One Nation, Under Jupiter

JANUARY 7, 2766

A nearby woodpecker tapped away at a tree. To my left, an owl lay fast asleep inside a knothole. In the midst of the serenity stood a statue of Apollo, the god of prophecy. I took a deep breath and imagined myself in a forest, the kind that covered this whole land before the Romans settled it. The honk of a car horn blared not too far off, breaking the illusion as soon as it comes.

I was standing on the grounds of the College of Augurs, where the priests tasked with reading the future from the movements of birds are trained in the practice of divination. The building's classical architecture teased me, pleading me to come inside and view the charlatanry in action. Nobody outside the priesthood is allowed in the building, leaving me forced to merely wander the land around it. I don't know how the augurs were able to make their own little aviary in the middle of New Antioch, but here I am, standing on an oasis of honest nature surrounded by a city choking on its own fumes.

Walking alongside me was Corvus Avitus, his long hair blowing in the wind. He didn't look like what most people imagine when they think of a priest. Corvus had only completed his augury training a few weeks before I began my journey. Trailing behind us was Servius, tape recorder in his hand. The slave didn't say a word, instead staring at the back of the augur's head with an odd sense of admiration.

"Rome would be nothing without her augurs," said Corvus. A few feet away, an eagle perched on a branch, eyeing us curiously. "We've been truly blessed, being able to receive the gods' messages for the Empire. We know which battles will be won, we know the future of Rome and her people, and we can instruct them accordingly."

"It must be nice," I said, stepping aside for a goose walking my way. "When you think about it, you're one of the most powerful people in Nova Roma." Corvus turned to face me.

"Excuse me?"

"Everyone listens to what you have to say. Everyone. You're even above the Emperor, when you think about it." Almost immediately, Corvus burst into raucous laughter.

"Anyone above the Emperor...oh, Pollux!" He stopped walking to catch his breath. "No, we augurs are but simple servants." He turned around, smiling to Servius. "We hold no power of our own, save the gift of divination. Our job is simply to read and interpret the signs of the gods." He stuck out his arms, gesturing at the birds surrounding us. It's quite the system we've got. The people listen to the military, who listen to the Senate, who listen to the Emperor, who listens to the augurs, who listen to birds. Our government is run by birds.

"So you can't just say whatever you want, then?"

"Of course not. That would go against everything the College stands for." He flashed his smug little smile at me. "Now, I know what you're thinking. It's not easy for those ignorant in augury to comprehend the science. This isn't something just anyone can do. No, it's the sort of thing that takes years of training. Learning the meanings behind every bird, every flight pattern, every spot where they might decide to land...augury is not a career for fools. Only the most dedicated of scholars can ever achieve it."

"Can I see a book, then?" I asked, struggling to make my voice as patient as I could. Corvus looked at me, stupefied.

"I'm sorry?"

"You said it takes a lot of studying to become an augur. Can I see one of the books you use?" Servius meekly took a few steps back. Corvus shook his head, unfazed.

"We can't reveal the secrets of the priesthood to anybody. Imagine what would happen if that kind of information got loose. If the Chinese could speak to the gods, the bombs would start dropping any day!"

"I don't think the Chinese would really care, since they don't think augury is real. The Chinese think the idea of telling the future with birds is archaic nonsense only an idiot could fall for. Just saying their views, of course."