Chapter 15:

The Boy and the Curator

The Young Archivist's Records


Beauty, weirdness and anachronism.

Those were the only thoughts the future Archon had when he first saw Locus Amoenus with his eyes. A large landmass floating in the stratosphere, protected by a green force field, and supported by a massive globular anti-gravity engine on its underside, Locus Amoenus seemed like a standard-issue Anchor at first glance.

Yet, the first thing the future Archon noticed was the refreshing smell of the soil. Then the beauty of the flowers, and the freely flying butterflies. Trees, naturally growing, formed woods, and then forests. Even the most artificial thing on it --- the mansion, or perhaps the palace, closely resembled noble mansions of the eras past, with nary a hint of nanomaterials in it.

Then, a humanoid robot came out of the intricately decorated cast-iron gate, complete with a black suit and round glasses. Clothing that are wasted on drones, the future Archon thought, as the robot politely asked for an invitation, which the future Archon promptly handed over. Minutes later, the Curator of the estate arrived in her beautiful silky dress and iconic crimson hat --- an unusual attire, considering no nanomachine was a part of it. At the sight of the future Archon, she smiled, with an elegance that few could match.

Guided into the estate by the Curator, the future Archon --- still considered a young boy back then --- reflected on how their encounter came to be.

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The man who would one day become the Archon of Burgundy was born the Claw of the Red Mountains, during what would have been the Napoleonic Era on Earth. For cybernetically-enhanced Kexterans, whose lifespan is close to a millennium on average and far beyond that in some edge cases, he was quite young.

Parenthood is not a prominent feature for Kexterans, whose ancestors used to be solitary birds soaring over the mountains of their home planet and would leave their hatchlings to the weather. Though they once exchanged their solitude for civilisation, their natural disposition towards it stayed, and was revived after their population was greatly reduced.

By the time the future Archon was born, it was customary for eggs --- whether they are a product of love or artificially fertilised --- to be incubated at state facilities, and the hatchling then raised by robot nannies. Each would then be given a grand estate and left to their own devices. Most Kexterans would never meet their parents again, and in fact, particularly sedentary ones will never meet another Kexteran during their entire life.

The future Archon was no exception. For the first century of his life, the young boy of the Red Mountains lived in the mandatary luxury without a purpose. Until that the day he met her, that was.

It was the day of the Stardust Memorial --- a rare social event that was held once in a few centuries. Under the guise of honouring their dead, Kexterans, from not just the Bibliotheca but also their remaining colonies, would gather in the abandoned Central Spire and hold a grand ceremony, followed by days of festivity. The main event, of course, was the festivity; being a firmly materialistic society, Kextera does not believe in gods, spirits, or the divinity of their ancestors.

That was why the young Kexteran was surprised to find one of the Council of Seven, kneeling before an improvised memorial, offered their prayers. He was even more surprised to find that the one was an inhumanely slender human --- a foreign Archivist from a primitive world called “Earth”.

“What are you praying for?” The young Kexteran asked, unable to rein in his curiosity.

“My husband, my children, and for all who died in the Great War on Earth.” The woman replied.

“Were they important to you?” The young Kexteran was unable to understand the importance of family.

“…They were. I loved them. God bless their souls.” With some hesitation, she answered. Turning her gaze to the sky, she continued, “And may those who died before us rest in peace.”

The young man was unfamiliar with this expression of grief and spirituality. He wondered why a person with a mindset from a primitive world could become a member of the Council. So he asked, as the straightforward young man liked to do, in a tone that bordered on condescension.

The beautiful and slender woman, however, did not show any anger. Instead, she smiled, for the young man was one of the few Kexterans who were interested in her “primitive” manners --- no matter how condescending it was.

“Why not come to my estate and chat about it over some tea?” She handed the young man a delicate invitation letter, complete with a family seal.

“Thanks… but why a physical letter?” The young man was baffled. He closely examined the paper, and it did not seem to be synthetic.

“It’s my habit. I like things the old-fashioned way. Even my estate was built without using nano-construction. Anyways, I need to leave now. Just present the invitation to the drone butler when you get there.” The woman elegantly disappeared into the veil of night, leaving the speechless young man behind.

At that time, the young man still didn’t know that his life had changed forever. That the human’s estate was an Anchor, complete with beautifully cut wood, stone and marble sourced from a distant world. That the tea parties the human organised, during which exotic food was served by her army of servant drones, were the meeting place of the Institute’s elites. That he would leave his sedentary life behind and join them.

Or that one day, under her gracious guidance, he would walk by her side as a fellow member of the Council. That she would become his tutor, boss, colleague, and family.

The human was Elisabeth, the Archon of Lavender, and the Curator of Locus Amoenus. 

Koyomi
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