Imagineer, p.26
Imagineer, page 26
part #1 of Imagineer Series
Thais had a vehicle waiting for us in the long-term parking, her own this time instead of a rental. I say vehicle because it looked like a Jeep, but not quite like any Jeep I’d seen. No open back, to start with, and the word Troller was embedded across the front grill. It looked perfect for going into the Amazon, I gave it that, but it didn’t have a lot of room for passengers. At a squeeze, it would sit five, making it barely large enough for all of us. Ciarán turned cat right as we loaded inside, giving everyone more room to stretch out in.
Because of the morning bustle, general confusion, and the seating arrangements of the plane, I’d barely met our kobold expert who had joined us. She looked like Klaus, but didn’t, at the same time—a little shorter, a little slimmer, her bone structure more delicate. Her skin had a deeper tone, as if she spent more time out in the sun than my friend. She likely did.
Sitting next to me in the van, she turned and offered a hand. “I barely got your name this morning, what with all the rush to catch the flight. Eleanora, pleasure.”
“Reagan, nice to meet you.” I felt calluses on her hand. This woman worked physically hard at something. “Do you mind if I ask some questions?”
“Not at all, I’m sure you’ve got loads,” Eleanora encouraged.
“I have a kobold friend at home, and he’s told me some of what your people can do, but I’m not sure I entirely have everything in my head,” I explained as I buckled in. With the way Thais liked to speed off, I was so buckling in. “I know you have your own personal space you can access at will, but can you sense all pocket dimensions?”
Eleanora gave me a nod, buckling in as well, then put a steadying hand against the door as Thais hit the gas. We all slid a few inches to the side as the g-force grabbed at us. “It’s part of our ability. Makes sense, if you think about it. Just because it’s in a different plane, doesn’t mean we can place them however way we want. We need to sense where connections are, where they’re located in another plane, and be able to avoid trampling on someone else’s property.”
That made total sense. “How do you sense it?”
“It’s quite obvious to our sight. You see magical Doorways and barriers, don’t you? It’s just like that.”
“So you won’t even need a minute to figure out if this is pocket dimensions or not.”
“Correct. I’m inclined to think not, to be frank. I never used the portal system—I was born the same year they were shut down—but I’ve heard multiple stories about it growing up. And thanks to your request, we have multiple accounts coming in from people who would be able to sense other dimensions. Not one has mentioned pocket space or anything similar to it. Well, the Hub supposedly was on a different plane, although which one is anyone’s guess.”
“So you’re here to just verify one way or another, but we’re not really banking on this.”
“Correct again. I’m more coming along to help translate, honestly.”
I had that gut feeling. But if this project had taught me anything, it was to not assume and ask questions. “So how much about the planes do you know?”
“Well, I’m no druid—they’re the experts—but I know the basics. Why?”
“I haven’t had a chance to read up on them yet,” I explained to her, barely quelling my frustration. “Too much else was demanding my time. Can you give me the basics?”
“In essence, there’s multiple planes—all belonging to different belief systems. Belief is what powers them. Some of it ties into esoteric cosmology. The first plane is the physical. We’re currently on that one, but it’s not as simple as ‘you’re on Earth.’ It also deals with visible reality of space, time, energy, and matter. Next is the astral plane, or emotional plane, where our consciousness goes after physical death. This is the realm inherited and reigned over by the gods. Also dreamscape, if you wish to call it that. By the right practitioner, it can be reached during dreaming.”
Ticking off a third finger, she waited as I scrambled to pull notebook and pen out to write notes—I had terrible oral learning ability. I wasn’t about to pass on this free lesson if someone was giving me the summary of that very thick, dry-as-dust tome I had to read. Seriously. Zoya’s textbook on the subject could give an insomniac the perfect means to sleep.
Eleanora kindly gave me a minute to catch up before continuing. “Then we have the mental plane, and it’s divided into seven sub-planes. I won’t get into all of them. After that, we have layers upon layers of the planes belonging to the different pantheons and afterlives. Different pantheons exist on different planes, some more in control than others, and of course we have limited understanding of them. The only ones who can freely walk between them are the druids and the gods, and they don’t choose to spill any secrets.”
My hand threatened to cramp under my mad scribbling and I paused to shake my fingers out. “So if you were an Imagineer, and you had to choose a plane to put the Hub on, which would be your choice?”
Sitting back, she crossed her legs, the ankles dangling a bit over the edge of the seat. She had the height of a ten-year-old, so no surprise this car didn’t fit her right. “I’ve pondered that very question while going through all the witness statements. If you wish to call them that. I believe somewhere on the mental plane. It’s the only logical choice, really. Putting it there doesn’t interfere with the politics or belief systems of anyone, it’s on neutral ground, and it gives the Imagineers a leg-up, as it were. Thought is so much stronger on that plane, more powerful. It would make the slightly implausible very achievable.”
I followed this, but didn’t. Her choice made sense but at the same time, it begged questions. Why put it there? It would mean transcending past two planes, one of which routinely meant death, in order to put the Hub in place. And people would have to travel back and forth constantly. Wouldn’t that be hard on people, physically speaking? And that didn’t take into account how much energy it would require to punch through two different planes. I didn’t even know how to calculate it but I bet it would be a lot.
