And God said unto [Hosea], call her name Lo-ruchama, 'not-forgiven':
for I will no more have mercy upon the house of Israel;
but I will utterly take them away.
-Hosea 1:6
ONE - JOSIAH
Where was he? With madness glazing his eyes, he stared about himself. In bed but where? And then slowly, as the dream fell away, he recognised the grey sheets that half covered him, the bare white walls, the metal floor, the steel sink in the corner - he was in his chambers. A long sigh fell from Josiah’s mouth and he collapsed back into the pillow. His mouth was so dry, his sheets were soaked with cooling sweat, and yet Josiah forced himself to lie down again and close his eyes; not to sleep but to say the prayer for bad dreams. He clutched his pendant - a metal fist over a full moon - and, too easily, the words came to his lips and he mumbled them to the darkness - he had had too many nightmares of late.
“God of Steel, watch over my soul as it drifts from my body. Let no truth be found in evil dreams and may no harm come to me through these visions. For you are the One That Dreams Not. And make my flesh as steel. Amen.”
With the required ritual out the way, Josiah wasted no time in throwing off his bed clothes. He stood up quickly, and found his legs were still trembling. He fought them to the sink, found his glass and filled it with water. It was ice cold but he forced it down regardless. His hands were shaking. Josiah hated this feeling, that his body was acting out of his control. But no amount of will could make his hand stop. Another glass, and slowly he sipped at it, allowing it to really quench his thirst. Water was better than steel, he thought, but would never dare to say so aloud.
What had he dreamt about, anyway? Reaching back into his memory he tried to dredge up the vivid images he had witnessed not two moments before, but there was nothing. The dream was gone and had left a lingering dread in its place. He shivered.
The room was freezing; the window let in a wintry breeze that drained all heat from the walls and leeched the warmth out of the floor. It was supposed to be good for the soul - the cold, the barrenness - but it was doing Josiah no good at the moment. The few moments of true warmth and comfort he had known came to mind. He relished these memories like prized possessions but the details, the depth of sensation, had long since faded.
He put down the now empty glass of water and walked over to the chest of drawers, stepping on tiptoes to avoid touching the floor as much as possible - damn, the floor was cold. He pulled out a pair of thick socks and a worn dressing gown, both in regulation grey. Making sure to put the right sock on first, and his right arm through the sleeve before the left, he put the clothes on. It didn’t feel much warmer but it was the best he could do.
What was the time? The clock on the wall proclaimed it to be 4 am Central Europe Time. He’d only been in bed for a couple of hours. Now what should he do? Still thirsty, he poured another glass of water and collapsed into the only chair in the room, a silver arm chair, made out of syn-leather, the one item of luxury he was allowed. God, he was tired but he dared not go back to bed. No, the dreams were still there waiting for him. He would not give them an easy victory. Instead he gazed out the window, and lost himself in the view.
The sky was a strange shade of purple, like a three week bruise. But Josiah could barely see it, his view was so obscured by the monstrous towers that soared high above his head. They stood out sharp and black against the sky, as if the earth had sprouted fangs and now sought to bite the heavens. These skyscrapers tapered off to fine points - lightning conductors and long-defunct aerials sometimes obscured by wisps of clouds. And between the vast edifices there snaked the skyways, that seemed to gleam and glitter - probably frost or black ice. Certainly this glitter could not be a reflection - there was barely a light to be seen. All the windows were dark and still. Josiah had not expected to see anyone - most of these buildings had only a handful of occupants, and at this time of night all Science-fearing souls were tucked up in bed. So what did that make Josiah?
But the darkness was oppressive. From here on the 56th floor, with the towers still rising high above his head, with only a glimpse of sky, the vertical lines of concrete gave him the distinct impression of being behind bars. It was unsettling and yet he sat here whenever he needed to think. It was almost compulsive, as if he was waiting for something to appear; no matter how hard he tried, his eyes always led back to the window. The city stretched for kilometres in all directions. It sat and festered like an open sore. So what was he waiting for?
If he stood and went over to the window, he might even have been able to glimpse the Deep, the under-city, but why would he do that? He already had enough trouble sleeping. No, what he needed was a plan.
