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A.R.Yngve
DARC AGES
Book Three
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Pop Shah

Chapter 38

Of the many daily laser transmissions that zipped between the city lords of North Castilia, very few ever reached the ears of commoners - except as half-baked rumors.

And yet one message from Lord Fache went to Lord Damon and then, as if by magic, slipped through his hands into the common mouth.

Its crucial part read: "The noble Lord Fache's honored wife reported a vision, where Darc spoke to her. His words were: 'Fear not. The King can be killed, but he never dies.' Then Darc urged the good Sir Dohan Damon forth, and lo! he was dressed in the robes of a great ruler. Thus ended her vision."

The quote from the dream was, of course, the words uttered by Darc to the soldiers during the battle of Damon City. This was generally regarded as a good omen in these dark times...



"What is a 'ra-dio?'" Mechao demanded to know.

Darc's inquiry about "radio equipment" bewildered Mechao and his assistant sons. At first, they confused the concept of "radio waves" with particle counters and radiation. Darc was forced to painstakingly draw diagrams of electronic circuits, electromagnetic waves, and explain the function of radio, before Mechao began to understand. This took a whole day.

Only then, Darc could convey to them his new plan to spread the news of Plague Virus A vaccine to the world. Mechao judged the plan as doomed, insane - and brilliant. But their quest for a remedy against Virus B was not yet won...

"My wife shall deal with the village council, so that you receive its permission to follow our next trade expedition to the mainland," Mechao told him as they left the laboratory for supper. "You cannot leave the islands without their consent, in any case. In a few weeks, perhaps, we..."

The little old man stopped, when a passing servant whispered a message in his ear. Mechao chuckled, and nodded.

"Darc, someone from the village wishes to see you. Perhaps not a man of great importance, but judging by what you've told us, you will want to meet him. I should say no more. Do go to the entrance hall."

Slightly miffed by Mechao's playful secrecy, Darc went to see the visitor. The old man he found waiting there, with a small following of villagers, was a musician.

It was evident from the guitar that hung from his back, and his colorful attire. Also, the man wore a pair of square, smoke-colored eyeglasses. He was dark-skinned, wrinkled with years of sun, and on every finger of his thick hands he wore rings.

"Greetings," Darc said and moved to shake hands. The man stood up from his seat, and bowed his head. His dark glasses made it hard for Darc to figure out his mood. "You wanted to see me?"

Darc had half suspected the man was mute, but he talked - and his voice was like gravel, words spoken in the rhythm of recital:

"Greetings, Darc, this meeting makes me glad... Far the word travels, and I hear of a man, risen from the dead. Come from a Golden Age, when music ruled the world. And I hear, word of a song from long ago, yes I do, that my forefathers passed on to this day. Yay, this is a great day..."

The musician picked up his guitar, an instrument with metal strings, and in his right hand glistened a tiny silver plectrum. Darc grinned: others who kept the music of ancient times alive! And on this isolated archipelago...

"My name is known across these islands, my clan builds instruments," the man went on in his gravel-voiced sing-song, plucking improvised, twanging chords on his steel guitar. "When they shout 'Pop Shah is coming!' they know joy is near... I was away from here for many months, I was... then word reached my old sorry ears the Singing King had returned... I could not believe it, had to come and see... and now the legend's coming true, I know, I do, yay... the divine music will be released again."

Though this po-faced old troubadour was a complete stranger, Darc still felt as if a long-lost friend had returned. Perhaps Pop Shah had that effect on everyone he met.

"Come, honorable Pop Shah... let us drink, talk and sing. We have much work to do. Tell me, do you manufacture electrical instruments also...?"



Days and weeks went by; the monsoon period approached the tropical islands of Kap Verita.

The two biochemists were now compiling a detailed plan for the treatment of Eye-Leg. Parallel to that scheme, Mechao's sons were examining the DNA samples from the Lepers - a tedious, repetitive task, but of crucial importance.

To pinpoint the exact genetic errors that caused the Plague required little genius, but plenty of time - for there were thousands upon thousands of slots in a genetic sequence where this virus might be hiding. Mechao estimated the time needed to locate Virus B at anything between a month and a lifetime. Though rich and powerful, he owned no robots that could do this work.

Once Eye-Leg could be cured of both viruses and her bodily defects, the much slower and harder process of global change might begin for Lepers and city-dwellers.

A new music could now be heard in the evenings, as Darc and Pop Shah held open-air concerts that brought new joy to the island, and a sense of apprehension of things to come...



And so, after several weeks' preparations, Mechao could declare: "Today we begin."

Closely followed and comforted by Shara, Eye-Leg was brought to Mechao's sealed-off, sterile laboratory chamber. Minute tissue samples were taken from her body and inner organs - including the brain.

Darc marveled at the ease with which Mechao handled genetic material, but he also noticed the unease in the old witchdoctor and his assistant sons and grandson. They were new to using the genetic molding and cloning equipment on human material, and felt the burden of breaking a taboo. Only Darc's repeated reassurance of the just cause convinced them to proceed.

As the humidity and heat in the island air increased with the changing seasons, Eye-Leg began to feel visibly uncomfortable - her health deteriorating in the new environment. Mechao and Darc had decided upon a rapid, but more dangerous treatment process.

They were to attempt a very crude alteration of Eye-Leg's cell samples: replacing all genes vital to the shaping of her body with undamaged genes from another woman. Next, they were to clone these cells into a living copy of Eye-Leg, minus the head and the deformities - and speed up its growth in the artificial womb through electrochemical stimulation, until it corresponded to a brainless, but normal fourteen-year-old body.

And finally, Eye-Leg's head was to be sedated, cooled down... and grafted onto the fresh, cloned body. Growing the clone could take several months - or years, if the first "copy" failed to live.

Mechao's predecessors had taught him to perform successful head transplants on lower animals - but the risk of failure was still great. His age-old laboratory, which once helped spawn the chimera-beast Pipo, was now ready to create a brainless clone of Eye-Leg's body.

Mechao claimed with confidence that he could grow a fourteen-year-old human body within a number of months - and keep it alive by artificial means. Less confidently, he told his assistants it had to be done.

Word of these plans soon reached Dohan. Meijji was the first to notice his reaction.

"What is the matter?" she asked him; he responded with brooding silence. "Is it about that poor Leper?"

He stayed silent in her company and she waited until - at the end of the day - he could speak his mind.

"Things are going on in your father's laboratory, and I... does the Goddess, the All-Mother, approve of this tampering with nature?"

Meijji stroked Dohan's chin stubble, which now seemed pale in contrast to his tanned skin.

"Trust my father," she said. "He, and his forefathers, have known the process of changing nature for centuries. And never during those centuries did they cause wrongdoing against nature or your Goddess. This new undertaking is meant to undo the damage done by men, and restore humans to their natural form. Isn't that proof enough, that the Goddess approves of my father's work?"

He gave her a wry smile. "What about Pipo, then? Would that man-made beast never have harmed anyone?"

She frowned and smiled at once, and scolded him angrily: "You stubborn, bullheaded..."

Dohan silenced Meijji with his lips, and her hands moved to embrace his neck. A pause followed - then Dohan forced his face away from her flowing dreadlocks.

"Meijji, I am a warrior by nature. I go fat and lazy from standing idle here - I must act in some way. I shall ask Darc about those plans of his, and help out where I can."

Meijji pouted a little, and looked away. "I know, my love. You must follow your calling, but..." She felt at her lightly curved belly, and added: "Someday soon, there might come a reason for you to settle down with me."

Dohan's heart jumped in his chest; a rush of fear and exaltation went through him. He kissed her goodnight, and departed to look for Darc.



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