The Last Days of Krypton - Kevin J. Anderson [35]
Back then, she had wanted to be a historian, an archaeologist, a documenter of her civilization’s past. Her teachers had expressed frequent skepticism about her career choice, though. “History has already been recorded, so you would be wasting your time. The chronicles were written long ago. There is nothing to change.”
“But what if some of the details are incorrect?” she had asked, but no one gave her a satisfactory answer. From that point on, Lara had begun to keep her own journal, recording her impressions of events so that there might be at least one independent chronicle.
Several years ago, after completing their cultural and historical instruction, Lara and five fellow students—all considered audacious by their conservative instructors—had left Kandor to see the long-abandoned places for themselves. Among their group was an opinionated young woman named Aethyr-Ka, the rebellious child of a noble family.
On their expedition, the group had been rained on, and some of the mapped “roads” had turned out to be little more than quagmires of mud. Paths were overgrown with foliage. The marshes were infested with biting insects—not at all like the romantic glory Lara had seen in legendary images or read about in poem cycles. She and her companions had trekked out to the Valley of Elders and stood at the intersection of two rivers where Kol-Ar, Pol-Us, and Sor-El had fashioned the resolution that turned Krypton forever away from the dangers of ambition and greed.
While Lara had stared awestruck, Aethyr had simply shaken her head. “So this is where it all began. This is the place we should blame.”
“Blame?” Lara had asked. “This is where we gave up all warfare, all violence and death.”
“We gave up a lot more than that. Have you looked at the noble families lately? Have you studied Kryptonian history over the past several centuries?”
“Of course I have!”
“Then you can explain in a sentence everything we’ve achieved since proclaiming our society ‘perfect.’ Stagnant, more like!”
“What about…Jor-El? Think of all that he’s accomplished.” Even years ago, Lara had been fascinated by the great scientist.
“The exception proves the rule, dear Lara,” Aethyr said with a superior expression. “You can think of only one man who embodies Kryptonian ideals anymore. Our noble families have become decadent and lazy.”
“I’m not,” Lara had said.
Aethyr chuckled. “Neither am I. Perhaps the two of us will set a new standard for our generation.”
Now, sitting alone and staring at the blank twelfth obelisk, Lara thought again about that journey to the Valley of Elders. She still had her detailed record of the trip, what they had seen, descriptions of how it felt to be surrounded by the immensity of true history. Jor-El’s ancient ancestor had been revered, but Sor-El was long in the past; modern-day Kryptonians were far more interested in gossiping about how his father had lost his mind to the Forgetting Disease and fallen from grace. It was terribly unfair. Lara hoped that, in some small measure, her work would begin to turn opinion around for old Yar-El.
Her mother startled her, coming up close behind. “You’re daydreaming.”
“An artist doesn’t daydream. An artist simply waits to be inspired.”
“And you find inspiration in daydreams about Jor-El?”
Lara flushed. “Please don’t distract me. This is important work.”
“Of course it is.” Lara didn’t acknowledge her mother’s amusement, nor did she admit how long she had been thinking about Jor-El.
CHAPTER 13
From atop the Council temple the holographic image of Rao blazed through the darkness. Zod could see it from the balcony of his private penthouse, and he stared at the hovering solar image until his eyes