The year is 2063. Since the Great Shift which had ushered in the Era of Knowledge twenty-seven years ago, an AI known as the Singularity has taken over the Earth. When a series of mysterious deaths rocks the city, Corion, a young healer, finds himself battling for survival – not just for himself but for a whole generation. He is joined by a team of companions including Keong, an enigmatic security agent, who end up becoming his closest allies and chart the future of the world. Will Corion succeed or will he become another victim in his quest to unravel a sinister plot against the human race?
Cover art and design by Amita Sevellaraja | amitaseve.com
Read an Excerpt
Corion woke up the morning after his final evaluations, the intense tropical sun streaming on his face jolting him to his senses. He blinked. Once, twice. Rubbing his hand over his eyes, he jumped up to his feet.
It was 8 am and Kuala Lumpur was already a hive of activity. Beneath his chamber, the streets were teeming with people and cars. He did not often wake up so late as his training involved waking up at 5 am every day to be ready at Prof Virdow’s courtyard by 6 am to prepare the unguents and herbs. However, since he had just spent seven gruelling years as an apprentice healer, he felt justified in giving himself some sort of a holiday.
He was not used to the noise. Children jostled each other in the hallways, mothers hunched over bubbling pots of broth, and sullen teenagers slouched in doorways tapping away on their tablets. As was his habit, he picked up his toothbrush and face towel then headed to give himself a wash in the communal bathroom.
Once sufficiently fresh and clean, he returned to his hammock. He reached into the space beneath and took out his straw satchel. He checked each bottle carefully by holding each one to the light, making sure all the dried herbs had not turned damp, and all the fluids were the right colour and consistency. Then he took his cloak off the hook and slung it round his shoulders. He picked up a small copper apprentice’s badge from the counter and pinned it carefully on the right side of the cloak, just above his breast. He felt a small glow of pride. Finally, he would exchange this dull copper one for the shiny platinum healer’s badge that would mark his ascension into adulthood.
Today, he would be going to the council for the rites of initiation. He felt a small shiver of fear as he always did before heading out of the house. Would he be good enough? Clever enough? He looked at himself in the cracked mirror hanging next to the door and drew in a sharp breath.
“Don’t be afraid, Corion. You have proven yourself to be as competent as any of them,” he told himself.
He opened the drawer and drew out his trusty tricorder. The tricorder had been gifted to him by his mentor on his first day of training. It had been his faithful companion and his most important tool during his seven years’ journey towards qualifying as a healer. He tucked it into his belt and hid it under his cloak. Grabbing a hunk of brown bread from the shelf, he wrapped it in some waxed paper and tucked it into his pocket.
Bounding down the stairs from the attic, he weaved his way past the various households crammed into the other small rooms. The whole building used to be a train station, constructed centuries ago with beautifully designed arches and domed towers spiralling into the sky. After the decline of rail travel, the old station had gradually fallen into disrepair, with paint long since faded and peeling off the crumbling brick walls and rainwater leaking through the cracked tiled roof. Almost 50 families lived within its walls now, squeezing into small chambers originally meant as lookouts, in the station halls, and the kiosks that used to sell newspapers, burgers, and candy.
Corion strode purposefully through the winding tarred streets of the riverside city, his leather satchel swinging against his hips and the apprentice healer’s badge gleaming on his coarse woollen cloak. He could not afford to be late. The heels of his shiny new black leather shoes clacked against the cobblestones of the pavement. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and pastries filled the morning air, intermingling with the shouts of the street vendors advertising their wares.
“Get your morning coffee here!”
“Freshly steamed dumplings! Curry puffs! Hot buns!”
He dodged past the heaving throngs of people rushing about their business and hurrying to work. Children in crisp white uniforms chattered excitedly as they weaved their way around the adults’ legs. He paid no notice to any of them. But as he turned the corner, he saw a young girl about his own age sitting on a small wooden stool behind a row of buckets overflowing with flowers, staring aimlessly into the hustle and bustle of the street. Something in her intense dark brown eyes made him pause. He caught a glimpse of a small, pale, freckled face shrouded in a dirty grey shawl. Strands of jet-black hair fell across her brow. From her fair complexion and embroidered robes, he could tell she was not from this area. He guessed that she was one of the Mountain People.
‘What brings a Mountain Girl here to the city?’ he wondered. Their tribes lived up in the highlands, cloistered in close-knit communities and trading their farm produce for the few provisions they needed at the small towns bordering their territory. When the Great Shift occurred twenty-seven years ago, the Mountain People kept to their own ways and only mingled with the rest of the world when necessary. They were often viewed as a primitive tribe eking out a living in the hilly jungles from farming, gathering or hunting. Apparently, the Singularity was not troubled about them, deeming them too much of a minority fringe group to have any importance.
She looked up at him from her roadside perch, peering at him shyly from behind a profusion of blue, pink, yellow, and purple blooms. The fresh, dewy petals contrasted with the grime on her face. She gazed at him intently and her lips parted in a smile.
“I have a word for you,” she said suddenly in a whisper.
“Wha…what do you mean?” he stammered, suddenly afraid of this strange girl.
“My people say I have a gift of reading faces. I see your face. You and your people will face a great peril soon.”
“Peril? What kind of peril?” he asked, feeling a bit befuddled.
“I do not know. The gods have not revealed that to me. But I have something that might help you.” She reached into the folds of her robe and pressed a small rectangular crystal chip into his hand.
He looked at it curiously. It sparkled in the bright intense sunlight.
“Keep it. Now go. I won’t keep you longer. You are a man on a mission today.”
He nodded his thanks numbly and turned to go, wondering what the strange encounter was all about. He thrust the chip deep into his pocket.
She watched him disappear into the crowd with a knowing smile. She had a feeling that he would be back before long. She picked up the tablet that had been tucked behind the floral display and whispered into it, “I have found our target and passed him the chip as instructed. Will keep a close eye on him.”
As she hit the ‘send’ button, she gazed at the azure sky and prayed that they had bet on the right person. She imagined the cryptic message getting relayed through the wireless network, zipping overhead through the clouds towards the distant mountains. Whatever happened next would now be up to him.
Jan Kwan 