All That Rule: Prolouge and Chapter One

Prologue

Note left on the ground shortly after the explosion of the Manda bomb:

Darren, if you get this, meet in the second place that we talked about, not the first. I can’t find Steph, and I forbid you to ask anyone about her. Look, but don’t ask. It’s dangerous: got it? If you find your sister, bring her with you, but don’t talk to anyone. You don’t know who could be a Leaguemen; most of the time you only know when they attack you with a Manda. Keep away from anyone that has a pouch full of crystals, and a funny ring with a hexagon depression in it. The Manda may look like animals and humans; but they’re not really, they’re machines. They were created by the bomb, remember? Created by science, not by nature; so don’t go near them. If you get forced into a fight with a Manda, you have a better chance against one that attacks with claws and teeth then a stronger one that attacks with fire, water and lightning. But, please, try to keep away from them; your mother would kill me if I lost you. Find Steph, if you can, but don’t talk to anyone, and get to the second hiding place as soon as possible.

Elite report, filled 19th of September, 2010, three years after the Manda bomb went off.

Objective: To obtain Manda crystals from the Leaugemen.
Result: Successful. Tony said we should start calling ourselves Elite, as a joke and to combat the Leaguemen and their stupid name. He has every right to suggest it; it was he and Cynthia that stole the crystals in the first place. Cynthia herself used one successfully, shortly after, protecting a small group of people that were travelling to the Murrey to get water. She offered them our protection, but they said no. People still don’t know how to trust strangers.
More raids are planned. Hopefully they’ll go as well as the last one did. We got twenty crystals all up; their colours range from green to black, with a sprinkling of silver. Kiakoa thinks that each colour represents a different level of strength. He’s been right before.

Diary entry of Saffier Hilter, 2016, after return of government and order.

Nobody complained when, after winning, the Elite took over as heads of state. I didn’t complain; they had earned it. I got a small niggling feeling when they made themselves monarchs though, guaranteeing that their kids would be next in line. But I could almost understand it. If I was in their position, I would want to make sure Kira would have a better lot then I did. What better way is there, then setting her up as royalty?
But…
Oh, never mind, they’re all good leaders, they had to be. I’m sure they’re kids will be the same. It’s probably just me, getting nervous over the fact that they’re trying to find ways to make people forget the Manda. They’re trying to hide them. Punito thinks they should. I don’t know what Kira thinks, she’s only four, and she’s never seen one.
Why am I worrying about this anyway? I should be worrying about how to tell her that her father ran out on me when I became pregnant. I should be worrying about how to tell her a lot of other things as well, things that have a lot to do with the Manda. I’m not going to live forever; Shane told me that he’d give it twenty years at the most, before the cancer emerges. ‘Someone can’t be exposed to radiation like that and not have consequences,’ he said.
Well, at least I have twenty years. She wouldn’t understand it all now: about the Manda, and what the bomb did when it created them. She’d think it was a fairy story.

Official letter delivered to homes 2016

Dear Ms Torino,

This letter has been sent to forewarn you that all Manda crystals in you possession will be confiscated by the end of the month. Shortly after, you will receive a standard pack of them, to be used in playing the game Ebition, a game of strategy, in which you can receive prizes of money. Tournaments for this game will be starting shortly.
The crystals which you receive will be enclosed in a small metal box, which you will recognise from its arch shape. At the bottom of the arch, there is a lid: this is the top. It is designed to hang around you neck; to be used when you need it. It will not release any of your crystals unless you are at a legitimate trading centre, or playing Ebition.
The rules of Ebition will be sent out shortly.

Your sincerely, Kiakoa Mosctro, minister of Manda

Pamphlet delivered to households: 2016

Ebition
Ebition is a game played on a holographic field called a Plain. Once on this Plain, a solid holographic image is projected. The two humans playing then proceed to summon their Manda, one per turn. As in real life, there are five levels of Manda. Strategys are the weakest. They are, as they were before, a Manda’s ability to do something; which has been taken from that Manda. For example: a Manda’s ability to become invisible. Once inside a Strategy crystal, this ability can be used on any Manda. A step up from that is a Beast, these are the Manda which can only take on an animal shape, and can only change their form every nine hours. Thescans are another step up, and can become mythical creatures. They can also change as often as they want. Summoners can do all of the above, but they can also take on human form. Gods are Manda that were created by humans. The humans melded together several Manda, and made them in the image of their god. These are the most powerful Manda, and while Summoners have control over the basic elements, the Gods can also control other Manda and metals. They can also become inanimate objects (eg: a tree)
In each level of Manda, there are ten ranks. If two Manda of the same level fight then the one with the higher rank will win.
When a person leaves themselves unprotected by Manda or Strategys they themselves will fall to the attack, giving the victory to the opposing person. Rings are used to summon each Manda, as they were previously.
Information nights will be opening around the country. Anyone who participates will be excluded from having to pay the Commoners Tax this month.

