“It means plans have changed,” Arek answers.
\/\/\/
Several hours later, when I finally begin to feel better, we pull into Tokyo. People walk shoulder to shoulder along the city sidewalks while we drive sluggishly beside them in traffic. Three minutes past midnight, Tokyo’s city lights are still blinding even as I watch behind tinted windows.
“Does this city ever shut down?” I ask.
Arek smiles with tired eyes, “No.”
A large sign flashes to my right and when I look at it, I envision walking into the restaurant called Ureshii. “Happy,” I whisper.
“What did you say?” Arek asks me quietly.
Yet, I don’t need to say anything for Arek, Sassi, and Kilon to look at one another. I continue, “The waiter we loved was Nakati and you and I would head down that walkway beside it to meet friends.” When I look at Arek, his eyes are turned the other way. The silence casts an air of oppression. “Gyre didn’t work,” I say as I peer back outside.
Kilon shook his head. “It can take a while.”
“Why wouldn’t it work?” I ask.
Sassi looks at me in the rearview mirror. “Gyre is good at what they do, but that doesn’t mean God’s willing. What happens is meant to happen.”
Arek cocks his head to the side with aggravation after looking at his phone. “No one knows how to fight the Rebellion when they’re everywhere. That’s the trouble we face, the Velieri world is breaking down. It’s no longer safe with Kenichi and Mak’s men; they don’t know who they can trust.”
“Why? What happened?” I’m curious about everything.
“Someone from their staff shared a picture of you . . . that’s why we’ve been called in. We can’t fight this way,” Arek tells Kilon—to which Kilon nods. “Beyond the picture shared by Aita’s sister.”
My eyes follow three teenage boys who are extremely interested in the beautiful black car that we are in, then several businessmen with briefcases at their sides check out some women as they pass.
Sassi speaks up. “The lines are drawn from the Prophets to Navin and Japha to us. We’re tired. Velieri people are tired of hiding. Tired of not being heard. Tired of believing lies for one man’s gain and another man’s oppression.” Sassi lets her guard down and her beautiful but sad eyes look out the window. “We are over risking our lives for a government that cares nothing about us, yet they win. They have the numbers, the money, the power, the ability to change the world’s perspective with one strategic lie. Yet if we fight, we lose everything. Navin may be misguided in his attempt for freedom, but he gathers people with the promise to someday live free. I, for one, am tired of shackles. So there are more people standing with Navin than ever before.”
Kilon reaches out for her hand in the dark car. When he touches it, she turns her desperate eyes to him. His thumb runs up and down her skin.
“People are beginning to wise up and it’s worrying to the Prophets and Powers.” Kilon shakes his head as he runs his hand down his neck. “The best dictators are the greatest magicians—they keep someone’s eye to the right, when the truth is on the left.”
Sassi looks at me in the rearview mirror. “And that’s why people cling to this prophecy of peace. It gives us hope.”
A few blocks off the main strip, behind several theaters, five food carts line a small alleyway just off the water. The smell of fried grease is so thick it coats my tongue. Sassi pulls to a stop and quickly we all exit the unfamiliar black car.
They whisk me away between the food carts. We very carefully follow the skinny path of tiles just beside the water since one incorrect inch to the right, we might fall in. Arek places his phone to his ear. “One minute,” he says.
Just ahead, a sweet looking local man with a kind smile waits with one foot on his boat and the other on the tile. When we reach him, he grabs my elbow and helps me just as everyone else follows. Within moments we are traveling quickly down the Sumida River.
“They’re all there,” the kind man named Ushi tells us. “I’ve never seen so many gather for one hearing.” After several minutes, Ushi pulls up to some steps and quickly ties the boat. “I wish you good luck,” he says in Japanese.
A temple just fifty feet away gives the impression of a quiet Buddhist monastery tucked away behind the city. We hurry across cement pavers, past an extending growth of woodland and fountains, and under a tall sign written in Japanese saying, “Peace Long Lasting.” If I wasn’t desperately aware of what might come next, this would have been one of the most beautiful places in my memory. Several people, strewn about the property, are kneeling on pads while others are writing in journals only to look up as we rush by.
Farther and farther we go without stopping—beyond the open prayer room, through several halls, and then down many flights of stairs while Arek never releases his weapon hiding inside his shirt. Sassi, Kilon, Arek, and I are somehow winding through the back halls where others can’t go and find our way to a large open breezeway with a golden door at the end. Statues of several hybrid animals are standing between guards. These guards have earpieces and suits, and they are large like Kilon and Arek. The first one turns when we come down and reaches for his weapon before he sees us. The concern turns friendly when he recognizes Arek.
“Sir,” he says, stepping to Arek with his hand out.
Arek smiles and shakes his hand. “Good to see you, Bryce.”
“You too, sir. Everyone’s here and waiting.” Then he looks at me as though a new revelation is upon him and he shakes his head. “I wouldn’t have believed it without seeing it myself. Good to see you again, Mrs. Rykor. I’m sorry they’re making you do this.”
“Thank you,” I say as I shake his hand.
“This way,” Bryce says as he leads us through the hall, past the guards, and to the golden door. “They’ve done checks, but there is no guarantee for the crowd. We’ve been ordered to surround her.”
“On all sides.” Arek motions that he knows each one of the guards and they carefully position themselves around me. Kilon and Sassi to my left and right, while Arek walks ahead.
When Bryce opens the door, hundreds of voices swiftly fill the hall; they only grow louder upon entering. A room the size of my high school’s gymnasium, yet looking more like a museum, erupts into a firestorm of chatter when we walk in. There is not an inch about me to move or practically breathe and the sweat glides down my forehead, yet the air conditioner in the room feels wonderful.
Roped off areas keep all the press collected in a corner, and I wonder suddenly why press would even exist in a world of Velieri, until I notice familiar faces from the mainstream news, such as Good Morning America and the Today show. The reality sinks in that people all over the world, whom I’ve been watching for years, are Velieri. A little person standing no more than three foot five, his face kind and handsome, winks at me as we pass. “Andrew Vincent,” I whisper, recognizing him from CNN.
“Welcome back, my friend,” Andrew responds. I don’t know anything more than his name and a subtle fondness for him.
“Why are they here?” I whisper to Sassi, regarding the media.
“We have our own channels. However, the original decree said that whistleblowers risk certain death, so we keep Velieri and Epheme media separate. Most of these Velieri reporters are under strict law forbidding them to report anything that isn’t sanctioned by the Velieri government.” Sassi never looks at me or stops scoping the crowd.
We step up two stairs onto a platform that overlooks one very long table with the ability to fit more than twenty. There we wait. At the other end of the room is a crowd of people who have no mention, so I’m not sure who they are. Many of them are dressed in dark clothing, their heads shaved with body piercings and tattoos. When they see me, they make a fist and pound their chests three times.
Kilon leans near my ear, “They’re showing their support for you.” One of the main girls with red hair, brown eyes, pierced eyebrows, and a scar through her lip nods at me, so I nod back.
Two large doors ahead of us open, letting men and women file in to take their place at the table. Leigh, Arek’s father, is one, as is Briston. Behind them, the five Prophets enter, dressed in white robes, and I recognize them from my memory.
They, too, sit about the table. Soon a bell rings and the room quiets.
