Loss of Power

Loss of Power

by Andrew May

First published in Quantum Muse, June 2000

The expectant darkness that precedes the creation of the world.

Distantly, on the threshold of perception, a low triadic chord. Ponderously growing, filling empty space, tentatively breaking up into rising arpeggios, a slow primeval crescendo.

Then, bursting through, the first leitmotiv, the inexorable flow of the ancient river.

The world had begun again.

Gradually, the darkness around him seemed to give way to a pale blue mist. Of course, his environment remained unchanged, but he was isolated from it by the machinery of the helmet covering his head. Sophisticated electronic circuitry projected the sounds and images of the opera directly onto the sensory cortex of his brain.

The mist cleared to reveal the first scene. The waters of the Rhine lapped against a narrow gravel bank, at a point where the river encroached so far into the mountainside that its whole width was virtually enclosed by a rocky vault. A sudden shaft of sunlight broke through the narrow gap on the far side, and at the same time the invisible orchestra swelled into full chromatic splendour. The cavern awoke to the sound of splashing, singing and laughter, as the three Rhinemaidens greeted the new day.

He became aware of a personality not his own. The machine was programmed to project the scene through the mind of Alberich, one of the Nibelung dwarfs who inhabited the mountain. So he saw through Alberich's eyes, thought Alberich's thoughts, felt Alberich's feelings as he witnessed the water nymph’s games. He was only distantly aware of the music now, as a subconscious flow of complex symbols and intercorrelations.

As Alberich watched the nymphs, his shock turned to anger, and his anger turned to lust. The aggression of their beauty, the challenge of their nakedness, stirred memories of an unsatisfiable desire he had long since tried to extinguish. But it was too late; the desire was rekindled.

With a mixture of fear and excitement, he shambled forwards to greet them. How amused they were! Their giggles, jokes and teasing - the same as a thousand times before. One girl would flirt with him and then mock him, another would allow a brief touch before darting away, the third, swimming this way and that, would offer tantalising glimpses of succulent pinkness before diving beneath the waves. And his obvious frustration only filled them with greater glee.

Suddenly, there was a sparkle of light at the back of the cave. The sun's rays had momentarily caught a gleaming object among the rocks, towards which the Rhinemaidens, pausing in their antics, gazed reverently.

"What was that?" Alberich asked, puzzled.

Amused by his ignorance, the Rhinemaidens were only too pleased to explain the legend of the Rhinegold - the magical treasure they were entrusted to protect. Forged into a ring, it would endow the bearer with unimagined power - but it could be wrested from its place only by one who had renounced forever the love of women. So the gold was safe, the Rhinemaidens stated with giggles, since no man would ever do that!

For the first time, Alberich was gripped by hope.

Arrogant fools", he sneered. "Are you not afraid? What do you think love means to me, who has never known love? I will take the gold and forge the ring, for I do most surely curse love!"

Alberich stumbled towards the gold, wrenched it from the rocks, and held it aloft, triumphant in the Rhinemaidens’ woe.

Then, at the very moment of victory, he was plunged into darkness and silence. No longer could he feel the gold in his hands, or the rocks beneath his feet. Confused, his mind reeled uncontrollably for a moment, until awareness came flooding back.

Of course, he was not really Alberich - the dwarf only existed as a character in a work of fiction. In reality he was who he was: Ludwig, of the house of Wittelsbach, Count Palatine, king of Bavaria. The second of that name. He had been viewing the first scene of The Rhinegold, by his friend Richard Wagner - the greatest music-dramatist of the 19th century.

Gingerly, Ludwig removed the delicate interface device from his head. The simulations were so realistic, time after time, that he found it impossible to retain objectivity once the opera began. The illusion became more real than reality.

He rose from the massive throne of gold and ivory, and crossed to the console at the side of the raised apse. He replaced the helmet in its niche and switched off the machine.

The beginning of the great story, he mused - a loveless man, renouncing love in favour of supreme power. The symbolism was precise. Replacing the natural with the unnatural, changing nature's rules to beat nature's system. The essence of all human endeavour.

Thoughtfully, he descended the white marble steps to the tessellated floor of the main chamber, idly examining the splendour around him - the double rows of Corinthian columns, red porphyry below and blue Lapis Lazuli above, the long barrel vault with its Byzantine-style ceiling paintings, the magnificent golden chandelier in the shape of a gargantuan crown.

Changing the order of things to suit oneself, he thought. The human way, my way, Ludwig’s way. Moving over to one of the small Roman-arched windows, he looked out onto the Bavarian summer afternoon. Below the castle were the familiar wooded hills with their picturesque lakes and villages; in the distance the jagged grey backdrop of the Alps. A small bird flew past the window and landed on a parapet below.

He had been called mad, he knew - "Mad King Ludwig" - by Doctor von Gudden and others. Why? Mad for building these castles, for valuing the past, for patronising the Arts? For daring to be different?

He turned from the window and pressed the intercom button on the wall. The screen lit up with the face of an attendant.

"I wish to dine", Ludwig said. "Prepare the Banqueting Hall".

"Very good, sir". The servant bowed slightly and the screen went blank.

Swirling a rich crimson cloak around his shoulders, Ludwig swept through the doorway into the grey stone passage outside. He ascended two flights of the echoing spiral staircase and entered the main suite of state rooms. Everywhere was rich with carved oak, polished marble, inlaid stone, golden ornaments. Huge tapestries and frescoes decorated the walls, depicting scenes from Wagner's operas: Tristan and Isolde, Lohengrin, Tannhäuser, Parsifal.

Ludwig arrived at the Banqueting Hall, where his guests were already seated around the long dining table, with its glittering silver centrepiece and tableware. The guests stood as he entered and waited for him to take his place at the head of the table. He greeted them and bade them sit down. He knew them all well: Hans Sachs, Konrad Nachtigall, Fritz Kothner, a dozen others. They were good men, trusty friends - the Mastersingers of Nuremberg.

