I didn’t doubt who planted the monitoring device, but as soon as I passed through the perimeter and my JZI came back online, a message was waiting that confirmed it.
Ai wants to see you.
I still couldn’t reach Calliope; her JZI was showing a status of blocked, meaning it wasn’t taking calls. There was any number of reasons she might do that, but the last time we spoke, she was with Buckster. I’d feel better when she responded.
You worry about me?
I did, a little.
The truth was, I’d worried about her more than I let on. I wasn’t sure why. I hadn’t known her well at all, but somehow she’d gotten under my skin. When we started writing back and forth, I caught myself getting concerned when she stayed quiet too long. It was my first experience being home and waiting for someone to finish their tour.
Was that how Faye had felt? If so, it must have been worse, because back then when I stopped writing, I never started again. I didn’t even look her up when I came back. I never got a chance to make that right.
I shouldn’t have sent her. Calliope was tough. She knew what she was getting into, and she could take care of herself, but sometimes things went outside your control. She didn’t need to put herself in trouble to get me on her side. I didn’t need her to get to Fawkes.
JZI Status: BLOCKED.
I shut the front door behind me and locked it. I hung my coat on the rack and moved into the living room, removing from my pocket the object Bhadra had slipped me. The small electronic device fit in my palm. It was the shape of a capsule, with a smooth outer shell and several built-in data ports.
I slipped a probe into the port and gave it a gentle twist. Right away a flood of messages scrolled by in front of me, before the HUD cleared and a set of indicators began to appear.
Init version 0.3
Detecting …
Initializing …
Property of Heinlein Industries, Inc.
A series of specs, nondisclosure statements, and legal warnings scrolled by, then cleared away as a connection opened to what I recognized as a revivor network. It was empty.
Interesting. It was some kind of freestanding revivor communications port. It provided a tunnel onto an existing revivor network band.
Searching …
A grid appeared, filling my field of vision, and one by one, nodes began to appear on it. It happened slowly at first, but they quickly filled the screen. I zoomed in until the points began to spread apart. They weren’t connected in the traditional hub-and-spoke configuration; they were all separate, free-floating.
Searching …
Something’s wrong …
The total node count kept increasing, but none of them was tagged as active. They were in some kind of standby state. When the count was finished, it numbered more than six hundred.
Six hundred. The number was like a weight on my chest. Once, during my tour, I saw close to 150 of them let loose on a suburb. Not a shantytown or slum, but a developed region with brick homes and locked doors. It took us two hours to reach them from the nearest base, and by the time we got there, the carnage was visible from the air. Bodies lay torn apart in the streets, where blood baked in the sun. The old, the young, children, and babies were all pulled to pieces, and the revivors were rooting through the remains. We airlifted out fifty or so people from two rooftops. Then command declared the site lost, and it was razed.
They had to be on the tanker. There was no way that many revivors could be stored inside the city limits and not attract attention. Not even Heinlein kept a stockpile like that.
I started to try to trace them, when another process took over and opened a window over the grid. The image of a man’s face appeared in it, part of a digital recording, embedded in the unit’s software. I recognized him; it was the man Heinlein had designated as their liaison back during the first crisis.
MacReady.
Bob MacReady had met me at the Heinlein labs to discuss the case initially. Later he contacted me after I’d secured Faye’s body to provide information on Samuel Fawkes. I had never been able to determine whether he had done that with or without Heinlein’s knowledge.
“Hello, Agent Wachalowski. Listen carefully; this message will not repeat itself and will decay after playback. You have just connected to an experimental component designed to interface with the technology code named Huma. It has all the basic capabilities of the new revivor model. The link you’ve established will place you directly onto any existing Huma network that exists. This version of the revivor communications band is not backwards-compatible with the old one, which is very similar to your JZ interface. Be prepared to gather your information quickly, as we believe the node count is growing and could overwhelm your JZI.”
Huma. It sounded like a new revivor prototype. Was this what I’d seen in the clinic?
MacReady manipulated the computer terminal in front of him, and a second window appeared in a frame next to him. It displayed a schematic of the new node.
“The main reasons for the incompatibility are greater throughput, and a new layered mesh model. The hub-and-spoke configuration, where many revivors are controlled via a single command node, will still exist, but the revivors themselves use a full-mesh configuration. This makes them significantly more effective in the field. It allows large-scale, coordinated operations to remain fluid. Units quickly become aware if an existing directive has become undesirable or invalid. They can quickly relay that information back to the command node.”
The schematic in the window disappeared and was replaced by the Huma logo, followed by several bullet points:
• Field deployable• Field revivification• Enhanced control• Enhanced intelligence network “All of this is accomplished using the next generation of nanotechnology.” The bullet “Field deployable” moved into the foreground.
“You may recall we discussed this possibility during our meeting two years ago. The traditional model of getting wired for revivification will be replaced with a simple injection. The nodes are constructed inside the body using the material contained in the injection payload. Long-term preservation will still require a blood transfusion, but this new model is extremely desirable in situations where longevity is not an issue.”
