The Phoenix Creation, page 9
Sol knew Bruce was fretting somewhat though, and he was sorry his family was the cause of that, when he should be celebrating instead, but then Sol knew Bruce, and he knew he wouldn’t have had it any other way.
6
The Olympics
‘Don’t tell your mother,’ said Alya’s father conspiratorially, as he handed her a crate filled with corn chips, cola, and marshmallows.
Sol led the way for him and Alya, as well as Hanuel and his father, and Red and Poppy, through the excited, eager, spectators.
The Olympics were finally here. The twenty-thousand capacity, C1 Stadium, was buzzing with anticipation.
They found their seats quickly, always the same ones on the south side of the stadium where it was a little bit cooler but the sun didn’t get in your eyes. The family had six seats, and a schedule to ensure they all took turns to view their favourite sports throughout the week-long competition.
The opening ceremony was Alya’s favourite but her mother had to work and her grandma wasn’t all that interested so they hadn’t come. As for Tal; he’d managed to get into a prestigious box, courtesy of Raiden’s father. No doubt Paris would be there with her father, representing his governor interests. Alya imagined Paris cooing and preening in front of her brother and she wondered if Tal knew he was the object of her affection? Probably not, or if he did, he’d definitely play it cool. Her brother had always been the cool cucumber of whatever pack he was in; his quiet, understated confidence made him popular with most. Tal didn’t stand for fools and he did not appreciate loudness and high jinks, always keen to take the moral high ground and follow the rules.
Alya, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about impressing others, or the social climbing she believed impressed her brother, and so she and Tal frequently clashed, as they had done last night.
Alya shook her head and her curls sprang excitedly about, as she tried to forget the chaos she’d caused in her bad temper.
Her mother had pretty much downed a whole bottle of wine by the time Sol arrived back upstairs after seeing Dali and Bruce out the door, and Vesta had joined her. Both women had the fit of giggles as they mused about the perils of parenting and working full time. In a hysteria-like fashion, they exchanged anecdotes of stressful day to day life until their husbands separated them and steered them to their beds.
Alya apologised properly after a prompt from Sol, but Hanuel’s father, ever the diplomat—like his son—insisted it wasn’t necessary as he held Vesta’s cape open and helped her arrange her wings through the large slits at the back.
Despite the furore, their parents didn’t cancel Alya and Hanuel’s trip to the opening ceremony, as they feared they might. The annual ticket subscription was incredibly expensive, and they’d arranged to meet Poppy and Red there, so it seemed the reasonable thing to do.
Alya suspected her punishment was on hold, but in the meantime, she was going to enjoy the Olympics; her obsession, and reason for living, had finally come around again after a whole year’s wait. It was going to be epic, and nothing and no one, was going to spoil it for her.
‘No Poppy,’ prompted Alya, grabbing her grandpa’s hand as he was about to sit and guiding him instead to sit on her left. She made Red sit on her right, in-between her and Hanuel, and handed him some corn chips and a drink.
‘This is so freakin exciting!’ cried Red, in her ear, over the rising, excited chatter of the crowd.
Alya laughed, and her eyes crinkled with delight as she looked at Red’s positively electrified expression.
She exchanged a quick glance with Hanuel who was also delighted by Red’s enthusiasm.
This was Hanuel and Alya’s fifth Olympic Games, and so they knew what to expect. Of course, anyone could watch it on the TV, but it wasn’t the same as being right there at a live event. The crowd’s enthusiasm meant everything, and there was something to be said about sharing corn chips, cola, marshmallows, and enthusiasm, with twenty-thousand, like-minded super-fans. As far as Alya was concerned it was this elusive euphoria that she only ever experienced when she was tumbling through the sky during Death Wish, or Bird On A Wire, only this time it was sustained, and shared with everyone around her, making it even more special.
Seb leaned in and read his watch for her. ‘Fifteen minutes to go sweetie.’
‘Poppy, this is gonna be the best one ever,’ said Alya, her eyes fixed on the giant screen opposite her, on the far side of the stadium, as it played highlights from the last Olympics. She heard Red and Hanuel chatting companionably, glad that Hanuel was finally coming around to Red and not at all surprised that Red was treating Hanuel as he would anyone, kindly and charitably.
She’d wondered about inviting him, she didn’t want him to think she was putting on a show of wealth, although to her, her family was not that rich, still, they had the spare ticket.
Usually, she and Tal and her father would go, and then her grandpa and her cousin Leo were the mainstays with either her aunt or grandma picking up the spares. Her mother never came. It was her biggest week of the year in the control offices of the transport network. But often one of her family would swap out to allow Hanuel, or sometimes Berlin or Lancelot to go, but either way, they had six tickets for the entire duration of the games.
It made sense for Red to come this year, he was fast becoming a close friend, and Seb had collected him from the next farm along and brought him in on the monorail. They had walked to meet Alya and the others outside the stadium and it was the first time Alya had spoken to her grandpa after their strange and alarming conversation the night she’d tailed him to the radio tower and back.
