Locus Amoenus (Part I: In Ten Years)

Between the infinite sky and the boundless land, an island floated. As if it was a shard of the azure sky, or a fragment of the colourless land, or perhaps both, it carried both’s heritage, yet its existence itself was an act of defiance. Unbound from the grasp of gravity, yet rooted in place by ancient engineering; being the fruits of ingenuity, yet bearing the bounties of nature.

…The pinnacle of Kexteran science, yet curated by a human’s hands.

Anchor 42D was its name. Yet, its curator once called it by another.

…As was written on the marble plaque at the edge of the island, where the island’s verdant green melt into the sky’s blue.

“Locus Amoenus”.

“It’s a good name. Don’t you think so, too?” I spoke to the white box with a transparent glass panel.

“Beep boop!” The white box responded happily. “It is.” — if the white box could speak, then that must be what it had been saying.

“I see. It really is a great name.” I turned towards the plaque. “An idyllic island blessed with a verdant garden. Or the mystical paradise, where men lay their final rest.”

Before the small plaque, I placed a bouquet of pink carnation.

“It was a truly fitting name that you came up with — Elisabeth, you who curated this ‘Pleasant Place’.”

————————————

Ten years had passed I arrived on the Bibliotheca.

The times when I was a simple Scribe, a human newbie who was literally fresh off the boat, was by that time a distant memory. I had gotten used to what the Bibliotheca had to offer: its wealth, its knowledge, and its ways of life.

Once overwhelmed by the material wealth the Kexterans had, I now took for granted that everything I want would be delivered to my doorstep by cute little drones.

Once dazzled by the seemingly endless volumes contained in the planet-wide library, I could now reach for the exact tome I needed from the other side of the globe, thanks to my enhanced cognitive abilities.

And I, who was once scared of the Bibliotheca’s planetary machinations, now commanded them at will, altering reality as was necessary.

…And among those altered was myself.

“Have you paid your respects, Acting Archon Constance Rainsford?” A tall figure reached out to me.

“All done here, Archon Burgundy.” I replied.

“Good.” The Archon replied, his upper beak as stiff as ever. “Sages Kante and Reina are already onboard the Charon. But we must make sure you are in perfect condition before we depart.”

…Take your time, that was what he meant. He must had been worried.

“Don’t worry,” I managed to squeeze out a smile, “I am fine. If you are going to worry, you should worry about Old Man Kante. It is a miracle that his old age hasn’t killed him.

“…Besides, I decided on this path myself.” I whispered.

Archon Burgundy fixed his gaze on me, and to his inquisitive gaze I returned mine with determination. He must have felt a sense of responsibility; he was the one who brought me to this world, the one who separated me from the land I was born and raised in. If anything, Archon Burgundy, as someone who lost his dear tutor — his beloved family — on the same journey I was about to take, had tried everything to stop me from making the same mistake.

But I would not turn back.

I made a promise. A promise to him, who had been reduced to a speck of interstellar dust in a distant past. A promise to her, whose memories lived on long after her death, and to whose soul I offered a silencing requiem.

And a promise to them, my predecessors of the eons past, souls bearing noble causes and mind, whose endless toil and search would finally reach an end. It was something only I could do, and I must not run from my duty.

“…Burgundy.” I calmly spoke, omitting his title on purpose, “You must know who I am, and what my duties are. We have to depart at once.”

“We forced that duty on you! You will die if you go!” The normally dignified Archon Burgundy lost his cool. “I knew something was up when Emerald chose to pick you up in such a hurry back then. If I knew what Emerald and herwere planning, I would never have brought you here. It’s not too late. If we ask Amber, she might be able to figure something out—”

“I am thankful to Archon Emerald and my predecessor. I would have died a miserable death if I remained on Earth anyways. I was given ten more years to live, and for that, I am truly grateful.”

“But—”

“Of course, I am thankful to you too, Burgundy. Without your guidance, I would have had bigger issues settling here. Without you working from behind the scenes, I might have never met Archon Amber and Archon Indigo, and my condition might have worsened. Not to mention we would have never found this solution.

But I am no longer an inexperienced newcomer. Thanks to your help, I got promoted at an insane speed.” I smirked a bit. “Then, shouldn’t I act in a way that is appropriate for my position, and fulfil its responsibilities, no matter how heavy they are?

“As the next Archon of Lavender, the one to fill the Empty Seat, shouldn’t I be allowed at least this much pride?”

Archon Burgundy did not find the words to reply, as a gust of wind grazed his crimson-red cape.

“Beep boop!” The mysterious vending machine chimed, and two cans rolled out. It was a can of coffee and a can of synthetic Cola.

“Those two are on the house, you say? Thanks, Vendie.” I thanked the vending machine, and took out the two aluminium cans. I turned towards the marble plaque — it was in fact, a tombstone.

I glanced at the tombstone. The tombstone, pointed at the edge of the island, towards the sea of clouds, towards the direction from which the sun always rises, was simply inscribed:

“Here lies Elisabeth — a mortal, sinful human being.”

I offered the can of coffee to she who rested below.

Like I did on that day when it all started, on the day when my true destiny was revealed. 

AUTHOR’S NOTE

The story of the Young Archivist is heading towards its climax. Though there are many ideas, settings, and characters I still wanted to explore, the story had always been planned with a short length in mind due to the time constraints in this competition. However, one day I might be able to continue the story beyond its original scope, and further flesh out the life of the Young Archivist.

A note on last chapter’s “incantation” and “magic circles” — those are techniques that Constance use to visualise and apply otherwise abstract ideas, in order to increase her ability to command the nanomachines. In a way, it is actually a form of programming.