him: one landed squarely on the side of his head.

  “Romani, Romani!”

  He and Carolyn passed a troupe of soldiers — Egyptians, or so their uniforms suggested. At first these troops looked on in amusement. When they heard the crowd yelling, they decided to join in. One cast his spear, missing Carolyn by inches. A clatter reached Felix’s ears. The soldiers’ bronze was rattling as they followed behind.

  “So … much … for … lying … low,” Carolyn panted.

  “Let’s … jump … to … Space Station,” he gasped, pulling his charged figurine from a fold in his tunic. “Then … start … over … again.”

  Carolyn nodded and drew her statue out, as well. But a stone struck her wrist and sent the figurine flying. It sailed through the air and landed behind some stalls. With a cry of frustration, Carolyn slowed.