That was most of them. At least half the revivors uncrated in the field didn’t last a month. The bullet “Field revivification” moved to the foreground.
“The new revivor model can also be made field ready without a trip back to the Heinlein labs, another improvement that will greatly enhance their effectiveness.”
It had been talked about for years. They’d finally managed it, then. If it was true, a soldier who was wired could theoretically revive right there on the battlefield.
“What I’m about to tell you is not something Heinlein wants getting out, but the situation is out of control and someone has to intervene. You’re the only one I believe I can trust fully. Recently, Heinlein detected a network of these revivors coming online. Whoever took the prototypes has deployed them. I’ve sent out feelers, and learned that your agency is currently looking for a large revivor force; I believe this is the source of them.”
I had no idea the technology was so far along, but it would explain a lot. Fawkes wouldn’t have to smuggle in revivors from overseas. With something like this in his hands, he could create them on the fly.
“Heinlein Industries had reached the phase of human trials, Agent. That was never going to be officially sanctioned in the current climate. They conducted it in secret, at the Concrete Falls facility, where they processed the new recruits. They mixed the injections in among the standard inoculants battery given before deployment overseas. They monitored progress during routine checkups once the subjects were safely out of the country, with the military’s cooperation. It works, Agent, and it’s highly effective.”
In the feed, MacReady shook his head.
“Officially, the company will deny any existence of the prototype,” he finished. “This device was never given to you. A series of enzymes will destroy it in less than twenty hours. Any longer than that, and Heinlein will trace it back to you and me. Find them before then.”
The recording cut out and, as promised, it immediately wiped itself from memory.
Link established.
A flood of data came pouring over the connection so quickly it actually managed to begin to fill the JZI’s buffer, something that had never happened before. As it struggled to sort and distribute the information, it started grabbing chunks of memory from other applications. Modules I kept running, like the optical-filter array, translation software, and listening ports, started dropping off. I lost the interface to my internal chemical packs; then even the diagnostic packages shut down.
Shit …
MacReady had underestimated either the total node count or my implant’s ability to field the circuits. The JZI tried to route the information, but it was having trouble classifying a lot of it. Routines began to thrash. The last time I’d felt anything remotely like it was when it had been deliberately hacked. I lost my balance and groped behind me for the sofa as my standard visuals began to fail. The lens in one eye widened to its maximum zoom capacity, causing the room to spin around me before both flickered and started losing frames. The light began to strobe as I fell back onto the couch.
I tried to shut down the connection, but nothing was responding. The conduits that dealt with text and audio filled up, causing a constant stream of unintelligible chatter to fill my head while a random character stream filled up the HUD. What little I could see was blotted out.
What the hell is this?
The streams were coming in from the remote nodes, but they weren’t directed at me specifically. If I could get off the network, I thought it would stop the flow….
The longer it came in, though, the more it began to take some kind of shape. I sensed it was legitimate information; it was just streaming in from too many sources. It was as though hundreds of people were streaming consciousness, rambling randomly, all about different things.
Where? I thought. I didn’t care about the rest. Where is the ship now?
I began to get flashes, images from the remote nodes. Some were darkness, almost like thoughts or dreams, but some were of places and things. I caught a glimpse of a sink with running water, and another of characters appearing on a computer terminal. I saw hallways, rooms and doors from different places, but I couldn’t identify them. I couldn’t put together a complete picture, but a realization had begun to sink in.
That’s not the interior of a ship. Was I wrong?
The input became a field of static. It felt like I was floating in a void. I could still feel the fabric of the couch underneath my fingers, but it was like the sensation was coming from far away.
If I could get the influx under control, I might be able to trace a single connection and find out where it was originating from. If I could—
Link broken.
The JZI shut down and recycled. The buffers were flushed, and, after a pause, it began to reinitialize. The white noise stopped. My vision cut out completely for a few seconds, then returned.
They’re not on the ship, I thought. Not all of them. They’re already here.
That’s what MacReady was trying to tell me. Field deployment and field reanimation; they weren’t dead. Maybe some, enough to do Fawkes’s legwork, but the rest were just injected. That’s why no one could find them. They wouldn’t appear on the streets until Fawkes was ready.
My JZI systems finished initializing. Immediately, a connection opened.
Hello, Agent. Why do I keep finding you on my private network?
Who is this?
This is Samuel Fawkes.
I sat up, looking around. According to the JZI’s chronometer, I’d lost a good ten minutes. The probe was still plugged into the strange device, but the signal had been cut off.
Where are you?
I don’t know that for sure, Agent. I told you that last time we spoke.
Where’s Calliope?
The one you had shadowing Buckster? Maybe he recruited her. Wasn’t that the same woman that helped you storm my factory?
Where is she, Fawkes?
Lying in the bed you helped her make, I imagine.
