Dreamfield Chapter 4
Lucian forces are circling around Kavel, but they can't decide whether they prefer him killed or coerced onto their side.
Another cloudy day on Lucia. Grond trudged through rows and rows of black and white signs with bold letters, and with slogans that say, “Culture kills”, “Literature makes brainrot”, “music makes distractibility”. Grond sludged on, disgusted. No colour, no variation of building design. Even the sky obliged the Lucian Chorlist regime by remaining the same tedious hue.
“I thought this was the light side of Lucia,” Grond thought to himself. It always seemed to be dark and rainy with grey skies. Its corpse-like pallor was amplified by an ugly grey giant block with windows that stood before him. In Grond’s assessment, it possessed a great deal of nerve in calling itself a building.
“In another life, I should have been an architect,” he thought to himself.
He plodded up the steps, avoiding the unreliable lift, in order to reach his office, where he met his secretary, Talos. “Good day sir,” said Talos as he stood up from his desk with a set of cards in his hand and placed himself directly in front of Grond. Grond merely passed him by without a word.
Grond entered a large hall that looked as empty as the vacuum of space, but, unlike space, its hue was the most eye shattering shade of white. The chamber had a light emitting ceiling, plain white walls, no windows, and no furniture, except the empress’ throne, and seats for her officials who stayed near her, despite being so devoid of anything, the room was so long, it took Grond several minutes to approach the throne, while it was difficult to gauge its distance, as the empress’ light silver skin, and white robes creates very little contrast to her environment.
“I have had a look at your metrics, and I’m not pleased,” she said.
Of course not, thought Grond. He noticed the perpetual scowl on her face wondering if this woman was ever pleased in her entire life, “we should have killed Kavel a long time ago, and now you see, the position he’s placed us in. Hapsia should have been destroyed by that supernova, its people dependent upon us for salvation, not some rogue businessman,” the empress paused to generate an expression of disgust, “with such an unpredictable nature, Kavel is a danger to the empire and thus should not be allowed to live.”
Grond closed his eyes and sighed. He knew that Kavel was more than merely a businessman, and he knew the potential effects of killing him, and how such effects would reverberate across the galaxy. He merely said, “You don’t understand the impact this could have.”
“We need to tighten our grip. Metrics reveal that the public doesn’t take us as seriously as it once did. There is a resistance fomenting on Helia, as we speak. The more we try to quell it, the more they resist us. The Darans, Barians, and Valubians have decided to pool together their special abilities to evade the strict sanctions that we keep trying to impose upon them. I’ve heard a rumor that Kavel has promised them technology that would allow them a post-scarcity existence. This is not acceptable. If we do not impose order soon, all of our work will be lost. We can’t allow this disorder. It will be too unsafe. Order is Mercy. Culture is cruelty!”
“Order is Mercy!” shouted the men next her in unison.
Grond always found this display to be disturbing. He bit his lip on this matter as well as the matter they had been discussing. No matter how many times Grond explained to the empress why bringing Kavel to the side of the empire was an essential plan, she always lacked the vision and imagination to understand its importance.
“If you want people to take us seriously, and to let go of their toxic cultures, it’s essential for us to convert their cultural figures. The material assets that Kavel possesses and uses in his crusade pales in comparison to the cultural influence he holds. Surely you must see the advantage of us having him on our side.”
“I see the risk of attempting. In my view the risk is not worth the potential reward.”
“But, this is how we destroy the dangerous application of culture. You must understand that culture is not something that innately exists within a particular geography. It’s a living thing that evolves around the people who shape it. Have you ever played Kibbitz? I’m going to assume you have not, so let me explain it to you–”
“Chancellor, are you telling me that you play games? Do I need to explain how they are forbidden?”
“I do not play games, but am aware of them due to my extensive research into the culture of these creatures. In the game of Kibbitz, the objective is to dominate territory, and the most efficient way to do so is to take out the piece with the most connections to other pieces on your opponent’s side. That piece, I understand, is called the keyman. Kavel is our keyman. Do you see how if we take him out, all the other pieces will easily collect into our domain?”
The Empress stared at him. “I don’t know what you mean. What you suggest is most unsafe, and there is no guarantee that what you say will happen. No, it’s not worth it, Grond. You must find a new plan. Leave this plan alone and focus on what you do best: propaganda films. I have granted you a generous stipend. I must admit, your work has been very effective.”
“Very well. I shall return to this work.”
“Stick to what you have proven to be capable of doing instead of focusing too much of your energy on something that has no guarantee to actually work.”
