January Black

Chapter 2 - Part 1

It was a ball of crumpled paper.

As it sailed over a stargazer’s shoulder, it caught the attention of a boy walking into the observatory. Mathematical equations bloomed through his mind like a field of flowers awakening. In the roughly 0.66 seconds it took for the sphere to fall one-and-a-half meters, he worked the variables of mass, acceleration, air density, surface area and drag coefficient. The ball bounced on two stairs, once more on the floor, and rolled onto one side. By the time it fell still, sixteen-year-old Matthias Ducayn had calculated the ball’s terminal velocity to be about 3.75 meters per second.

Matty picked up the litter from the black quartz floor according to social customs, but he smoothed out the crumpled sheet in defiance of them. The room was dimly lit, however he made out the handwritten text.

dec-30.44.12/ra16.53.15

He pocketed the paper. As he shifted his gaze upwards, the anxiety that had been sitting like a stone in his stomach all afternoon floated away.

The Aster Telescope, the largest optical telescope in the kingdom, stood eight meters over his head. The 30cm refractor had been in practical use until a few decades back, when Steer Industry’s scientists graduated from astronomy to deep space radio interferometry. Stars became numbers in a computer that rendered them into massive digital images. To collect that data, they used the VLA, or very large array. That configuration of massive radio receivers sat outside of Orleans, a township fifty clicks to the northeast. The refractor became a precious relic of a romantic bygone era.

He didn’t care all that much for astronomy, but he loved engineering. As his eyes caressed the details of the device, he felt her maker’s love of discovery. The dull gleam of her finish whispered to him about the many curiosities she had satisfied over centuries. Following the shaft back up to the open sky, he felt humbled to be standing in the presence of greatness. His gaze locked upon the bright blue star in the telescope shaft’s sightline. He felt so very small.

“Be my guest.”

After he pulled his attention from the sky, Matty waited for the man sitting below the telescope to address him again. When it didn’t happen, he resumed looking around and noticed the white Kitsune. Four of the royal guardians were posted at the top of the rotunda’s staircases, each stiff-backed with hands mere centimeters from semi-automatic pistols.

Anxiety sucker punched his gut.

“Sir?”

“I recommend the Red Star.” King Hadrian’s voice had a casual quality that set Matty at ease. “And a light touch. She isn’t very forgiving.”

Matty took the invitation as a command. Dozens of telescopes were scattered around the room, but he disregarded everything handheld. With the red star emblazoned on the shaft, finding the 80mm Red Star among those mounted on tripods was a simple task.

On most nights, downtown Aventine was too busy and bright to see stars, even with clear skies. March 15, however, was officially recognized kingdom-wide as Stargazing Night. From sunset to sunrise, light topped the list of the Regency’s regulated pollutants. Official vehicles alone were allowed on the roads and only for emergency calls. Streetlights were limited to every third one. Blackout curtains were required on all windows.

He felt conflicted about where he stood. Being in this room on any other night of the year would be an honor for any citizen. On this night, the stars littered the sky above Aventine, and the vantage point of the palace observatory couldn’t be beat for fifty clicks in any direction. If not for a long-standing plan for that night, he would have been happy to stand in that spot until dawn.

Last November, on his birthday, his mother brought a flat square to the dinner table. Peeling away the dark blue wrapping paper, he found a stiff paper sleeve with a photograph of a man playing a violin. Inside, his mother said, was an Old World artifact.

Matty removed the silky black disk and held it by its edges. The label in the center had a dog looking into a strange device, sitting under an arc of type. “His master’s voice,” he read, “Sibelius, Violin Concerto.”

His mother explained, “It’s a record.” He moved his wrists to admire the way the light shined off the surface. “Those tiny lines are cut into the vinyl, capturing a recording of the music.”

Amazed, he asked her, “From whose cold, dead fingers did you pry this?”

“Not funny, Matty,” his mother quietly scolded.

Keeping his eyes on the gleaming disk, he asked, “How was it played?”

Her frown became a smile in an instant. “They put these records on a spinning platter, and a small needle with a diamond tip would read the tiny variations of the groove. The player then took the vibrations and translated it to sound.”

“Can we get the player?”

“Only one survived the trip from the Old World,” his mother said sadly. “Steer Industries keeps it in their artifact preservation lab, which is where I got this.” She offered him a thin, clear case. Inside, he could see a rectangle of acrylic with a blue data-dot in the center. “Ripped and ready to upload.”

Matty hugged her. “Thank you, Mom.”

Three months later, he still hadn’t played it. Curiosity tempted him day and night, but he had been saving it for Stargazing Day. So, delighted as he was to be standing in the palace observatory, he really just wanted the King to decide his punishment so that he could plop down on his mother’s courtyard chaise lounger and listen to his birthday present.

He read the coordinates on the crumpled paper again. Declination minus 30 degrees, 44 minutes, 12 seconds. Right ascension 16 hours, 53 minutes, 15 seconds.

After double-checking his settings, he peered into the eyepiece. Making tiny adjustments, the blue haze around two bright supergiants became as clear as the lens could make it. His suspicion was correct. The coordinates were for Aster.