Alya didn’t want to think about it too much because she knew if she did it would ruin the games for her. But then how could she not think about it? About him? About Leo. He was alive and well, alive and kicking, and living two-thousand-miles away from Continent One on a metal island.
Alya had listened intently to Poppy as he explained what he knew.
‘It’s not all conspiracy theory, Alya,’ he’d said gently. ‘I worked Patrol for many years and there were rumours of an island even before my time. Some said it’s where they kept the humans, the non-hybrids to experiment on, and some said it was an insurance policy, a floating island in case Continent One was destroyed. Of course, the likelihood was that it was an abandoned fortress from many years ago, before Continent One was properly established. Now, of course, we know different. Well, I know different, and now you do too.’
‘It sounds like the pictures that me and Han saw at the museum, Poppy. Do you think it could be what we saw?’
‘I think that’s something different, Aly. The main island has always been there I think, but this new floating island is much smaller, from what Leo tells me. And from what he tells me, it seems that they’re probably closer to mobilising than we might realise. If what Leo says is true, then they’re planning something in the next couple of years.’
‘What are they planning though? Do you really think there’s another continent out there?’
‘Well, it would seem so. It’s not as farfetched as you might think. The reason we have wings was because of Earth’s tectonic instability, and the floods and the violent weather systems. Maybe the other continent was always there and we just didn’t know, or we didn’t have the technology to get to it before, but we do now. I don’t know for sure, but they wouldn’t be doing what they’re doing if they weren’t sure.’
‘But, Poppy, if people knew that the government was kidnapping young men, like Leo, and forcing them to work, then they’d be prosecuted and it would have to stop. I don’t understand why they have to kidnap someone; can’t they just recruit actual workers?’
‘That’s the thing though, Aly, we don’t yet know what the plan is. If it was straightforward, they wouldn’t need to take people like Leo. There’s obviously something else going on, and the more you and I know about it the more dangerous it becomes. You have to keep quiet sweetie, and let me and Leo work this out between us. For all our sakes, and especially for your aunt’s; there’s no way we can let on that Leo is still out there, she’d tear down Government House with her teeth just to see him again. That’s not the approach we need. We have to be methodical. We need a strategy, a plan; and before we do anything, we need to know what the hell is going on!’
‘Ok, Poppy, I’ll be quiet, I can promise you that,’ said Alya solemnly, ‘but I won’t sit on the side-lines, I want to help. Tell me what I must do to help.’
Alya raised her eyebrows, still in a transfixed state as the countdown clock began. One minute to go.
Red hopped about in his seat next to her and Alya laughed as his voice joined the thousands of others cheering and yelling in pure excitement. She remained still, focussing on the clock as the seconds ticked away, noticing that from the corner of her eye Hanuel was of a like mind and sat focussed on the diminishing digits.
‘Three, two, one!’ roared the crowd, and then the sound of cannonball and fireworks reverberated around the stadium.
The screen illuminated with the eight coloured intertwined Olympic rings, and the music began. A full orchestral symphony murmured then blazed out from the speakers, and then as the crowd raised their eyes to the sky, a tornado of athletes appeared above them circling in perfect formation funnelling downwards and closing in on the stadium in perfect choreographed unity.
The athletes’ sequin encrusted outfits represented the colours of the eight districts and shone in the sunlight. As the first athletes neared, they deployed flags from their waist belts until each and every one of them sailed the colours from their own district making the sky look like a giant swirling rainbow which sent the crowd into meltdown.
Alya screamed with delight as the first athletes landed and ran to their marked quadrants on the stadium floor. The crowd went wild for their own districts and the stadium cameras zoomed in on their delirious faces.
South-East District, in their red ensembles, were the fourth team to land, and Alya rose to her feet to applaud them, followed by half of her row and several rows to the front and back. She’d worn red especially, and her red jeans, sneakers, and t-shirt blended into the crowd in her section who were mainly South-East District supporters. People waved banners of the same colour and some had bought flags with their favourite athlete’s name emblazoned upon them. Alya had declined to bring paraphernalia as it was a distraction and she wanted to have her eyes on the athletes, or the giant TV screen, for every second.
Most of the stadium was on their feet by now, applauding the athletes as the different districts continued to land in formation, their rehearsed routine perfectly performed.
The applause continued and the athletes waved back at the crowd, the cameras dotted around the stadium zooming in on their smiling faces, ensuring the supporters at home were able to see the best angles of the superstars of air, field, track, and aqua.
The applause thundered on until it was interrupted by the deafening sound of a cannon, and then giant flags rose from masts below the ground, each representing a district, and were raised until they stood tall in the centre of the stadium. Then an even larger flag mast rose up with the Continent One Olympic flag upon it. The design, a simple white background, with eight interconnected coloured rings, standing tall and dominant over the district flags.
The orchestra stilled momentarily, and the crowd, and the athletes, remained standing as they placed their right hands over their left breast and in time to the new music sang the Continent One National Anthem.
Alya couldn’t help but feel a lump in her throat. As she sang, she imagined she was dressed in red sequins and standing on the stadium floor herself, just like an East-Side athlete.
