The Chaos of Life

By James Vesping

For Tenna, Katerina, Esther, and Helena, their world is only the Northern Monarchy, Nicosia, and the Protectorate. Tenna, a street child in the capital city of Merigold, survives by stealing and begging; Katerina, the eldest of the Royal Family, rejects her heritage and tries to fight back against organized crime; Esther and Helena try to make the best of their life in the orphanage they call home in the desert of Nicosia. They each begrudgingly play their roles, trying to make a difference in the world. But when a man from beyond their world mysteriously arrives, they find themselves thrown into a chaos that threatens the very fabric of their reality...

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Vesping
• Release date: Jun 8, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463194461

James Vesping

James Vesping is a former network technician, having worked in both the private and the government sector. He has worked in software and web development in both professional and hobbyist capacities, including several simulation projects for popular sandbox games. In 2015, he began writing novels as a hobbyist, which turned into a full time job by 2017. You can find him on the web at JamesVesping.com.

Book preview

1

The room would have been completely dark if not for the small lamp on the night stand. A slight breeze disturbed the curtains over the windows, having been opened to allow the cool, late spring air into the room.

It was a simple room, adorned with the various items the man had accrued over his few years of life; certificates of achievement, a university degree, and various tokens of appreciation. To an outsider, it would have appeared a comfortable domain, an altar to a relatively successful life. For the man, it was not what he had achieved, but instead what he had not that tormented him the most. Yes, he had achieved much in his professional life, was well liked by his coworkers, and was valuable to the company that employed him. But living to work leaves no room for an actual life and such was the dichotomy tearing at his soul.

The man had tried to find something to latch onto in his personal life, but he could find nothing. The technologies he worked with every day consumed him, driving every aspect of his being. When others found out what he worked with, many chose to steer away from him; those who didn't simply dismissed his peculiar behavior as that of an invalid, giving him nary a second thought. Few sought to know him on a personal level and so he was an outcast to society. His only connection to the world was the cat he had rescued from the streets. The cat that had just died during the day while he was at work.

He had silently acknowledged that his only companion had passed away, asleep in the small box it had called a bed. It had lived a long life, approximately half the years of the man who cared for it. It had been a part of his life for so long that it was difficult to fathom life without it. For him, it was the sign he wondered would ever come – it was the sign that it was time to go.

He did not come to his decision lightly; he knew his research was opening doors in ways no one had ever thought possible, pushing the boundaries of what the human mind was capable of perceiving. At the same time, he knew that the discoveries he had made behind closed doors could readily cause a panic, challenging everything that people wanted to believe was true. Even his own superiors were hesitant to openly discuss the realms of science he was involved in, for fear of being branded heretics. The very fabric of reality could be potentially torn apart with what he knew and he was surprised that his research was allowed to continue for as long as it had.

The first announcements made were for more applied technologies, little things like advances in computational power and new materials designed under different rules of physics. Such was impossible, many had claimed, and yet somehow they existed all the same. As more advances came, many demanded an explanation on the processes used to achieve them; as the company was concerned about how to provide an explanation that did not cause undue harm, the man suggested they tell the truth. The executives said that if he wanted to do so, that was his prerogative.

He had arranged an announcement to be seen by his peers and those high in scientific fields, but the company instead filled the audience with journalists and heads of state. As he reluctantly tried to explain his findings and what led to the advances, no one understood what he was speaking of and the audience ran amok with accusations and sensationalist news regarding the announcement. It was beyond the average human mind to comprehend what he was speaking of and what it meant for the world as a whole. The executives had used him as a scapegoat for what he knew would happen when the research was released to those unable to comprehend it.

Shunned by the public at large, he was too valuable to the company to terminate. His research was moved as deep as possible, away from prying eyes, and much of the matter was carefully swept under the rug. The existing technology was allowed to stay, but much of what he had spoke of was suppressed as ravings of a madman. The executives told him that when the time was right, they would release his full findings for all to see. He told them that the time will only be right when humanity ceases to exist.