I checked the status of the revivor scrub. Less than two percent of the remaining units were left to be decommissioned.
Whatever you’re planning, it’s not going to happen. They’re closing in on you.
Then I guess we’d better hurry.
There is no ‘we,’ Fawkes.
The last of the diagnostics ran, the output scrolling by in the corner of my eye. Nothing was damaged.
That will be up to you. This is your last chance to accept the offer I’ve made you. Kill Motoko Ai. And her top people. Do this, and you have my word I won’t use the nuclear devices that you know I have.
I can’t just kill them, Fawkes.
You’ve killed many people, Agent Wachalowski. Many people. You can’t convince me you don’t have the stomach for it. Is it that you place more value on the lives of those three people than you do on the lives of thousands?
I made a fist. If it was in my power and I had to choose, he knew I’d have to save as many lives as I could. He’d seen my war records. He knew, or thought he knew, how I would react in a situation like this, but I wasn’t a soldier anymore and I wasn’t ready to concede. Not yet.
I can’t easily verify the information you sent, Fawkes. Even if it’s true, this isn’t the grind, it’s the UAC. Robin Raphael is one of the richest men in the world, with a private security detail. Charles Osterhagen is a retired general who heads Stillwell Corps. He runs a privately contracted army. I couldn’t get close to either one of them if I had to.
You are a trusted FBI agent, and, more importantly, you are trusted by them.
You’re overestimating how far that trust goes. Your plan isn’t going to work.
They’ve seen you kill me in their dreams, Agent, and they believe it. They believe that you will be the one to stop me. They don’t think it’s possible for you to betray them. Their arrogance could easily be their undoing.
I’d seen enough to make up my mind; Ai and her people were dangerous. They were a threat to the UAC and the world. There might even be some truth to what Fawkes implied, that the window to stop them might be closing. Still, I couldn’t let the assault happen. The other threat was a possibility; Fawkes’s attack was real.
Call off the attack altogether, I said.
No. Without the ground assault, someone else will eventually fill the empty seats and take control again. With their leaders dead, though, I’ll hand over the nukes.
I only have your word on that.
It’s all I can offer.
It’s not enough.
Then I have my answer.
They’ve seen this. It doesn’t play out the way you think, Fawkes. It will get out of your control.
They are manipulating you. They’ve seen their own destruction; that’s why they’re so scared.
They’ve seen the destruction of the whole city.
It’s a lie. No matter what she’s told you, she’s far more ruthless than I am. She has no intention of being stopped by me or you or anyone—but they have to be stopped.
You both do.
There was a pause before he answered.
That would be acceptable to me.
The connection closed.
I looked at the time remaining for the scrub. They could be finished any day, but Fawkes didn’t seem concerned by that fact. They were going to miss him, and he wasn’t worried because he already knew that.
It didn’t matter. He was right about one thing: I was out of time. The rat’s nest Sean had stirred up went deeper than anyone thought, and Calliope was in trouble. I called Alice Hsieh.
Alice, I know you’re not Sean, but I need a favor.
Go ahead.
Buckster’s on the run. I need a team covering his apartment.
Buckster’s our only link to the nukes. Where the hell are you?
Following up on a lead.
Everything is secondary to finding that case, Wachalowski. Everything.
I know.
I’ll get Vesco over there.
Thanks, but do it quick. We’re running out of time.
The route the old man gave me took us deep into Bullrich, and he was right; it had gotten worse since I left. No one lived down there. Even the dealers peeled off after a while. The streets were full of trash; the shops were shut up and spray painted one end to the other. It was fucking no-man’s-land.
You sure this is right?
Yes.
There’s nothing out here.
That’s the point.
I cruised under an old rusted bridge where chunks of metal had flaked off into the street. Water ran through holes up there, coming down in streams. A tight path led through an alley. Piled near an old brick wall was a burned-out metal drum and some old shopping carts. There wasn’t a streetlight for a mile, and it was getting dark.
The map marker showed the end point right nearby. I slowed down and cut the engine.
“What are you doing?” he asked. “We’re almost there.”
“Almost where, Chief? We’re in the middle of fucking nowhere.”
“The area’s clear, trust me.”
“Yeah, right.”
I looked around. I didn’t see anyone else down there. I couldn’t hear shit over the sound of the water streaming down onto the blacktop.
“Down there,” he said, pointing over my shoulder to the dark alley. I could see trash piled up back there that had been there for years. No sane cop would go near that place.
“What’s the matter, you scared?” he asked. I held out my hand.
“Give me the gun.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You want me on point, give me the gun.”
He grumbled, but he dropped the piece in my hand. I checked it; it was fully loaded.
I fired the bike back up and took us in. When I got to the corner, I saw a path between two concrete walls. It was too tight for a car, but not for the bike. At the end was an alley in part of a used-up project.
“There,” he said. There was an old metal door in the back of one of the buildings. I cut the engine and walked over. The metal squealed when I pulled it open, and rank air blew out.
