The Aeolian Master - Book One - Revival HTML version
“Yes, sir. If you will follow me, sir, I will take you to the registration desk in the upper lobby.”
They stepped off the golden colored tiles—which appeared to be real gold and onto the plush, soft carpet
with its architectural patterns and brilliant colors.
They walked down the steps and started for the escalators on the far side of the room.
As they continued forward Ben started thinking about his extremely controversial theory on the Aeolian
Master Fable, and then he thought about the reaction he had gotten when he reported his theory to the higher-
ups. The President of the college, and even the President's secretary with her coy smile, had, in one way or
another, made it plain that this theory was beyond absurd. How could he consider the story of the Aeolian
Master to be anything more than a myth?—a real man, indeed. The Magistrate's Undersecretary, putting his
book down and looking up from behind his desk, had said it bluntly, "Don't get your hopes up, Professor Hillar.
Money isn't granted for the sake of chasing a myth; especially one with no basis of fact." The Undersecretary
paused, and then said, "I don't understand how you can think anyone is going to take you seriously." He twisted
his lips in such away as if to say, 'Come on, let's get it in perspective,' and then he continued. "Putting in for this
grant is just a waste of your time and mine. For hundreds of years this story has been told to children around
the Galaxy—a story about a super human man from, ummm," he paused trying to remember without hiding his
"From ancient Earth," said Ben with an amused smile.
The Undersecretary nodded his head and continued his train of thought. "Yes, from ancient Earth. A story
about a man who was evil in the beginning—a man who destroyed cities and killed people by the billions, but
then he repented and started doing good for the people with his super human powers.”
That’s not quite the way the story goes, thought Ben. But he didn’t say anything. It wasn’t his intention to
get into a lengthy, boring discussion about the myth.
The Undersecretary frowned. “But it's just a fairy tale—a bedtime story for children, and everyone knows
it." He paused a moment and then added as an after thought, "There's even a Tarmorian comic book about Em
the super hero. And that's all it is—a comic book. How could you possibly think there is a man still alive in a
suspended animation chamber who has God-like powers?"
“Who gave you that ridiculous piece of information?” asked Ben. “I have never said there would be a man
still alive. In fact, if we find a man in a suspended animation chamber, I am sure he is just a pile of bones by
Ben had known the Undersecretary for a number of years. He was now in his late-middle years, a little
overweight, and balding. He had a wife and four kids, all boys who had gone on to college. One of them was a
professor at the college where Ben was working. But what Ben had remembered most, and what he had
observed over the years, was the Undersecretary’s lazy demeanor. He didn’t want to do anything unless he
absolutely had to.
Ben stood in front of the Undersecretary’s desk and waited, but the man said nothing, so Ben finally asked,
"What is it you want?"
"The Magistrates will never approve the grant. So let's forget it." He sat waiting for Ben to say, 'Okay, tear
up the documents.'
But Ben didn't say it.
And now, in spite of the Undersecretary and in spite of what everyone thought, and through a series of
events, which baffled Ben, here he was—about to meet with the ruler of the Galactic Empire to discuss the
myth of the Aeolian Master.
As they started up the escalator, Maravan asked, “If no one believes it, then why are you having an interview
with the Galaef?”
“Exactly,” said Ben.
At the top, Ben found himself in another large room with more people milling about, and off to his left,
approximately twenty meters, was the receptionist and several assistants sitting behind the biggest and most
exquisitely decorated registration counter he had ever seen
“It appears the rumors about the Galaef's Galactic Empire Headquarters are not exaggerated.”
Maravan smiled as he said, “No, sir.”
The counter was to his left situated near the back wall and took up the entire width of the room, which was
approximately three hundred feet. The back wall was a huge aquarium with thousands of beautiful tropical fish.
Located around the room, were guards dressed in colorful red and gold uniforms, standing at attention and
watching the proceedings of the activities throughout the room. They all had holstered phasors strapped to their