Chapter One
The Festival of Europa's Tear is celebrated when Jupiter, Europa, and her two neighboring moons Io and Ganymede, pass closest to each other during the system's nearest alignment (Solar Perihelic Quadranox) with the Sun. It is inspired by the myth for which it is named:
Jealous of Jupiter's love for their sister, Io and Ganymede told Europa that Jupiter meant to consume her in a plume of fiery steam. She would dissolve into him, buried forever. Told they would protect her, Europa allowed herself to be trapped between her sisters, Ganymede ever pulling her away, Io blocking the way between the lovers. Despite their guardianship, to this day Jupiter still reaches out to Europa strongly attracting her. The strain of being pulled between her lover and sister moons causes Europa's Ice-clad surface to split, leaving scars that she bears openly to mark her love.
The Europan festival celebrates Jupiter's bringing the Sun close to offer as a gift and symbol of his pain at her loss. The festivities culminate with Europa's reply as she sheds a single frozen tear from her Prism Lake for Jupiter. Ganymede and Io conspire to redirect the massive ice prism toward the distant sun where it is consumed by the blood red giant.
Despite its tragic antecedent, the festival of Europa's Tear evolved into a symbol of hope in the face of the inevitable. During the carnival-like celebration there is music, dancing, and the exchange of gifts with loved ones. Various traditions are followed and games played. Public banquets and entertainments are held daily that tantalize sensory stimuli, not only of sight, sound, smell, touch and taste, but spacial and cognitive experiences as well.
- from "Anterior Jovian Epochs: Muniment S/R/M::278.0004379"
Jupiter overwhelmed Allele's terrace. Europa's locked orbit meant the giant planet stood perpetually filling half Allele's view of the sky. It nearly touched the horizon directly center of the solitary Prism Lake spread out across the terrain below. Marked by the progress of the waxing hemisphere on Jupiter's face, the shedding of Europa's Tear would begin soon.
Allele sat naked atop her meditation plate as the massive storm of Jove's Eye slipped from view chased by two of the smaller Three Sisters that began their journey across the planet's face to greet the approaching Sun in turn. She chose this home specifically for its view of the Prism Lake. The lake was the last of the ancient Ice Mines that once continually dropped ice into space. The lake formed an equilateral triangle measuring four geodesic miles. Gravity-towers at each of its three points controlled the position of the prism shaped ice core that solidified water drawn from Europa's bottomless Hydro-Layer into the well. The towers splayed out at the top in order to create and control a reverse gravitational corridor reaching up beyond the small moon's gravitational pull.
The Festival began with preparations for dropping the ice core into space. A slurry of super saline water was released filling the crevices between the ice core and the walls of the well. The slurry washed over the face of the core creating a shallow triangular lake. The low density atmosphere of the moon caused little or no wind to disturb the lake's surface leaving it a sheer glistening plate. Seen from Allele's high terrace, it mirrored Jupiter above.
Allele was deeply affected by the sight of the great planet reflected in the smooth thick water. It made her darkly melancholic, which oddly bore a comforting sense of continuum. She felt as if Jupiter peered down asking why she hid from the celebrations that rejoiced in the planetary communion. Why feel loss when others experience release?
Why Europa's Tear affected her in this way was a mystery. She had no answer for Jupiter's questions. She tried to join in social events of the festival, but always found herself sitting in a corner, friends abandoning attempts to include her. Eventually she turned down invitations and began her personal tradition to observe the tear dropping into space in solitude.
Her sorrow had nothing to do with the tale told to children before second sleep. To Allele the tear was a parting gift to someone or something. Year after year the sense of loss was palpable. It drove her obsession with lost Europine histories, and was the root of her misanthropic reputation. For her, melancholy, even if only an inferior frequency of her psyche, was a reliable companion. She was teased as being the most "Allele" of Alleles, people named Allele being thought quirky, and weird.
Her preference to spend The festival alone was never completely manageable. Inevitably a friend or colleague showed up at her door. She gave in to them if they had a good reason for interrupting her vigil, but when the festival reached its height at Apsis Dawn with the dropping the ice prism into into space, she shut down all her social and professional linkages.
This year she actually hoped to be interrupted with good news allowing her for once to celebrate the spectacle about to begin. She was waiting to hear the decision of Ministry: Science and History Division. It would come from Harry Horst, her contact and project administrator who was trying his best to push through a grant and necessary permissions for her proposed Archeo-Anthropological Expedition to the Hadrian Rift. As yet no attempt to launch such a venture had ever been permitted. Despite this track record, Horst was optimistic Allele's team would succeed where other's failed.
But, the distant red giant sun peeked out from behind Jupiter to mark the beginning of Apsis Dawn, and Allele reluctantly cut her linkages. The Gravity-towers began to loosen their hold on the giant ice core allowing it to slowly rise to its buoyancy point in the slurry lining the well. As the cap of the ice core rose to break the surface like a monstrous leviathan, the tranquil lake swelled flooding the surrounding plain with a single massive wave. As the core approached its buoyancy point, the towers inverted the well's gravitational attitude causing the ice core to increase momentum up out of the well. The shift became apparent when the slurry water stopped rushing down the sides of the core, came to a stand still, and reversed direction draining up into space.
