The construction of New Hamburg's North Pole Town (NHNPT) started in the year 2079 and its major systems were operational by 2090. When the World Trade Association first opened NHNPT's doors to corporations, many expressed skepticism that it would last the decade. Could it ever be more than a publicity stunt? 'Cities of Tomorrow' had been advertised since the turn of the twenty-first century, with the Asian cities of Hong Kong, Singapore, South Korea, Tokyo, Shenzhen (and many others) leading the charge as early adopters of all the latest technology. The key difference, however, was that NHNPT (or, as it was affectionately termed , 'Iceberg City' or simply 'Iceberg') was completely privately-run. This was not a city-state, nor was it a sovereign nation. Rather, it was an agglomeration of multinational corporations (whose separate legal personality depended on its enforceability in the relevant state of incorporation). There were no 'citizens', only 'retainees', 'contractors', 'employers', 'employees' and 'visitors' - the particular legal definitions of which were constantly litigated and re-litigated in the Adjudication Section of the Arbitration Chambers*, a hundred-story monolith of stainless steel. Here was engineered perfection: a sky-scraper as wide as the largest shopping mall, and as tall as some of the tallest buildings in the world, perched on what was essentially a mobile platform. This was the heart of the city, literally and figuratively, the place where disputes were heard and decided upon by a 'neutral party'.
The Arbitration Chambers housed more than just the legal cogs of this research hub. It had shopping facilities retailing only the finest luxuries of all types: food, clothing, technology... whatever was needed could be found here in a form that was excessive, opulent and over-engineered.
Most importantly, the Arbitration Chambers was home to Stellar Academy, whose campus spanned Floor 41 - 70 (about 12 million sq ft in total). This was the organisation which bore most of the research legwork and which took in only about 5000 (usually post-graduate, although there were no formal requirements for entry) students annually. In order to attract the greatest talents in the world, Stellar Academy removed all restrictions on applications, and any person whether young or old, poor or rich, regardless of qualification, could chance the admissions process. Of course, only an institution with the combined resources of the largest multinational corporations like Prozac and SpaceFare and the backing of the World Trade Association could muster the wherewithal to assess such a wide variety of talents. All this was for the sole purpose of forging powerful individuals to lead and engineer successful missions into the Great Unknown - space. Any individual admitted to Stellar Academy could therefore, without exaggeration, consider himself among the best in his chosen field of specialisation.
Needless to say, Stellar Academy numbered among the most illustrious institutions - in terms of the quality of research it produced, the status of its alumni and the sheer competition for available positions. In fact, today, the last Saturday of January, marked the first meeting of the Stellar Academy Council of Tutors, where they would discuss Admissions.
The meeting room was sparsely furnished and was arranged such that the audience were seated seminar-style. A row of powerful LED lights were recessed into the ceiling to keep away the eternal darkness which blanketed Iceberg City for 6 months every year. Johnson Piccadilly, Principal of Stellar Academy and Master Primarch of the Professorial Combine sat at the plastic table at the head of the room, a foam microphone before him. Here was a balding man, stooped when standing, draped over the table when sitting, sporting white hair where it could be found on his head. Principal Piccadilly was the very picture of an old, amiable man, a picture which belied the immense political and economic power he held as Master Primarch.
"...let's see... hmmm..." Principal Piccadilly's voice filtered in through the wall-mounted speakers as the microphone inadvertently picked up his mumbles. The tapping of his feet was muffled by the carpeted floor. Piccadilly leafed through his notebook, wrinkling his spotty scalp and furrowing impressively thick brows. Looking up and squinting at the gathering of Stellar Academy's tutors, Principal Picadilly cleared his throat, "*ahem* ... Now that all... or most... err... probably... most of you are here, I'll start things off with the tutor allocations."
The hundred or so assigned tutors went silent and visibly straightened; only the incessant *whir* of the heating element could be heard. The Professorial Combine had five ranks: Master Primarch, Primarch, Arch Cantor, Cantor, Precentor and Associate. Only those ranked Cantor and above would be selected to be Stellar Academy Tutors; being selected was often seen as a burden, given that it would take up valuable time which could otherwise be spent on important research; nevertheless, it was seen as a duty which if improperly discharged could jeopardise one's chances for a promotion. Stellar Academy Tutors thus had to be diligent and meticulous in structuring the curriculum and synchronising their teaching objectives with the over-arching profit-motive of the institution and its backers.
