Lyra's Run

The pain behind her left eye was getting worse, but she convinced herself that it was not pain she was feeling. When you have been granted immortality and perfect health, as told by the books of faith of old times, there is no such thing as pain. Pain is a sign of ill health or injury. That’s something she should have forgotten about a long time ago. She kept her eyes closed as a familiar whirring noise confirmed that morning had indeed come.

“Good morning and welcome to another glorious day in Our Lord’s Paradise! We will begin in 10 minutes!” The screen mounted on the wall turned itself on and the familiar voice of Brother S. filled the room. He was a popular choice for morning announcements. The screen dimmed again, but she knew it was not off.

When the hovering platform used for sleeping came down close enough to the ground for her to swing her feet over the edge, she got up and moved over to the far corner of her room to change. A heart-shaped pendant on a thin chain fell to the ground from the pocket of her weekday over-tunic, causing her actual heart to skip one beat then two before finally finding a new rhythm compatible with life.

Put it back, then take it back. Nobody has to know anything!

It was not stealing. When you lived in a world of abundance devoid of all greed, there was no concept of theft. The only trouble stemmed from running afoul of those who had been entrusted with the wisdom of the books of faith and the oversight of their long-awaited Novo Eden. The kind and benevolent men of The Council were unlikely to think well of those who ignored the boundaries of respect and entered their domain. The few who were summoned to appear for them hardly ever returned.

Lyra certainly had not known or heard of anyone coming back, and she had been one of the Great Survivors.

She was eternally 21 years old, her physical age arrested during the Great Cataclysm. Time had passed as if she were in a void of the deepest black hole of space. Every day was the same and yet strangely satisfying in a way that could not be explained, at least for the unadventurous and devoted.

“Morning Devotionals begin in 2 minutes!” Brother S. reminded the eager masses.

Lyra remained crouched in the corner, contemplating without thinking.

Thoughts were dangerous. They led to ideas.

“After Morning Devotionals, we ask all to remain in their quarters and homes. There is a matter of grave concern, a threat to the well-being of each and every resident of Novo Eden….” Brother S. began sternly.

Without thinking, Lyra was out the door before he could finish talking.

After all, she did not need to be told what the supposed threat was.

If you cannot die, then it does not matter how grave the risk of injury is.

Don’t think, just do! Don’t think, just run!

The pain behind her eye was intense, and she repeatedly closed her eyes to lessen it. If only she could go back and leave the pendant rustling gently in her pocket where she had found it. The pain had come the very same night, along with the bizarre nightmares, flashing images of men in boots and uniforms and screams of women and children native to places long forgotten. Mercifully, she always awoke just as the unmistakable sound of a hail of bullets began.

“Hey, you!” A voice called out.

She vaulted the banister and landed on the first floor, two levels below, on her knees. This was what true pain felt like. It reverberated through her body. She was up on her feet and running within seconds, though. Eons of immortality on a paradise Earth had not taken away her memories of fear, true fear, the kind that comes from knowing you are trapped, and the next moments will define your existence. The next moments might even determine whether you continue to exist.

They were after her. Yet she did not know who or what they were. Out the door of the large complex and down the path of gleaming sandstones she ran. The pendant in her pocket bounced with every raw inhaled breath. She was tempted to pitch it as far away as she could, but that would not do her any good at this point. Her unauthorized deeds had become known.

It was a great privilege to be chosen to live in one of the cities that traversed the skies over the planet, which itself had not fully recovered from the Great Cataclysm. Those who dwelled outside of the cities lived by the sweat of their brows, although they did not know that they lived a miserable existence. The cities with their gleaming streets, high-rise buildings, and endless varieties of food and entertainment were for those who were learned, those who had seen life before the Great Cataclysm and remembered the promises supposedly prophesied in the books of faith.

“Turn right! Turn right!” A staticky voice chirped.

Lyra obeyed without knowing why she was taking orders from a stranger. She found herself in a narrow crevice. Her pocket glowed.

“Day of our lord, 13 September 2022. The riots have spread across the globe…. China is in chaos.”

Lyra rested against the wall and took out the heart-shaped pendant.

“That was the day the society announced it was time to get our emergency bags and retreat into hiding because only True Believers would survive. A century of trying to save the unrepentant came to an abrupt end as the bombs fell. With machine guns, projectiles, and a genuine hatred for one’s fellow man, they killed until there was nobody left. ” She recalled.

“Survivors numbered 500 million.” The staticky voice continued.

“Would you shut up, or they’ll find a way to get rid of you too when they find me?” Lyra grumbled.

“I cannot die. Artificial intelligence does not die. Artificial intelligence controls the reality of humanity.”

“If you’re so smart, how do we get out of this city alive?” Lyra knew it was an exercise in futility, but it helped her rattled nerves.

“Name?” The pendant asked.

“Lyra. What’s that…..”

“Transport for Lyra commences in two minutes. Remain at GPS coordinates -33.92,18.41.”

Time ticked by slowly.

“Transport has arrived.”

Lyra stepped out of the crevice and into the oddly deserted street. She looked up. A vessel hovered overhead.

“Prepare to board transport.”

In the times before the Great Cataclysm, a craft like this would most closely compare with a helicopter, except that it lacked a propeller. There was room inside for only one person. The interior was a combination of rich mahogany, leather, and velvet. It was beautiful, like the inside of a casket, back when there was a need for such things. The door closed and locked before the craft lifted itself high above the city streets and began to retrace its steps.

“Citizens of Novo Eden, the Council is pleased to announce that the absconder has been located. They have been transported to the Residence of the Council.” Brother S.’s cheerful voice droned.

Those were the last words Lyra heard as she slipped from consciousness, her immortal life being drained away by the lack of oxygen in the tightly sealed capsule.

“Request for extraction of corpse of executed intellectual. "The staticky voice signaled.