The ice core was now technically in free fall up from the surface. Even so, the full length of the ice core would only reach maximum velocity after the better part of a Jovian hour when it freed itself from the suction of the well. During that time, the slurry that washed up the sides of the core sprayed from its crown becoming a frozen mist that refracted the sun's rays creating multiple rainbows that drifted up through the dark sky.
The ice core itself was nearly flawless causing a prism effect that scattered spectral light across the high ruddy ridges that transversed the landscape known as Europa's Scars. From horizon to horizon the terrain took on an angelic multi colored glow. Allele looked on with wonder and tears, feeling her heart swell with a desire to leave her home, her city, and moon to travel away with the ice, missing its target to drift and burn in the red giant.
During the time it took the ice core to slip from the well, Allele sat vigil watching the entire spectacle unfold. This year felt different from the past. Her mood swing was more intense, richer, laced with a sensual fabric that taunted deep seated definitions and truths she held of herself. Her very identity and all that she relied upon emotionally, intellectually, even spiritually seemed to be drawn up with the pillar of ice. She felt as if her soul was pulled from her, sucked through a straw, leaving her empty but open in its wake. She thought herself darkly blessed and bathed in her sullen rapture.
Despite her focus, like everyone else on Europa, Allele failed to notice the glint reflecting off the hull of an ice-clipper yachtship suspended within and dwarfed by the giant ice core. Though Allele's reactions were intuitively sensitive to the anomalous presence, had she known the nature of the ship's payload, and its impact on her future, she might not have accepted her internal epiphanies so blithely.
Finally the core broke free. Water from the Hydro-layer was cut off when the gravity inversion was made. The last of the slurry still inside the well sprayed out with a dull pop in the thin atmosphere as the well's vacuum was broken.
With that quiet pop Allele's soul seemed to flood back. This was not like her daily regeneration, this went to the very templates she was built upon. The sensation was one of tremendous loss, aloneness, total disenfranchisement, all chaos. Then suddenly the old rules rushed in again. Now their truth was fresh and alive and though she knew they hadn't changed, they gave her new vigor. With the loss of something very old inside came new purpose. Purpose somehow tied together with profound loss, and the unknown fugitive she unwittingly witnessed escape from the Jovian system.
The ice core made a slight rotation and began a gradual tumble as it fell away from the moon toward its parent planet. Allele never lost sight of the crystalline jewel as it diminished into space, belly full. It never stopped shining with space light. As it headed out on its journey, Io rose from the far end of Jupiter. The sister moon's orbit appeared to head away toward the South, but then swung back to rapidly cross the face of the giant planet, toward the hurdling ice core. By early evening the gravitational pull of Io on the core would seem to flick it off course as it rushed past. The next morning Ganymede would make its pass to again alter the core's trajectory and set it on its way to the distant fiery ball.
Allele did not imbibe during the ritual. As the conclusion approached. She poured some liquid into a heavy olfact glass set to convert it to her favorite liquor. She rolled the glass between her hands, waiting, dipping her finger into the open end to feel the cool liquid. When the Ganymede Correction was over and with it the ritual, Allele held the glass up to the vista before her and then lowered it to her lips, the glass was smooth and the smell of Ebriant-12 bit at her nose just before she turned the glass up to pour the amber liquid quickly down her throat. There was a heatless burning sensation that spread directly from her throat soaking her chest with heat. It traveled up her skin surrounding her face entering her brain with a wave of soothing warmth and well being. Her ears burned.
The first time Allele drank Ebriant-12 the translation well supplied a word to her lexicon, an absurd sound she couldn't find in any specialized archival system, and she'd even checked some that few people knew existed. It wasn't the only odd word supplied to her uninvited, but it was the one that returned now as she felt the drink's affects fade. She took one last look toward the ruby light where the core had gone, and said the word aloud as in salute, "Scotch!"
She opened her linkages and a signal immediately entered. She lifted her free hand to her ear to turn on her infusory hearing. A man's voice greeted her, "Allele?"
"Yes, Jon," she sighed.
"So, you've returned to the living. Are you accepting company?" Jon teased.
"Sure, let yourself in when you get here," Allele reluctantly muttered as she entered the public room off the terrace. Jon would want to talk about work which would snap her out of her malaise, something she needed. Jon entered as she crossed the room to her private suite. She hadn't realized he was at her door when he called.
Allele followed the originating traditions of witness for the rite of Europa's Tear, to be without vanity, free of possessions, disinterested in the concerns of the world, nor diverted by pleasures, even simple ones. In keeping with this belief she also presented herself naked during the event. Even in the relative privacy of home a display of nudity was ill advised. Seen as licentious and base it was frowned on by the social praxis of the time. The non conformist art community thought it bad form and not very expressive creatively. Sans Shock Subversionism was in vogue, and nudity was seen as flamboyantly unimaginative. If she were seen she would have to defend her choice and her argument wouldn't be thought strong since the sacred aspects of the rite had long been abandoned by the general public.