“After you,” I said. He went in. I kept the gun in my hand and went in after him. When I looked through the back of his jacket, I saw he had a knife tucked in his belt.
“This is the place.” It looked like the guts of a bus terminal, rotted from the inside out. I kept the old man where I could see him.
“What’d you say her name was?” he asked. “The one who questioned me at the Feds?”
“Ott.”
He reached in his coat, but not for the blade. He pulled out a pint of whiskey and took a swig.
“Tell me what you remember about her,” he said, handing me the bottle.
“Not much.”
“But some?”
I took a swallow.
“I got caught up in that shit two years back.”
“How?”
“Some kid I met in jail. He got himself killed.”
It was a long time since I thought about Luis. He’d gone down hard, that one.
“Who was he?”
“Some rich kid. They killed his whole family, then got him too.”
“How?”
“I found him facedown in a public toilet. He almost took me with him.”
I shrugged, and took another pull off the bottle before I gave it back.
“He was okay, though.”
“That’s when you met your friend the Fed?”
“He’s okay too.”
“He’s working for them, Cal. Don’t let him fool you.”
“You’re wrong.”
Light moved past the open door, and a second later I saw a car pull up on the other side of the narrow concrete path. The headlights went out, and from across the way, I heard two doors slam.
“That woman Zoe Ott, she was part of an experiment back then,” Buckster said.
“You don’t say.”
All I knew was I had to go down there. In the firefight, I took off and lost Wachalowski. Goons were torching the place, and I just ran, deeper and deeper in. I never met that crazy bitch before in my life. I didn’t know who she was, and I still didn’t know. I just knew I had to find her.
“He’s been trying to stop them,” Buckster said.
“Who’s ‘he’?”
“My contact.”
“And how’s he going to do that?”
“By finding out how it is they do what they do, and how to stop it.”
“Yeah, I saw the little outfit he had going down there.”
“Hey, you know as well as I do—sometimes the things that need doing aren’t pretty. Someone has to do them.”
“Uh huh …and who put your ‘contact’ in charge?”
Buckster took a swig from the bottle and shook his head.
“People want freedom,” he said, “but no one wants to get their hands dirty.”
“Fuck you, asshole. My hands are plenty dirty.”
“Your friend helped destroy that operation. He used you.”
“You got it wrong. I dragged his ass down there, not the other way around. She did something to me.”
Footsteps came up to the metal door. Outside I saw a couple of guys coming up in the dark.
“I’m giving you a chance to be on the right side,” he said. “You want a chance to stop what happened to you from happening again? You want to stop them?”
“Them?”
“This goes way beyond that girl at the bureau,” Buckster said. “They can make you do anything. They can make you think anything, they can make you forget anything, they can make you believe anything, and they’re all around us. They do it all the time.”
He got me there. I didn’t want to believe it went that far, but if one person could do it, why not more?
“Just tell me this,” I said. “When you met me coming off that train, did you do it so you could take me?”
“What?”
“I know about the jacks you had wired up at the clinic. I know that bum was one of them. Was I supposed to be next to him?”
He looked at the floor for a second.
“Yeah. Originally.”
“You knew I was first tier.”
“I got news for you, Cal. It doesn’t matter what tier you are. A nobody is still a nobody. No ties, no job, no friends that we knew about…no one to miss you.”
“Then what changed your mind?”
“Your connection to the Fed …at least at first. I don’t know. I guess I remembered where I came from. I guess I realized you weren’t a nobody. I thought I’d give you a chance.”
“To do what?”
“Be somebody.”
A couple revivor sigs blinked on in the corner of my eye; then two big guys came in through the door. I could see their eyes glowing as they moved through the dark.
The reminder went off then. The text file popped up and displayed two messages:
There is no door behind the flag.
Leon Buckster is going to take you to the ship. You can trust him.
Right away, I knew it was wrong. I changed the name on the file when I saved it, and it was the same as last time. Whoever was fucking with my head found out about the text file. Someone else had written that note.
Leon Buckster is going to take you to the ship. You can trust him.
I didn’t know anything about any ship. Whoever made me write it wanted me to go there. They wanted me to trust him. That was all the reason I needed not to.
I pointed the gun at the old man and cocked the hammer. Off to my right I saw the two jacks pull guns from their coats and level them at me.
“Cal, take it easy!” he said. “Don’t!”
“Fuck you.”
I kept the gun on him. The two thugs had their guns pointed at my chest.
“Cal, you can trust me. Lower your gun and they won’t hurt you.”
“I think you’re the hub, Doc. I think if I take you out, they won’t do shit.”
I saw orange light behind the old man’s eyes, and I the two jacks relaxed. They put the guns away.
“That girl, the redhead, she’s not the only one, Cal. There are—”
“Shut up! You’re full of shit!”
“I’m not, I’m telling you…. For me it started as far back as the service, and that was a long time ago. Please give me the gun and I’ll show you.”
