The Quest for Caëlyx
Composition of the population of Syjöcina / colour of their uniforms
20% – soldiers / mercenaries: camouflage pattern greens and browns
15% – agricultural specialists: green
10% – animal caregivers: brown
10% – manufacturers: purple
10% – tradespeople: black
metalsmiths
tanners
artisans
butchers
jewellers
cobblers
builders
locksmiths
toolmakers
stonemasons
10% – “mutations”: red
5% – aeronautical engineers: blue
5% – domestic experts: grey
5% – innovation pursuers: yellow
5% – child-rearing experts: beige
5% – scholars: white
king
monks
leaders
geneticists
scientists
biologists
doctors
Pronunciation guide
Names
Caëlyx: Kay-lix
Phíllian: Filly-in
Rhothan: Ro-thin (Brother Rhothan, mentor)
Bertholdus: Bur-told-ous (Saint Bertholdus – founding brother of monastery)
Rathousān: Rat-who-saun (king)
(Those pronounced as written)
Thória
Tamerius (author: Fabled Planet Earth)
Heribert (author: Histories)
Romulda (Maternal)
Places
Syjöcina: Si-jaw-si-naw (si like in “six” - emphasis on “jaw”)
Saint Bertholdus Monastery
Hall of Guidance
Fabled Planet Earth
Things to remember
Fabled Planet Earth: in the legends, it is the planet on which lived the heathens who eventually evolved, then founded the planet on which we find Syjöcina.
Hall of Guidance / Council of Guidance: place / people where all the decisions are made, all the rules dictated – they advise the king when necessary.
Cohorts: every ten years, a new generation is bred in the laboratories, at which point the last generation bred enters their vocational training.
Things found in Syjöcina
barracks
monastery
airships
mess hall
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“I have to find her…” it is the only thought that obsesses his mind. He has been searching for her for nearly a year, losing more than thirty men over that time, but he refuses to give up. Thória looks toward him and a sense of deep sadness comes over her. She knows where Phíllian can find Caëlyx, but she cannot help him. She still visits with Caëlyx on occasion, whenever she can leave without her absence being noticed. She must be careful not to go too often, however, or else she might be unable to return, trapped like her dear friend.
Phíllian, searching the crowd, sees Thória and smiles. “Even when he smiles he looks sad,” she thinks morosely. She nods to him in greeting and takes her seat. There was a time when she would have run to him and held him to comfort him, but he must now face his burden alone. A dishevelled looking man runs into the throne room, out of breath and barely able to speak. Without the usual rituals to show respect before approaching the king, he runs up to the throne. He stops, trying to catch his breath. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he delivers his message: “We’ve found it!”
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Caëlyx, Thória and Phíllian sat together, under the watchful eye of the old laic. Even though they were all nineteen years old, nearly adults, he refused to let them out of his sight. They were practicing their script. Although Phíllian was the only one bound for service in the church, they were all bred from scholar genes – Caëlyx and Thória destined to be advisors to the future king. Caëlyx, knowing she risked being reprimanded, lightly jabbed Phíllian in the ribs. He gasped, causing the sharp eyes of their mentor to quickly turn in their direction.
Phíllian stifled his gasp, turning it into a cough. The girls giggled softly behind their hands. The Brother’s eyebrow shot up suspiciously, but he said nothing. He returned to the document he was copying. Phíllian gave Caëlyx a scowl but she knew he would never stay mad at her. She went back to her papyrus, trying to focus on the task at hand. Phíllian pretended to do the same, plotting his revenge. Just as she was tracing the delicate swirling lines of a particularly difficult symbol, Phíllian tickled her and she squealed, dropping her quill.
The frustrated Brother Rhothan practically ran over from his work table. “That is quite enough for today. Get out of here, the three of you. Return tomorrow with your maturity and focus intact!” he hissed. They nearly tripped over each other trying to escape the scolding, fierce, exasperated presence of their teacher. They had barely left the scriptorium before they burst out laughing. “He was so mad I thought his head would explode,” giggled Thória. Her friends nodded agreement. “We should really try to be nicer to him,” said Phíllian. “After all, that’s going to be me in a few decades.”