Speech of Robert al Karish, delivered to assembled party of some 5 billion people around the world, illegal broadcast over radio: 2018

There are two definitions of the word elite. The first, and more modern one is: A special group or social class of people which have a superior social or economic status, as in: the elite of society. The second is what the word originally meant: someone who is among the best at a certain task. The Elite used to fit both categories.
Their children fit only one, and can also be described as arrogant. None of our current leaders can be described as ignorant, they know perfectly well how the common people suffer, and yet they not only ask us for normal tax, but for a second, commoners’ tax, to help them build their mansions. They still limit the amount of land we are aloud to have: a hundred acres. They still give us separate hospitals, separate shops. Glass has become a luxury for commoners, while the Elite have glass that ripples like water when you touch it, forming its shape against any metal frame it is laid on.
This is why the Rebels are starting up, not as a rebellion: we are not stupid, but as a way to try and make things easier for the average person. To our members we will offer everything the elite don’t, plus protection, and retaliation.
We are not in the business of destroying everything Elite, we are in the business of creating a fairer world.
But I warn the Elite, once we get a foothold in society, and we will, they would find it wise not to worsen the conditions of the average person. If they do, we will stop being Rebels, and start being revolutionaries.

2034

“Aya, where are you going? It’s going to pour with rain?”
“Oh, just out for a walk.”
“Last time you ‘just went out for a walk’, it lasted three hours.”
“I like to walk, Casey.”
“Yes, especially with Chirs.”
“It’s none of your business who I intend to walk with.”
“I don’t mind you walking with men; it’s just men who belong to strange groups.”
“Aya? Did you hear me? I know he’d not Rebel, Mr Rowan doesn’t have any on his staff. He may be elite, but he’s smart, Mr Rowan is.”
“Well, if you don’t think Chris is Rebel, then why are you bothering me.”
“Because I know he’s something. And I’m beginning to think you’re something.”
“What makes you think that?”
“The way that you turn up whenever you hear the word Skaesha. I’ve heard you talking about it in your sleep. So has Gary. He said you talked of it several times when you were at his place in Brisbane.”
“Casey, drop it.”
“Don’t go, Aya.”
“Forget about it. And stop listening to what I say in my sleep.”
“Don’t go fiery redhead on me, Aya. I’m your sister.”
“And I love you. That’s why you should keep you nose out of my business.”