I scanned the jacks. Besides the guns, they each had a bayonet tucked in their arms, and each one had a brick of explosive strapped to its belly.
“You’d never get all three of us, if it came to that,” the old man said. “It doesn’t have to come to that.”
I aimed for his shoulder and pulled the trigger, but he was faster than he looked; his palm connected with my wrist and the bullet blew a chunk of brick from the wall. Before I could bring the gun around, something stung me in the side of the neck.
I turned and saw something whip back into the closest revivor’s arm as it snapped shut. Before I could do anything else, my head got heavy and my legs went soft.
“Sorry,” Buckster said.
I wanted to throw a punch, but my arms were like lead, hanging by my sides. I made it one step before I went down.
“Get her in the car,” I heard him say. The revivor standing over me nodded, and things started going blurry.
“Don’t hurt her,” he said. His voice sounded far off. “She’ll come around. We can use someone like her….”
It was the last thing I heard before the lights went out.
I’d been staring at the computer for hours, but I hadn’t entered anything. In fact, I hadn’t even unboxed my notebooks yet. I was too busy reading what was already in there. I stared at the screen with all the lights off, not totally believing what I saw.
I thought no one knew much about what happened two years ago. No one talked about it and Nico said it got covered up, but these people knew about it. They knew everything about it. People from their group were seeing the needle heads long before I ever was. More than thirty people saw it a year in advance. They reported in from all over the city, the state, and beyond. They knew about me and Nico. They knew about everything.
Ott, Zoe. Potential E1.
I stared at the icon that represented me, until the heart shape blurred. There were a lot of connections that led there, along with the two who came before me. Penny, and …
Hyde, Noelle. Potential E1 (Deceased).
Potential E1. Whatever E1 was, it was important to them. They’d been looking for it a long time. They thought it might be me, but I wasn’t the first one they’d thought it about. At least one of them ended up dead.
I touched the heart with Noelle’s name over it, and a red message box popped up.
Classified.
None of the references to her said how it happened, how she died. There were a few pictures of her; she reminded me a little of Penny, except her eyes were green like mine. In one picture she was dressed up in a suit, with her hair in a tight bun. She had the same tattoo as Penny, the snake around her neck, swallowing its tail.
In the next picture she looked like a bag lady. Her hair was a rat’s nest, her teeth were yellow and brown, and her clothes were filthy. The last picture might have been taken with a cell phone. She lay on the sidewalk, covered in blood. I closed her file.
When I picked up the glass to take a drink, I realized it was empty. I grabbed the big bottle and tipped it until the neck clinked against the rim. I watched the clear liquid trickle in and the level rise until it got a half inch away from the top. I put the bottle down and the cap on.
Back at my old place, I’d had an old shot glass I liked to use, but on top of my new liquor cabinet I’d found a smoked-crystal glass that I really liked. It was twice the size of a regular shot glass, and had a fancy emblem carved into it. I picked it up and drained half of it in one gulp.
I didn’t know where to start, so I just surfed around to try to get the hang of their system. I tried to follow single threads, but there were so many of them and they branched out so often, I didn’t know how anyone could make any sense out of it all. There had to be some kind of data miner….
After some fiddling, I found it. I entered in my name and set it going, but right away parts of the nebula changed color as hundreds of little green points appeared.
Do all those reference me?
More kept coming. There were still too many. I tried again:
Nico W.
I didn’t know how to spell his last name. What I punched in got a similar result …worse, actually.
I thought for a minute, then entered in the phrase:
Green room.
I set it going, but that time nothing popped up, at least not right away. I let it spin in the background while I brought up one of the dream entries at random:
…I’m sitting in the dark, in some kind of cage. I’m sitting in a couple inches of cold water, and there are wires connected to the base. I know he can electrocute all of us if he wants, from wherever he is. They did something to us, I can sense that, but I don’t know what. Some of the people in the cages around me seem disconnected, almost lobotomized….
Someone named Petra Loeb had made the entry. I opened another one:
…a flash that lights up the street as bright as day, and then the noise comes. The first boom is like a hammer in my chest, and I feel like my heart skips a beat. It keeps getting louder and louder, until it feels like my head is going to split apart and I’m screaming and staring as the tower begins to fall into the fire. I can see it’s the CMC Tower. It’s so big it doesn’t seem possible, but it’s falling, and everyone is screaming as that cloud of fire begins to expand through the streets, toward us.
That was by a Daniel Moser. I picked out one more:
…from the balcony of Alto Do Mundo, and watch as one by one the buildings turn to shadow and blow into ashes. It’s nukes; I know that. It probably happens in seconds, but to me it seems slowed down, so I can see every goddamned detail. Nuclear fire, cleansing it all, and wiping the slate clean … The miner popped up. It was pretty quick, but nothing seemed to happen. I panned back until the grid took on the shape of that big ring, the nebula with the dark center, and the star sitting on its edge. At that distance, I saw three green points scattered across the map, and unlike the others, they were inside the dark part. I touched the first one.
