Parker arrived at the agreed-upon time, which was precisely when the shadow clock indicated sunrise. His arrival was not at the same time every day, but every other day, unless he or Moey had some other distraction, such as visiting relatives or being out at the lake or on the savanna for a holiday. Parker and Moey were like brothers and had known each other since they’d been boys. They had done this back then, usually every day, although back then it had not been according to the precise schedules of busy men with families and work responsibilities.
These two forty-five-year-olds set out on one of the many rocky dirt trails they loved, to satisfy an appetite nourished from all those decades of living in a particular kind of society with a particular kind of culture. Running was what they did and would always do, as long as their legs and feet would allow.
Parker would see to it that for Moey and everyone they knew, their running years would last into their dying years, for he was the chief leg-and-foot doctor of Eden Valley and was quite busy. All of Eden Valley’s subjects were runners, assuming they were able. It was the law, and anyone, regardless of age or condition, would have to run or pay tribute to the society, else their future was bleak and short. It was cruel in a way, but so were the world’s dangers outside of Eden. Edenites were unique in the world, as far as they knew, in that they were the sole stationary people in a nomadic world. It was a grand experiment playing out, and whether it would play out in favor of Eden was unclear, although a hundred years in, they were still standing tall.
Parker and Moey had a strong running habit. It was built from their memories as children and nourished by their explorations and the foolish, near-death experiences they had endured, only to laugh them off without a care. The fact that it was mandated and that every citizen was tested yearly did not weigh on them terribly, as it had always been this way in their minds.
Today was hill-climbing day, and they would pull themselves up a series of steep switchbacks and down into canyons, only to climb from those canyons again and arrive at a barren mountaintop, where they could see the great ocean in the distance and where they had a towering view of Eden, the Great Lake, and the valley beyond.
As they climbed, Moey made careful assessments of each footfall and how he felt running up and down the jagged terrain. He was wearing his latest iteration of a running sandal.
He had built and tried many in the past year. It was his responsibility—one of so, so many. A man of so many ideas and innovations was not common, and his intellectual gifts were sought after and imposed upon relentlessly by the Chair.
Be it for war, general survival, or mere convenience, Moey would sprinkle his innovations far and wide and was arguably the most admired man in Eden. But he was very careful to remain humble and self-effacing, for he was as much a genius of politics as he was of science and engineering. Thus, he knew the personality and volatility of the Chair and that any competitor for the people’s affections would not have a bright future in Eden.
But in the case of Moey, who could not help but be loved and admired by the people, the Chair had to make an exception, for he knew the value of Moey’s mind, with its capacity so unique that it was potentially the single most essential element to their long-term existence.
The Chair lamented that he himself had not been gifted in that way, nor had he been gifted with his father’s ability to organize and inspire. His grandfather had been the most remarkable—the man who had envisioned Eden and had broken away and secured the territory for his family and followers nearly one hundred years ago. But what this Chair lacked in mental acuity, imagination, and charisma, he made up for with his ambition and ruthlessness, which had turned a once-idyllic society into an oppressed regime driven more by fear from within than without. The oppression took its toll on the psyche of Eden’s people and stirred discontent here and there. But this only served to inflame the Chair to double down on his tyranny and crush the dissenters, making examples of people guilty or innocent.
This state of affairs competed for Moey’s attention as he ran, panted, and perspired with Parker up the mighty grades.
He tried to keep his mind focused on the sandal, thinking about its torsion about the long axis when he stepped on a rock and the comfort of his toes and heels on steep declines. But his thoughts drifted occasionally, as he was deeply troubled by many things these days. His sharp mind could assimilate clearly that all of these troubles were traceable directly back to the Chair.
Moey and Parker pulled themselves out of the last high canyon, beyond which was only rock and the sudden, cold prevailing wind that swept from the north along this western sea coast. As they felt their adrenaline kick in and sprinted for the top, inspired by the fresh, strong wind at their sides, they crested the rocky dome—the place they called Moon Lookout— and breathed heavily with satisfaction and relief.
They had just run eight miles, mostly uphill, gaining over thirty-five hundred feet of elevation, and all before breakfast.
From their vantage point, they towered six thousand feet above the sea, as Eden was already on a high plateau. Today was not very clear, so they could not see the ocean, but even at altitude, the scent of salt in the air was apparent.
“Parker, you need to try these new ones,” Moey said as he glanced down at his sandals.
“How were they? Do they keep everything out?” Parker was referring to the new enclosed design, which was unlike any previous prototypes. This new model had a completely covered upper. The upper was high, covering part of the ankle. The top was made of a fine hemp fabric that was thin enough for it to be breathable, yet tightly woven enough to keep even dust out. Another innovation was the sole, which used a new material that was waterproof yet very light and flexible. Moey had figured out how to heat it and create a mold that would form the shape. Once cooled, the sole would hold its shape.