It was gone 4 am but the sun had not even begun to rise, so it was still too early for morning prayers. Yet he could not go back to bed - somewhere, in the back of his mind, the nightmare was still waiting to ensnare him. No, until dawn he would work on his time machine - there were still so many problems to be ironed out. Then after the sun rose he would pray, before going to sleep until 7:30. It wasn’t that he was incredibly eager to pray but there was something comforting in the familiar words. And he was a minister of the Church, after all. That would leave time enough to have a leisurely breakfast and catch the 7:56 skycar to the Cathedral.
Josiah stood up abruptly and headed for the only other room that had been granted to him - his workshop - and until the first hint of sunshine filtered through the skyscrapers, Josiah worked feverishly, like a man possessed. He scrawled diagrams and charts, filling many pages with arcane equations. It was all coming together, one small section at a time - like a giant jigsaw puzzle, with no picture as a guide and no guarantee that you have all the pieces. And then the languid light of the new day spread across the room. Startled Josiah looked at the clock. Was that the time?
Leaving the workshop strewn with crumpled sheets of paper, he returned to the bedroom, picked up his rosary and began the morning blessings.
“God of Steel, make our flesh as steel.
“God of Steel, grant logic and wisdom to our glorious leaders.
“God of Steel…”
Each blessing rolled off Josiah’s tongue as if it were on a production line, his fingers touching each metal bead in turn. Soon enough he was finished. The beads were replaced on the cupboard. Half-asleep already, he crawled back into bed. Within moments he slept, and slept soundly, seemingly untroubled by dreams.
At 7:30 am CET, the alarm began to buzz, and then started to flash red and white. Only semi-conscious, Josiah buried his head in the thin pillow, trying to ignore the increasing noise. He was so tired. Why didn’t the noise just go away? And then it stopped.
I’ll just stay here for another moment, he thought, and turned over.
When Josiah next opened his eyes, the clock declared it to be 7:40. He was late. Why had he overslept? Cursing under his breath, Josiah heaved himself to his feet. He had just enough time to have a coffee and catch the skycar for the Cathedral.
He looked at himself in the mirror. Barely presentable, but it would do. He went over to the provider, put a mug beneath the nozzle and pressed for coffee. The machine fizzed and popped, followed by a shower of white-hot sparks. No coffee today then. He’d have to fix it when he got back or he would get no dinner either. As for this morning, Josiah’s only option was water.
At 7:55 he opened the door and dashed up the steps to reach the skycar. Packed with commuters, the steel cylinder was just rolling into the platform when he arrived, short of breath, on the platform. At least something was going his way this morning, he thought. There was never enough time.
* * *
Josiah stared at the blank piece of paper. Why had he volunteered to write this again? He had nothing to say on the topic at all. ‘The virtues of faith, metal and martyrdom’? It hardly qualified as science even in the loosest possible sense.
“Well, how is my favourite Scientist doing this morning? Still working on your talk for tomorrow?”
Josiah looked up from his desk and smiled at the familiar bushy eyebrows and stocky frame of Elijah, his superior and mentor. As usual he leaned on Josiah’s workshop, not quite sitting and not quite standing, but just above Josiah’s eye-level.
“I’m afraid so,” he answered, “I’m finding it a little tough. I’m not sure what to say.”
“Oh, you know, the usual pious words of giving our life for the machine that sustains us. I’m sure you’ve heard me lecture on the subject dozens of times.”
“Indeed I have, but I notice that you managed to pass this year and hand it over to me.”
“A great honour, I’m sure you’ll agree,” Elijah joked. “But it will look good to the Inner Circle. You don’t exactly try hard to please them, you know, and a little piety never hurt anyone.”
“I understand,” Josiah sighed, “but you know me, I’d rather be doing real research than writing sermons.”
“I know you better than you know yourself, my son, but this isn’t called the ‘Holy Cathedral and Research Institute of the Steel God’ for nothing.”
Josiah wanted to say that it did bear this title for nothing. The research that actually took place here was like the searching of carrion birds, following trails of blood to the remains of the dead. Digging up the past was not science, recapturing lost arts was not progress, he thought, but what would be the point of saying it? All he would get was a lecture from Elijah on how after the Golden Age man had been judged unworthy and could only seek to rediscover the lost arts and wait for the Techno-Messiah. Meanwhile, Josiah would say, the Circle nurtured delusions of grandeur, extracted currency from the gullible masses, and ruled absolutely. But even with Elijah this was a conversation he did not dare to have. He merely nodded and smiled.
“And speaking of research,” Elijah said, leaning forward and talking in a low voice, “how is your pet project doing? How is the time machine?”