The image displayed here is a computer rendition modeled on verbal descriptions. So far, no attempt to locate this room in the real world has been successful, leading us to believe that it may not exist in our reality at this time.The common room elements are:The switchbox, observed to control the lights at the far end of the room.The call box, on a swivel system set in the wall. It presents a blank metal panel when closed, and a single handset with no keypad when opened. The location of the remote connection is unknown.The table and chair, which together form what appears to be an observation area, focused on the far wall beneath the lights.The scanner, which appears to be concealed in the wall behind the observation area. It has been observed on one occasion to direct a laser reader of some sort toward the far wall. Its schematics and purpose are unknown.The room has a single metal door with a glass pane affixed at eye level. It leads to a short corridor, but it is not known where that corridor leads.As of this time, the location has been seen by only Element One potentials, and it seems often to overlap with visions of other key Elements; these human Elements may appear in the observation area, or on the other side of the room. Whether or not the others who appear there truly have, or will, appear inside the room itself is a subject of some debate. It may be the viewer’s mind combining the jumbled information.It is believed that the rarity of this vision is tied to the fact that it may exist only after the Event occurs. That would imply that potential Element One candidates may be among the few who will survive it.This is also the only vision in which subject Vagott has appeared.The purpose of the room has not been determined. I just stared for a minute. It wasn’t in my head; other people had seen it. Not many, but some. It was real.
…it may not exist in our reality at this time. What did that mean? And Vagott …was that a name?
There was a knock on the door, and I jumped in my chair. I screwed the cap on the bottle and stowed it under the desk, then headed over to the door, stumbling a little. I was drunker than I thought.
I got on my tiptoes and looked through the peephole. It was Penny. I opened the door.
“Hi,” I said. She looked around. It hadn’t taken me long to mess up the place. There were pizza boxes stacked up on the floor next to the door, and clothes draped over all the furniture. The boxes with my notes, still taped up, were stacked along one wall. The sink was filled with dishes, and I hadn’t made the bed in days.
“Sorry about the mess,” I said. She didn’t look pissed or even surprised, though.
“It’s homey.” She nodded over at the computer. “Reading up?”
“Yeah.”
She walked over to the computer and sat down. When she did, her foot clunked against the bottle I put underneath, but she didn’t say anything. She just reached under and grabbed it, then took a swig before putting it back down on the desktop. She looked at the entries I had up.
“It’s a head full, huh?” she said. I nodded.
“Did you ever see that room?”
“No. It ruled me out as a potential. I don’t survive long enough. Almost no one does.”
She tapped the screen and an image appeared of an intense-looking guy with stubble and thick black hair. He had on a white shirt and tie, but he looked like he hadn’t slept or bathed in a couple days.
“That man is Element Zero,” she said. “His name is Samuel Fawkes.”
I’d never seen him before in my life. This was the man I was supposed to stop? I looked at the screen, not quite sure I believed it.
“What am I supposed to do?” I asked.
“Look, I know it’s hard for you to swallow right now,” Penny said, “but believe it or not, you stop the event.”
“How? I don’t even know what it is.”
“The amount of data they’ve been crunching would make your head explode,” she said. “Most of it is still varying degrees of probability, but some things are pretty much certain. Element One stops the event. Ai’s been looking for that person. She thinks you’re it.”
“Thinks?”
“It’s not easy to pinpoint one person in a city this size when you don’t know their exact identity, but like I said, we have a ton of data on this.”
“She’s been wrong before, though?” I said it kind of hopefully.
“Not this time,” she said.
I looked at the strange man on the screen, and wondered what he was thinking when the picture was taken. His eyes looked wild, scared, and determined all at once, and they shone a little, like they had started to tear.
“What happened to the first Element One?” I asked. Penny frowned just a little.
“She did something she shouldn’t have done,” she said. “Just stick to the plan. You’ll be fine.”
Don’t cross Ai.
“Right now, this is the important part,” she said. She touched the screen and brought up an event that was close to the current date. I looked over her shoulder at the screen, and saw a big block of text written there. Something about a boat. My eyes jumped to the end:
This alignment may represent our best chance to circumvent the disaster.
“That looks like it’s soon,” I said.
“It is.”
“Will I be part of it?”
“In a way,” she said, “but that’s not why I’m here tonight.”
“Why are you here?” I asked. She snapped off the computer, and the screen went dark.
“Sorry to do this,” she said, “but we’ve got to go out.”
“Go? Go where?”
“It’s a surprise,” she said. “Come on, get your coat on.”
I stretched and cracked my back. The room spun a little, and I stood there for a second until it passed and I could make my way to the closet. I really didn’t feel like going out, but she had me curious. I grabbed my coat and shrugged it on.
“I don’t usually go to bars or clubs or anything,” I told her.
“That’s not where we’re going,” she said. She reached into her purse and pulled out a smoked-glass flask in a leather case.