The man sat on the edge of his bed, caressing the automatic pistol that he had carried for the longest time. It seemed cold despite having been on his person all day. It felt strange to have been keen on personal protection when there was little for him to live for, but he had always justified it that if those with nefarious intent were willing to kill him, what would they do to those unable or unwilling to defend themselves? His life may not of had value, but he did not wish harm on those who had more to live for. He saw himself as the wall that would protect others from harm, even if the very technologies he worked with terrified them.

He dropped the magazine of the pistol and set it aside, then thumbed back the hammer and retracted the slide. A round partially extracted from the chamber, the bullet still sitting in the bore. Carefully moving the slide forward, he looked around at the room one last time. He sighed and put the pistol to his head, then pulled the trigger.

-

2

Stop! Give that back! Tenna shouted, propelling herself as fast as she could. The boy she was chasing seemed to be keeping his distance no matter how hard she pushed herself, but she had no choice. She needed the serum he stole from her; it was the only thing she had to keep the voice from coming back in her head. Unfortunately, it was a rare serum, which made it highly valuable to anyone who knew she had it. It also meant that she had to steal it herself in order to get it. It was all she had to maintain her sanity and stay out of the nuthouse, as the people of the streets called it.

She had narrowly avoided going there two years ago, only because she had been slipped some of the serum before she saw the judge. Whatever it did, it silenced the voice and allowed her to convince the judge that she was as sane as any other 15 year old girl on the streets, down on her luck with no family and no one to care for her. She was released from custody and it seemed as if she was finally cured. Then a few weeks later, the voice came back. She tried to ignore it, but it was too strong and she found herself arguing with it in front of a group of strangers. When she realized what she was doing, she ran away when, in a twist of fate, she saw an advertisement for a serum promising to cure any ailments of the mind. She recognized it as the serum she was given.

Ever since, she had managed to scrounge, steal, beg, and borrow enough to get access to it. Even then, she had to steal it; she could never afford the asking price on a street girl's measly income. She could have turned to prostitution like so many other girls, but something in her spirit just would not allow it; if she were that desperate, then she might as well be dead. She raged at the very idea that she could stoop that low for survival, as if the rest of her body remembered something that she forgot. Her memories only dated back two years, where she woke up on the streets in a school uniform with no idea of who or where she was.

There was also the voice of a man echoing in her head, asking her bizarre questions and then predicting things happening right before her very eyes. At first, the voice didn't even seem to acknowledge her presence, but as time went on, it seemed to realize it was a part of her. Not having any memories herself, she was powerless to answer any of its questions. Eventually, it seemed to tone things down and treated her like a normal human being, dialing back the things it seemed to know and even treating her as if they were family. Then it finally gave her a series of commands that she felt impossible to resist, which led her to break into a heavily guarded medical facility, where she was caught and sent to stand for a trial of competence. The voice told her the facility was where her memories were stored and where they were merged. The voice revealed itself as a man from beyond her world and that her mind was limiting his ability to tell her everything – who she was, where she came from, and where her family was. The answers, he insisted, lay at the medical facility; if she would only try again, she would finally know.

After she started the serum treatments regularly, that was the end of Tristan, as he called himself. She had managed to work odd jobs here and there, with a few appropriations in between, and had even managed to put together enough funds to rent a small apartment. Then the 5 Month War started and the price of the serum rose on the black market. Her normal sources no longer could keep stock of it and she had to pay more to get it from other suppliers. Even after the war ended, the price remained too high and she could no longer afford a higher standard of living. Living on the streets was still preferable to the torment that Tristan brought on her.

Her most recent acquisition of the serum had been lifted from her by the boy she was now chasing; no doubt he had been watching her when she broke into the small pharmacy that just got a shipment of the serum. She had managed to score some just in time and she could already feel Tristan waking from his slumber, deep within her mind.

The boy took a turn and ran down a side alley and Tenna sharply turned to keep up with him, bouncing off a wall with one of her feet. The boy was starting to tire and her long legs were proving their worth.