“Ironically, father, I wish I had more time to work on it. It’s hard to fit it into my spare time.”
“I’m sorry about that, but the Arch-Lector was quite specific on this subject.”
Elisha, the Arch-Lector of the church and Focus of the Inner Circle was a former student of Elijah’s, and ever since she had been promoted over his head relations between them had been cold. But Elisha was the head of the church, and even Elijah could not openly act against her will.
“Well, it’s coming along well enough. Soon I’ll have to worry about a power source for it. I’m not sure what would work.”
“Can I see it? You’ve been keeping it hidden since you first showed me the blueprints.”
“Not yet - I don’t think I’m quite ready to show it to anyone.”
Elijah looked disappointed but Josiah wanted to wait until he was ready for a demonstration. No point spoiling the surprise.
“Well,” Elijah said, clearing his throat and standing up, “I can’t stand around here chatting all day. You have a lecture to prepare, and I have to attend a meeting of the Inner Circle.”
“Oh yes, father? I didn’t realise the Inner Circle was meeting today. Anything important?”
And then Elijah gave him a look that Josiah had never seen before. It only lasted a moment but it seemed to reveal a depth of pain and sadness that Josiah did not comprehend. And then as soon as it appeared, Elijah smiled and was himself again.
“We’ll see, I suppose. Anyway, you’d best get on with your work.”
Josiah nodded and turned back to the blank sheet.
“You know I’m on your side,” said Elijah as he walked off down the corridor.
The oddness of the remark struck Josiah but he didn’t dwell on it. After all, he had work to do.
* * *
It was night before Josiah made ready to leave the Cathedral. He had been working hard all day, leading prayers, repairing providers and working on his sermon in all the free moments he had. It wouldn’t be the greatest speech ever given on the subject of martyrdom but it was pious and got to the point. You couldn’t ask for more than that.
Most ministers had already left their workshops, and the building was eerily quiet and dark. The only sounds were the buzz of cleaners and the patter of rain against the enormous glass windows. Josiah was looking forward to getting home and having a bit of a rest.
He took the elevator down to the skycar and waited for the next service. It was running late, as usual. The rain began to seep through Josiah’s clothes.
Just as the light of the skycar appeared in the distance, an orderly ran up the stairs and burst onto the platform. “Reverend!” he cried, “Reverend Josiah Smith!”
“That’s me,” Josiah said, annoyed at the interruption.
“Her Eminence, the Arch-Lector, wishes to see you in her private chambers,” he said breathlessly. Then added “immediately” as it became obvious that Josiah wasn’t moving.
Josiah sighed. The skycar rolled into the platform. If he’d driven to work he could have been home by now. It was Elijah that said it was good for the priests to be seen to mix with the laity. Right now, Josiah was unimpressed, not to mention that being called to see the Focus this late at night could not be a good sign.
The elevator carried him down to the right floor but he still had a long walk along darkened corridors before he reached Elisha’s private chambers. The soft, red carpet that covered the steel floor made Josiah feel like he had entered another world - it was so alien within the Cathedral. He had only been down this way once before.
Josiah knocked at the metal door and was immediately admitted by one of the Arch-Lector’s servants who left the room soon afterwards, shutting the door behind her. Josiah was alone with Elisha.
Her hair was greyer than when he had last seen her this close, and it was tied into a bun at the back of her head. Stress lines criss-crossed her face. Beneath her steel-rimmed glasses, her eyes looked troubled. She wore her white-coat - the robes of her office - over a scarlet robe and the pendant of the Steel God hung around her neck. Here was the Focus of the Circle, the Hand that Turns the Wheel.
“Your excellency,” murmured Josiah, bending his knee and bowing his head.
“Josiah, excellent. I thought you might have left.”
She paused, as if unsure how to proceed. Strange, Elisha had never seemed short of words before.
“You caught me just as I was leaving, your Excellency,” Josiah said to fill the silence.
“Well, that’s one thing at least. Josiah. I regret that I have to tell you this but…” Josiah already knew what was coming. There were only two reasons he could think of for being called to the Arch-Lector’s office, and he was hardly going to get a promotion. To be honest, this was not entirely unexpected “…as of tonight you are no longer a Scientist, you are outside the Circle. The Inner Circle have been discussing your case for some time now, Josiah, and tonight we reached a decision.”
“Spare me the speeches, your excellency” Josiah cut in, feeling weary with the whole business.