The music stopped and the crowd roared together. The athletes coordinated effortlessly and ran a few paces before launching into the air. They then stayed in their districts’ formation and began a tour of the stadium, flying low and close to the crowds, waving at the thousands of adoring fans.
A commentator picked out random athletes while the camera zoomed in on them as they continued their laps around the stadium.
‘Vincent Mentra!’ cried the commentator, as the crowd whooped for the star Olympian. He was dressed in red and was just above Alya’s head when his name was mentioned. ‘The second fastest man on the planet ladies and gentlemen. Vincent currently holds the title for the fastest six-thousand-metres, Terminal Velocity Dive. Will he be knocked off his perch this year ladies and gentlemen? Keep watching to find out!’
Alya gasped at Vincent’s proximity then squealed, clutching Poppy’s and Red’s arms in her excitement.
If only she were a bit older, she was sure she’d be the one to knock Vincent off his perch. The commentator called it the six-thousand-metre, Terminal Velocity Dive, but its nickname was Death Wish, something she and Hanuel were all too familiar with.
Seb laughed and patted his granddaughter’s arm and then saw another of Alya’s favourite Olympians and pointed them out to her.
Not just one Olympian, but a whole team, flying their way, dressed in red. The women’s air lacrosse was almost upon them and Alya leapt to her feet calling some of them by name as they neared. She jumped about excitedly just as one of them heard her name called. She spotted Alya and descended perilously close, but with perfect precision and timing, managed to swoop down to high five Alya. Alya screamed and the seated crowd around her either gasped in amazement, or muttered about the athlete’s reckless behaviour.
Alya was fit to burst, and Red and Hanuel too, were barely able to contain their excitement. Athletes representing every sport continued to circle the stadium with adoring fans shouting to gain their attention.
As if on an invisible timer the athletes suddenly turned inwards and returned to the stadium floor in their respective sections, and the crowd resumed their seats, taking advantage of the respite to take slurps of pop to lubricate their dry throats from screaming.
‘Is it the showcase?’ said Red, nudging Alya.
‘Yes,’ nodded Alya grinning.
Red had never been to an Olympic Games before but he’d surely watched in on TV so he must know that the showcase was a demonstration of the combined skills of the athletes. A coordinated musical affair with commentary introducing old and new athletes alike, while they showcased their physical brilliance.
The lights dropped and the stadium went quiet. The athletes disbanded to the sides of the stadium and into the underground tunnels to prepare.
An eerie sound gently filled the stadium as someone played the violin across the speakers. The sultry notes began pitching then deepening slowly, but erratically, as if the melody had been lost and all that was left was a sorrowful whine that was grasping for direction.
Alya held her breath as the music seemed to penetrate right to her heart. She sensed a feeling of dread creep over her skin and she physically tried to shake it off.
‘You ok?’ whispered Seb.
‘Sure,’ she laughed, dismissing her reaction to the wailing notes. But if she were truthful, she really didn’t feel alright.
Red sat motionless next to her, he himself subdued by the collective changing mood the violin had brought to the stadium’s crowds.
A cello joined the eerie scrapings of the violin and played at a different pace as if trying to coax the violin out of its doldrums. They played like cat and mouse, the cello waiting for the violin to catch up before it went on.
Alya glanced at Hanuel who made a confused face back at her. Opening ceremonies were usually much more upbeat than this.
Still, the cello and violin continued to chase each other, the two of them battling it out to decide who was right and who was wrong.
All of a sudden, the thundering roar of drums crashed through the cello and violin giving no warning as to their presence and almost drowning them out entirely. The violin was the first to fight back squealing erratically at the thundering drums who did not heed her cries. The drums pounded, the cowhide straining as their masters beat them with the palms of their hands. The cello continued on, still playing the game of cat and mouse with the violin but stronger than before, as if it were aware that the drums had descended uninvited but refused to acknowledge them.
Alya sat transfixed, her own heart beating as furiously as the drums that cared not, for how she felt. As the drums continued to beat and the cello played, and the violin squealed, the stadium began to fill with smoke.
At each inter-cardinal point of the stadium, coloured smoke representing each district began to billow, until the centre of the stadium completely disappeared from view.
Alya wanted to hold her hands over her ears as she listened to the fight between the drums and string instruments, but she was compelled to hear every note.
The cello fought valiantly, then finally the violin was listening to him as she fell into the melody he’d been trying to teach her. Together they played and became even louder and perfectly united until the drums realised the battle for the high ground had been lost and they began to fade away.
In time with the drums, the smoke receded and the stadium came into view once more.
Athletes from all eight districts sat balanced on wires stretching across the entire length of the stadium. Their feathers had been sprayed with their corresponding districts colours along with their hair, and their eyes had been made to look like those of an eagle. They sat motionless except for the occasional bird-like tilt of the head as if listening for danger, or as if members of the crowd were their prey.
The crowd erupted at the surreptitious transformation of each and every athlete, perched gracefully upon wires as if they were real birds; a feat in itself, and one that they must have practised for weeks.