The three quickly became serious at the mention of his vocation. He had been bred specifically to become a laic, and when he did, he would no longer be allowed to have contact with his friends, as monks were not allowed to interact with women. That was one of the reasons they were together so often, because they knew their time together was limited. Four months from that day, when their cohort came of age, it would become forbidden for Phíllian to see his two best friends. They were all silent, each of them caught up in their own thoughts.
Without thinking, Caëlyx reached out and took his hand. He gave her a sad, meaningful look, then pulled his hand slowly away. She turned quickly to see if Thória had seen her slip but she was staring intently at something down the hall. “Have you ever wondered what was in that chamber?” she asked distractedly. Both Phíllian and Caëlyx turned their attention to where she was looking, glad for the distraction.
Caëlyx had always assumed it was just a storage room but now that she looked at the door, she wondered why she had thought that. It was ornamented in a way that clearly stated that it was not a mere closet. In fact, as they approached the door, all three stared as though entranced by the intricate designs carved into the heavy wood. “How did we ever fail to notice this before?” whispered Phíllian. Although he chaffed at the prospect of becoming a monk, he really was a scholar at heart. New and strange things fascinated him, the simplest things keeping his attention for enormous amounts of time.
He stretched out his long fingers towards the door, slowly tracing the delicate symbols with his index. He followed the circular patterns until they led him to the door’s latch. He glanced questioningly at Thória, then at Caëlyx, the earlier awkwardness already forgotten. Each of the girls nodded her agreement in turn. Of course they wanted to explore the chamber – they were nearly as curious as he was. He lifted the latch carefully, making as little noise as possible. Brother Rhothan was already irritated enough without them getting caught exploring forbidden parts of the monastery’s library. There was no question about whether or not they would explore, merely whether or not they would get caught.
The door opened slowly, its hinge letting out a groan of protest. This was clearly not the most frequented chamber in the monastery. It stopped less than half-way. Phíllian gave it another little shove and it opened enough to let a person through. He stepped in without hesitating. Thória walked in after him, immediately followed by Caëlyx.
The trio now stood in an enormous chamber with an unbelievably high ceiling. The walls were made of rock, and looked almost like cave walls, but it was smoother than rocks would be naturally. In the very center of the chamber, there was what looked like an altar, but it was unlike any altar the three friends had ever seen. “This must be a ceremonial chamber from the time of the Heathens…” observed Phíllian. He was an encyclopaedia of historical facts, so neither of the girls questioned him. They looked around them, each awed by a different aspect of the room.
Thória was interested in the diverse symbols drawn all over the walls, like some sort of foreign script. Caëlyx was attracted to the far left corner of the large chamber, where there was a pile of diverse items that looked like artefacts. Phíllian had made his way directly to the altar, touching its surface gently, almost caressing it.
The sunlight coming in from the window glinted off one of the objects in the pile, temporarily blinding Caëlyx. This caught her attention and made her look outside. “We should really have been at the barracks by now… if they know that Brother Sourpuss made us leave early, they will want us to account for our whereabouts,” she said urgently. The three left the chamber reluctantly, each of them more curious now than when they first saw the carvings on the door. Curiosity unsatisfied is a dangerous thing.
They could think of nothing other than the secret chamber on their walk to the barracks. During their evening meal, they were mostly silent, each thinking about the chamber and wondering what treasures it held. When they did speak, the only topic that would come up was something about the chamber. They spoke about the door, the writing on the walls, the altar, the artefacts, the thick layer of dust covering everything in a soft whitish-gray blanket – proof of the elapsed time since the chamber was last used. They barely ate their food, too distracted to feel hunger.