“I’m just trying to make this easier for you, Josiah, we did not make this decision lightly.”
“After everything I’ve done for the Circle, the times I risked my life,” Josiah said, more to himself than to Elisha. He wasn’t exactly angry, nor very much surprised - only disappointed. He had dared to hope that the Circle could change. Foolish, really.
“It was nothing personal.” Elisha said, as she rose from her chair. “You knew the consequences of your blasphemous activities, you were warned about this machine of yours, and yet you continued. You forced our hand.” All reluctance had fled from her cold eyes - now they were filled with the light of certainty.
“Perhaps. Can I ask one question? Which way did Elijah vote?” He thought he already knew but wanted to see how Elisha reacted. It explained the conversation he and Elijah had had earlier that morning.
Elisha sighed. “No, you may not ask that question. Our decision is irrevocable. You have been excommunicated and the entire Inner Circle is fully behind my decision. In recognition of your years of service you will be allowed to remain in your chambers but your vehicle has already been confiscated by Security.”
“Excellent. I’m glad you aren’t wasting any time.”
“There is precious little to waste. You will, of course, cease to practise as a minister and perform no works of Science.”
“Of course.”
“Good. Then there is nothing more to say.”
She sat down, picked up a quill, dipped it in ink and began to write on some parchments that sat on her desk.
And just like that, his life in the Circle was over.
In something of a daze he caught the skycar and could not afterwards recall any part of the journey. All his plans had fallen away. He needed to clear his head, to come up with an idea. They could keep their God - science was his life, not this religion. But what to do now? He was a pariah, excommunicated - no one respectable would dare to be seen with him for fear of retribution from the Steel God and his earthly representatives. Josiah had to think.
When he arrived home, he removed the front panel from the broken provider, gathered some tools from his workshop - a soldering iron, a hydro-spanner, some wrenches - and set about disassembling the machine. Working on something mundane always helped Josiah’s thinking.
It occurred to him that even for fixing this machine he could be incarcerated. He ought to call his local minister, who would eventually come over, whisper prayers and supplications, wrap each piece in silk. The job would get done in time but not without a generous contribution to the coffers of the church. Without the provider, though, there was no way of getting food. Everything relied on the creations of steel.
One thing was clear to Josiah - he had to finish his time machine - but there were still several critical issues to be resolved. Although he was not yet at that stage, soon he would need a power source, something that could provide the vast quantities of power required, and be adaptive enough to cope with the ever-changing pressures of time travel. He needed the Circle. He needed the resources they had, simple things like spare parts, and he needed someone to share his ideas with. Without the Circle he might never find what he needed, never finish the machine. His dreams of seeing the future would lie in tatters.
At least Elijah had voted in his favour. From what Elisha had said that much was practically certain. Then a realisation hit him - he might never see Elijah again. He stopped work. After all they had been through, he would miss his old mentor. They had shared so much together over the last twenty years. And now he didn’t even know if they would talk again. As a Lector, Elijah could not converse with a pariah like him. Elisha wielded all the power now. Already, he felt the absence of his teacher.
He noticed his eyes beginning to close and forced them open. God, he was tired but he could not sleep. Not yet. He had somewhere to live, enough food and light to keep him going. But where to find the resources he needed?
An idea rose from the depths of his mind. He did not want to think it but there was only one option - he must descend, go down to the Deep, find the Square. He shivered once more, and not from the cold.
Only once before had he descended, after the last time Josiah had been invited to meet with the Arch-Lector. It had been a near fatal mistake. He could still see their faces, callous and cruel, laughing as he ran through the darkness. He ran and ran but there was no escape. All around were the eyes of predators. He was slipping into dreams. Josiah rubbed his eyes with his knuckles - he would not sleep. He had to descend, there was no choice.
If the Circle caught him practising Science, he would probably be banished, maybe executed. He chose to worry about that - it was better than thinking about the inhabitants of the Deep. This time he would be alone but he would not be unarmed.
Josiah set aside his tools and stood up. As he did so, he realised that he was still wearing the Steel Fist pendant of the Church. He tugged at it and the chain gave way easily. No point wearing that anymore, he thought as he tossed it into a corner of the room. It could only get him into trouble.
He pressed a seemingly normal section of wall, and part of it slid away, revealing a hidden alcove. Josiah picked up the large, dull grey pistol within and checked its power level. It was almost fully charged, so he slipped it into his cloak. Shouldn’t think about this this too much; time to get going.
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