“Well, madam, not to boast about my own accomplishments, but I did get a Helian revolutionary, several Valubians, and, not to mention, the entire leadership of the nation of Solvan on our side. I do have a very successful track record with this kind of work.”
The Empress Yawned. “Proceed at your own risk.”
Grond bowed, “Back to the propaganda films.”
“Grond,” said the Empress, “If I catch you in the act of this silly plan of trying to capture Kavel, I will send you to the prison camp. You know the one.”
Grond gulped. “Emuricia?”
The Empress bowed and bid him to leave.
***
As soon as Grond entered his office and sat at his desk, he told the computer to project several classical Lucian paintings while playing the soft instrumental music of this age in the background as he sank into his seat.
“Ah,” he said, “so much better.” He could feel a tension headache at his temples.
He pressed a button on his desk and called in one of his chief officials:
Poski, his minister of strategic affairs: ready to inform Grond of the progress of his plans.
“Poski,” Grond said, “You have an expansive network, and have a contact in LassCorp, who has provided me with something that I know you will find very interesting. This intel was by no means easy for my contact to obtain..”
“Yes, as it turns out, Kavel will launch Dreamfield despite his reservations. It appears that our plan will be sustained. After obtaining this segment, my contact sent the press release. There will be limited admission. Apparently, this is an environment that can accommodate thousands, possibly millions, and will only be accepting less than 1000 people.”
Grond contemplated further, “Hmmm,” he said, “from what I know of Dreamfield, it can be a vehicle to transform belief into reality. Therefore, I am seeking a belief to impose upon Kavel’s reality. For this, I shall confer with my chief archivist in order to come up with ideas for this.”
Grond called in Rankor who entered, and immediately forced a smile. “I am at your service,” he said.
Grond was looking at his device, sending messages, “At present, I am arranging to have an operative on the inside in Dreamfield. He will be used to influence the beliefs of others, so that we can lure Kavel into Dreamfield in order for it to influence his belief.”
““If it helps,” replied Poski, “my research has revealed that Dreamfield has memory manipulation capabilities.”
“Memory manipulation you say?” said Rankor, “That’s certainly something we can use to his advantage. If we can cause him to forget what he was going to do at a key time, perhaps we can replace it with a narrative that suits us.”
“I like it. I’ll get Vilor on board, as memory manipulation is his specialty” said Grond, “however, it feels as if there is something missing. When you consider it, what makes Kavel unbreakable in the first place?”
They both pondered wanting to give the correct answer the first time, Poski hesitated a reply, “I understand his lack of personal attachments. Shall we bring Seralina into this?”
“Seralina?” Replied Rankor.
“Bringing in Seralina, much less, bringing in the entire family would be a good idea,” said Grond, “I have a few leads on this that are highly promising. Rankor, you develop your idea. I shall soon be presenting you with guidance on this matter. Now I must call in Rojan.”
Poski and Rankor looked at each other with an expression of dread.
“I must confer with him on the role our breakers play in the plan. You have both played your roles adequately and are dismissed.”
The conversation was interrupted by a notification from Grond’s table. The empress was calling him in for a meeting. Grond audibly groaned. “We shall reconvene at our usual time. Also, if you even hint at this conversation to anyone, there will be consequences, and I don’t think I need to remind you how dreadful those consequences can be.”
Poski and Rankor looked at each other with an expression of dread. They both bowed to Chancellor Grond and walked out.
***
Rankor walked down the hallway of the building where he worked and tapped on the door exactly seven times in a rhythm. Before the door opened, Rankor heard the question “What is the weather in Thalvarin”
“Rainy and wet, rainy and wet as always.”
“How is your mother?” was the next question.
“She passes her days in sunlight.” was the answer.
Then one last question:
“What has the wife prepared for your dinner?”
“Stew and beans.”
With those questions and answers, the door opened for Rankor.
“You have just been in a meeting with the Chancellor, have you not?” said Vilor.
“Yes.”
“Does he suspect anything?”
“I have not seen any sign that he does.”
“Good. We must remain vigilant. Please share with us what you have learned.”
Rankor shared the conversation that passed between himself and Grond.
“Do you think we should share Grond’s plan with the Empress in order to ensure he gets terminated?”
“Not yet,” said Vilor, “that must happen only at the appropriate junction. A man in my position must always know when to act and when to keep information to himself. For the time being, our priority is to convey the necessary information to Kavel. Leave that to me. I have a person on the inside.”