The Golden City by John Twelve Hawks

before the show to save seats for their friends.
    The three suns were a hand’s width above the horizon. The cooks had finished their jobs and found their seats in the little amphitheater. Michael was cautious about asking too many questions, but he wanted to know what was going on. “How long do we have to wait?” he asked Verga.
    “Soon enough. When the dark sky comes.” The old man jerked his head at the screen. “Just keep watchin’ the visionary.”
    As dusk fell, the sound of a choir singing came from hidden speakers, and then the image of a crystal sphere appeared on the screen. Stars floated on the surface of the sphere, changing position as it rotated in space. The camera passed through the translucent surface to a second sphere that held the triad of suns and a third sphere that held comets and asteroids. At the center of all this was a rounddisc colored with patches of blue and green. Like an avenging angel, the camera swooped down from the sky, and Michael saw that they were entering a world with grasslands, forests and waterfields. A city was at the center of this world, and now the camera was gliding past brick buildings and streets filled with steam-powered crawlers.
    A group of nine towers dominated the only hill in the city. They were tall, bright spires, composed of translucent glass or plastic that concealed those inside but allowed light to glow from within. Just down the hill from the towers was a white triangular building with an open roof. As the music reached a climax, the camera floated downward to where one man was standing on a stage.
    The guardian was a slender blond man in his thirties with a pallid face. He wore a dark green robe that resembled a priest’s vestments, but had the ingratiating manner of a game show host. “Welcome everyone!” he shouted. “This could be the night the gods smile on you!”
    Music boomed from speakers and beams of light shot across the stage. The camera angle changed and Michael saw that the guardian was facing an immense audience in an amphitheatre. Men and women were sitting in different sections of the room, and quick close-ups revealed that everyone was young and enthusiastic. Most of the audience were faithful servants, but a smaller segment of the crowd wore silver tunics and black trousers. Michael decided that these people were the church militants that acted as both police force and army.
    “This is the moment when two halves become one.” The guardian spread his hands and then slowly brought them together. “This is the moment when the gods create a new unity, a new creation.”
    Again, the lights changed and laser beams moved around the amphitheatre as if searching for someone. Back on stage, a row of lights on a panel began to blink rapidly.
    “And the gods have searched and the gods have chosen …”
    The row of lights froze—expressing a binary number. There was a brief moment of silence and then a woman in the audience screamed and jumped up, waving a slip of paper that showed her number. Her girlfriends hugged and congratulated her as she hurried to the central aisle and climbed a staircase to the stage.
    The young woman had wrapped silk flowers around her red collar, transforming it into a necklace. She seemed awed by the bright lights and the fact that she was now a participant in this event. When one of her friends shouted from the audience, she giggled nervously and waved her hand.
    “And what’s your name?” the guardian asked.
    “Zami.”
    “Welcome, Zami! Did you think this was going to happen to you tonight?”
    “I—I prayed to the gods …”
    “And now we’ll see how they answered!”
    The binary lights began blinking rapidly as Zami clasped her hands together. When the flashing stopped and a number appeared, shouts and laughter came from the men’s section of the auditorium. A broad-shouldered servant emerged from the crowd and ran toward the stage. The moment he reached Zami, his aggressive energy disappeared. He