The Last Days of Krypton - Kevin J. Anderson [45]
After a while he no longer even checked the solar clocks, though he did insist on stopping by the offices of Council members Cera-Si and Mauro-Ji, the two men most likely to implement a mitigation plan for Krypton’s tectonic instabilities. Jor-El spoke with each man briefly, reminding them that he trusted his brother and his predictions, that they must not ignore this potential for disaster. Cera-Si and Mauro-Ji both promised to do their best—but only after they had incontrovertible proof.
Lara took him to a museum, a sculpture garden, and a quick dinner before heading to the opera pavilion, whose design looked like an unfolding nest of tourmaline parabolas. She settled beside him in the dim auditorium and leaned close to make an amusing comment; Jor-El barely heard her words, distracted by her nearness.
On his estate, Jor-El had always thought he had everything he wanted. Off and on over the years, he had pondered the possibility of a politically advantageous marriage, though he had never seen much point in it. Mauro-Ji made no secret of how beautiful and well connected his two daughters were, but the young ladies were so obsessed with transient fashions and esoteric gossip that Jor-El could hardly bear an hour in their company. Though many women pretended to adore him, Jor-El always sensed that they were more impressed with his fame than with him.
Lara, on the other hand, wasn’t trying to woo him for political or financial gain. She liked him because she liked him, and he very much enjoyed her company in return. She neither brushed aside his science nor insisted on comprehending it. “I don’t need to understand the details of your work, Jor-El,” she had said. “I need to understand you.”
Lights dimmed, casting an ebony blanket of simulated night on the theater walls. The stages levitated, and a holographic representation of the old and ornate city of Orvai appeared, setting the scene.
Lara’s eyes sparkled. “Now instead of you explaining science to me, let me explain the opera tapestry to you.”
“I hope you’re a patient teacher. When does this story take place?”
“It’s a legend. It takes place in some vague ‘long ago.’”
Someone urged them to be quiet. Lights strobed across the stage, and actors appeared. The singing began, and counterpoints of symphonic music clashed with the vocal melodies.
In the story, Hur-Om was a wealthy young man, highly opinionated but well respected. Fra-Jo was a beautiful young woman, just as passionate, from a rival family. The two disagreed on almost everything, so naturally they fell in love, though neither of them would admit it. Sparks flew with their every conversation; they opposed each other’s propositions during numerous Council sessions. They debated furiously, but with each encounter they felt a strange pull tying their hearts together. Still, their stubborn personalities made them deny their mutual attraction.
Finally, Fra-Jo accused Hur-Om of loving her, and he accused her of loving him. Each indignant, they angrily parted company, vowing never to see the other again. Fra-Jo took to the sea, leaving Orvai and sailing off through the great lakes and onto the open ocean; Hur-Om marched in the opposite direction, leading a caravan expedition out into the desert.
Now, the levitating stages split, showing both stories simultaneously. From his seat, Jor-El had to flick his gaze back and forth to follow it all. Fra-Jo’s half of the stage filled with water to show ocean waves through a transparent static barrier. Rain poured down as a storm tossed her boat from side to side. Finally she was cast overboard, left to drift, clinging to a few pieces of wreckage in the depthless sea.
On the opposite side of the stage, Hur-Om led his caravan into the scorched wastelands, but a quake shook the desert and shifted the dunes. Like a great mouth, the desert swallowed up his party, pack animals, and supplies. They all vanished into the gaping pool of sand, leaving Hur-Om alone and lost.
Somehow, though, through all their tragedies,