The Pole Shift

Perez

“Tychism.” Sneered Perez. He hated the sound of the word, and detested it’s meaning, “How the fuck have all three of those pods made it?” He kicked over a pot planted fern, the soil scattering across a polished Tasmanian Oak floor. They had descended  fourteen kilometers, to chambers built for the Pole Shift a hundred years ago. The blonde woman looked at him, enjoying his performance, she said:

“Why chance, of course.” Perez shot her a glance, his fibonacci curls glistening in oils scented with rose. 

“Shut your mouth!” His vehemence was extraordinary and she had a hunch why, she said:

“It looks like Lett and your Macka will make it too. Prophet says they are cuddling.” Perez turned red, a thousand answers merging on his lips. He put thumb and forefinger to his left temple, and dropped his head at an angle persuasive to thought.

“That fuckwit Sean will surely die through accident or his own hand, Prophet says he is drinking vodka like mothers milk.” The blonde woman circled to his right, her own fibonacci curls bobbing with the weight of their length. She said:

“He may see the light.”

“How many lights is he going to see! We had such high hopes! An abject failure is what we have in Sean Waters! One that might actually make it. Where are his hidden talents? Why won't he be his best?” The blonde woman looked away, she had supported the drunk at every turn. Perez smiled at her saying, “Yes, your favourite, Sean.” She shook off her regret saying:

“And Mnemosyne, she hasn’t even interfaced with Prophet and yet looks to be in with a shot. A sixteen year old has taken her under her immature wing!” 

“What happened, I haven’t watched that yet. Any sign of the sparrow?” Perez had cooled, his temper in check.

“No, just watch the play back, its a beauty.” Perez nodded then admitted:

“I will be ridiculed if they all make it, I will be seen as sentimental and interfering, The Yankees will think we never belonged, as will the Europeans, and the Asians?”

“Forget them, it’s too late for all that.”

“But if they think we have overly helped they might rub a couple out?”

“They will playback each of them, and see that it is indeed Tychism that has spoken. Anyway it's none of their business.” Perez sighed, looking at his companion with something like affection.

“Ebba, it has been so long. I will be glad, wont you?”

“Yes Perez, it is nearly time. Remember, if all of our chosen ones germinate and make a peoples, then it could be here that is the cradle of a great civilsation.  For that you will be remembered.”

“As you.”

“Watch Mnemosyne, then find the deep sleep. It will be many years before the waters clear and the future becomes fathomable.” Perez watched Ebba glide away, he said:

"Prophet, show me what happened to Mnem’.”