Page 108 of The Surviving Sky
“We’re not blaming anyone,” Dhruv answered. “All we are saying is that there’s architecture down there that can survive earthrages, presumably created by our ancestors, potentially used by yakshas.”
Naila fell silent, but resentment still contorted her features. Ahilya exchanged a glance with Dhruv, who shrugged callously. She could tell even in that onegesture—somethinghad changed in the sungineer, perhaps since Iravan’s attack in the solar lab or maybe because of the city’s circumstance now. He had stopped caring about appearances, about being on the safe side of the architects. Dhruv had lost something precious and emerged clear on the other side.
Iravan sighed after a moment. “The problem is not just that trajection is becomingharder—regardlessof whether something is blocking it ornot—butthat earthrages are getting longer and lulls shorter. I suppose this brings us back to thequestion—whatcauses an earthrage? And how is that connected to trajection?”
Naila stirred. “Pardon me, Iravan-ve,” she said, her gaze hovering a couple of inches above his head. “But don’t we know this already? An earthrage is an explosion of disrupted consciousness.”
“There’s more to it,” Ahilya muttered, and Dhruv nodded.
“It’s a pretty complete theory,” Naila said, shaking her head. “A million billion consciousnesses exist on the planet, all of them in conflict with each other, which leads to pressures at a global scale. When the pressure becomes dense, the pressure explodes. That explosion? Earthrages.”
“This architectural theory implies that the consciousnesses of all living creatures in the world are connected,” Dhruv said skeptically.
“Our consciousnessesareconnected,” Iravan said. “That’s what the Moment is. The Moment doesn’t just show the possibilities of plants. It shows the possibilities ofeverycreature.”
“This is why Nakshar’s plants are easier to traject closer to the jungle during a lull,” Naila said, looking at Dhruv. “When the disruption ends and an earthrage settles into a lull, the consciousnesses of jungle plants and an ashram’s plants are in low conflict with each other. They are aligned much more closely. That’s essentially what a lull is. Andthatis the connection earthrages have with trajection.”
Dhruv’s eyes met Ahilya’s across the table. She knew what he was thinking. They had both known this theory, but far from being complete, the theory failed to answer some glaring questions. How had earthrages begun in the first place? When had the first one appeared? Had their planet always been besieged by the deadly storms? The architects liked to pretend that earthrages were as old as humankind, but Ahilya had found glimmers in records hinting of a time where there had been no rages at all, when there had been no trajection. The very book Iravan had given her, with the glorious mid-leaf drawing of jungle creatures, had indicated such a time, and nearly forgotten songs and ancient folklore within non-architect circles had hinted at the same.
It was all connected somehow to the erasure of the yakshas, the erasure of non-architects. The interference in the jungle, the histories Ahilya had studied, the early architects’ arbitraryterror—somewhere,they were missing information that linked all of this together. She had thought Iravan would have the missing pieces, but herhusband—herhusbandstill—onlylooked thoughtful. He would not keep silent about it, not right now, not when their very survival in the skies was at stake.
“I don’t think this theory is as complete as you believe,” Ahilya said slowly. “I’ve been studying earthrages too. And my data does not coincide with your theory.”
“What data?” Naila asked.
“Census data. I have a record of the numbers of births and deaths from all of the ashrams. If consciousnesses really did affect earthrages, then why are earthrages becoming longer even though there hasn’t been a relative increase in the population of the ashrams?”
“You’re talking about consciousness,” Naila answered, sounding scandalized. “Such a heavy concept can’t be reduced to data points. Each consciousness is expansive, infinite. We can never measure the exact effect a consciousness has on the earthrages, least of all withnumbers.”
“I’m sorry,” Dhruv said. “Aren’t you a mathematician?”
“Rages, that doesn’t meannumbers,” Naila said, throwing her hands up. “Do you know how rudimentary a tool numbers are? Mathematics is a pursuit of truth!”
Dhruv snorted. He opened his mouth, perhaps to retort, but Ahilya cleared her throat and interrupted before he could speak.
“Look,” she said. “Even assuming the architects’ theories about earthrages areright—”
“They are,” Naila muttered.
“—there’s still nothing we can do. Even if there is greater conflict between the combined consciousnesses of life forms on the planet, we can’t control it.”
“Another dead end,” Dhruv said, leaning on the table.
“I have something to offer,” Naila said. “But it’s a rather technical architectural model.”
“By all means,” Dhruv said dryly, “please talk down to us.”
Naila threw the sungineer a look of deep disgust.
“I’ve been studying the basic equation of trajection,” she said. “Architects have been taught all along that trajection converts a plant’s existing state of consciousness into a new state of consciousness, and each trajection releases a raga. But I think there’s another byproduct of trajection. I call it Nakshar’s Constant.”
The Junior Architect took another deep breath.
“I measured Nakshar’s Constant. And I think it is a raga too.”
“I thought ragas were melodies,” Ahilya said, glancing at Iravan.
“They are,” he said. “Usually. Or at least that’s how architects interpret them. But to be absolutely honest, ragas aremore…abstract.They’re…an entity that provoke a certain kind of emotion.” He frowned. “If Nakshar’s Constant is a raga, then architects ought to feel it. They ought tohearit.”