A procession of servants began serving the food. After several generous preliminary courses the main dish was brought in - a huge wild boar, killed by a local hunting party that morning.

"Of course, my opinion differs from Herr Wagner's on one vital point", Ludwig said, eating hungrily. The guests looked up with interest. "As you know, Wagner is an ardent disciple of the late Herr Doctor Schopenhauer. It was Schopenhauer's belief, and also the belief of some of the most learned oriental sages, that the world of everyday perceptions is an illusion, and that this is a bad thing because it engenders desire for illusory goals, leading to inevitable suffering. So, according to these people, the only way to end suffering is to banish desire, by striving to coexist with the reality that lies beneath perceptions. Such is the thesis of Herr Doctor Schopenhauer, and of the Buddhists, and of Wagner's story of the Nibelung's Ring".

"More wine, sir?" A servant bent close to Ludwig’s left shoulder. Ludwig nodded and resumed speaking.

"For my part, however, I say that if the world is a bad illusion then one should replace it with a better illusion, more to one's liking. Eh?"

Ludwig looked up, and realised that something was very wrong. All around the table, the guests were frozen - unnaturally frozen, in awkward postures of eating and drinking. And the servant at his shoulder remained bending, frozen in the act of pouring the wine.

Gripped by sudden alarm, Ludwig pushed at the man with his hand. Without uttering a sound, the figure toppled, spilling the wine while keeping a grip on the silver flagon, falling to the ground in the same frozen posture. The face remained passive, the eyes open and attentive.

The light in the room had faded. The windows no longer showed the blue summer evening, but only blackness. The candles had flickered out. Only the dim emergency lighting remained on.

And there was silence - no hum of air-conditioning, none of the other soft electrical sounds that had passed unnoticed until they ceased.

Power failure, thought Ludwig in horror. Long unneeded memories began to return - memories suppressed for how long? Strange, half-understood concepts: the guests and servants had been robots, the views from the windows mere projections. All had been illusions.

But something had gone wrong - the power had failed; the illusion was over.

Dimly, instinctively, Ludwig knew what he had to do. Leaving the banqueting hall with its bizarre frozen tableau, he began to run through the lifeless castle. He searched for what seemed like hours, through rooms and passages made unfamiliar by darkness and silence. Finally he came to a part he knew he had not seen for years, the air stale and dusty with disuse. He stopped at the end of a darkened passageway, facing a heavy iron-studded door. He could not remember what lay beyond the door, but he knew he had to go through it now. With an effort he drew back the rusty iron bolts, and cautiously pushed the door open.

He was outside. But it was not the outside he had seen through the castle windows. Dark sheets of rain descended from a slate-grey sky, driven against the walls by an angry, howling wind.

Wrapping his cloak tightly around him, he took a few steps out onto the asphalt driveway. Yes, there was a forest - but it was denser and more threatening than the pleasant Bavarian woods he had looked at so often. And the castle itself was a huge concrete mass, weather-stained and windowless. An empty service truck stood idly at a loading bay.

He saw the reason for the loss of power. A massive tree, felled by the storm, had crashed down across the main supply cables.

As he looked around, more long-suppressed memories began to filter back into his thoughts. It was the 21st century, not the 19th, and he was not King Ludwig of Bavaria - although he had been a king of sorts; enough of a king to build this castle, and to retreat forever from - from what? What kind of world had prompted such an escape? Still there were gaps in his memory; even his true name eluded him.

Confused and disoriented, he wandered away from the castle and into the woods. He walked aimlessly for hours, his mind battling with unfamiliar thoughts and conflicting images. Gradually the rain stopped and the wind eased. He continued walking, not knowing where he was going, or where he could go. Exhaustion and hunger crept up on him; his vision began to play tricks. The forest shimmered in and out of focus; his eyes struggled to make sense of his surroundings.

He came to the edge of a lake, and stood blinking as his mind registered the new image.

"Can I be of assistance. sir?" A man's voice, coming from nearby.

He turned around in alarm, searching for the source of the voice. He could only see the forest, the grassy bank, the lake. Nothing moved. His confusion was growing worse; it was harder than ever to focus his eyes.

Then he thought he saw a figure detach itself from the trees and move towards him. It seemed to be a middle-aged man, wearing a dark dress coat and carrying a tall hat and cane.

He blinked, and suddenly he felt he recognised the figure. Surely it was Doctor von Gudden, his personal physician. Memories grappled with memories, as the figure approached. Doctor von Gudden - the man found drowned with King Ludwig in Lake Starnberg, in 1886. Two centuries ago. Impossible, of course - so what was happening? Was he hallucinating?

He stumbled a few steps backwards, and felt the cold water of the lake around his ankles. Like his surroundings, his thoughts were swaying in and out of focus with a dizzying effect.

He seemed to feel gentle hands take hold of his arms and legs, pulling him down into the water. Horrified, he cried out.

Suddenly, the scene crystallised. The triumphant figure advancing towards him, holding aloft the tiny golden ring - it was not a man at all, nor even a human being. It was one of those accursed Rhinemaidens. And the other two had him by the neck and arms, giggling as they dragged him out into the flowing waters of the Rhine.

"Give back the ring!" he cried, before a soft hand closed over his mouth. It all seemed so clear now. He was not a man of the 21st century, nor of the 19th. He was Hagen, only son of the Nibelung Alberich, and these water nymphs had seized the ring of power from his grasp.

His head was pulled under the water, and gradually he became aware of the music again - the Rhine leitmotiv, followed by the Fate leitmotiv, followed by the Death leitmotiv.