"*ahem* well, I'll start by listing those who shall be assigned to the Primary Curriculum..." This was necessary administrative work. The Primary Curriculum, which every student had to take, comprised Military Engineering, Civil Engineering, Applied Mathematics, Basic Computer Systems and Tactics & Negotiation. Principal Piccadilly read out the respective subject allocations with characteristic assiduity.
"... That's all for the Primary Curriculum. Those with questions please take them up with Vice-Principal Peng. Now before I consider this year's Special Curriculum, I have an important announcement to make." Principal Piccadilly continued, "Recently, Stellar Academy has made a breakthrough in Revival and Reconstruction (R&R) technology, under the firm leadership of the R&R Project head VP Peng. As such, I have made some changes to the roster and have allocated VP Peng to convene the Medical Technology course."
The room filled with soft murmurs, as various persons whispered words of admiration; some betrayed thinly veiled jealousy. The Special Curriculum was at the heart of Stellar Academy's teaching philosophy: courses were unstructured and were run as year-long projects by the assigned Course Convenor. After all, the students who succeeded in being admitted were among the very best minds of the world - the Convenor thus benefited from making research assistants of what were essentially some of the most skilled technocrats of the relevant field. Furthermore, the Convenor enjoyed an 80% cut of the profit resulting from any commercialisation of the fruits of any research (the remaining 20% going to Stellar Academy). Out of all the Special Curriculum Courses, Medical Technology had consistently been among the most profitable. Now that VP Peng Do Cheon seemed to have made some headway in R&R tech, there was no doubt he would leverage his position as Convenor of Medical Technology to great personal benefit. Of course, whatever benefit he derived was dwarfed by the benefit redounding to Stellar Academy in terms of reputation and commercial contracts. No doubt many businesses in the medical industry were anticipating the fruits of the R&R project.
Suddenly, a female voice cut in; all heads turned to regard Primarch Beryl Law, Chief Instructor at Stellar Academy. This was a woman who had a reputation for being fierce and stubborn. Her hair was dyed a distracting crimson, reflecting her abrasive personality and harsh temper. By all accounts she possessed a brilliance which belied her youth (as a woman in her late-20s, she was the youngest Primarch), having distinguished herself even among the legendary Stellar Academy students for her technical genius. Most would hesitate before interrupting the top man at Stellar Academy, but Law had no such qualms. She stated assertively (but not impolitely, for only a fool would dare draw the ire of the Master Primarch), "If I may interject, sir, were the allocations not finalised before Christmas? I believe *I* was the one to be allocated that position. If there were any tentative changes to be made, I think I should at least have been informed earlier, to allow me to prepare some representations."
Truth be told, Chief Instructor Law had earlier been on the verge of celebrating. To suddenly have something she had planned for so long taken away from her? This was preposterous! She had gone through the proper processes, completed the applications and gone through the interview with none other than the Principal himself!. Was it an abuse of power? Was it discrimination? The Chief Instructor was fuming internally, and had to do all she could to control her demeanour. She was in the midst of a breakthrough no less lucrative than the R&R project - Stacking Technology could revolutionise rehabilitation and mobility, not to mention some possible military implementations (although those were more peripheral). By stacking linked nano-machines containing sodium and chloride ions along the circulatory system, this technology could send micro-signals to specific cells with pinpoint accuracy; with more manpower - the best manpower the world could offer - Chief Instructor Law would commercialise Stacking Technology. What came after was besides the point, really; everything could wait until she unlocked the door to what was (to most people) unimaginable wealth.