Eyes narrowed on my face, Eleanora got the same light in her eye that Nana did right before she got into a debate with someone. “You don’t agree with me.”
I felt it really rude to say, so gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I don’t.”
Both Zoya and Ciarán turned around—my pooka friend was currently lounging on the front seat divider—and gave me intense, curious stares. Right, so, no pressure there either.
“Alright, young Imagineer,” Eleanora encouraged, smile widening. She really was gearing up for this mentally. “Why not? Tell me; I’m all ears.”
Sucking in a breath, I blew it out again. I was not much of a debater, but here goes. “Two problems I see with it. One, you just told me that in order to go to the Astral Plane, people have to either die or do some serious magic mojo to dream-walk it. How do you expect anyone to pass not only out of the physical plane, but through the astral, in order to reach yet a third plane, when it would be physically draining on them to do it? Even with an Imagineer’s power, I don’t see how it’s possible. We create objects. In nifty, magical ways, I grant you, but they’re still objects. What kind of device could possibly take people safely through three planes without it tearing them up on some level?”
Eleanora’s bright gold eyes narrowed even further. She didn’t accede the point, but she grunted to show she was thinking about it. “And your second objection?”
“Energy. Even with a really amazing system, you still need the energy to run it. I don’t care how brilliant someone is—creating a global highway portal system, that punches through three planes of existence on a regular basis with thousands of passengers? That’s going to eat up a heck of a lot of energy. More than any person or group of people could supply.”
For a long moment, everyone just stared at me and I started to wonder, did I just say something stupid? I didn’t know everything (understatement of the year, right there) but based on everything I’d read in the past three months, everything they’d told me, I didn’t see any logical fallacies on my part.
“Zoya.” Eleanora abruptly turned to my master. “She’s right, isn’t she?”
“She is. I was going to point it out myself if she didn’t.” Zoya gave me a proud nod and I blushed a little in response, cheeks heating. “My Rea isn’t slow on the uptake. Part of the reason why we’ve struggled to comprehend the portal system was that we couldn’t understand how they kept it powered. It was monstrous and complex. How did they manage it? For centuries, no less. But if we add in the complication of going through multiple planes, that only makes it more horrendously complicated. I can’t fault your initial guess, though. The mental plane would be the easiest to work in, assuming you could safely get up there without leaving your body behind.”
An irreverent question popped into my head. Would it be easier to work without a body? Without fatigue, or physical distractions like hunger, wouldn’t I be able to just work on things non-stop? Of course, I couldn’t impact anything physical once I made it, so there was that.
Eleanora didn’t disagree, but a disgruntled expression turned down the corners of her mouth. “But if not there, where did they put it?”
“That is indeed the question,” Thais agreed sourly. “Hopefully someone left behind enough clues for us to figure it out. Otherwise, this is going to break our brains.”
“Thais,” Zoya grumbled at her, “it’s already breaking our brains.”
The Brazilian Imagineer just shrugged agreement because, truly, no one could argue.
Our base camp near the platform was much more established than I’d expected it to be. I mean, my camping experience was zilch; I had nothing to base it on except TV. I expected tents, and got them, but they were like circus tents, huge domed things an elephant could pass through without trouble. There were four of them, and I saw more than a few barriers in place to keep out pests. No one wanted to depend on bug spray, huh.
Hopping out, I shouldered my bag and got a good look around. The jungle was thick, lush with the sounds of birds, insects, and the river flowing nearby. I couldn’t see it from this angle but I could certainly smell and hear it. It was a much richer environment, in terms of sensory input, and I paused to take it all in, orienting myself. The trees themselves were massive here, larger than any person could wrap their arms around. I couldn’t imagine the age of this place. It was so incredibly different than anything I’d experienced. It wasn’t just that everything looked different. It felt different. The very air was denser, more humid, with sounds and scents I couldn’t identify. Nothing rammed it more clearly home to me than this moment that I was in Brazil. A whole ’nother country. And that was a very, very awesome feeling. I could get down with this traveling-to-different-countries thing.
Though I could do without the humidity. I could feel my hair poofing, the humidity was so dense. I knew it headed into ‘holy crap, it’s HAGRID’ territory. Braids were definitely going to be my friend over the next several weeks.
More than a few heads popped up from around a portable table, taking in our arrival. I saw other people coming around the tent to greet us. It seemed we had a few of Thais’s clansmen here, helping out. For protection as well as tending the camp? It would make sense to me—we were sort of in the middle of nowhere. I recognized both James and Jackson, wearing almost identical outfits of khaki pants and long-sleeved shirts, jungle hats on their heads. James came straight to Zoya with a smile on his face, hand extended. “Zoya. You made good time.”
“We did, fortunately.” She clasped his hand. “Any developments since we boarded the plane?”
“Not as such. Jackson believes he’s spotted the powering system for the platform.”
“Looks suspiciously like a power coupling to me, or what it would have been in ancient times,” Jackson informed us. He shook Zoya’s hand as well, then came around her to shake mine. “Reagan, glad you’re here. Your grandmother’s been updating things to the drive since you left.”
