Page 61 of The Surviving Sky
He sped up, heart in his throat, as the healbranch bushes gave way to great glass windows. Beyond the glass grew individual chambers where excisedarchitects…lived, Iravan supposed, though he would never choose that if it came to his own life. A dozen questions filled his mind. Why had she brought him there? What did she mean, saying what she had? He guarded his doubts, unsure what voicing them would mean, while Bharavi walked half a step ahead of him. They emerged into a circular terrace where an architect awaited them, accompanying a man on a wheelchair. The architect bowed, and then Bharavi and Iravan were alone, facing the wheelchaired man.
Iravan’s throat filled with heat as he stared at the man who represented his greatest shame.
Manav was thin and short, and only slightly older than Iravan himself. His overlarge eyes blinked rapidly, and he rocked himself, holding a pale blue ice rose, a tremulous smile on his mouth. With premature gray hair, his dark brown skin lined and ashen, the excised architect looked disconcertingly like Iravan. Even their wheelchairs were the same.
“Why are you doing this?” Iravan burst out, unable to control himself.
Bharavi flipped open her notebook and glanced at him. “Ever since your trial, I’ve been working with Manav, trying to find you a better argument with the council. Do you recall what he was studying?”
Manav had been a poet-scholar fascinated with the idea of Ecstasy before he’d succumbed to it himself. It had been the man’s specialization, one that had led to many advancements in the understanding and care of excised architects. Toward the end, before he was discovered as an Ecstatic, his poetry had become cryptic, and Bharavi had overtaken his research. She and Iravan had discussed the intersections with consciousness several times, but to bring it up now, at thistime—
“What—”Iravan began, gripping his chair.
“It’s not about the ashram or Ahilya,” Bharavi said. “Those are not the conditions the council is assessing. The true reason they don’t believe you regarding the Resonance is because of the third condition ofEcstasy—breakingthe safe limits of trajection.”
Of the three conditions of Ecstasy, the one concerning the limits of trajection was the hardest to detect. How could you distinguish real talent in the Moment from the dangerous overreach of an Ecstatic Architect? The rules architects abidedby—trajectingonly on duty, taking frequent breaks, adhering to shiftschedules—allwere designed as strict controls, but the truth was each architect was different, each with their own affinity to the Moment. An action that was safe for one was wildly dangerous for another. Even Senior Architects had little understanding of the limits of trajection. Iravan had always felt that the council’s rules regarding safe trajection were like attempts to catch air with silk nets.
“What are you trying to say?” he asked, swallowing.
“You need to find the connection between your Resonance and Ecstasy.”
Iravan’s heart skipped a beat. “Thereisno connection between the Resonance and Ecstasy. You’d have me make a connection and prove to the council that I should be excised?”
“Everyone in the council already thinks you’re in danger of Ecstasy,” Bharavi said. “What you did while ascending the jungle was a clear indication that you’re breaking the limits of trajection. The key to getting through this unscathed is not to ignore that but to spin it to your advantage.”
Iravan opened his mouth to argue, but Bharavi was already facing Manav. She sat down on a bench that grew next to him.
“Manav, this is Iravan. Do you remember him? I’ve brought him here to join our conversations.”
Manav said nothing but continued to smile. His eyes didn’t even flick toward Iravan.
Undeterred, Bharavi opened her notebook, cleared her throat, and recited. “A leaf contains a life / Paths form in wilderness / Two roads in sleep, and yet / I rouse to many / Balance is an unheard rhythm / Awakening occurs beyond time / We continue to live / In undying separate illusions.”
“Dangerous,” Manav whispered, and Iravan started. He had not expected the man to speak.
“Two roads in sleep,” Bharavi repeated. “You meant the Two Visions, certainly. But what did you mean byawakening beyond time? Did you mean ahead ofourtime?”
Still smiling, Manav stretched a thin arm, his nails scrabbling for the book, but Bharavi placed it out of reach. Manav’s hands continued to move; he made a tearing motion with his fingers, the action distorted and agitated, the smile still fixed on his face.
Iravan’s flesh crawled. He tried not to stare.
“Shall I tell you what I think?” Bharavi said in the same gentle tone. “I think you were suggesting that it’s possible to hold on to material reality while being in the state of Ecstasy.”
“Bharavi,” Iravan began warningly, but she held up a hand to shush him.
Of course, the theory of balance had always been postulated, but despite the ambiguous nature of Ecstasy, some things had been proved and proved again. Ecstasy was unbridled power; no architect could retain control over material reality while consumed by Ecstasy.
It was why the three conditions of Ecstasy existed, in the first place. Flawed though the conditions were, they were a council’s best defense. Material bonds, dedication to the safety of the ashram, respect for the limits oftrajection—theseweren’t moral endeavors; they were practical indicators of an architect’s hold over reality. Without those, an architect was a ticking explosion, vulnerable to Ecstasy, intent on destroying architecture.
Bharavi trajected, and blue-green vines crept over her skin. A black, teardrop-shaped leaf appeared in the grass beside her, and she plucked it to hold in her hand. Veristem.
She leaned in closer to the excised architect. “Manav,” she said. “When you wrotethis…were you in Ecstasy?”
Despite himself, Iravan watched the other man intently.
Manav’s fingers continued to scrabble toward Bharavi. He began to rock himself. Then, in a whisper, almost too soft to hear, he said, “Yes.”
The veristem in Bharavi’s hand remained still, unflowered.