But it was not to be. The Principal simply looked expectantly at VP Peng, that stocky middle-aged man whose defining feature was the squarest jaw you would ever see. As Vice Principal, he never got on his colleague's bad side and always discharged his job assiduously; no effort was ever spared in his pursuit of perfection. While he understood that perfection was not something that could ever realistically be achieved, this did nothing to soften his autistic attention to detail. No one could argue that VP Peng embodied the spirit of technocracy - evidently Principal Piccadilly thought so too, even going so far as to name Peng Do Cheon next-in-line for the position of Master Primarch.
"Ms Law, please allow me to answer on behalf of Mr Piccadilly. I understand that this is a very sudden move. But the Council of Tutors has always acted according to the decisions of our Sponsors - simply put, there has of late been a great interest shown in the R&R project. To date, approximately 60% of Stellar Academy funding from the Sponsors has been earmarked for development of R&R technology. Simply put, Principal has come to the conclusion that this is the best commercial decision to make at this juncture." With piercing logic, VP Peng rationalised the situation to his audience. "Also, we regret that this decision was made so late; it was only this morning that the details were finalised. Still, if it is any help, I would bring your attention to Rule 20.1.9 in the Tutor's Handbook. Essentially, the opportunity to make representations may be dispensed with if sanctioned by the Sponsors, on majority vote of the SA Sponsor Group Meeting. Our decision to change the roster was thus sanctioned, effective as of 6:00pm GMT yesterday."
Yet, that would undo all of Beryl's plans. She stared daggers at the ever-professional Peng; his explanation done, all he did was sit and wait patiently. The silence of the room would pressure her to respond - and there was not much she could do. Truth be told, she did not read the Handbook - but who did? That was just a bunch of nonsense cooked up by some overpaid lawyer to cover the asses of the Sponsors. Try as she might, however, her ego could not, would not, be tamed by this lackey of Piccadilly. For years she had gone against the grain, in her technical field, in a city far from home, in a difficult workplace filled with sycophants and greedy tyrants. Here she stood, poised on the brink of a technical achievement, only to be foiled by this short autist.
Observing the Chief Instructor searching for words with which to reply, VP Peng offered, "If you could file an early application for next year's applications, I'm sure it would be looked upon favourable."
No! There was simply not enough time. Ever since she had obtained tentative approval to convene Medical Technology, Beryl had felt greatly relieved of the pressures she had been working under - the dangerous gamble she had undertaken seemed to have paid off. Now that the rug had been pulled from under her, she had no choice but to challenge the decision!
"Uh... VP Peng?" a voice chirped. A young asian brunette had raised her hand and was making as if to offer a solution. Beryl turned and recognised her immediately. This was Cantor Ryo Asahina, who specialised in Medical Logistics. They were in the same age group, and had become fast friends, given that they were among the few women in the ranks of the Professorial Combine. If Beryl remembered correctly, Ryo had previously been under the employ of BetterLife, a world renown medical technologies developer.
"Isn't it a little... unfair that Ms Law was just dropped like that? If the decision is not urgent, maybe we could come back to this at the meeting next week - so that Ms Law's representations can be properly assessed." Of course, this would be the fair thing to do, most in the audience found themselves agreeing. Beryl felt the hard stares wavering slightly; if anything, men found it hard to disagree with a woman as attractive as Ryo.
"Unfortunately, the decision *is* urgent, by virtue of an announcement we will make in the coming days. While this is not the proper forum for that announcement, I'm sure everyone will be talking about it three days from now, including Iceberg Pressholdings." VP Peng smiled slyly. Curious murmurs rippled through the audience as he fed them this morsel. A big reveal! Has the R&R project already made the breakthrough? This was big news for a project that had its inception almost a decade ago. No wonder VP Peng would be in charge of Medical Technology this year!
There was nothing more that could be said. Beryl pursed her lips and leaned forward over the desk. This was it. Five years of struggle for nothing. There would be no next year for her, not the way things were going.
Ryo cast her eyes at the noticeably downbeat Beryl. Tonight, she resolved to take her out for drinks. Perhaps there would be a chance to console her.
Without missing a beat, Principal Piccadilly continued on to the next item on the agenda...
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An unfamiliar ringing jolted Yarhaci out of his deep slumber. Sitting up on white sheets of the finest linen that he had ever seen or felt (in his past life, perhaps; here it was common as goats), Yarhaci looked around for the 'smartphone' device that he had only been introduced to a week prior.
