The Hyperion Chronicles

The Hyperion Chronicles
“Coming to steal your women”

#363 Quincy

{Fragment of a Journal found 70 years after the war. Ascribed to a Horish Enenewe, but authorship uncertain}

I still remember the day clearly, now some 45 years ago. It was bright and crisp on that mid-February morning as mother and father took me to a celebration of the Quint-Quincelennium. That name will probably be unfamiliar to some, especially after the loss and devastation encountered in our ongoing war against the galactic pirates simply known the Kyron.¹

But before that, in a time of great peace and prosperity, we were gathering to celebrate the 5000^th anniversary of the reign of King Xerxes. Or as the common people liked to call him: Quincy.

Luckily Father had signed us up early for a very popular seminar on Quincy’s Theory of Play. Apparently—and this is as difficult to write as it must be to believe—before him, “play” was generally relegated to children. A young Quincy came along with a theory that play enabled development, physically, mentally, and perhaps most importantly, spiritually. (With the war now nearing its 20^th year, “play” once again seems a luxury, but those old enough remember the good old days.)

Once Quincy became King Xerxes, the Supreme Commander of Matteo (which at the time was still generally called “Earth”), he instituted PLAY as a requirement in each aspect of everyday life, and of course, everyone knows the result.

There were other seminars going on, how King Xerxes introduced the now common ideas of FUSION and CONNEXION into day-to-day life. Again, it simply boggles the mind that the world we live in—Matteo—could have gone in any sort of cohesive harmony without these now-fundamental aspects. If anything is to save us in the War, it is King Xerxes’s founding principles.

Mother wanted to attend the FUSION seminar, while Father was more interested in the side-bar Panel Discussion “From 40 Cows to Power Dumping: the wit and humor of Quincy.” I, on the other hand, was at an age, that certain age, when children positively abhor being around their parents. Nothing—and I mean nothing—could be more powerfully uncool than hanging out with the parental units.

I found myself wandering around Walker Memorial Gardens, just taking in the sights. They was a puppet show that seemed to have something to do with lawn-mowers, while a troop of girl scouts put on a mimed play about conquering a café of cheese cake with a delicious bass. (At least, I think that’s what the play was about. They were just children and it was mime, after all.)

Eventually I came to a small building with no fan-fare outside. I remember this clearly, even at that age, because everywhere else I looked there were bells and whistles advertising their programs. Intrigued, I stepped inside.

There I found a group of Saunderas² (who used to be called “Scientists” before that word was outlawed in A.R.X. 4951³) standing around in long white coats. A great discovery had been made, one of them was saying. They had uncovered Quincy’s old home, which was covered in lava in B.Q. 26⁴. Using a process that King Xerxes himself invented—called Carbon-Recombinant-Animation—the Saunderas were able to retrieve memories from objects in the great ruler’s home.

There was a painting of a little girl and a dog. The dog talked—which I’m pretty sure was a conceit of the Saunderas, but cool nonetheless. Anyway, the dog talked about all the times Quincy and his young bride Denora would have people into their home to strengthen spirits. It was such an honor, the dog was saying, to see young Quincy nurture these people from the wilderness to become spiritually nourished.

Another object was this chair shaped like a giant hand! At first the hand used sign-language to communicate, but after the Saunderas fiddled with it the hand began to speak:

“He was so positive. It was like he refused to speak ill of anyone. If he even thought a negative spark, he sure didn’t voice it. The man also loved his wife! Let me tell you…”

Sadly, at this point one of the Saunderas leaped on the newly formed hand to stop the story, which was too bad, because I was also right at that age when I really would have liked to hear the end.

The last object the Saunderas had recovered from the lava there were the most excited about. It was an 4-brent⁵ high statute of an alligator. With hushed voices the Saunderas informed us that this statue was given to Quincy by the dread villain Aitch.

All of you know the history books—those that haven’t been destroyed by the Kyron in the war—how the dread villain Aitch was the first Supreme Commander of Matteo (although he called it something totally different⁶), and how Quincy defeated the dread villain Aitch and became King Xerxes.

What most people are not aware of is that long before King Xerxes’s ascension, he and the dread villain Aitch were friends. In fact, they even made that movie that replaced CASABLANCA as the greatest ever, and won 37 Sheila Awards.⁷

The Saunderas set up the alligator, which began to talk in a scratchy voice. The small crowd sat; spellbound.

“Quincy was a lot of things to a lot of people. Always up for new ideas. So positive, but I’m sure you knew that for others. Bit of a pansy at times, but in a good way. Heh heh. Of course, he was a Youth Pastor, but I tried to look past that.”

The small audience collectively gasped. Somehow this had escaped any history book I’d ever read, at least the official versions. The crowd started buzzing about this revelation, and how it made sense, but then the alligator started to speak again, and at once the room was stone silent, save the re-animated statue’s gravelly voice.

“What always struck me about Quincy was how he managed to live in two worlds. He was a pastor, with everything that goes with that. There were aspects of doctrine I would challenge him on, but it never seemed to worry him. Quincy always thought beyond the box of legalist rules and focused on people.

“Even more striking was how he treated people. In the abstract Quincy might be critical of something someone said—although he bizarrely liked Dr. Laura⁸—but when it came to person-to-person contact, actual human interaction, I never saw judgment. Quincy would be around people 100% different from he, people who spit on his ideas and lifestyle. It would only be natural to show disdain, to attack or at least disapprove.

“Nope. Nada. Nothing. It just wasn’t there. I have never seen anyone—man of God or not—who had that much acceptance in his heart. I’m sure he will do well in life.”

Those last words struck me like an anvil, coming from an artificially animated object, representing the dread villain Aitch, who couldn’t possibly know what Quincy went on to achieve. How ironic in light of what was to come between the two.

I suppose it all seems moot now. The glorious time of King Xerxes is gone, replaced by the war, and who knows what is to come. However, I will always treasure those great memories of when I was young, of the great King, when he was still mortal, a man named Quincy.

May we one day see his like again.

Horish Enenewe

A.R.X. 5046

Hyperion

July 29, 2005

CREDITS

Notes
¹ The Kyron, as everyone is now sadly aware, are a implacable race of Galactic Pirates. Too Late scholars discovered that early Matteo writings did speak of The Kyron. An author known only as “C.K.” wrote about The Kyron in connection with the ruins of Stonehenge. Whatever lessons might have been gleaned to prepare for the attack have sadly long since been lost.
² No one is entirely sure where the name “Saundera” came from, but theories suggest it was perhaps a name cherished on King Xerxes’s paternal side
³ A.R.X. – Anno Rex Xerxii; In the Year of King Xerxes
⁴ B.Q. – Before Quincy
⁵ A brent is about two inches
⁶ Scholars aren’t quite sure, but it appears the dread villain Aitch tried to name Matteo (formerly Earth) “Arbuckle.” No explanation was ever unearthed.
⁷ Scholars tell us the used to be called “The Oscars,” but no one is sure why
⁸ Dr. Laura, according to history books, was burned at the steak sometime about B.Q. 19. History has lost whether she was martyred or deserved it.

‘Preciate
Thanks to Laureate
Thanks to Taisie

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