Oh, what's this? Tristan smugly whispered. Never seen you run down a boy that hard before, Tenna. What, you gonna marry him? Maybe he took one look at your face and ran! Ha!

Shut up, Tristan. He's got my serum, Tenna replied.

You're still taking that stuff? You know that doesn't really keep me quiet. Just dulls your ears. Haven't you noticed your hearing going a bit south lately? Maybe if you weren't taking the stuff, you would have heard him sneaking up on you!

Tenna grumbled under her breath, tired of running and now having to fight with Tristan again.

Look, I'll save you the trouble. Take a right at the next alley, then a left; you'll catch him at his family's place. I'd tell you where to get to him sooner, but that would spoil part of the fun.

Tenna slowed down and sighed, then did as Tristan told her. She maintained a steady pace as she twisted through the connecting alleys, then came upon an intersection. No sooner than she stopped and the boy came running around the corner, crashing into her and sending the serum flying. Tenna was swooped off her feet while the boy went for a tumble across the dirty concrete.

You little punk! If that serum is broken, you're helping me get another! Tenna shouted, rolling over to look for the serum. She frowned for a moment as she realized she didn't hear any shattering or even anything hit the ground. Looking up, she saw the boy's father holding the vial, his eyes meeting hers.

I think you've given my boy enough trouble today, girl. You ought to back out of this while you still got a pretty little head on your shoulders, the father said, his voice booming through the alleyway.

He stole it from me! That serum is mine! Tenna angrily shouted back.

Did he, now? From what I hear, you've been using less than legit means to get the stuff. Cops love to hear about that stuff; dealing in black market Brain Booster gets 'em a big bonus from the Monarchy, what with their stance on drugs n' all. Or I could turn you in to one of the Families, who would probably love to have a girl like you as part of 'em. So maybe you'd better consider that third option and just hit the road.

Tenna growled and gritted her teeth when she heard Tristan again.

C'mon, kid. Live to fight another day. This guy is a far more hardened criminal than you are. You only gotta live with me til you can get some more. I'll even help you get some, if it makes you feel any better. Just put up with me for a while, alright?

No! The last time I did that, you almost got me in the nuthouse! Tenna shouted. The father in front of her raised an eyebrow and motioned for his son to go in the apartment behind him.

What's the matter with you, girl? I gave you a choice. Don't make me get violent, now, the father said, raising his own voice.

I wasn't talking to you, Tenna tersely replied.

You're making this weird, Tenna. He's starting to think you might be a better meal ticket than that serum. Get away while you still can. Please.

Tenna sighed and did a quick look to see if she might be able to steal the serum back later.

No, don't even think about it. He's got ties to the Detrievich family and he's got 9 kids backing him up. At least three of which will spot you the moment you go in through that window.

Grr! Shut up! You're not the boss of me! Tenna grasped her head with both hands.

The father looked at her and frowned. Kid, you got some serious problems. Don't add to them here. Git!

That's our cue, Tenna. I swear it to you, I'll keep it to a minimum. You won't have to do anything you don't want to. I promise.

Promise? This time? You'll be quiet? Tenna asked Tristan.

Promise. Things are going to get better for you from here on. I mean it.

Tenna sighed, looked at the father one last time, and then began walking away.

-

3

The younger children laughing as they played on the wrecked aircraft made Esther smile, but she still felt nervous for them all the same. As the eldest orphan at 14, she was often tasked to care and watch for the youngest ones of the Holy Seven orphanage, in what was left of the nation of Nicosia. The 5 Month War, as it was called by the Northern Monarchy, had left the small nation annihilated, and much of the country was left in poverty. The nation existed in name only, with broken homes, devastated families, and roving bandits to speak for it. They had made the mistake of siding with the Protectorate and when the two sides declared war, Nicosia found itself in the middle of it. Their meager army was used as a buffer by the Protectorate and upon its destruction, the Protectorate announced an end to hostilities. Few people remained in the country, with most moving to the Protectorate or the Monarchy, but those who had chosen to stay preferred the anarchy and freedom to the rigid life as a Monarchy subject or a slave to the state of the Protectorate.