That night as they lay in their beds in the barracks, Thória and Caëlyx tried to devise a plan to get themselves back inside that chamber. Their curiosity about it was like a gnawing hunger, never to be satisfied until they finally discovered the secret of the mysterious room. They thought of everything, from faking an illness and needing to rush to the necessarium, to distracting Brother Rhothan, to knocking the poor man unconscious – they were getting desperate. They finally fell asleep, though both slept fitfully.
In the male barracks, Phíllian had no one with who he could work out a plan, but he did try to think of one nonetheless. His ideas were frighteningly similar to those explored by the girls in the next chamber, though he was always more compassionate, and so did not even consider harming the monk in order to escape his vigilant gaze. Just as he was falling asleep, he thought of a plan that just might work. “I'll have to share that with the girls in the morning,” he thought to himself as he drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, the trio sat together at their usual table in the mess hall. Thousands upon thousands of people shared their meals in that particular hall, but only a few hundred of them were being taught in the monastery. As many as fifteen percent of them were bred from agricultural specialists genes, so that the enormous population of their city could be fed, and nearly ten percent were bred from animal caregiver genes to aid in that goal. Less than four percent of the people of Syjöcina were bred from scholar genes, as were Phíllian, Caëlyx, and Thória.
The scholars were the monks, who assured that the monastery of Saint Bertholdus and the kingdom had the most complete library possible. They were the leaders in the Hall of Guidance, making the rules by which everyone needed to abide, and counselling the king when he required it. They were the geneticists, scientists, and biologists working in the breeding laboratories in order to create each of the cohorts in the appropriate proportions of each type of gene. They were the doctors trained to cure illnesses and treat conditions.
Five percent of the population was composed of child-rearing experts, known as the maternals. People were bred in cohorts ten years apart, and children didn't begin training for their vocation until they reached their tenth year. For this reason, someone needed to raise the children, teach them the social skills needed by all vocations, and assure their general well-being until the time they could begin their education.
Approximately five percent of the people of Syjöcina were aeronautical engineers. They designed, built, maintained, and maneuvered the fleet of airships used for travel to distant lands. Another five percent of each cohort was composed of innovators. These people always searched for new ideas, new technologies to be developed, ways of improving the technology already in existence.
Manufacturers and tradespeople comprised another twenty percent of the population at approximately ten percent each. People bred from manufacturing genes made clothes, blankets, dishes, wagons... basically anything that wasn't made of metal. Those made from tradespeople genes were metalsmiths, they worked in the tanneries, they were artisans, butchers, barbers, cobblers, construction workers, jewellers, locksmiths, tool makers, stonemasons, and any other trade found necessary by the Council of Guidance.
Syjöcina was a relatively peaceful place at this time, but that was not always the case. In order to assure continued peace and safety for all citizens, twenty percent of every cohort was trained in combat. They were soldiers under the king's command, there to protect the kingdom and its people. They were also the king's emissaries, in that he would assign missions for them to accomplish, such as making contact with far away peoples and sometimes, with the help of the aeronauticaul engineers, they even went to distant planets.
In order to keep things in the larger buildings and barracks running smoothly, domestic experts were bred. Roughly five percent of each cohort was dedicated to this vocation. These men and women ran the king's household, assured the good functioning of all the barracks, including the children's wards. They were trained to deal with any number of complications that might arise in everyday life, so that the development of the children and the work of the adults might continue unburduned with minor problems.
In each cohort, there were a number of genetic mutations that took place. More than ten percent of the fabricated embryos fell into this category. If the mutation was too severe, the embryo was simply terminated. If the mutation seemed relatively minor, their development was allowed. These children were given the vocation of menial labourer. Any job that did not fit into any of the other vocations was simply delegated to them. Cleaning out the animal caregivers' stables, keeping all the buildings clean, working in the laundry facility – these were all tasks assigned those derisively called the “mutations.”