The very idea of observing the antiquated spiritual side of the Holiday might garner her another session of root adjustments. Root adjustments were frightening, and exhausting. They left her confused and unfocused for days after, and had little or no affect, which she did not want discovered for fear of more drastic therapies. She liked the way she felt, dark as it was.
Allele found a creative way out. She extended her hair to a considerable length, gathered it, and allowed it to fall straight down her back. Tresses parted and weaved themselves around her torso until the last remaining strands created a tight hem about halfway down her calves. To a casual eye she appeared to be wearing a comfortable evening dress.
Nonetheless, she bolted across the room with her back to Jon as he entered, but not quick enough. He saw that her light auburn hair was feeding into the dress she wore, changing color in the first few inches of weave and realized that she was naked as she slipped into her private suite.
"I saw that," he shouted loud enough to be heard through the door.
"Shut up, you," she shouted back, though she knew it would encourage him.
"Is that a personal creation or off the rack?" he snickered.
"Perhaps you didn't hear me? I said, Shut up!" She said, re-entering the public room wearing a changing gown.
"Odd," he continued, "I thought you looked a little younger a moment ago."
"Now really shut up or I'll have you reassigned," she said, filling a clean olfact glass from the bar and offering it to him. He accepted, and sat down in his usual spot on her couch. Allele did not sit across from him as she normally did, but remained standing until the changing gown finished.
Jon was right about Allele's appearance. When she reentered the room she had already altered her facial features to a casual business demeanor. As was the norm little older than her actual age without being matronly. She was still too young to get away with adding a gray wisp though she looked forward to the day she'd unveil a shock of white from her left temple that she'd been playing with in front of the mirror for years. At present, cool eyes set to a dull blue, tight lips, and the beginning hint of a sag at the ends of her mouth would have to do. After all, she wasn't in management, she merely needed to enhance credibility.
The changing robe only revealed was her face and hands. When she offered Jon the drink her hand was revealed from the long hanging cuff. It was still young, smooth, and supple. The hood and floor length cape of the garment appeared loose and flowing as it quickly adjusted and reformed every portion of her body. Jon could not see her hair thickening to the glassy rust he was most familiar with. The previous brunette dresses recycled as Allele's midriff welled slightly to reflect added years on a predominantly athletic body. The casual robes of her profession, that of Archival Korian Anthropologist Smoothed themselves over her figure to finish her professional persona.
Jon was not so formal in his habits, and opted to remain in his festal persona of the holiday. She assessed his relaxed and unusually youthful posture as he sat on her couch and said, "I see someone has immatured out of his gray and a few pounds."
"When on Holiday..." Jon trailed off feigning disinterest.
"You are a deceitful young man," she answered, a smirk forming on her lips as their color altered to a deep rose edged with burgundy.
"Is that so, mother?" Jon retorted.
She gave a sharp laugh to cut off the banter. The rim of her hood gently vibrated indicating it was finished. Allele looked at him quizzically as she removed the cloak, then asked, "So, what brings you all the way out here to disrupt me from my misery? There must be a party somewhere that you've dressed for."
Jon returned the same puzzled expression, "Well, I figured you'd be calling me in anyway. I'm surprised you aren't making preparations with a long 'Dear Jon' list. Aren't you at all excited?"
She replied, "Excited? Why should I be... We're approved?"
"Didn't you get the message from ministry?" Jon asked surprised.
"I've kept solitude all day," Allele reminded him.
"We can dig at the Rift!"
"Is this official? From Ministry?"
"Full click."
"Let me check," she said closing her eyes to better concentrate. She opened her mind to accept any incoming from Ministry. Above the low table between her and Jon, the official symbol of Ministry: Science and History appeared followed by a friendly but unenthusiastic voice, "Expeditionary Application for research; Hadrian Rift Collapse; Sector NW 287; submitted Allele, K.A. as described in form 1287-00. Amended without adjunct and Approved with limited prejudice. Please submit requirements before 23, Bantu, 3478. Project schematics and personnel roster amendments if any must be submitted 20 days prior to deadline. Thank you for your interest."
The symbol dissolved followed by the less formal voice of Harry Horst, the project administrator Allele worked with on the application, and many earlier unsuccessful ones. "Well, you finally found a way in. Congratulations, but you need to know, that bit about 'Amended without adjunct' means Lepton is out, you're on your own. Ministry is only interested in anthropology, not archaeology. What's worse, 'with limited prejudice' means you still have some hurdles to get over. Be ready to explain yourself and justify every request. You've come as close as anyone ever has to getting permission for a dig at the collapse, but there are conditions. We should speak in person."
The message ended leaving Allele and Jon dumbstruck. Allele looked at Jon, picked up her olfact glass, drank it in a single shot, and thought 'Scotch'.
With a wince she asked, "Did you know about that part?"
Jon shook his head, "No. I just got the 'Interested Party' short form. How can we do this without Lepton? He's the only one who knows how to run a dig."
"I know, I know, I know. Let me think," Allele said looking at her empty glass.
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