It was a hard life, especially for those with no family, but the Order of the Holy Seven had been the one saving grace for the children who had lost everything. The orphanage was far from ideal, but it was a home for them all, and the Order did everything they could to keep it running smoothly. Such a task was difficult, but many people helped in any way possible. The orphanage was in a small community had once been a thriving small town, but many of the young men and women had died in the war; the people that remained had their hands full fighting off raiders and bandits. Resources were hard to come by and if not for the well at the center of town, it would have been abandoned after the war.

Raiders were always testing the defenses of the town; with the ready supply of water and remains of war equipment, it was an inviting target. Most of the raiders would turn around and sell their plunder to one of the nine Families in the Monarchy who ran the seedy criminal underworld. Unfortunately, children were prime targets for the raiders, to be sold to slaves to the Families. It was a nasty subject and despite the public outcry, the Monarchy had massive problems with corruption and stamping it out proved to be nigh impossible for the King. The Council of Ministers refused to give him the power to put an end to the Families, seeing that as excesses of the executive branch. They were often influenced by the Families themselves and the King, Cortaeus, was powerless to challenge them; to do so would be to invite revolution, which was becoming increasingly likely as many subjects in the Monarchy found themselves living in poverty while the royalty enjoyed the fruits of their labors. The people loved the King, but many felt he needed to step down and allow a formal democratic government take his place.

The King fought the Families the only way he could: by using his own. He tasked his daughter with infiltrating the Families and ferret them out of their seats of power. It was a long process as she had to work within the legal framework of the Monarchy, but it was finally starting to bear some fruit. It would take longer still, but eventually the King knew the Families would be taken down and the subjects of the Monarchy would finally prosper. The Queen, Rita, was not fond of sending their eldest daughter on such dangerous missions, but Cortaeus convinced her that it was the only way to truly prepare her to eventually take the throne.

None of this concerned Esther, who simply wanted to salvage what was left of her childhood and the other children. The world was always dark and foreboding; it always was before her and always would be. She imagined that long after she turned to dust, there would still be warring insects, fighting one another over her bones. She felt no anger toward the world, only pity. Passing those thoughts from her mind, she looked toward the children again as they played on the derelict aircraft. One of the younger boys was trying to climb into the cockpit, but could not pull himself up.

Here Johnny, let me help you. Esther came over and gave him a boost, allowing him to squeeze through the window and place himself in the pilot's seat.

My name's not 'Johnny' anymore, Esther. I'm Captain Ersatz of the Gladiator Air Corps! Johnny exclaimed, gripping the yoke and letting his imagination run wild. Esther laughed at the name he made up for himself.

What's so funny? You don't like the League of Gladiators? Johnny asked.

You know what 'ersatz' means, right Johnny? Esther smiled as she shaded her eyes with her hand, looking up to the cockpit.

I just made it up. It sounded cool.

It means a poor quality replacement. You're not a poor quality Captain, are you Johnny? I don't think the League of Gladiators accept poor quality pilots.

Johnny frowned and looked out the cockpit to Esther. How do you know that?

Johnny, I'm older than you are. Have some pride in yourself. 'Captain John of the Gladiator Air Force' is a perfect young man for the Gladiator Air Force.

Johnny smiled back at Esther and sat back into the seat. But all superheroes need a secret code name. If everyone knows who I am, then the Forces of Night will attack us and I don't have a Gladiator communicator!

Esther chuckled and looked at the plane. It once had vibrant nose art that had long since faded. Still, she could make out a name under the cockpit: Bill 'Hammer' Aviril. Esther briefly wondered if he had survived the war and if he was still out there, somewhere, achieving whatever he may of dreamed of in his life.

Well, how about 'Captain Hammer'? Esther suggested. It's already written on the plane, so it makes perfect sense.

Johnny hopped up and tried to look out the window to the side of the plane, but he couldn't see it.

I can't see it. Are you sure? Help me down.

Esther went over and held her hands out, allowing Johnny to scale over the side and drop himself into her arms. She pointed out the faint writing on the side of the plane.

