Neural Upload / Dream 11: Mining colony: Duty's Blessing; The terran-class moon The Benediction of Saint Caldum; Kor-Azor Region

I am a small boy of maybe eight winters. I am a slave.

I am one of the few survivors from a massive mining accident.

I am salvage. Reclaimed property.

I have a tag hanging from around my neck. All the children have one.

The Kal-dar-ee who found me say its my "salvage code".

I can't read it, but they tell me it spells out "Gottii". So thats what they call me.

I don't know if I've ever really had another name. So I answer to it.

I am waiting in a small room, in a building set up by the Kal-dar-ee when they began salvaing the wreckage of the mine. This is the room were all of the children who survived the accident are kept.

They are very few of us. Just over a couple dozen.

I am the oldest of the children. All of the others where taken from the nursery, near the surface. They are all small, smaller than me even. Many of them are toddlers, barely more than babies.

None of my friends, who were my age, are here with us.

It makes me sad. I still feel bad for eating their food.

The Kal-dar-ee have fed us, all of us children. Its more food than I've ever seen. They laugh at how I eat, saying in their strange accents that I look like a slaver hound when I do. They take bets at how quickly I can eat my meals.

It feels good to not be hungry. But, I don't know how long it will last, how long they will feed me, if one of them will try to take it from me, or if another accident will happen again, and I won't be able to find food again. So I always eat as much as I can, as fast as I can.

But, today, Delina had us dress up in some nice clothes, because they told us some new priests are coming to take charge of us. She said that while the Holder owns us, the priests will be taking care of us.

I'm scared. The last priests before the accident weren't nice to us.

All of the children are standing in the salvage room that has become our make-shift home, our little beds made, our hair combed. I think I'm the only one old enough to be nervous. The other children seem merely bored, and somewhat bewildered. I whisper for them to please be still, that its important. I lick my hand and use it to wet down one girl's unruly hair. I don't want the priests to be mad at her.

Delina, one of the Kal-dar-ee salvage techs, smiles at us, though her face is hard to read. She's been taking care of us. She gives us one last long look, then turns and leaves our room. I never see her again.

I wait, standing, next to all the other children. I stare at the corridor to our room. I take a deep breath, and I give the only prayer I can remember. I look back at the other children. They look so small.

I take another deep breath, and step toward the corridor. I'm small, and I'm scared. But I'm bigger than the other children.

I tell myself if the priests hurt someone, I'm the biggest child. It should be me. Secretly, I think I deserve it. I ate my friends' food. That was wrong. That was selfish. So I wait.

I hear the heavy footsteps of adults echoing down the corridor to our makeshift nursery. I'm shaking, though I try to tell myself to stop. The other children behind me get quiet, even they know something important is about to happen.

From the darkened corridor, an overseer steps into the room, his pale skin shocking against his dark uniform, his head bald. His blue eyes are cold as they look at me, and his face peers down at me as if I did something wrong. His face has deep set lines, like he frowns a lot.

He considers me a moment as my eyes meet his, his eyes holding mine. He seems to frown even deeper, then he finally steps aside, waiting by the door.

Behind him I can make out a line of robed figures, their cowls concealing their faces behind dark shadows. Their robes are a deep crimson, large and voluminous, with golden decorations on the trim that glitter in our room's light as they step out of the corridor. Four of the robed figures, I think they're the priests, step into the room, seeming to ignore the overseer, and stare down at us.

I can feel their eyes on me, even though I can't see their faces. I'm very scared, though I don't know why. I fight the urge to look down at my clothes, to see if I did something wrong when dressing myself.

Finally, one of them steps forward, and moves in front of me. I stare up at him as he gets closer. I have visions of the discipline post in the mines before the accident, of the expression of the children picked at random as they were drug up to get whipped along side the adults.

The figure reaches up, and pulls back his hood, and his now revealed face considers me. His face is like the Amarrian overseer, his eyes the same blue, his skin the same shockingly pale white. His gray hair is cut short, and his face seems hard, like the overseer, but the lines on his face don't seem as cruel. He stands straight, tall, not burdened like the other priests seemed to be by the weight of this place.

We consider each other for long moments, me on the edge of terror, him with a passive blue stare, before a smile slowly creeps across his features. It seems odd to see an Amarrian smile at me. Thats never happened before. It scares me more than his frown.

"So...", he says, his voice is quiet but deep and reverberating, like the sound of the Machines down in the mines "you must be the little boy they found after all that time." I keep staring up at him, startled that he knew of my existence before now.

