James P. Hogan Read Online Free PDF

single-minded purposefulness had coalesced from the wreckage of the order that had destroyed itself. Some described it as the nearest thing to a godless religion. And the common factor that bound everyone together did indeed exhibit a religious quality in the form of faith that diligence and devotion could earn a better future, and a common cause to defend against evils that would work to prevent it from happening. The faith was in the potential of the unfettered human intellect and soul to achieve a higher level of existence than one limited by considerations of survival and material security. The threat lay in the danger of allowing the power thus realized to be subjugated to serving the baser ambitions that had led to ruin instead of wisdom when humankind confronted the same choice before.
    Hence, little of the scientific rediscovery that was occurring owed anything to the patronage of conquerors or money cartels in the patchwork of princedoms, city states, tribal domains, and embryonic nations that were taking shape in the present world. Instead, those who sought the higher learning, and others that chance delivered, who were judged worthy, came to Sofi, the land of those who had come to be known as the Builders. Sofi was situated on the western side of the northern part of the immense double continent that old-world maps showed as the “Americas,” now known as “Merka” and “Amazonia.” Secure along a coast facing a broad ocean, and protected by mountain and desert barriers from the miscellany of less-developed territories farther inland, Sofi was where the arts that had culminated in Aurora were consolidated and guarded. Soon now, the Builders and those who had been chosen to join them would leave to build a new world elsewhere, away from the menace of the same rising tides of rivalry and unreason that had engulfed all before. Yes, the organizational politics and logistics were complex. But capable people inspired by a common vision could work wonders.
     
    Masumichi got off at a transit point in the lower levels and took an elevator up to emerge into surroundings of office and instrumentation cubicles, and control rooms. He found Iver at his station in an area overlooked by a large display of part of Earth that Aurora was currently passing over. It showed the snow-covered island region of Merka’s far north, outlined indistinctly beneath whorls and banks of cloud.
    Iver used one of his screens to bring up an image that had been captured earlier. It showed a view looking obliquely down over a city standing astride a river, with hilly country to the south and flatter terrain broken by patches of forest to the north. A map of the south-central region of the eastern part of Asia was inset in one corner, with a highlighted rectangle framing part of the territory known locally as Arigane.
    “Taken eighteen minutes ago,” Iver said. “Some false color added for enhancement.”
    Masumichi identified the larger bulk of the palace and citadel in the central part of the city. He had been having the area watched for the last few days, ever since a sizeable column of what looked like mounted soldiers arrived from somewhere to the west. “You say he’s there now?” he queried, turning his head.
    In reply, Iver zoomed in to a closer view that resolved the palace into two adjoining hexagons, one consisting of larger official buildings, the other to the rear, domestic and private quarters surrounding an inner retreat of courts and gardens. Standing on one side of what appeared to be a stable yard between the outer wall and the kitchens and servants’ quarters was a barrel-roofed wagon, painted bright red.
    “That’s it – what you were looking for?” Iver checked.
    “That’s it. We’ve been waiting weeks to see if he’d show up.”
    Iver swung his seat around and leaned back curiously. “So who is he? What’s the story?” he asked.
    “A potential recruit, who ran into one of the crabs a while ago,”