Hmm? The sound was not coming from the phone.
The door! The muffled noise echoed its cheerful peals overhead, seemingly loud enough to rouse the icy-cold darkness of night.
The room (padded with a material unknown to Yarhaci) was filled only with the dim light from the moon, filtered through a glass window. The window was shut tight, but there was no way of escaping. Even if he could get it open, he was high up in the sky, higher than he had ever been before, and he could see a vast world of strange lights and moving metal mountains before him; plumes of black smoke wormed into the heavens from the fiery forges of hellfire recessing the base of this forsaken land. The blooming smoke-flowers were highlighted an orange-yellow by the hellfire below; even if he could leave, where would he go? Plunging into the depths would take him to Tengri sooner rather than later.
Suddenly, before he could register the change in the brightness levels, Yarhaci saw that the light source in the ceiling-recess had come to life; such a strange technology, this imperceptible and automatic fire-in-a-bottle! The room, once dark, was now filled with a warm orange.
*thump* *thump*
Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Soon the 'future-people' would arrive, attempting to teach alien tongues and signing their meaning (for the most part). Their arrival was augured by the bell-ringing. For hours at a time since his awakening, he had been poked, prodded and violated in various orifices by strange contraptions. Through the days and nights (were the nights longer than the days? Yarhaci felt that it was), he was kept fed with unfamiliar garbage (probably some form of processed grain, he thought) and at certain intervals he was guided by suited figures to his dorm for some rest and learning. In the first day, he had thought himself in the company of spirits; but the visor which the 'future-people' sported on their suits were translucent, and he saw through them to see that those it clad were none other than men and women. 'Humans', like him. That was the English word identifying their shared biological heritage, taught to him by his attendant ('Yuxi'); on further clarification, he was told that he may refer to them as 'future-people' if he were concerned about having a word to relationally describe his hosts. This was a sentiment which still escaped Yarhaci; but at least he had a word to describe his jailors.
Yarhaci was dressed in a two-piece garment; a 'shirt' which covered his top and a pair of 'long pants' which covered his bottom. He felt naked without his weapon, but honestly it wouldn't be very effective against the massive metal monstrosities forged in human form which stalked the hallways outside his cell, and which undertook all the manual labour for the 'future-people'. He had seen their capabilities in the ice shaft below, where they moved large pieces of ice hundreds or even thousands of times the weight of a normal man. He had seen the capabilities of the 'future-people' themselves, able to command the strange machines which catapult them from the depths of the ice shaft to the level at which his room was located, and probably even higher. Against these unfamiliar devices, Yarhaci had to learn in order to survive - but more than that: experiencing this, just like the fascinating techniques the Khitans used to tame and control their war-horses, sparked a deep obsessive curiosity in him. These were machines commanded by humans 'like him' (probably), which means that he also held the latent capacity to learn it. If he, a steppe dweller, could muster the courage to brave the seas, then he could do so in this strange world.
It did not hurt that the amenities provided were easy to use and (once one knew how to use it) effective. Things like the 'toilet' or (厕所) had revolutionary cleaning capabilities ('bidet', the woman had called it) which, though uncomfortable to use at first, far outstripped anything he knew that could remove dirt or defecation with such ease and efficiency. To Yarhaci, if a place for defecation was this advanced, this probably meant that this land held far greater innovations which he lacked the capability to comprehend. Just like how his native language could not handle the technicalities of Khitan horse-handling, so his native language probably could not handle the technical demands of understanding the plumbing or lighting system and, beyond that, the catapult-transport system.
So he would learn for now. All he could do was sit up and be attentive to the woman teaching him the basics of English and Mandarin. Just like the time he fell prisoner to the Khitans, he simply had to stay calm and plan for his escape. Unlike the previous time, however, Khulan would not come to his aid - Khulan was dead, killed by the coward Chinua... And where was Arslan? Why did Chinua, and not Negurin's commander, Arslan, answer his hail?