His blue eyes sweep over the little children behind me, and I watch how his expression softens as he takes each one in. I earnestly hope that they are respectfully staying still for the priest as he looks at them. "And these are the little ones from the nursery on the top level....so few...too few." I'm not sure if he's talking to me.

He kneels down, so that his blue eyes are almost level with mine. I've never seen an Amarrian this close before. His skin looks so odd, so white, so pale, like the color of the dead people I saw in the mines.

"They tell me you don't know your name, is that true?"

I nod silently, but vigorously, happy and relieved that the priest asked me a question I know the answer to. The overseer shuffles a bit at the question.

"And, Delina told me that you seem to think you never had a name at all, is that true as well?"

I swallow, and nod again, less vigorous than before. He frowns at that.

The overseer speaks, his voice loud and blunt and coarse and obviously used to yelling, "Thats nonsense, every child was christened with a name and entered into the Chapel's registry as well as into their official slave documentation, along with bloodline and generation."

"As per Church guidelines", he adds, almost hastily.

The priests eyes narrow at the words, and he turns slightly and looks at the overseer out of the corner of his eyes. "Then, it's a shame that all those records were......lost....during the "accident", isn't it, Overseer Uarken?"

The overseer frowns even deeper at the priest's words, and it seems like he wants to say something else, but he stays silent.

The priest turns back to me, and he looks down at my salvage tag, and he chuckles a bit. "G-zero-TT-mark ii doesnt make for much of a name." He looks at me, earnestly, weighing my expression as he asks "Would you....like a name?" He grins after that, sheepishly, almost embarrassed as he speaks, "A child is not something to name on a whim, but every child needs a name to bring before God. So, would you like me and my fellow priests to give you a name?"

My eyes are wide, my little mouth open. An Amarrian priest asking me permission to do anything, even if its naming me, shakes my understanding of my world in a way few things could. Eventually, I find the wherewithal to nod at the priest's question.

The priest chuckles a bit, then says "You don't talk much, do you?" I stare up at him silently, my world spinning as I take in the priest's bafflingly kind behavior. I don't know what to say. I'm afraid whatever I say will be wrong, and then he will punish me.

He tilts his head a bit. "I was rude to you, I should have told you my name first. I am Father Ossric Yervanian. Me and my fellow Brothers will be caring for the Chapel here, as well as overseeing the spiritual development of the petitioners of this mine."

As he speaks, the other three priests step forward, removing their hoods as they do. One of them is paled skinned, an Amarrian, like Father Yervanian. The other has golden skin and shiny black hair, his features subtly different than any I've ever seen before. The last one to throw back his hood almost makes me gasp.

He looks like me, like we miners do. Dusky skin, strong features, reddish-brown hair, and calloused hands like a miner.

The priest is like me, like the other miners. The Kal-dar-ee called us "Bru-tor". And we can be priests. We can be close to God, speak for God even. My whole world lurches sideways at the concept.

The three priest move to the little children, soft and genuine smiles on their faces. The reach out, touching the little ones on their head, speaking quietly to them. The children bask in the attention, their faces lighting up, and they quickly lose their awkward discipline. Soon they're clamoring over the priests, touching their robes, asking the priests questions in the few words they know, which the priests answer kindly and earnestly.

The overseer keeps frowning as he watches. I try not to notice him in the room. It seems better that way.

Father Yervanian stands up, and turns toward the overseer, his face going from smiling and soft to frowning and hard. The overseer seems to stand straighter, but his frown doesnt go away.

"Overseer Uarken, you will provide these children with a barracks room located close to the Chapel. I will see that the servant's quarter blueprints we provided you will be updated accordingly. And any and all records you have on Lord Okarian's servants will be uploaded to the Chapel databases." Father Yervanian pauses a long minute, before finally adding. "As per Church guidelines."

Uarken scowles, his white face growing red, "Father," he almost spits out the word, "this livestock is the property of Lord Okarian and House Okarian, and it is my duty to see that both his economic and security interests are..."

"Overseer Uarken, these children and the slaves outside are the property of God, held in trust by Lord Okarian, and it is my duty, as well as yours, as to ensure that they are provided for, and their path to God is of the utmost concern." Father Yervanian's words are quiet and slow, but they seemed to echo in the room. I can feel the tension in the room, and it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

I stand very very still, wanting nothing more than to disappear. I feel the movement of unseen things in the rooms, tensions and struggles I don't understand.

Father Yervanian waits a moment, his eyes locked with Uarken. "I do not need to remind you that I am here on behalf of the Theological Council itself, and that they were quite concerned with the....irregularities...unearthed in the accident report. And I trust I do not need to remind you of what could happen to Lord Okarian's Holder status if the Council finds him....lax, in his duty to God and Church and man."

