I stand once again at attention in the dining room as master eats his breakfast. Sir Finley stayed the night last night, the two men discussing their possible find long into the early morning. Both are quiet and practically falling asleep in their cream of wheat. Sir Finley finally looks up from his half- eaten breakfast, "Be ready on Wednesday. We will head out early and see if these rumors have any merit. Did you receive the copy of the coordinates I got from my man?" Master glumly nods as he takes another bite of his food.
After they finish up master sees Sir Finley to the door and wishes him a safe trip home, and then starts to shuffle his way to the stairs. Before ascending to his chambers, though, he turns to me and tells me in a croaking voice, "I want you to be ready to leave as well on Wednesday. You are coming with us." And with that he stalks up the stairs. I am shocked. It is very common for people to take their slaves to serve them on trips, but master has never taken me anywhere. I wonder what has prompted this "invitation." I shrug off the thought and continue on with my day.
Wednesday comes in the blink of an eye and I am packing all of master's tools and necessities into his hover car as he awaits Sir Finley's arrival. As I slide the last bag into place Sir Finley's hover car comes to rest on the landing pad behind master's. The men embrace and speak excitedly about the day's schedule. I wait at attention beside master's car. Sir Finley looks to me and smiles politely. "Well Meredith, I see that Willy is bringing you with! How fun! It will be wonderful for you to see a part of your own history!" He says. Right. My own history. An interesting thought seeing as it is literally my history, and also the story of this life's beginning. The people who made that crossing are my ancestors, seeing as no other slaves were ever sent across the Aurora. We all gather into our respective vehicles and depart to our destination. The automatic autopilot prompts master and I to buckle our safety restraints and enjoy our ride as we slowly lift into the air and glide through the sky. My heart beat quickens and I take a deep breath. This is still a fairly new invention and I have not had the privilege of riding in many. After my nerves calm I look out at the passing buildings. The city is sprawling with skyscrapers reaching to the heavens. Windows and solar panels seeming to glow as we pass. So much has changed even from my last life. Technology advancing faster than ever before. I remember the day our slave caravan arrived on this spot so many centuries before. The first solid ground after so many months of travel. The people of the empire dancing as we waited to be let out of our stuffy confines. My eyes watered as the light breeze and bright light overwhelmed me. Green fields spread out around us in all directions. Our captors were in a merry mood and let us stretch our legs and marvel at the scenery before putting us to work on shelters.
The green fields are long gone now, replaced by millions of silver buildings. I look to the GPS monitor on the dash of the vehicle and see the rout we are taking to the area of interest. The holographic image of a topical map showing the ridges of the ancient bog that had long since dried out centuries ago. We are only a few hundred miles away from the area that had once brought fear to the hearts of all people so long ago. The people would tell stories of horrible monsters that roamed the muddy forest. Blending in with the gnarled and twisted excuse for trees. They would tell children that they would be taken by bog monsters if they misbehaved. Now the mud had dried and the trees have all withered and died. Now what remained of the nightmare was a new field of green spotted with giant farms. When we arrive at the spot on the GPS we land lightly in front of an old farm house. The facade painted a welcoming cream color with a pale blue door. An overlooking balcony perched over top on the second floor, windows taking up every inch of free space. Master and I step from the vehicle and join Sir Finley in front of the home. A grizzled old man thumps down the steps in front of the blue door and approaches us, a young male slave trailing after him. "Welcome gentlemen, how can I help you today." He says. His voice showing the years he has most likely spent filling his lungs with smoke. Sir Finley smiles broadly and holds his hand out to the man. "Good day to you sir! I am Mobeus Finley. This here is my business partner William Connely. We are here because we have heard tell that you found something of interest in your fields." The man takes Sir Finley's hand and smile back. "Oh yes, I received a message from your museum about coming and looking at our treasure! I didn't think you would be coming so soon!" He chuckles deep in his throat. "Yes, well, why keep history waiting any longer than it has been!" Master says, adding his own laugh to the conversation. "Name is Bob! If you'd like I can have Carl here lead you to the spot where we found the old thing."
The young man behind Bob bows to the men and steps forward. "That would be very good thank you." Sir Finley study's the young man before turning back to Bob. "Now don't be damaging the crops in the area! This year has been good to me and I don't want this find to affect my livelihood." Bob growls at us. Master assures him we will take the utmost care with the man's crops. We file back into the vehicles this time with one more passenger and set off once more for our final destination. As we arrive I look out the window at a small clearing in the sea of green crops. A small amount of soil is disturbed towards the middle of the clearing. I take a deep breath as we descend into the small area. I unpack the tools needed with the help of our guide and set up a portable lab for my master. The two men are standing around the disturbed soil looking down into a small hole. I approach my master and stand beside him, looking into the hole as well. protruding a foot beneath the surface is a piece of old wood. Petrified from many long years sunk in mud. Designs marked the edges. Designs I knew all too well. Every slave cart was marked with beautiful wood carvings to make something the empire thought was lowly and ugly something that they could bear to look at. This tradition was carried on when they made the switch first to train cars, then to vans, and then to hover crafts as technology progressed. I always hated the way they looked.
"That sure does look like the edge of an ancient slave cart." The men both stood and pondered a moment more. I didn't need more time to study the protrusion. I knew in my soul that this was the cart lost that fateful day during The Crossing. "Alright, let us start our excavation." Master turns away from the spot and crunches over to the lab. Sir Finley follows and the men sort through what they will need to safely uncover the ancient cart. Carl and I stand to the side, ready if the men ever need help. I turn to the stranger and mutter in the old language of slaves, "Hello, my name is Meredith." He turns to me as well and nods. "Hello, my name is Carl." I nod back to him and we return our attention to the men hard at work directing their automatic machines to slowly dig. This goes on for hours as the machines painstakingly uncover the cart one grain of dirt at a time. I ready refreshments and food as the day wears on, and wait on the scientists as they take breaks and study what they uncover.
Sir Finley sits in a fold up chair staring at the machine as it sifts through the dirt halfway down the side of the cart with half lidded eyes. Master sits beside him similarly and the scene makes me feel exhausted. I bring over cups filled to the brim with ice water. The slices of lemon hooked over the lip of each glass the perfect size and shape for optimum juice. "How many people do you think are in there?" Master asks Sir Finley. The other man shifts in his seat and furrows his dark brows. Well according to the manifests of other carts at the time... hmmm, probably ten to sixteen."
"There were twenty."
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. Both men turn to look at me, and Carl stares in horror. Slaves are never to speak out of turn, especially not when their words are a correction to our masters! Sir Finley seems baffled, but master sits quietly. His green eyes practically match the plant life around us as he stands and approaches me. "What makes you say that?" He asks. His voice conversational. I have committed a grave offence and he has the power to end my life or make it a living hell. His calm demeanor unsettles me. At this moment I am reminded of a former master who used to torture and murder us for his own amusement. He was a snake in the grass, he loved to make you trust him, and then tear you apart. I stand my ground, and keep my face emotionless. "Forgive me for my outburst master," I say in a calm and quiet voice. "I was told in my youth that there were twenty souls in that cart the day it was taken."
Master stands a respectable distance away from me as he studies my face. He is silent for so long I almost expect him to lunge and end this life, but he does not. He finally turns back to Sir Finley and the excavation. "I guess we will see when we get there."
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