See? Right there. You could be Captain Hammer, rising like a phoenix from the ashes to deliver justice on behalf of the Gladiators.

Hmm... OK! But you have to keep it a secret. I don't want the others to blow my cover. Johnny dropped his voice to a barely shouted whisper. Esther nodded and pressed her lips together with her fingers.

I promise, Captain Hammer. Just remember to rescue me someday. Deal? Esther smiled broadly at Johnny. Johnny grinned and ran off to play with the other kids.

You're good with them, Esther. You'll make a fine matriarch one day, Father Petrov spoke from behind Esther, startling her. She spun and bowed her head toward him.

Father Petrov. Is it time to bring the children in?

No, let them enjoy themselves a bit longer. The longer days of summer will be here soon and with it will come the raids as water becomes scarce. But that should not be your concern, not when your 15th birthday is coming up.

Esther smiled at Father Petrov and he motioned for her to walk with him. She followed him as he paced around the derelict aircraft, looking at every piece of it.

I used to fly, you know. Before the war. Before I joined the Order. There's nothing quite like it, cutting through the skies like the blade of a sword. You can almost touch the Seven when you're up there. I hope someday, you and the others will get to experience that and more. Perhaps you will even go beyond the skies.

I would enjoy that someday, Father. But I feel that you wanted to discuss matters other than your history with me now.

Father Petrov smiled at Esther. You're a very perceptive young woman, Esther. Yes, I wanted to ask you if you had made a decision on what to do with yourself. It won't be long before you'll have to leave the orphanage and make a life for yourself. Maybe move to the Monarchy and find a dashing young man to engage you. Become a matriarch and have your own family. I believe that is the path the Seven would have you take.

Esther tried to hide her blushing by looking away, a smile creeping across her face. Father Petrov was a wise man and Esther knew he was just trying to get her to look at life beyond the orphanage. But she felt as if it was her calling; if she was to be a matriarch, why not here?

I think it is almost too soon to think about such things, Father Petrov. I do not have many skills to offer in the Monarchy and you cannot deny that you and Sister Zuzanne need my help here, Esther replied, trying to emulate Father Petrov's manner of speech as best she could.

You play it well, Esther, but I and Sister Zuzanne still have much life left in ourselves. Helena is rapidly taking your place, thanks to your mentoring of her. In time, she will pick the next girl to replace her. It is a never ending cycle, one of which the Seven tell us is necessary. To join the Order is not your path; you are destined for greater things than this little desert town.

Esther frowned at Father Petrov. Father Petrov, I wouldn't know where to begin. This is the only home I have known. Who in the Monarchy would take me in? Where would I stay? What skills would I have to learn?

Father Petrov chuckled. That's what I like about you, Esther. Always thinking ahead. You have a knack for seeing all the possible outcomes and picking the most likely. It's all easily arranged; you would stay with Sister Verelli at the Holy Seven college in the capital city of Merigold. You can study whatever you like at the college while assisting Sister Verelli. I think you would get along famously with her and she would appreciate your knack for foresight.

Esther sighed and looked back at the other children. They were all having a good time, forgetting the world around them and letting their imaginations run wild. She tried to see a future for herself that didn't involve becoming a Sister, but she could see nothing else for her to do.

As if knowing her thoughts, Father Petrov spoke once again. You may have the gift of foresight, Esther, but do not fool yourself into thinking that there is but one thread of fate. There are many threads, always winding, always changing. 'Threads start with the Seven, but where the threads end, they know not.'

Esther smiled. The Threads of Dionysus, chapter 2, verse 5.

You see, this is just the end of your beginning. Like Dionysus, you must step out and begin the next chapter of your life. You must change your threads, lest you look back on your life and wonder 'what if?' Don't end your life with regrets, Esther.

Looking away, into the distance, Esther could almost feel she saw the Monarchy and with it, Merigold. It felt so far away, but part of her soul wanted to go on that adventure. She could always come back here if it didn't work out.

I still have time to decide, don't I Father Petrov? Esther asked.

"Of course.