Caëlyx picked at her food, distracted by thoughts of the secret chamber. “You need to eat more than that,” said Thória, herself having had merely a few bites of her nutritionally balanced, slimy, brown-coloured slop. “We need our energy if we're going to stay awake during our lessons today...” she added. Caëlyx nodded slowly. “I wish he would stop making us copy the same texts over and over again... If I have to read Scholar Tamerius' Fabled Planet Earth one more time I might just have to vomit.” Phíllian, who had been eating with great gusto, sputtered into his bowl. “That's actually one of the more interesting texts, you know,” he informed Caëlyx. “I feel kind of bad for you though,” he turned to Thória. “Heribert's Histories are reknown for their incredibly long-winded, excrutiatingly detailed, impossibly specific, ridiculously indepth descriptions.”
“Kind of like that one,” muttered Thória under her breath, rolling her eyes. It was Caëlyx's turn to sputter into her bowl. “The Maternals would have a cardiac episode if they saw us spitting out food like that,” observed the ever practical Phíllian. “Imagine old Romulda's reaction if she saw us behaving like five year olds...” he shuddered. “She would have sent us to the isolation chamber for a week.” Thória's head snapped up from her bowl. “Speaking of chambers...”
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The three friends walked slowly from the mess hall in the barracks to the monastery. The grey paved streets were clean and free of debris, as always. The people walked neatly in rows on each side of the street, as always. No one made eye contact with others and no one spoke, as always. Caëlyx wondered at this lack of contact between them. She knew that her friendship with Phíllian and Thória was abnormal, that most people didn't form emotional attachments to others, but she did not understand why.
The Council of Guidance prohibited inter-genetic fraternization. As a scholar, Caëlyx was forbidden from speaking to any other gene-class unless expressly necessary in order to complete her official resposibilities as dictated by her vocation – which was dictated by the Council. If in order to advise the king, she needed to speak to the alpha agricultural specialist, then it was permitted. If she saw this same person on the street and smiled at him or her, that would be considered a criminal offense, punishable by trial before the Council.
People were always careful not to touch each other, not to engage in personal conversations, not to care about each other. If you develop emotions towards others, then those emotions might get the better of your intellectual reasoning and as such, get in the way of your duties. According to the Council, that was dangerous. Many of the rules, regulations, and laws of Syjöcina were aimed at keeping the citizens apart; separated by genes, by the colours of their uniforms, by their vocations, they people of this place had little opportunity discuss their ideas. If the people cannot share their ideas, they cannot unify on a shared goal.
They could not question their leaders. The society was designed to assure the greatest productivity from all its members, but who gained from that productivity? Were all societies formed like theirs? In the text she was copying, Caëlyx saw the possibility of what a society could be, what it could do for its people. In Syjöcina, everyone was brainwashed into accepting the place the Council made for them in society. If the Council decided that you were going to be a monk because you were bred from certain genes, there was nothing you could do to change that.
It was written in Tamerius' text that the Heathens, savages as they were, expressed an all-consuming joy in all forms of art. They had ritualistic dances to demonstrate the joy they found in every aspect of everyday life. Their painting were full of bright colours and beautiful images. Even their rudimentary texts, found on the walls of their caves, described the happiest moments in their history. Their whole way of life was centered around finding pleasure in the things one must do to survive. They celebrated every momentous occasion – and some not so momentous occasions as well. Every little thing was cause for festivity.
Secretely, Caëlyx would like nothing more than to return to the times of the Heathens and share in their way of life. They were intimately involved with each other. They were fierce friends and passionate lovers. They had mates, someone to share all the events of their lives with. This was possibly the aspect of their lives Caëlyx envied the most. Although it was against the law, she had developed an emotional attachment to another person – she was in love with Phíllian. She did not know that was the term for her feelings for him, but she could not imagine her life without him. The very thought of never seeing him again after they became of age made her feel as though her lifeforce were about to expire.
And questioning it wasn't a solution either. If the Council even suspected that someone was resisting their position in society, they merely eliminated the threat to their authority.