Free Awakening on Orbis by P. J. Haarsma

appeared like a distress beacon amid the chaos of Murat. A steady stream of aliens flowed through the Center’s pristine doors, and I stepped into the flow.
    Inside I found more aliens, sitting at O-dats, while three Keepers emerged from light chutes located behind a large oval counter. I watched as each Keeper retrieved a new Citizen and then left with him or her through the same chute. I searched for an empty O-dat, but they were all occupied, with at least two or three aliens waiting their turn. How many aliens did the Keepers help? I decided to find out for myself.
    “Excuse me,” I said to the Saliman standing in front of me. I could always spot a Saliman because they had big hornlike ears that pointed backward. “Are you a Citizen?”
    “Lot of good it does me,” the alien grunted, waving one of her thick pink forearms in the air for emphasis. “The First Families have the system so rigged, I was better off as a knudnik.”
    “What will the Keepers do for you?”
    “Keepers? Don’t confuse the Descendants of Light with the Keepers. They may look the same, but they are definitely two different breeds. Watch out for the DOL,” she said in a gossipy tone, and then glanced at the Keeper standing a few meters to her right.
    Another alien had been eavesdropping on our conversation. “Get your pass and get out of here,” he said.
    “Pass?” I said.
    “Through the wormhole,” replied the Saliman. “It’s the one good thing about the DOL. They love to see you go.”
    “And I’m going to keep them happy,” added the other one. I turned toward that alien. His face was almost as wide as his shoulders. It was a Roshilon. His eyes blinked at me as they struggled to peer around his big bony face. “There’s no way I can afford to live on these rings, and there is absolutely no way I can afford the tax to travel through that wormhole. The DOL arranges your passage for free. It’s the best assistance this place can offer.”
    “Is everyone here leaving?” I whispered.
    “If they’re smart, they will.”
    The Saliman squatted in front of the terminal and reached up with his short arms. I stood back, digesting what the aliens had told me, when I heard my name.
    “Johnny Turnbull!” Drapling called out to me. “What a pleasure. Are you lost again?”
    I saw the Saliman glance at me over his shoulder.
    “No,” I said. “I was hoping we could talk.”
    “Absolutely,” Drapling cried. “Follow me.”
    “Get your pass!” hissed the Saliman.
    I followed Drapling through the light chute, then emerged to find him waiting next to a tall green crystal anchored in the wall. It was one of many that lined the polished stone hallway.
    “This way,” he said, motioning.
    I followed Drapling down the hallway and across the glossy floor. Below my feet, buried about ten centimeters under the clear floor, I could see rows and rows of loosely arranged hand-fashioned copper slabs. These plates were separated by globs of rust-colored grout, just the sort of sloppy brick-and-mortar job one might find in Murat.
    “What are these?” I asked, pointing at the floor.
    “Keepers who have served their purpose beyond all expectations,” he replied.
    “They’re graves?”
    “This is much more honorable,” he replied.
    “Walking on them is honorable?”
    “They’re still serving the greater good. I find that honorable, don’t you?”
    No! How is spending eternity as a paving stone honorable?
I stepped away from the tombstones, tiptoed along the grout, and followed Drapling into a room near the end of the hallway. He sat in a sloped chair made from some sort of greenish, silky material. There was no place for me to sit.
    “How is Ketheria?” he asked.
    “She says she’s fine,” I replied, walking past amber lights embedded in the floor.
    “I take it you do not agree.”
    “Tell me about the Tonat, Drapling. I may have been hasty in my decision.”
    Drapling stood up. There was that pause again. He was thinking