I watch as the muscles around Uarken's jaw flex and tighten, and he all but grimaces as he says "Very well, Father." He quickly turns and walks out of the room purposefully, his angry, stomping footsteps echoing down the hall.

Father Yervanian watches him go, his old blue eyes narrowing slightly as he does. I look down at my feet, doing everything I can to stay quiet, and notice that the children and the other priest's behind me are also silent. He notices the quiet, and turns, his angry expression dropping away instantly, replaced by a faint smile.

"Brother priests, lets take our new charges into the Chapel. We will have an arduous task of registering our new flock, so we had best start as soon as possible."

The priests herd us out of the salvage building, into the surface of the mining complex, we children following behind them in a long line. Around us, the mining camp and the mine itself underneath us rumbles from the hectic process of rebuilding. Long, flickering shadows leap in and out of existence, born of the bright flashes of welding torches as they merge steel into new building frames, sparks raining down like an incandescent rain.

Scores of people move to and fro, slaves, guards, Kal-dar-ee, and mining overseers mixed in a chaotic, driven throng. Massive construction and mining vehicles slowly move among the camp, their engines drowning out the overseers yells, and the horizon line is broken by the outline of towering cranes and cables. The moon ground underneath us has been trampled to a thick, lose mud, clinging to our little feet, making it hard to keep up with Father Yervanian's purposeful strides.

Father Yervanian strides through the din without a second glance to either side, his red robes a sharp contrast to the surrounding dark earth, ignoring both the slaves' wide-eyed stares and the overseers' dark glowers as he leads his brother priests and we children. The Chapel rises out in front of us, a golden mountain arising out of a sea of mud and dirty humanity. The Chapel's dome reflects the blood-red light of the setting sun as our moon slowly moves behind the massive gas giant it orbits. Its breathtakingly beautiful, and my young eyes absorb every detail.

The priests heard us into the Chapel, and we walk into the sacred place, our footsteps echoing on worked stone. Father Yveranian quietly whispers to his fellow priests, then speaks to us, "Children, go with Brother Evcin, he will get you fed, then we will start with our duties."

We herd around the golden skinned priest, following him into one of the side corridors, and finally into a small dining room. My nose picks up the scent of food, not just paste, and my mouth waters in response. Soon, Brother Evcin has brought each of us a plate of warm food, bread and porridge and real meat of some kind. He laughs as he helps some of the smaller children eat, their clumsy little hands and overeager mouths sending food everywhere, happy grins peering through the porridge covering their faces.

He frowns as we watches me quickly devour my food with a methodical desperation, and how I unconsciously stare back at the door to the kitchen, the silent hope for seconds obvious on my young face.

Brother Evcin eventually brings me seconds, and he watches me with a sad expression as I quick eat the food he places in front of me with the same hurried efficiancy. I'm not sure why he's sad, but the food is so good I don't think about it too much.

It's easily the best meal I've ever had.

Soon, we children are herded back into the main chambers, its vaulted ceilings echoing with the sound of happy child voices followed by priests gently asking us remain quiet. I watch as Father Yervanian walks up to each child, silently speaking a ritual in a language I don't understand. He then places his hand on the forehead of the each child, then whispers a new name to each.

I stand nervously at the end of the line of children. I wonder what he will name me. I've gotten used to answering to "Gottii".

He finally moves in front of me, looking down at me with his strange white face and shocking blue eyes.

I hear his voice whispering in the language I don't understand, then he reaches down, touching my forehead gently with his cold fingertips. The hair on the back of my neck raises as I peer up at him, knowing the ritual is significant, but not knowing how or why.

He smiles down at me, then kneels in front of me. "I've given you the name of Adrean Kurelius."

He peers at me a moment, as if judging my reaction. I simply stare back at him silently, unsure of what to do. He chuckles softly, "St. Adrean is known as the Saint of Silence", and you seem to have an affinity with him". "Kurelius" is a word that means "strength of the stone", and since you were one of the last survivors found in the mines, I think it suits you as well." He pats my tiny shoulder, then nods his head in the direction of the other children.

We both look over at the children, as they sit in the pews, their tiny legs dangling over the edge. Some of them giggle with each other, while others fight to stay awake, as the dim light of the Chapel and our full bellies gently lull us to sleep.

"These will be your new brothers and sisters Adrean." He turns to me, his blue eyes meeting mine. "You're the biggest and the oldest of them, so I'm going to be looking to you to take care of them. Promise me you will?"

I nod back to him, solemnly, and I finally find my voice. "I will Father. I promise."

And I meant it