them out of trouble, and that’s become real enough.”
Sebeck shrugged. “Okay. What do these myths say about a Cloud Gate?”
“It was the gateway to the heavens and guarded by the Horae—the goddesses of orderly life. The Horae were also known collectively as the Hours and the Seasons. Their mother was Themis—the goddess of justice and order.”
The name tugged at Sebeck’s memory. “As in the Scale of Themis?”
She nodded. “An allegorical personification of moral force—a myth powerful enough that she became enshrined in our own society as Blind Lady Justice—one of the only goddesses of our new Republic. Her symbol surrounds us to this day.”
Sebeck absorbed this, still uncertain what to make of it.
Riley placed a hand on his shoulder. “In Sobol’s online fantasy world,
The Gate
, different planes of existence were linked by gates, and those who controlled them or passed through them could control or change the course of world events. The outcome of your quest may affect us all, Sergeant.”
He nodded somberly.
She placed her hand on Sebeck’s shoulder. “Follow your Thread. I believe your heart is in the right place, even if you don’t agree with Sobol’s vision. Question everything. But don’t be surprised if the world you thought you knew never existed.”
Chapter 8: // Erebus
News.briefing.com
Grain Prices Spike On Crop Reduction —Year-over-year direct subsidy applications by U.S. corn and soybean farmers plummeted in parts of Iowa, Missouri, Kansas, and Nebraska, sending world grain futures skyrocketing. The U.S. Department of Agriculture reported an unprecedented nationwide 6 to 7 percent decrease in acres of corn and soybeans under cultivation . With U.S. production representing 42 percent of the world’s corn and 34 percent of its soybeans , analysts are bracing for potential shortages of grain-fed livestock as well as processed food additives derived from corn and soy .
The Major stared down the length of Sheikh Zayed Road from his conference room on the fifty-third floor. Gleaming skyscrapers lined the twelve-lane highway below, creating a man-made canyon topped by familiar multinational logos. Not far off he could see Burj Dubai, the tallest building in the world. Its towering presence helped remind everyone that this wasn’t a wasteland of sand, but a petri dish of business culture.
Dubai was the perfect business environment. A blank slate—the way it should be everywhere. No interference. No taxes. No protestors. It had been a smuggling port for centuries, bringing gold into India and serving as a conduit for everything from slavesto silks. But now the coves and creeks on the coast had been turned into marinas for mega-yachts and resorts packed with sunburned Russians. First-world infrastructure and office blocks had been laid down with such vengeance in the last ten years that slow-moving pedestrians risked being paved over.
What The Major liked most about the Emirates was that there was
order
. Everyone accepted their role. The Filipinos provided service, the Indians and Bangladeshis provided labor, and expats from the U.S., Europe, Japan, and China did the business. The Emiratis … well, everyone needed at least one, but they stayed out of the way for the most part.
The only real authority was the market, and that was increasingly true the world over.
The Major returned his attention for a moment to the conference room and two MBAs tag teaming a PowerPoint presentation. They were here to parse reality into benchmarks and deliverables. He glanced over at his staff agronomist, who was listening with rapt attention to their bullet points, taking notes. That was his purpose.
But not the purpose of the meeting. The Major stood along the rear wall, ostensibly a back-office troll. However, these young MBAs had no idea that they were really taking this meeting with
him
. They were bringing a problem that needed solving, even if they didn’t realize it. They were the
Sebeck shrugged. “Okay. What do these myths say about a Cloud Gate?”
“It was the gateway to the heavens and guarded by the Horae—the goddesses of orderly life. The Horae were also known collectively as the Hours and the Seasons. Their mother was Themis—the goddess of justice and order.”
The name tugged at Sebeck’s memory. “As in the Scale of Themis?”
She nodded. “An allegorical personification of moral force—a myth powerful enough that she became enshrined in our own society as Blind Lady Justice—one of the only goddesses of our new Republic. Her symbol surrounds us to this day.”
Sebeck absorbed this, still uncertain what to make of it.
Riley placed a hand on his shoulder. “In Sobol’s online fantasy world,
The Gate
, different planes of existence were linked by gates, and those who controlled them or passed through them could control or change the course of world events. The outcome of your quest may affect us all, Sergeant.”
He nodded somberly.
She placed her hand on Sebeck’s shoulder. “Follow your Thread. I believe your heart is in the right place, even if you don’t agree with Sobol’s vision. Question everything. But don’t be surprised if the world you thought you knew never existed.”
Chapter 8: // Erebus
News.briefing.com
Grain Prices Spike On Crop Reduction —Year-over-year direct subsidy applications by U.S. corn and soybean farmers plummeted in parts of Iowa, Missouri, Kansas, and Nebraska, sending world grain futures skyrocketing. The U.S. Department of Agriculture reported an unprecedented nationwide 6 to 7 percent decrease in acres of corn and soybeans under cultivation . With U.S. production representing 42 percent of the world’s corn and 34 percent of its soybeans , analysts are bracing for potential shortages of grain-fed livestock as well as processed food additives derived from corn and soy .
The Major stared down the length of Sheikh Zayed Road from his conference room on the fifty-third floor. Gleaming skyscrapers lined the twelve-lane highway below, creating a man-made canyon topped by familiar multinational logos. Not far off he could see Burj Dubai, the tallest building in the world. Its towering presence helped remind everyone that this wasn’t a wasteland of sand, but a petri dish of business culture.
Dubai was the perfect business environment. A blank slate—the way it should be everywhere. No interference. No taxes. No protestors. It had been a smuggling port for centuries, bringing gold into India and serving as a conduit for everything from slavesto silks. But now the coves and creeks on the coast had been turned into marinas for mega-yachts and resorts packed with sunburned Russians. First-world infrastructure and office blocks had been laid down with such vengeance in the last ten years that slow-moving pedestrians risked being paved over.
What The Major liked most about the Emirates was that there was
order
. Everyone accepted their role. The Filipinos provided service, the Indians and Bangladeshis provided labor, and expats from the U.S., Europe, Japan, and China did the business. The Emiratis … well, everyone needed at least one, but they stayed out of the way for the most part.
The only real authority was the market, and that was increasingly true the world over.
The Major returned his attention for a moment to the conference room and two MBAs tag teaming a PowerPoint presentation. They were here to parse reality into benchmarks and deliverables. He glanced over at his staff agronomist, who was listening with rapt attention to their bullet points, taking notes. That was his purpose.
But not the purpose of the meeting. The Major stood along the rear wall, ostensibly a back-office troll. However, these young MBAs had no idea that they were really taking this meeting with
him
. They were bringing a problem that needed solving, even if they didn’t realize it. They were the
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