The only animal hide in this new design had been used for the laces that secured the sole to the upper. Moey was trying to figure out how to permanently bond them together, but he had not yet found material that would remain attached under the heavy conditions of running, especially in the presence of water. “Here. You take them on the way down.”
The men then proceeded to exchange their sandals.
The run down was rapid and methodical. Edenites were masters of running and of the science of training, avoiding injury, and pushing the limits. The men hooted and laughed as they negotiated the obstacles and turns precisely. Upon reaching a long, steep decline near the bottom, they could see a group of young men ahead, pushing up the hill in a pack.
The group consisted of lean and determined young men challenging themselves with every step. Just behind them, a thirty-something-year-old athlete was barking instructions on technique and offering words of encouragement. It was the coach. In all, there were a dozen of them, including the coach, and it was clear that this was no fun run. It was serious training at the most elite level.
Among the eleven runners, three were out ahead. Two of them looked similar, the third very different. Jojo and Buddy were brothers. The third boy was Ajay, their adopted brother.
By the time they passed Parker and Moey, the three had stretched their lead to about a hundred yards ahead of the pack. Their lead would grow to nearly a mile by the time they reached the top.
At nineteen, Jojo was two years older than Buddy and Ajay, and he would leave the younger boys behind during the final ascent. He was last year’s champion of the annual festival games in three of the six running events. He dominated the Mountain Run, which started at midnight under a full moon, and the winner would usually arrive by late afternoon. It involved seventeen thousand feet of elevation gain and an eighty-mile distance. Each competitor had to carry their own food and water, with very limited provisions supplied to them during the contest.
This was the premier running event, and it coincided with the closing ceremonies of the festival and the awards ceremonies for all the athletes. Jojo also had wins in the fivemile and twenty-five-mile distance runs. Buddy and Ajay were up and coming and had both placed in the top ten for these events.
Sports and running skills in particular were admired not only because of the spectatorship of competition but also because they were essential for their survival, as had always been the case, even before Eden. No wheels nor other innovations existed to facilitate transportation, nor were horses or any forms of domesticated livestock available as beasts of burden. There was only running. Therefore, exceptional running was revered. It was how they hunted, fought, and defended themselves against aggressors. It was their means of communication over great distances. Yes, running was primary; therefore, the best runners were stars, heroes, and legends.
Jojo, Buddy, and Ajay were on their way to making their names in history. There was tremendous glory and esteem, as well as good fortune, to be had by the very top athletes. Yet, the three boys were thinking of other reasons to be the best as they continued to extend their lead on the pack. Jojo smiled as he passed Moey and Parker. “Hi, Pa!” he panted to Moey.
“Head up, chin up, back straight, elbows out,” Moey called out to his three sons. “Looking good.”
Buddy, ever the clown, gave a look of agony and moaned as he passed. “I can’t do it, Pa!” Then, he and Ajay laughed as they tore up the hill.
While the boys were outstanding runners, they also exceled at the Eden nation’s second obsession—swimming.
Eden had been built between the shores of a massive lake and the base of the steep mountains that separated Eden Valley from the ocean. The lake, which averaged twelve miles across and twenty miles long, represented a natural defense against invasion.
With formidable mountains at its back, beyond which was a frigid ocean with rocky shores and high currents, and a large lake guarding its front, Eden was well positioned to maintain its security, as long as there was an organized military that could keep an eye on the frontier and prevent any threats from building.
The Great Lake and its outflow, the Eden River, were the sites of recreational and competitive swimming. Swimming was also deemed a national priority, although there was no annual, compulsory test, as with running.
The Chair himself had once been a decent runner and still tried his best, even in his late sixties, to push himself. He was, however, not much of a swimmer, and many speculated that for this reason, he underemphasized swimming, despite its strategic importance. The Chair was, however, a glowing spectator at the swimming competitions that paralleled the running events during the festival.
When it came to swimming, Ajay was the star, and at age sixteen, he’d taken first place in the Crossing, which was a swim across the Great Lake at its narrowest point—a distance of about eight miles. Beyond a few emergency canoes, there was little assistance during this swim, only one large midpoint raft station, where struggling swimmers could stop if they were ailing or in trouble. But stopping would cause disqualification, so most swimmers just swam by on their way to glory or defeat.
Once on the far shore, there was a meal and a short rest, and the swimmers would then have to swim the return journey. The elite athletes would barely wait, as they knew that rest and too much food would only make things worse on the return. For the elites, it was only about loading calories and getting back to the water.