These were questions which had to be put on hold for now. With a *hiss* the room door slid open (it doesn't even open normally! No matter how many times he saw it, Yarhaci continued to be baffled by it), revealing three unsuited figures. This was the first time since his awakening that he had beheld these future-people without their malleable armour. Nevertheless, Yarhaci recognised two of them as having accompanied him at certain points throughout the past week.
The woman who identified herself as 'Yuxi' greeted him with a wave. Yarhaci had thought that she was some relative of the Han by her features; however she was strange in many ways he did not understand, and he did not know how to ask her affiliation in her foreign tongue. Even if she were an enemy, however, it would not be smart to provoke the ire of the metal-men which were always close by.
The other figure was one 'Peng', a short, if slightly fat, man with a strong face. This man might be mistaken for a warrior, if not for his unmarred face and soft body. Thus, Yarhaci deduced, this man was probably a merchant or administrator - or perhaps even a judge. 'Peng' acknowledged him with a nod.
The final visitor was one that Yarhaci did not recognise. This was probably the oldest man Yarhaci had even seen, bent and stooped with age, a walking cane serving as his partial support. Such a man must either have seen many battles, or come from a tribe which did not deal in war. It did not escape Yarhaci that the respect and deference every other person showed to 'Peng', 'Peng' seemed to show to the old man. This might be the elderly patriarch, Yarhaci mused. The only problem was, none of the three seemed remotely to relate to each other. The woman's features were most familiar, although possibly altered in some way (I have never seen such smooth skin on a woman before, Yarhaci thought); but then came 'Peng', who might as well be related to the eastern seafarers, or the old man, whose wizened features were unlike anything he had seen before. This was no family.
"I see... this is the subject, in the flesh!" The old man rumbled, eyeing him up and down. "So, how much of him is 'restored'?"
They conversed too quickly for Yarhaci to catch, with his as-yet primitive grasp of 'English'.
"This was a good find, actually. about 90% of his biological matter was intact, preserved in the ice. As for the restoration, we only operated on his heart and brain. I would say that he probably feels healthier than he ever was in his previous life!" 'Peng' replied.
"It really is something, seeing something you've worked on for so long manifest as a human being. 'Peng', I'm sure I made the right choice." The old man chuckled. "In any case, I want to see how the teaching is going. Any problems with cognition, Yuxi?"
"Sir, I would say that he's doing pretty well considering the time period he dates from. I doubt he ever saw an Englishman in his time." 'Yuxi' reported.
They must be conversing about me, Yarhaci thought. Perhaps they were sizing him up for some further experimentation. It seems that although they brought me back, they do not fully understand me.
Therein lies my advantage.
"Then I'll sit in for today's session. I must get to know...." The old man trailed off, looking expectantly at 'Yuxi.
"... Yarhaci, I believe."
"Yarhaci. Mongol, or Jurchen, considering he dates from 11th-12th century." 'Peng' interjected helpfully.
Looks could be deceiving, but it seemed to Yarhaci that 'Peng' had some stake in this. Perhaps 'Peng' was bargaining for Yarhaci's life. Or perhaps he was talking about dinner. Whatever was the case, 'Peng' was the first of these 'future-people' to attempt communication with him, and who had ensured (Yarhaci was sure of it) that his subordinates treated Yarhaci well.
"Nevertheless, the Chief Instructor is not going to take this slight lightly. You know how she is. Things definitely look good for the R&R project now, and that is sufficient reason for me to back you up," the old man thought out loud, "but given her earlier comments, she is unlikely to leave my decision unchallenged. I think that I owe her a good explanation; then, we must ensure that Beryl's talents are put to good use elsewhere."
Yarhaci's ears perked up. The old man had the characteristic inflection all men of power have - calm and commanding. Such men never make asides without reason; even Khulan's comments always probed people to do something or other (Ahh, Khulan... may your soul rest easy; at least death is easy in these Northern waters).
"Yes. Honestly, she took it harder than I thought. Well, let me see if she's still in the Combine Staff-room. I'll prepare a good explanation for you by tomorrow." Probably picking up on the old man's hint, Peng made for the exit, nodding toward Yarhaci a last time. "Have a good night, sir."
"Let's begin, then."