Chapter One

Kira

Pure happiness is rare. I find it in the bush. Everything about it, the huge trees with their fired black trunks, the creeks, the rocks, the undergrowth in which no plant is the same, the millions of colours, the reds, the resolve of the plants and animals to survive fire, drought and flood, the magpies that swoop you if you get too close to their nests, the ho-ho-ha-ha-a-a-a of the kookaburra’s… I don’t know!
It’s the place I go to experience complete happiness.
Not today. Not with the smell of Natacha Herin’s perfume still stuck in my head, not with the memory’s of people in our living room, gathered in private little groups, one around Tony Warton, talking about the lack of rain, one around Graham Lewis, discussing the upcoming Lion’s Club’s carols by candlelight.
All of them trying to forget why they were there.
Except Mrs Natacha Herin. She probably wanted to make sure we knew how blessed we were to have her actually notice mum wasn’t there anymore.
Bighting my lip, I banged my skull against the grass tree. Pain was good; it helped banish the memories. So did the, rain-riddled wind.
I wanted the rain to come. To wash away the smell of Natacha’s perfume, to make it seem like any other summer day…
It was no use. She was gone. You could deny doctors, death certificates, and white sheets. You could, if you tried hard enough, retreat into the Exhaustion-That-Was-Not-Exhaustion, and forget about the keening sound the heart monitor made when it was out of work.
But you could not deny fake sympathy.
The clouds, some like sand underneath a rivers tide, grumbled again as they stretched their fingers towards Mount Glenrowan.
I ignored them.
I hadn’t felt anything when she’d died, the Exhaustion-That-Was-Not-Exhaustion had protected me, told me it simply wasn’t possible.
It had taken the lavender riddled smell of expensive perfume to tell me it was.
The storm grabbed Mount Glenrowan. One second the rain wasn’t there, the next second it was pooling around my ratty trainers, making me shiver. The patched tee shirt and jeans that I wore were made for hot summer days, not freak summer thunderstorms.
“Come on Kira,” I whispered, trying to motivate myself. “You don’t want to freeze to death.
Well maybe you do, whispered a voice inside my head. You’d be with mum.
And what would mum say when you showed up, in heaven, or the afterlife, or wherever? Do you think she’d give you any sympathy? No. She’d tell you to get your but out of this small water logged valley and find shelter.
A white gum lay at the top of Chick Hill. Maybe that would do. It would defiantly provide some form of shelter.
I still didn’t move, the Exhaustion-That-Was-Not-Exhaustion telling me it simply wasn’t worth it. it simply wasn’t…
I dragged myself to my feet, using the grass trees leaves, and staggered towards Chick Hill. Thunder cracked again, the silence that it left deafening.
“Wha…talk louder, I can’t hear a thing.”
“My sister…”
Let’s…this…with.”
I raised my head, the rain whipping at my face as I sunk to the ground, the man’s black, baldhead shining like a beacon, his stiff, strict leather coat telling me exactly who he was.
An Elite. Or, said my brain, mostly because there was no reason for an Elite to be here, someone who works for the Elite. His companion’s coat made her blend in with the surrounding bark less gum trees, her hair redder then a Banksia. With a coat like that, she defiantly wasn’t Elite
If I stayed crouched and didn’t move, they might not see me. The Elite didn’t like people listening in on their conversations. Not unless they were broadcast over the radio.
“Skaesha…someone…lucky…”
I…help…spy…”
“Sister…suspicious…”
Few…find…”
“Who...the ancient…”
No, no, no, no, no. Not now. Just not now…
Suddenly, I was standing, walking, my clothes blending in with the landscape as I walked faster, and faster, hands pressed over my ears as I broke into a run.
I ran, hearing nothing; seeing nothing, until the only thing left was the Exhaustion-That-Was-Not-Exhaustion, and the overpowering smell of wet eucalyptus.
After a while, my run slowed to a jog, the jog to a walk, the walk to a stumble. I fell against a gum and stood there, using it to stand.
I just wanted somewhere to rest.
Two grass trees, their grassy heads so heavy that they bent towards each other, lay a couple of metres to my right, their bodies creating a small grassy cave.

I must have sat beneath those trees for at least an hour, head clasped in my hands, the Exhaustion-That-Was-Not-Exhaustion disappearing slowly. The rain settled into a steady pattern, flinging itself down gullies in dusty rivers.
But I was alone.
Not quite, the world said, as the black man approached through the darkness, walking away from Chick Hill, his eyes on the ground. As he moved closer, he bent, studying a small, water logged footprint.
Live or die. Make a sound and get caught, or keep quiet and hide.
The lightning vanished, and the man, blending with the darkness, moved, the only clues to his whereabouts the quiet pft, pft of his boots, their sound, amplified by the silence, almost louder then the thump, thumping of my heart.
Pft. Thump- thump went my heart. Pft, thump. Closer, closer. Pft, pft, pft.
The lightning broke across the sky, out racing the thunder that followed soon after, illuminating everything that wasn’t hidden.
There, a couple of metres away, the man stood. My eyes, drawn to the only part of him making any sound, fastened on his latched leather boots, the straps, padded so they didn’t make much sound, and latched up securely, making tiny jingling noises. There was a small seal, imprinted in the calf of his boot: Three stars with five points, arranged in a pyramid shape, the triangle at the centre occupied by a small eight, lying on its side.
The thunder, like someone impatiently tapping their fingers, faded into the distance. The world paused, as if what happened next would change the fate of the planet.
Change, what’s it going to change, whispered a voice in my head. Move, get caught, at least then you’ll have something to distract you. This man was talking about spies. He’s an Elite, or an Elite’s servant. If he catches you, you might be able to join your mother…
I didn’t move.
Slowly, too slowly for my liking, the boots turned away, splashing off into the night, the sound of them echoing through my head after they were long gone. The Exhaustion-That-Was-Not-Exhaustion left with them, and I collapsed silently into grief.
“Go away,” I whispered. “Leave me alone.”
But the world did better then that. It finally let me cry.