She moved in and out of the crowd for what seemed like hours, enjoying the rush of energy. She stopped and listened to the various bots, yet she always hesitated when she thought of adding her own voice to the mix. What would they think of her? What if she said something wrong? What if they didn’t like her? She shook her head on that one. Why am I so concerned about bots liking me?
As she moved through the crowd, she circled around one group and ran into the familiar chrome sphere of Arquella. The bot spoke up immediately, “Don’t run!”
Syn gripped her spear out of reflex but then willed herself to relax. She frowned back at Arquella but then said, “I won’t.”
“I told you we wouldn’t hurt you.”
Syn said, “I needed to get my friend.”
“I said we could help you.”
Syn shook her head. “How?”
Arquella motioned at the Barlgharel. “He’ll help.”
Before Syn could answer, the music stopped suddenly, and the booming voice of the Barlgharel spoke, “It’s story time!”
As if a machine had turned on, the bots all turned and lined up along the rows of the Theater, aimed and attentive toward the Barlgharel. When Syn turned around, Arquella had left, moving to her assigned space, several rows up behind them.
The Barlgharel spoke again, “Tonight, we welcome to the Ecology, and to our joy, a new friend.”
A light twirled in the space and landed on her—she was illuminated by the singular shaft of light in the room. The Barlgharel continued, “Welcome to our friend, Syn of the Sun Above.”
The room erupted in cheers. The disc-shaped bots bounced from side to side, rattling in a clapping motion on the ground. Others shouted and hooted and chirped. The whole mass cheered. Interspersed, she heard a word repeated, although from only a few, “Expected.” And less often, in hushed, somber tones, the word “Mother” was spoken somewhere in the great crowd.
The applause died down, and Syn stood there, unsure of what to do. The Barlgharel shouted, “Syn, join me here. We wish to bless you tonight before you continue your great journey tomorrow. We are but just a stop on the way. We hope to be a replenishment.”
Syn walked down the stairs, aware that all the attention of the room was on her. She had never felt so small before. She stood next to the Barlgharel and then looked out at the crowd. So many bots. She heard herself whisper, “So many.”
“Syn, soon you will leave us to find your friend.”
Syn looked up at the friendly face of the Barlgharel and nodded.
“And where is your friend?”
Syn looked back at him, unsure of how to respond. “I don’t—”
“You said he was taken?”
Syn nodded. A murmur from the bots filled the air.
“Our spies have scoured for the truth. And the truth is that the Crimson Queen took him. Her servants, the Wey Wards, stole him and brought him to her. To Zondon Almighty,” the Barlgharel interjected.
As he did, a tremor of fear rushed through the crowd. The entire room filled with nervous chirps, and she heard scattered gasps of “No!” about the room.
The Barlgharel bellowed, “It is okay. She must go. It is her fate.”
Then from the crowd, someone said, “Expected.” The word was picked up by another, and then another, until across the collection of bots there was a steady, growing chant of “Expected. Expected. Expected.”
The Barlgharel spoke again, “Quiet!”
Syn jabbed an arm out at the audience and asked the Barlgharel, “What does that mean?”
He looked down at her. “Do you not know?”
Syn shook her head, unsure exactly what he meant with the broken sentence.
“You are from the Sun, are you not?”
Syn nodded. It was a lie, and it was the truth. She felt safer going with it.
“My friend has said that you were sent here.”
“Who—” Syn started.
The Barlgharel ignored her and continued, “In the Mystery, we are told that we are only here as stewards—this is but a temporary assignment. This is not our home.”
Murmurs of assent echoed. “Not our home,” was repeated from various bots.
He continued, “It is written ‘Come thou long-expected one, to set thy people free.’”
Syn had never heard that one. It wasn’t Paul, and it wasn’t Luke, and it wasn’t Lewis Carroll either. She frowned.
The Barlgharel spoke louder, “We have been told there is another world of which this one is only a shadow. We know that we shall step through the mirror and journey to a world of which this is only a pale imitation. A land of milk and honey. A land of great joy. A land where the river of life flows and the great tree is planted from which all life began.”
Syn teared up at memories of her own Disc. Why did I ever leave?
He turned toward her, “And some have whispered that you are that ‘long-expected one.’ To lead us there.”
Syn backed up and put her hands in the air, “Woah! No!”
The audience gasped in surprise.
Syn turned, “I mean…”
The Barlgharel looked at her, “Do you not come from the living garden beyond the Sun?”
Syn stared at him, disbelieving. How did he know? The audience was hushed, awaiting her answer. Finally, she nodded. “I think. Yes, I mean.”
“And do you know the way back?”
Syn nodded again. She did. But she had no intention of taking them. How could she accomplish that? There were so many of them.
“And will you not return to that world? Will you not first ascend to the Sun?”
Syn hated the way he was describing it, but it was all true in a strange way. She could see their rapt anticipation grow with each answered question. “Yes.”
“Perhaps you may not know who you are. You may not believe in yourself,” he leaned closer in, “But our faith does not need you to. We believe in who you really are.”
Syn shivered.
Across the room, the word was chanted again, “Expected. Expected. Expected.”
The Barlgharel stood back up, “So, before she can return, she must first go ahead, just as the first Eve had to venture into the desolation beyond the Gates of Eden, so Syn must venture into the Desert of Nod. She will be tempted. She will be challenged, but tonight, we bless her before her journey into that haunt of all evils, the Desert of Nod, to cross the wastelands and to face the Hazards. Let us all stand as we recite the Blessing of Journey over Syn.”
The room rippled as all of the bots rose up. The eye-bots floated along with countless others. Those that were close to the ground still managed to raise up by tipping themselves forward. Syn shook her head. They were all concerned with her. They all seemed to care for her. Perhaps it was because they had some strange belief about her, but she was taken up with the excitement, the hope that was exuding from them. They were all placing their hope in her.
The Barlgharel called out, “May the representatives of the Houses join us down front. House Eya. House Ejel. House Oni. House Palote. House Jak. House Emrys. House Escielenn. House Aisleyn. House Taimer.”
A few bots moved out from the audience and formed themselves in a semi-circle before Syn and the Barlgharel. Those bots all seemed to be gathered with others similar to themselves. She assumed Arquella was in the collection of chrome globes that bobbed enthusiastically when he mentioned House Palote. A group of dark floating bots a meter high with thin limbs and red-colored eyes nodded in unison at the name Emrys. Another collection of bug bots, all the size and shape of bees, buzzing around and forming a cloud, fanned out at the acknowledgment of House Oni. They moved forward as one to surround Syn with the other representatives.