This was a perilous event, and competitors were sometimes lost. From those who nearly died, an understanding was gained as to the probable cause.
The lake was relatively cool, even during the festival, which took place in the summer. As a result of their exertion, the swimmers often experienced sudden fatigue, especially near the end of the outbound leg.
Food would cause a rapid revival, and even those who nearly perished on the first leg were sometimes able to finish the race, even winning it in a few instances. So, Edenites gained an understanding of nutritional requirements and their relationship to performance and survival began to grow. The same lessons applied to distance running. From these lessons, Edenites were able to identify the foods that were nutritionally effective yet easiest to carry on long journeys. The most important knowledge of nutrition and running endurance were kept as state secrets. So, the general populace was not well informed about these lessons, and hence, people still died during competitions.
The secrets were kept from the public for two reasons.
First, the Chair wanted to make sure that his military was superior to the military personnel of the nomadic tribes, some of whom were also running nations. Second, the Chair did not allow civilians to leave Eden Valley. Even leaving the city to go to the valley required permission and a paid military escort. This was always billed as a security measure for the safety of the travelers, but having internal control and keeping his citizenry contained were more important to the Chair. He did not want civilians to understand how to build up sufficient endurance to enable them to evade his military runners.
Another precaution taken by the Chair was to honor the top athletes each year, if they had achieved nineteen years of age, by offering them high-level military appointments. To most, an appointment was considered an honor, and even if it wasn’t, refusal was not an option. In this way, the Chair could be sure that all the best athletes were military men and women and that the nation was secure from without and within. Despite his lack of certain gifts, the Chair was an innovator in the art and science of fascism.
Ajay had won the Crossing; he had been the youngest person to ever do so. Because the swimming events would take place several days before the running, all the boys trained for and competed in both. Jojo and Buddy were also great swimmers.
Jojo finished third and Buddy seventh last year in the Crossing, and Buddy placed second in the hundred-yard all-out sprint, which was held in the giant pool between the Chair’s Big House and the lake. The pool was a hundred yards long and a hundred yards wide, and thirty swimmers at a time would race.
There would be a series of elimination races, and eventually they would have just ten compete in a grand finale. Jojo, Buddy, and Ajay had all been in that grand finale the previous year.
In the past, it was unheard of for athletes to be so good at both swimming and running due to the amount of training involved. And history had shown that no one had ever been the best at both sports. But, more recently, young athletes were showing an increasingly high level of competency in both.
Jojo, Buddy, and Ajay were the first generation that was really demonstrating such capability, and there was a lot of excitement as this year’s festival grew near. That the boys were among the very best multisport athletes and the first of their kind was no accident. It was deliberate, and it involved a higher purpose.
When Jojo turned ten and Buddy eight, Moey introduced the idea of a multisport contest to be added to festival events as a way to create the best all-around athletes and hence the best soldiers. He played to the Chair’s fears and desires in his logical and well-articulated vision of the new event and its underlying purpose to benefit the society. The Chair heartily approved and, taking full credit, proclaimed that the new event would begin two years later and that athletes should start to train for this new and glorious event, whose winner would have a unique standing in society.
The event, called the Half Moon because of the shape of the course, was easy to implement. It would begin with the swimming portion, which would take the identical route as the eight-mile outbound leg of the Crossing. But instead of doubling back across the water, swimmers would exit the lake, transition to running sandals, then turn left and run the roads and trails following the lake’s western shore for forty miles, all the way back to the festival grounds and the finish line. Unlike the Mountain Run, which was the closing event of the festival, the Half Moon was the opener and was held ten days earlier.
Moey’s two biological sons and his adopted son, Ajay, had been training for this new event for as long as they could remember, and when Jojo turned sixteen, he was able to participate in the fifth annual Half Moon race, in which he placed tenth. Now, a few years later, he was considered the favorite going in, having placed second the previous year, while the winner was already off enjoying his lucrative military career.
As in all the running and swimming events, Buddy and Ajay were also expected to place highly and to someday top the podiums.
As Moey and Parker lumbered their way down the steps leading from the mountain trail, over the barrier wall, and into the street, the smell of baked goods and strong coffee filled the air. The men were seriously ready for breakfast and jogged their way around a few corners as they headed for Moey’s compound. “Mo, I hope she has my coffee ready. I have to go check on the old man’s knee,” said Parker.
“The Chair will have to wait … ha! No one else can deal with such a wretched knee problem, so let him wait,” quipped Moey.
“Maybe if you treated him to those new runners, he could recover faster,” added Parker.
Mo didn’t respond. He knew that his latest footwear innovations would likely never be revealed to the Chair. Not this time. These shoes had a special purpose—a secret purpose.
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