“Ouzo, right?” she asked, holding it out. I took it. “You can keep the flask. Come on, let’s go.”
She walked to the front door and opened it.
“Am I in trouble?” I asked.
“No. This is a good surprise.”
On the way out, I saw two guys in suits. They were against the wall on either side of the door, where they’d been standing out of the range of the peephole. Penny started down the hall and I followed her, while the two men followed me. She took us down the elevator and outside, and one of the two men held an umbrella over my head as we walked over to a big car with tinted windows. He held the back door open, and I slid into the warm interior. Penny scooted in next to me; then the two men got in up front. The driver started the car and pulled out.
“When we get there, don’t freak out,” Penny said.
“Freak out why?”
“I can’t say. Just don’t.”
“I won’t.” I opened the flask and took a swig. “I haven’t seen you around here much.”
“You miss your friend.”
I didn’t say anything. My ears got hot and I shrugged.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I just meant to be there for you a little more, that’s all. She’s got me doing something, so I’ve been staying somewhere else for a while. I would have come by sooner.”
“That’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”
She was looking out the window while she talked. She actually looked a little upset.
“It’s okay. I’m always alone.”
“Not anymore.”
She looked over at me then and smiled a little, which she didn’t usually do.
“Believe me. I’ll be glad when it’s over,” she said. “I’d much rather be getting loaded with you than doing the other thing.”
I handed her the flask, and she took a big guzzle off of it.
“Thanks.” She handed it back.
“Can’t you tell me where we’re going?”
“Sorry. I’m not trying to be a bitch. It’ll make more sense once we’re there. Just enjoy the ride.”
I decided to go with the flow and just watch the city go by out the window, until after a while, I lost track of where we were. We went through some really nice sections, filled with people, and I felt giddy as the neon trailed by over my head. The inside of the town car was big and comfortable, and talking with Penny was easier than I was afraid it might be. She was a lot like me. We even joked about the visions, and when the flask ran out, she had the driver stop at a corner store so we could pick up more.
It was almost an hour before the car finally slowed down, and by then the lights had tapered off. It got darker outside and the rain was starting up again when I saw a concrete train platform up ahead. It was lit with a single light, and there were three men—one big guy in the middle, and one to either side of him—standing at the edge of the tracks, facing us; there was a black limousine parked in the small area next to the platform.
“We’re here,” Penny said. The car stopped a little ways across from the limo, and the two men got out. One came around and opened the door for us again, and we both got out too.
“Where are we?” I asked. Penny waved to the limo, but the windows were dark and I couldn’t see in.
“Somewhere where no one will bother us,” she said, reaching into her coat and handing me a big white envelope. “Here. This is from her.”
It had my name written in little black script on the front. I opened it, and found a card inside. A message was written on it:
I am sorry I couldn’t be there in person, but know that I am with you in spirit. I have watched you for a long time. I know about what happened to your parents. I know that your ability has been a burden to you, and that while it has provided you with some security, it has done nothing to banish the emptiness from your life. I know that your life has been filled with disappointment and loss. I say this not because I pity you, but because I also know that you recently found a small light in that darkness, and then that light was taken away from you as well. I did not know your friend, but I have an idea of what she meant to you, and words cannot express how sorry I am that this has happened. The words blurred in front of me. I wiped my eyes as the wind blew against the umbrella the man held over me.
Nothing can ever make this right, but what I can do is offer you a choice. You are not powerless. What happens tonight will be entirely your choice, and there is no wrong choice to make. No matter what you decide, we will be here for you. I will be here for you, and if you let me, I will try to be, as she was, that light for you in the darkness. It wasn’t signed, but I knew it was from her. It was from the little one, Ai, their leader.
Our leader.
“Come on,” Penny whispered, and started across the blacktop. I followed behind her. No trains stopped there after hours, and it was dark. The place looked kind of sketchy. I could see broken glass and a lot of graffiti. Wedged behind the corner of a chain-link fence was an old, empty purse.
“Don’t worry about security,” she said. “No one will bother us here.”
I was confused, and so drunk I could barely walk in a straight line. All I wanted to do was go back home and go to bed. The train platform looked like the kind of place where bad things happened. I looked past Penny to where the single light was shining down on the platform. We were getting close to the three men.
It wasn’t until we got right in front of them that I finally realized who the big guy in the middle was. It was Ted.
“You,” I said, but he was too far away to hear over the rain. He was leaning forward, squinting to see who was coming. His face was puffy and bruised. I wished whoever did it had killed him.
When we got in front of him, he realized who I was. He shook his head, and tears actually came up in his eyes.
“You fucking bitch,” he said. “You fucking bitch …”
I took a breath to yell something, anything, at him, but Penny spoke first, cutting me off.
“Quiet,” she said, without raising her voice.
Ted’s face went slack. The way his eyelids drooped and his thick bottom lip hung down reminded me of the way he used to look when I’d go downstairs to …
“What are you going to do to him?” I asked.