News to me, but I hadn’t had a chance to pick up anything electronic in almost forty hours. “Yeah? Anything good?”
“More platform locations,” he reported, excited. “She and Klaus said they miss your photoshop skills but they’re doing good updating the map. I’ll let you see for yourself in a second, but for now, throw your bag in that purple tent. That’s the tent for you ladies.”
I nodded understanding, went around to the trunk, and hauled out my suitcase. Lugging it across the soft grass, I stepped across the threshold and nearly dropped everything when something sharp skimmed over me. It was like being mildly slapped with a sharp wind. Pausing, I looked suspiciously around the entrance until I spied the culprit. Ahhh. Someone had put yet another ward around the tent to keep out dirt and bugs. They were not messing around with pest control here.
Army cots were already folded out and lined up in regimental rows. There were six altogether, the back three clear of personal belongings. I went to the very back, tossing everything down. With the tall roof of the tent, the corners still had enough height to stand up in, so my head didn’t brush the top. Seriously, where did you get tents this big? Or had they made them? My money leaned toward the latter.
I stole a moment to put on sunscreen (not that I expected to burn), some insect repellant just in case I had to step out of the warded area, and then redid my hair in a low braid so I could put a hat on. More or less protected from the elements, I grabbed up my trusty notebook and two pens and ducked back out, passing Zoya coming in as I did so.
“Email your grandmother that you’re here,” my master instructed as she passed me.
“Roger roger.” She was likely anxious to know we’d arrived safely.
The tents were all set up in a row, which blocked the view from the dirt road we’d followed to get here. No sign of any computers or anything out here, so I went behind, hunting for a laptop with a signal. I knew it existed, I’d talked with Thais often enough while she was here. Rounding the tent, I nearly stumbled over one of the roped stakes as I realized that the tents were hiding the portal platform.
I’d seen pictures, of course I had, but it didn’t really compare to real life. It was huge, to start with, at least forty yards wide, and in a rectangular shape that stretched out, like it was the beginning of a road never completed. Each corner had a thick square column stretching upwards, different symbols carved into the surface of each one. It looked much like the initial structure of a large building, only without the walls or roof. Moss and vines climbed up along the sides, nature trying to claim it, but obviously something thwarted it, as nothing green touched the top. People were measuring the platform from every side, Jackson hunched down in front near the small ramp leading upwards, and I drifted up to stand near him, my eyes devouring the platform.
Stonking deities, look at the craftsmanship of this thing! Abandoned for nearly a hundred years, and yet the stonework was as tight and clean as the day it’d been laid. Not even a hint of mortar anywhere to be found, either. The platform stood as high as my head, thereabouts, formed of a grey stone I vaguely felt was granite. Then again, maybe not. I was no geologist.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Jackson acknowledged, as if I’d said the words aloud. “There’s not a single fracture anywhere to be found. Not often you see work as tightly done as this. We believe they used the Incan method of building, as there’s not a trace of mortar.”
“I took the final on Incan history, therefore doing a memory dump, so remind me,” I said, still staring hard at the platform. “Incan building technique?”
“Each stone was carved to such precision that they fit together perfectly. See how they’re not uniform? They took rocks from the surrounding area and carved them to notch together.”
True, none of them were brick-sized, and were shaped in every possibly poly-shape imaginable. “So did they actually build this physically or imagineer it?”
“That is indeed the question. No idea.” Jackson sat back on his haunches for a second, passing a hand over his brown eyes in a gesture of fatigue. “I beat you here by two days, and honestly? Two days of staring at it hasn’t given me the answer. We know the Incan method of building is incredibly strong. There’s whole cities still standing, despite earthquakes and floods and all sorts of disasters. Did our ancestors build it this way because they knew it could withstand the test of time? Or did they imagineer it this way because they were copying a strong style?”
“What I want to know is, why didn’t they write anything down?”
“Maybe they did. Texts surviving from the fourteenth century are very rare,” Jackson pointed out. “And not everyone was literate back then. It could be they didn’t have a means of recording it all down. Or they did and it just wasn’t preserved. We’ve had a lot of wars over the centuries destroy whole libraries.”
Good point. I hadn’t thought of it quite like that. “Either way, leaves us in the dark. Okay, the mystery of how it was built aside, can I borrow your laptop to email Nana?”
“Huh?” Jackson’s attention was back on the stones and it took him a moment to process what I said. “Oh, sure. It’s on the ramp.”
“Thanks.” I hopped up to kneel on the ramp—spoiler alert, kneeling on stone was not comfortable—and typed out a quick email to Nana saying we’d arrived safely and were digging into the problem. Then I closed down my email and went back to Jackson. Kneeling next to him, I tilted my head to the side, trying to see what he saw.
Now, I wasn’t an engineer like Jackson. What I saw didn’t make much sense to me. But it looked like a magical sigil with three glass tubes, plugging directly into the side of the platform. The glass looked a little worse for wear, dirty and weather beaten, and Jackson had clearly wiped up the dirt and yanked vines out of the box to see the interior. A square foot on all sides, it wasn’t large, but I saw what he meant about it likely being the power source. It certainly looked like it connected something.