“I’m not going to do anything to him. He belongs to you now.”
“For what?” She shrugged.
“For whatever you want,” she said. “But I know what I would do.”
She walked away and the others followed her, leaving me alone with him. His eyes cleared, and when he saw me, the anger came back right away. I focused on him, and I could see the spikes of red flaring up. He hated me. Just the sight of me was enough to make him crazy.
I thought I hated him before, but standing there on that platform, watching him stare at me like the whole thing was my fault, I hated him more than I think I’d ever hated anyone or anything before.
“These more of your goons?” he asked.
“You should shut up, Ted.”
“Who are these guys—your FBI goons? Fuck you and them.”
“She died,” I said, tears coming up.
“Yeah, they told me.” I could see sadness there. Not much, but a little. I saw guilt there too. Mostly, though, it was fear. Under the anger, it was mostly fear. He was afraid of jail, of punishment. He was afraid for himself.
“It wasn’t my fault,” he said.
“Wasn’t your fault?” I yelled, but my voice cracked so it came out like a pathetic squeak. “You beat her to death! She died!”
“You’re the ones that sent that fucking—”
He stopped before he said whatever he was going to say. He was still mad, still scared, but I saw something else then. It was shame. He was ashamed, but not because of what he did. It was because of something that happened to him.
“I didn’t send any—”
“She was looking for you, bitch. She called you by name.”
“She?” It took me a second to figure out what he was saying. It was that woman, the one that tried to trap me in the elevator. She came looking for me.
“She beat you up,” I said.
“Fuck you!” he yelled. His eyes bugged out, and the light around him flared out. It swirled, with bright strings of hot red flicking through like they were out of control. He wanted to wreck something. He wanted to tear me apart. I could see it in his eyes, and in the pattern that surrounded him. I’d thought before that by stopping him, I might be making him worse. That night, I thought it might be true. It was who he was. The longer he went without being able to feed his urge, the worse it got. He looked crazy.
“Shut up.”
“Fuck you!”
“I said shut up!” I yelled. I’d started crying, but I didn’t care. “All I have to do is say the word and those people will kill you. Do you get it?”
His fists started opening and closing, like he was going to have a seizure or something. His face was beet red and his sweaty jowls shook.
“You tell me you’re sorry,” I said. “I won’t make you do it. Admit what you did and—”
“I didn’t mean to kill her. She asked for that.”
“I should have stopped you. She deserved better than you. She—”
“Karen was a fat-assed slut,” he spat. “I warned her what would happen, and she didn’t listen.”
I didn’t say anything. I wanted to be tough, but I was crying and I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t believe he could just stand there and say those things after what he’d done. He wasn’t even sorry. He’d killed her, and he knew she was my best friend, and he still kept saying those things….
“How many times did the bitch have to get slapped before she fucking figured it out? Did she fucking want to get hurt?”
The others were back there somewhere, watching me. They were watching me stand there and cry with my face in my hands while the man who killed my friend shit all over her. The wind picked up and blew my hair in front of my face, covering it up so no one could see me.
“Cry all you want, you fucking stupid, ugly bitch,” I heard him say. “She was fine before she met you. You had to get her going. You weren’t happy until she got put in her place. This happened because you—”
I didn’t think about what I did before I did it. My eyes were covered by my hands and my hair covered my face, but I could see the part of him that mattered as clear as day. The storm of colors floated there in the dark like a ghost of him, and all at once they got clearer than I’d ever seen them before. I stopped crying, and while he spit and yelled, I reached past the reds and yellows and all of his violence and anger and hate. I reached in as deep as I could, until everything was gone except a single hot, white band. Everything else was connected to it. It was the source of everything he thought and everything he was. It was the source of everything he’d ever done and would ever do.
He was still ranting when I focused on the stream and turned it off. When I did, his voice stopped. The flow of light stopped and went dark. The reds and yellows scattered and faded until nothing was left behind.
I moved my hands away and opened my eyes. When I brushed my hair from my face, I saw Ted standing there, but his eyes were blank. His mouth hung open, and a string of drool dangled from his bottom lip, getting blown in the breeze. The smell of pee hit me, and I saw he’d gone to the bathroom in his pants.
“Ted?”
He went back on his heels and fell, completely limp, off the platform and down onto the tracks.
I heard him hit, and I was going to look when the train blasted by. I screamed. It was all over before I could even move. The wind from the passing train blew my hair across my face and made my jacket whip and snap around me. The side of the train was a blur that filled up everything, and then just as fast, it was gone.
My heart thumped in my chest as I stared, unable to move for a minute. The wind died down, and the sound of the train faded into the distance. When I looked, I saw the red lights zoom off into the distance.
Finally, I moved to the edge of the platform and looked over. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see what was down there, but it turned out that except for a spot of red that the rain was washing off the side of the concrete, there wasn’t anything at all. Ted was gone.